September 2010
Submitted by Johan Bruyneel

It has been a long season of serious training, racing and sacrifices.  So as we wind down the season, I wanted to go for the lighter side of the sport.  Let's look inside Team EMC2.  What is a training ride like with Team EMC2?  Perhaps this spoof excerpt from a live television feed of our ride will help. . .  



Phil Ligget: Good morning everyone and welcome to the 43,872nd edition of the Tour de Western Suburbs.  I am Phil Liggett along with Paul Sherwin, and Bob Roll.  We will also be joined by a few special guests on the road.

I do say, Paul, it is a great day for a bike race, and the course looks especially inviting for this Masters roster.  Roly-poly hills, ample stop lights for older riders, and some smooth, fast sprint zones.  It is now close to 6am, and the stars of our day are starting to show up at the start in Lombard, Illinois.

Paul Sherwin: Indeed it is a great day for a bike race, Paul.  And I feel this really should be when bike races are held - Sunday at 6am.  Phil, race organisers and sponsors would save so much money as there would be no need to close roads nor spend money on advertising to fans.  At this hour, who the hell is on the road?

Phil: Who the hell indeed, Paul. 

Now we have a star line up.  Let's meet a few of our favourites. We have to start, of course, with Tony Meadors.  This guy is a diesel engine and while he sprints like a 12 year-old, he can maintain a difficult pace for an interminable amount of time.  Will he hurt this field?

Paul: No question, Phil.  His thighs and calves are unfairly large and defined, letting everyone know, he is there to inflict pain.

Phil: Speaking of pain, you have to mention Dave Reed.

Paul: Indeed.  It does not seem fair to mix a Cat 1/2 racer with 3's, 4's and 5's but that's racing, Phil.  Dave Reed has a ridiculously strong engine, but more than that, he has that mental level that few have - the mindset to turn the screws on anyone willing to try to hang on.  He is tough to beat when he is on good form, Phil.

Phil: But these guys do have an answer for him.  Engage him in conversation or fake a mechanical and Reed can be neutralised for a bit.  This race has seen it all.  We'll see if Dave Reed gets away for the victory today.  Paul, your thoughts on Tim Radcliff.

Paul: He's . . . tall.

Phil: That's it Paul?  Really?

Paul: Well, Radcliff has a good engine and does well at time trialing.  But he has not won a race in several years.  Maybe this could be his year.  But the peloton is not counting on it.  They enjoy watching his flyers, Phil, but not as much as they enjoy reeling them back in. 

Phil: Team EMC2 has 2 British transplants.  With our background Paul, surely a comment...

Paul: For sure.  You know British cycling history is rich with tradition, excitement, and a love of the sport.  Look no further than Bradley Wiggins, David Millar, Tom Simpson, Robert Millar, and of course, Mark Cavendish.  So with Team EM. .

Phil: . . . Paul. Excuse me.  Sorry.  Uh, Wiggins sucked in this year's Tour.  Dave is an ex-doper.  Tommy overdosed on amphetamines, and Robert Millar is now a transvestite.  So you are left with Cavendish whose lead out train headbutts people?  Help me out . . .

Paul: 'Rich with tradition' is what I said, Phil.  Don't forget about cheese rolling.  You ought to read Andrew Stevens' article on cycling in Britain to understand.

Anyway.  Team EMC2 has Gareth Reeves, a very strong up'n'comer as well as Andrew Stevens.  Gareth is another powerful locomotive while Andrew is the sleeper who wakes up in the final kilometers to beat your arse in a sprint.

Phil: Tell us about "Mr. Dedication."

Paul: Well there are two actually - Mike Fox and Jim Landenberger.  I believe both of these guys were, in an earlier life, from Belgium.  They don't miss a ride whether it's in the bog or in the sun.  There are none more committed to a steady diet of Belgian training.

Phil: Why does Belgium get all the credit for shitty-weather, hard training, Paul? 

Paul: Don't derail Phil.  You're getting old.  Stick to our script.

Phil: Seriously.  What about Kazakstan.  Or, like, Russia.  Or, or, Kentucky.  Crappy.
 
Paul: True, but Paris-Roubaix is not near them nor is Tom Boonen from there, so nothing else in the world matters.  Belgium is THE standard.  Period.  Jim and Mike have been doing this race for a very long time.  Mike since the early 1800's.  They know the course.  They know where to attack.  And they know where the tired, dangerous riders will blow up.

Phil: I am sure there are many more athletes to review, but its race time, Paul.  6am.  This Sunday's course is a all 'rounder's dream with rolling hills, a few steep kickers, and a long gentle sprint finish.

Paul: Indeed Phil.  Expect the peloton to stay together until the open roads of Fabyan Parkway where the cross winds will gobble up the unlucky and spit them out the back.  If you are in the mix going to St Charles, watch out for the two unrated climbs.

Phil: You mean "hors categorie?"
 
Paul: No - just too small to rate actually.  Not really climbs.  Longish bumps, really.  But these two sister climbs will favour the nimble angels.  If someone gets away there, its 18 miles to the finish.  If you are knackered there, it is 18 miles of suffering.

Phil: You mean 30 kilometers.  We're Brits Paul.

Paul: Bully.

Bob Roll: What the hell are we doing up this early guys?  Who called me at 5:30am?

Paul: Sheesh, Bob, you smell of pot and beer.  How about a Tic Tac.

Bob: What's your problem?

Phil: Ok to the main event.  We are sorta lined up, and its time to race.  

Bob, seriously, you look like hell - like, worse than the normal bed-head look when you announce the 'Tour DEEE France.'  You are way too hungover to announce with us.

Bob: I am not hungover, old man, I just have a monster headache and am exhausted from being up all night boozing and smokin' pot, talking about my days in the peloton.  But who cares!  I am excited to see these gladiators do batttle out on the streets of the Chicago suburbs.  Pain, speed, and (closed-mouth burp) professionals that will sacrifice themselves like they are charging down the Champs Elysees!

Phil: Ok.  So the roll-out from Lombard is smooth.  Left turn on Crescent, and the race is on.  Paul, we are heading West toward Glen Ellyn along the train tracks on Crescent, and the line of riders is already strung out.

Paul: Well there is no wasting time as they fall into a single file.  These are not attacks, per se, just very courteous, fast riders. 
 
Bob: I knew it!  I had heard of the rumors of Tommy Simpson's ghost showing up at some races, but rumor no more, my fellow commentators!  There it is, pulling that line like a gran prix motocar!  We are all witnesses!

Paul: Bob, that is Mike Fox.  He doesn't tan.  At all.

Bob: Whoa, really!  I could have sworn that was a ghost.  He has the cadence of a Ferris Wheel.  I didn't think anyone could ride that fast at 34 rpms.  Had to be a ghost, slo-mo riding at 25mph.  I'll get some coffee.

Phil: Please.  As we wind through Glen Ellyn, let's take a commercial break and be back in a moment. 

Bob, are you still high right now?

--------commercial break ----------

Phil: Welcome back.  We are flying down the streets of Wheaton on a wide open fast Geneva Road.  Paul, this group is flying at 27 - 30 mph and we are already seeing some riders cracking off the back.  Its as if someone said, 'Its time to suffer.'

Paul: Well Team EMC2 has organised near the front and appear to be putting the hammer down to the point of. . ., wait.  Oh.  They were trying to make a green light.  Never mind.  All together.

Phil: Here comes Reed to the front as we pass Winfield Road and hit a slight rise toward Indian Knoll.  My goodness me, Paul, they are DRILLIN it!  This is a lot more difficult than it appears.  Its a long grinder.  And the peloton is splitting up already! 

Paul: And watch Mike Fox.  He is tucked in this elite group just letting guys drop in front of him with a "Ga'Head."  Mike is probably the most intelligent rider in terms of conserving energy.

Bob: Well men, Reedo has said it is time to light this candle and bang, he goes.  Pace-o Rapeedo.

Paul:  Bob you made that up.  Pace-o Rapido?!

Bob: Its Italian, Mrs Sherwin. 

Paul: You did dope alot as a cyclist, didn't you, Bob?

Bob: Oh man guys!  Fracture time!  What a show of strength at the front!  Radcliff is there.  Meadors.  Landenberger.  Nowak.  Zurawski.  Reeves.  Reed.  Some other guys too.  They are drillin it like a carpenter.  Suffer-city on the streets of Chee-cago.  The bungee cord has snapped and a small selection is absolutely DE-molishing this race early on.  We'll ID these strong men as soon as we get a good feed.  Tough to see so early in the morning.

Phil: Well not so fast Bob.  A hazard of this race is the stop light, and as we head toward West Chicago, 'gruppo compacto' I fear.

Paul: Indeed, but there are some knackered men hoping the next acceleration is not too soon.   These accelerations not only sap strength for the hills to come, but they also demoralize you Phil.  If you crack, its game over.  If you want to hang on, you need to dig deep into the suitcase of courage.

Bob: No doubt Paul, my little friend.  They are sharing a can of 'whoop -ass' early in the morning and VERY early in this long race.  These guys are a special breed, baby.

Phil: As we are stopped here, let's go to our race-side correspondant, Cindy Kibbidleshtick.  Andy Schleck is live with her. 
 
Cindy Kibbidleshtick: Andy, it was a tough year and a tough tour....looking at a crystal ball, a big one with smoke and eye of newt, where do you go from here?

Andy Schleck: Great question. As you know it was a bittersweet ending to the tour and I have no one to blame but my teammates and sponsors.  (Schleck unzips his jersey)  As you can tell I spent much more time in the gym this year and less time in the saddle in order to bulk up and become more of a physical threat to the other riders. When I look forward and think about 2011 and beyond there is one thing that sticks out, cigarettes!

I will be joining team Marlboro as captain and am sure next year will bring a tour victory for me.

Cindy: Cigarettes?  Team Marlboro?

Andy: Mmmm yes, clean your ears out. Me English is pretty good.  I didn't say, "How you say. . . "

Cindy: I know, but there seems to be a disconnect with the sponsorship and cycling?  Please walk me through it.

Andy: It may not be popular, but it is the wave of the future is in emerging countries...kind of like I am the wave of the future and the present of cycling. Next question.

Cindy: Oh and Lance Armstrong just joined us!  Hi Lance.

Lance: Hello.  Hello, Andy.

Andy: Oh, I didn't know it was dinosaur hour or I would have died my hair grey and wore a cardigan.

Lance: What are you riding, Andy, a Huffy? 

Andy: Hey, good luck with Congress.  Tell Roger Clemens I said 'Hi."  Hope you are more successful than the banking industry at the hearings.

Lance: Hope you are more succesful at The Tour.  Shift much?
 
Cindy: Oh gosh, Phil and Paul back to you.  I think a girl fight is about to happen.

Phil: Well, at least no one will get hurt in a fight like that.

Paul: When we go back to Cindy, we are hoping to have a live interview with Frank Schleck, and take a closer look at what it is like to be irrelevant because of a better brother. 
 
To racing, as we roll away from the light, someone has jumped away early - before the light turned green.  We'll ID him in a second.  The rest of the peloton is shaking their heads at this move.  Its like a bobble-head convention in the pack.  Attacking from the light is one of those unwritten tour rules - you simply cannot use traffic to advance, and the peloton is not liking this move.  But the race goes on.

Phil: Well I do say, with the cross winds today, Fabyan Parkway is going to be a make or break section of this race.  Here we go, gentlemen.  We are on Fabyan.

Paul: And it is on!  Reed has draped his wrists on the handlebars and is time trialing away.  Look at the power!  That is not an outright attack but rather a brutal increase in tempo!

Tall man Radcliff is kissing his handlebars hoping to hold on.  And the field is shredding.  Small echelons are forming as they all struggle to find a wheel.  Scott Knoepke of Psimet has turned on the engines and is the front group as is Zurawski of SRAM, plus several survivors from EMC2.  Nowack of ABD is there, and a few independents.  We said this was a crucial spot in the race, and it so it is.  Landenberger is in a spot of bother, suffering like he has never suffered before!  Oh will the end of Fabyan Parkway please come soon.  28 mph in a brutal crosswind with no place to hide.

Phil: The line is strung out, and the groups in the back are looking at each other for help.

Bob: More like looking for relief.  Game over if these guys don't grit it and catch back on.  This race is riding away from them.  This is the moment of truth!  Man it looks painful.  Stevens is gasping like an Asian carp in a stagnant pond.

Paul: Suitcase of courage.

Phil: Reed is looking to see who he has with him.  Its an elite bunch, but the 3 hills are around the corner.  Paul, I am not sure if anyone can hang if he accelerates again.

Paul: Dave Reed will attack and attack until he breaks the field completely.  He needs to be careful though, because Zurawski can climb, and if the remaining lead group stays close, there are some strong time-trialists to bring them back.  An interesting chess game is shaping up here on Fabyan Parkway.

Phil: Spot of bother.

Bob: As we approach the foot of the three climbs, the pace has eased.  No one wants to hit that 1st hill tapped when they go over the bridge...past that windmill thingy.  Meadors leads them to the foot at a very good clip.  Can he hold off attacks by drillin' it Postal style? 

Paul: Nope.  There goes Reed!  Zurawski locked on his wheel at 485 rpm cadence!  Meadors is off the back!  He's cracking - Bridge to engine room: No more power!  Radcliff is digging!  Landenberger grits his teeth!  Knoepke working it but losing ground to the lead two.  Drama on the first climb as these guys beat the snot out of each other.  Big-ass SUITCASE OF COURAGE!

Bob: Suitcase of whoop-ass Paul!  Big Z and Reedo are gone!

Paul: Oh Radcliff has popped.  Lights out.

Phil: Now this is where the race is won or lost.  Will Reed and Zurawski work together and will the trailing men organise to catch back on.  Reed and Zurawski are not letting off the gas as they crest, and the pack is gasping for air.  This could be lights out.

Paul: Well Phil, we have a long way to go but that was a painful acceleration.  If nothing else, it sends a message: We are not here for a joy ride.  Join a club for that.  This is racing, fellas. 

Bob: And what a lucky break for our shelled gladiators.  Another stop light.  What a downer for our lead two.  Stopped right near the home of Bicycle Heaven, another strongman's ride, indeed.  Stop lights, the great neutralizer.  Most of the remaining field is rolling up jamming food and drink to hold them for another hour of pain.

Phil: Rolling again as we roll toward Army Trail Road.  Paul, the pace is a bit more sane for the moment.

Paul: Well, don't be fooled Phil.  There is a very fast descent to the bottom of the final hill, but momentum will NOT carry you all the way up to Army Trail.  Plus, you can overcook yourself early and forget there is a second step of that climb. 

Phil: The lead escape is all together at the base, and Landenberger moves to the front to lead the climb.  This is a rapid pace, but everyone is with him.

Paul: There goes Reed!  Zurawski goes too!  Radcliff hops on this time as well, out of the saddle charging up this climb.  Reed is not so much attacking as much as it is yet another brutal acceleration. 

Phil: And the field splinters again!  Paul, this is exactly like watching the Tour De France, just without mountains or people or cars n'stuff.

Bob: Reed looks over his shoulder to see who has answered his call.  And Radcliff counters!  Radcliff is jumping up the outside!  He has a gap...

Paul: Reed looks to Zurawski to cover it, but Z says, 'No mate.  You started it, you go after him.'  The remaining escapers are out of the saddle trying to catch back on by the top.

Phil: Radcliff crests and turns on to Army Trail.  Reed and Z are there.  Neutralised.

Bob: Oh and the lead three call it off.  Gruppo together-o.

Paul: We will take a short break and be back for the exciting conclusion.  Stay with us.

Bob, what is wrong with you?

--------commercial break ----------

Phil: Welcome back.  A few stop lights have enabled this race to come together again for an exciting finish.  We are a few miles from Lombard, winding through Glen Ellyn.

Bob: I gotta tell ya, I like the chances of the big man Radcliff. He is overdue for a win and since he made it this far, he is the man to beat.  Man is he tall.

Phil: What about Reed?

Bob: Reed stopped off in Glen Ellyn.  He works there or something.  Bummer.  Big Z decided to ride home and skip the finish, too, since he lives right there.  It is a unique characteristic of this race.  Guys disappear on the final run-in. 

Phil: Well that changes the favorites.  Gus Rosada is there.  Steve Ravenscraft.  Gareth Reeves.  Bob "power-lifter" Bondiman, Andrew "wake me up for the sprint" Stevens.  Landenberger and Radcliff.  And Meadors might. . .

Bob: . . . Nope.  No way, Phil.  12 year old girl beats Meadors in a sprint.  I mean if she can hold his wheel in a blistering lead-out, of course.

Paul: Don't count out Landenberger.  A car cut him off and he is pissed.  Adrenaline can do wonders for a sprint.  But you  probably can count out Fox.  Even if he amped it up to 55 rpms, he is not likely to contend the sprint.

Phil: Meadors leads them out.  This pace he is setting is causing gaps already in the field!  Some of the contenders unlucky to be in the back are leap-frogging up.  Rosada is glued to his wheel.  Landenberger third wheel and Radliff fourth.  The pace is high and we are within a kilometer of the finish!  Crazy fast, but controlled. . . .

Paul: Meadors peels off and Rosada is heads down.  They are flying!  Fox is still there in the back!  Can Mike Fox pull the upset of the day?!  Could he be the next Cavendish!

Bob: Maybe in "Opposite World."

Paul: Wait - nope, he just said "Ga'head" to Meadors to let him back in the line.  Fox wants to stay in the back.  But Fox is up to 45 rpm's!

Phil: Radcliff is tightening his shoe straps.  He is sitting well positioned. 31 mph. Rolling into Lombard...Landenberger takes control of the front!  Guys are safely looking around to see who is in contention and who might jump.  32 mph...  Stevens moving up as well.

Paul: OK here we go.  Final turn.  Landenberger drives the train around the bend! 34 mph  Radcliff jumps!  Stevens and Rosada there on his wheel!  Reeves charging up and has the momentum and line!  Radcliff driving it!  Reeves and Rosada are there. You have to have a last name that starts with R to win, so Stevens is fading!  They fan out!

100 meters!

Here is the lunge!  Its close!

Some little 12 year old girl wins!!!!    What an amazing finish!  What a race!  We will post results as soon as we can.  Down to Cindy at the finish, as the team rolls back into Lombard.

Cindy: Paul, I got nothing. 

Paul: OK.  Then we hope to see you out on the road!

July/August 2010
Submitted by Jostein Alvestad

I list on our home page that Team EMC2 does many types of rides and races.  One in particular is called "Challege Rides."  And until this submission by Jostein, I was unsure why I listed this, other than wishful thinking that our team would create a "Hell of the Western Suburbs" someday. 

Given it is mid July, and given vacation and racing schedules, I decided this report will carry us through August.  But really, it is not because of that - it is because I want everyone to have an opportunity to read this recap of a true challenge ride - the Peak Death Race in Vermont.  Team EMC2 is a team of many skill-levels and diverse interests.  But Jostein Alvestad is in a league of his own.   Enjoy...

2010 Peak Death Race

Death race… As the name implies, it is quite an unusual race.  Last year a friend of mine sent me a link to the race website and said it looked like something that was right up my alley. Turns out she was right.

The race is said to be one of the hardest races of any kind in the world, and I believed it after seeing a video of the previous year’s race. The rules change every year, and the course and tasks and distance are all kept secret until you get to the appropriate task in the race.

It is so difficult to describe a dynamic race like this. Adventure racing is actually a good name for it. Only one hundred people are allowed to sign up for the race, and I even had to submit an audition video explaining my training and why I deserved to be a participant.

The more I researched blogs and videos about the race, the more exciting this challenge seemed to me. The goal seems to be to get you to give up, and the race staff played a lot of psychological games to meet that end. Mental stress and confusion were applied. Misinformation, useless facts, fool’s errands, and even instructions in a foreign language were all part of the game. And on top of all these mental stresses, there were brutal physical tasks that had to be completed.

I felt like I had good background experience to help me perform well in the race. After all, I survived military training, hell week, two tours of active duty in Lebanon, and had experience leading development aid projects in third world countries for many years. What could the death race offer that I had not already experienced? I was excited for the challenge and was mentally prepared to take everything they could possibly throw at me.

I was also accustomed to working under conditions of little to no sleep, having worked as a firefighter for the past several years. I knew the death race would run for 24 hours straight or even more. It is difficult for anyone to wake up repeatedly throughout the night and perform random tasks. At least I had the background of performing under such stressful situations.

As a firefighter, I am also used to carrying around heavy gear and equipment, so I know what my back and arms can safely handle. That is also key to performing well during this race, since we had to carry around everything we thought we might need as well as certain mandatory gear during the race.

I received the list of mandatory equipment about two months in advance of the race. The list included $50 in pennies (which weighed over 28 pounds!), a post hole digger, a ten pound bag of onions, a knife with a minimum three inch blade, and a book: “Greek: An Intensive Course” (Paperback) written by Hardy Hansen & Gerald Quinn, which ended up being over 800 pages of ancient Greek spoken at the time of the Spartan Wars.

In addition to the mandatory equipment, my backpack also contained two pairs of gloves, two pieces of webbing, spare socks, a zip-lock bag with fire starting materials, waterproof road flares, a waterproof book, pen, pencil, sharpie, a compass, energy gels, and a drinking bottle. Fully loaded with all the gear, my backpack weighed around 60 pounds!

Having everything I thought I would need, I got in my car on a Tuesday morning at the end of June and arrived in Williamstown, Mass. fifteen hours later. I rode my bike up and down Mt. Greylock for training – 2611 feet of climbing in about an hour. My legs were ready! Thursday, I set up my tent and it rained. Friday morning, my car hit a pothole and the radiator broke. Then the engine overheated and the car would not start at all. I decided I had to put this worry on the back burner, because there would be enough problems during the race and I needed to be mentally clear to handle them.

Check in was from 4 to 6 pm on Friday. By the time I arrived at check in, there was already a line and paperwork to be completed. I got my first taste of the race directors’ attempts to overwhelm us with information. They both gave their welcome speeches at the same time, and both of them claimed that what they said was very important. They laced their race information with anecdotes and local trivia. I realized that I might be quizzed on some of this information later in the race, but it was almost impossible to take notes.

Looking around at check in, I saw a hundred of the fittest looking people I had ever seen in one place. That was a little intimidating. Most people also had support teams with them, but I was there alone. The support teams could only provide racers with food and clothing, but the underlying feeling was that I had no one but myself to rely on for support and encouragement. Every little detail like that can intensify the mental stress already felt during this grueling adventure – and I was only at check in!

I noticed a sign above the check in area: “Seven Deadly Sins: Pride, Envy, Gluttony, Lust, Anger, Greed and Sloth.” There was a large empty jar on the check in table that was labeled “pennies”. I was told the proceeds were to go to a local foundation for children with cancer. I pondered a while and decided to make my first important decision – I donated half my load of pennies -- $25 worth. I was the only one who made a donation, but I felt pretty good about it after seeing the race director’s reaction. He seemed very excited about my strategy. I knew I might need the money at some point later in the race, but I wanted to try to play the game while being mindful of the deadly sins that were so clearly posted.

My backpack now felt a more realistic weight and was probably around 45 pounds. I felt good about my decision to be charitable, and I felt that starting the race with a good deed might give me some good karma for later in the race.

The race was to officially start at 4 am on Saturday morning, but I knew this to be a misnomer. The prior year’s race started at check in, and the same type of next day start time had been provided to those racers as well. I decided to keep a positive attitude and just stay calm no matter what happened.

After check in around 7 pm, just as I had predicted, we were bussed up a mountain road with all our gear. We arrived at a woodshed that had a sign reading “Anthony’s Axe Shop”. Axes were hanging inside the woodshed and there were about a hundred five gallon pails lying next to a huge pile of gravel. Even though axes were not mandatory equipment, several racers had elected to carry one just in case. I was not one of those people, so I was relieved that there was a possibility to buy or rent an axe during the race.

All racers were instructed to leave the backpacks and bring all our pennies and our Greek book. If we wanted, we could also rent a pail for $1 in which to carry our load, which I readily agreed to. We formed teams of six men and two women, and each team was given a 20 foot wooden bridge. More pre-race information was supplied, including more facts and figures. The directors even offered to let the racers buy out of the pre-race tour of the course by giving up their $50 in pennies. Anyone who agreed to the offer would then be allowed to rest until the 4 am official start. I don’t think there were any takers, although I am sure some people regretted that decision not soon after.

The pre-race tour of the course turned out to be five hours of carrying the bridges up and down mountain biking trails, over small cliffs, through fallen trees and around tight bends in the steep mountainside, all in the darkness of night. Ten minutes into this challenge, and my forearms were already in serious pain.

My team decided to put the heavy buckets on top of the bridge and then carry the bridge on our shoulders. On the way down the mountain, we figured out that two or three guys could push it like a sled, and the rest of the team could carry two or three buckets, each weighing about 35 pounds. We switched around periodically, and I do not know which was worse – having my forearms and hands in agony from carrying the heavy buckets, or having my back and legs exhausted from pushing and pulling the bridge.

During the course of this task, the race director decided to make a new rule: the bridge now had to be carried at all times and each team member must have a hand on the bridge at all times. This, of course, just made it harder, heavier and more cumbersome. We finally put the bridges down in their final resting spots around 2 am. We marched back to the Axe Shop where we filled another bucket with gravel and headed out on the trails again, scooping out handfuls of gravel here and there as instructed by the race director. We performed a lot of trail maintenance that night!

At the end of this task, we were told to form a line and stay one arm’s length apart as the race director led us on an off-path hike over the mountain toward the race start area, crossing a river on the way. Several racers were already exhausted, and it was slow going. We realized that we would be at the race start about half an hour late, so a few of the most eager racers formed a breakaway group and made it to the race start area in time. They would find out later, though, that taking an easier route would cost them.

**Of the 100 people signed up, 87 were left at the 4 am official start time on Saturday morning at Amee Farm.**

Task 1 – Anthony’s Axe Shop

The first task was presented. Go back over the mountain to the Axe Shop, get all your gear and come back. That sounded easy enough, right? All we had to do was follow the path clearly marked with pink streamers.

I was in the middle of the field when I came upon a group of racers standing at a fork in the path. Both ways had spray painted question marks, arrows and pink streamers. The racers seemed indecisive. Another racer and I decided to just pick a path and go. It turned out to be the long way, I think, because about a half hour later I passed the same group of racers who had taken the other path! I was keeping a brisk pace and knew that I had to keep moving to be ahead of cut-off times.

The final quarter mile section before the Axe Shop was a ditch, full of thorny blackberry bushes, a brook, and yards and yards of low hanging, criss-crossed barbed wire. The racer who did not go under all of the barbed wire would be disqualified.

I noticed that a group of racers were sitting on their buckets at the start of the barbed wire section. Among them were the people I considered to be the overall contenders. I did not understand why they were just sitting there, but I later learned that they were all held back a half hour because of the short cut they took to get to the start of the race.

Mark - a writer for Outdoor Magazine. I cannot wait to read his story!

The barbed wire turned out to be a no-brainer for me. I had plenty of “play time” with barbed wire while in the army, and I was not afraid of it. Sure, my shirt was tattered when I finished, and I was sporting several new scrapes and cuts, but I knew the barbed wire would not seriously hurt me. So I was able to breeze through it and pass several racers along the way.

When I checked into the Axe Shop, I was surprised to learn that I was the first racer to arrive. I was in the lead! I did not have a goal of winning the race, just to finish it. But it sure was exciting to think that I was in the lead.

When I asked for my backpack, Anthony at the Axe Shop informed me that there was a banking crisis in Greece, and the Axe Shop was foreclosed. I had to go back to the Farm to get the necessary paperwork to sign out my gear. I could leave my bucket of pennies and book at the shop while I made another trip over the mountain. This time I was only carrying a water bottle and some gels. Maybe I was inspired by being in the lead, because I made it through the barbed wire section like a ninja and ran most of the mountain pass.

Back at the Farm, I was surprised to learn that I was no longer in the lead. No one had passed me on the trail! I thought I had missed a shortcut, but it turned out that I had gone the correct way – hiking the six miles over the mountain. These new race leaders had found a road around the mountain. My reward for taking the correct route was to forego the barbed wire on the trek back up to the Axe Shop.

To add to all the chaos at the Farm checkpoint, it appeared that the Chinese had bought up the bank that held the paperwork I needed to retrieve my backpack from the Axe Shop. At least I think that was the story. I have to admit that the story line at this point was a little lost on me, which fit right into the game of making the racers confused, frustrated and unsure of what to do.

Yu Wang, the Peak Races intern, only spoke in Mandarin. She handed me a mysterious form with a circle and another symbol on it. I had no clue what to make of it, so I figured I would simply write down a detailed inventory list of my gear, speculating the symbols on the paper were some sort of a map that marked off where my gear was. I was pretty sure that I was incorrect, but luckily at the Axe Shop they did not even question my paper. They just accepted it and told me to take my gear and go!

Since I was able to skip going through the barbed wire, I found myself in the lead again. I left the Axe Shop in third place. The hike across the mountain took a couple extra hours this time because of the weight of my backpack. I caught up with a guy named Joe Decker, who I recognized from his very impressive audition video. Joe is in the Guiness Book of World Records as the World’s Fittest Man. I could tell just by looking at him that he was in a league of his own, and I was pleased to notice that I was physically able to keep up with him. We arrived at the Farm with about an hour and a half lead on the rest of the racers!

**Of the 87 people who started Task 1, 55 people completed it.**

Task 2 – Wood Chopping / Farm Work

Back at the Farm we were given the option of either splitting and stacking 25 enormous pieces of wood or buying out of the chore for $25 in pennies to do another farm chore. We would not be told of the chore unless we chose that option and paid the pennies. Neither Joe nor I had brought an axe, and we reasoned that buying out of the chore to perform farm work would go faster than trekking across the mountain yet another time to rent an axe from the Axe Shop. Since I only had $24 left, Joe generously gave me $1 so I could buy out of the wood chopping. I was now out of money.

It seemed we made the right decision. The alternative chore was to fill 15 wheelbarrow loads with sheep manure from the stable floor and dump it at a site a half mile away. This task was actually quite pleasant, believe it or not. We got to put our backpacks down for the duration and knew we had a comfortable lead on the competition.

On our sixth trip hauling manure to the dump site, we were informed that we would now be timed and each trip had to be faster than the previous one. If we failed to improve our time, we would have to haul ten additional loads of manure! We figured out that ten more loads would mean another full hour of shoveling, and we would lose our lead. Other racers were arriving and had already started chopping wood. We were already hustling along pretty quickly in our task, so getting progressively faster each of the nine remaining trips seemed almost impossible. I started my wrist watch on the next trip to keep an eye on the time. That trip took five minutes thirty seconds. The race directors did not seem to mind that we timed ourselves, so Joe and I devised a plan to start the stopwatch each time to make sure we only shaved off a couple of seconds each trip. We hustled as fast as we could while loading the wheelbarrows, but then we took a break right in front of the gate while I counted down the seconds. Our plan worked, and only one man chopping wood finished his task before we finished ours, so we were still right at the front of the pack to start the next task.

**Of the 55 people who started Task 2, 41 people completed it.**

Task 3 – Money Found

For the next task, we were to report to the pond area at Amee Farm. When we arrived there, we were told to sit down and pour all our remaining pennies in a pile, count them, and put them in zip-lock bags of exactly $5 each.

Obviously, the more money a person had, the longer this task would take. At this point, many racers still had all their money. Five thousand pennies took a long time to count – one by one!

I had the opposite problem – I was broke. I was told that if I could get $25, I could buy myself out of the task by performing another penalty task. At this point, there were lots of racers around the pond, many a whole lap or two across the mountain behind us. I think the idea was to get me to beg for money from the other racers. It would not have been that difficult, because many were eager to get rid of some of the weight in their backpacks. To my great luck, Joe Decker, the first person I turned to, decided to give me all of his remaining $25! He even offered to share my penalty with me, without even knowing what it was. What a guy. The penalty turned out to be 100 burpees. We hammered them out non-stop, easily counting down the number. We must have made it look too easy, because the race directors then declared a second task to the penalty. Each of us had to retrieve a zip-lock bag of pennies that was thrown out into the middle of the pond.

We tried to watch where the bags landed and then swam out to those spots. The pond was spring fed, murky and about twenty feet deep. I made my first mistake at this point. I should have waited until my pulse returned to normal from the burpees. The cold water made it even harder to breathe. I made several attempts to reach the bottom of the pond, where I believed my bag had sunk. It must have been a very deep spot in the pond, because I could not even reach the bottom. Each dive attempt took more out of me, and I was getting colder by the moment and shivering in my misery.

Joe found his bag on the second dive, and he headed off to the next task. After a while, the pond master told me that if I abandoned my bag, I could perform a penalty of swimming thirty laps across the pond and running thirty laps around it. Okay, I thought. I had heard of two marines who, in the previous year’s race, got stuck diving in that very same pond for three hours before they were pulled from the race due to hypothermia. I decided the alternate penalty was doable if I alternated between running and swimming. I swam six laps before the cold got to me, and I started to cramp. I got up and ran fifteen laps around the pond. For the next swimming laps, I wore a life vest for safety. After I had completed fifteen laps, the pond master pulled me out and said the penalty was really fifteen each of swimming and running so I could stop. They only stated it would be thirty each to see if I would give up.

With my penalty completed, the pond master stated I could now start the task over and do it just as the racers with money did it. I was given a bag of money to count, but I was in bad shape. I could barely move my fingers. One of the camera crew members noticed this and walked down to my transition spot for me and got my rain poncho. Ah, so that is why they had support crews!

This time back in the water, the pond master threw the bags, two with rocks and one with pennies, into the shallow marsh, which was only waist high. That was how the bags had been thrown for those who did not need to complete the penalty. I had no problem finding the correct bag this time, and my mood quickly improved. The sun was shining, and I knew I would get warm again by hiking up the mountain to the next task.

**Of the 41 people who started Task 3, 31 people completed it.**

Task 4 – Roger Loves Onion

I was now in third place, and the lead two had a two hour lead on me. This task was to bring our complete pack, pick out six pieces of firewood and go to the Onion Shack and talk to Roger, the Onion King. I strapped six medium sized logs and some kindling onto my pack. I asked the race director which way to the Onion Shack and was told, “It is just a short walk up there. Just follow the course markings. You can’t miss it.” I actually believed him! For a while, at least. The course became longer and longer, steeper and steeper. I started to run into some of the tightest underbrush and most difficult terrain I had seen so far in the race.

I think it was about three hours later that I arrived at a pond. The markings led right across it. A camera crew was set up on the other side and they yelled for me to remove my backpack before getting into the water. I soon figured out why… The bag was hardly buoyant, and the firewood barely helped me to keep my pack afloat while I swam across the pond. The crew told me that Joe had a waterproof bag and blew it up as a balloon to help his trek across. The second guy had too many pennies in his pack, and the weight pulled him down into the water. He almost drowned, and the camera crew had to dive into the pond to rescue him. After my trip, the other racers were ordered to walk around the pond instead. So after finally making it across, my pack and I were now soaked as I began to hike the final hills to meet the Onion King.

The Onion Shack looked to be an owner built homestead with a beautiful garden. Maybe I was starting to get delirious from sleep deprivation, but it almost looked like something out of a Hobbit movie.

The Onion King had a few chores for me to perform. I had to slice up my ten pounds of onions and, using a scale, put them into one pound zip-lock bags. I had to eat one pound of the onions. I gave the Onion King my firewood and had to bring in fifteen additional loads with a wheelbarrow and stack the loads near his house.

At this point, I was not in a hurry anymore. I had a nice conversation with Roger. He was of Norwegian decent, and he said I was doing a great job representing Norway in this race. In my tired, dreamlike state I thought he looked like the Norwegian Troll drawings I grew up with.

I saw another opportunity to donate $25 to the environment, but obviously anything having to do with money was no longer an option for me.

I headed the long way back down the mountain. The good thing about being in the lead is that you then get to meet and share encouragements with the rest of the racers.

**Of the 31 people who started Task 4, 21 people completed it.**

Task 5 – Greek Translation

When I finally arrived at the checkpoint, I was told to take off my pack and sit down. I saw Joe Decker, the lead guy, sitting around a fire pit with no gear on. Holy crap, I thought, it looked like he was finished. I thought I must be on my last task!

I was held there while the staff communicated with walkie talkies to find out how many racers were still in the race.  I heard the race directors’ evil plotting… they were going to send Joe back up towards the Onion King so it appeared that the racers had to go through that hellish trek again. Joe set off with a grin on his face, as always.

As I waited around the fire, the next racer showed up. It was Stephanie Bishop, who was currently first female and fourth overall. She was also the overall winner of the Winter Death Race, so I knew she was “bad ass”!

The race director asked me if I wanted to hear my last task. Oh yes, I was ready to be finished with this race. It was getting to be dusk again for the second time in the race. For the first part of the task, I had to eat another pound of onions. Then I was to go down to the Amee Farm pond and look under the bridge. There was a sentence there in Greek for me to translate. I was told to come back up and whisper the translated sentence to the race director, and I would be done. I could bring my Greek book.

Stephanie and I both started eating our onions. Mine come back up, but I kept on until the bag was done. Brutal!  By that time, I had onions coming out my pores. I reeked of stale onion sweat, and my breath smelled so bad it was even bothering ME!

 I was eager to keep the lead I had to Stephanie and hoped they would hold her at the checkpoint for a while like they did me. As soon as I was finished eating, they told me to follow the route back to the Amee Farm pond. I heard it wrong and thought the director said to follow the road back to the farm. I start running down the gravel road on what I thought was my last stretch. After a few miles I realized I was totally lost. I ran about three miles downhill in the wrong direction. I figured out I had to backtrack up the mountain again and find the pink ribboned trail back to the farm. Oh boy.

After finally getting back to the farm, I could still hear people going into the pond to find their pennies. I went down to the brook and started my attempt at translating the phrase. My book had been submerged when I crossed the pond during Task 4 so the pages were sticking together. It was getting almost too dark to see, and I had left my headlight up at the pond. For the second time in the race doubts start sneaking into my head. The first time was from the physical coldness of the pond, but this time it was mental. I was at a loss. None of the words were in the dictionary, and I could not think straight to figure out what I should do.

Stephanie arrived and had a light… and a dry book. We spent about fifteen minutes together trying to figure out the phrase. Then she suggested we just move on and take the penalty. I had total tunnel vision, so stuck and focused I was on translating this sentence, that it never occurred to me to take a penalty. I was very grateful that she came along and made a sensible decision.

On the way back we met another racer who was heading down the mountain. He said he made the $25 donation to the environment, so Roger the Onion King told him what the sign under the bridge said.  I said we tried to translate the sign but were not sure if we had it right. I asked the guy straight out if he could tell us the sentence. Since he had a good lead on us, he told us what the sign said: “The race is not over. The competition is only a quarter of the way done”.  That wasn’t even close to what we had, so we thanked him and headed on our way.

I told Stephanie that I thought we were finished after this. She knew that we had at least one pass back across the mountain, plus the river walk left. We stayed together along the dark path back up to the mountain checkpoint. Upon arrival, I whispered the answer to the race director. He was very surprised and said, “How did you know that? That is impossible! Who told you that?”

I asked him if that was the correct answer and said I would tell him how I got the answer later, after the race was over. He agreed that it was close enough and told us to go down to the farm again with all our gear for the next task.

It was getting seriously dark, and our headlamps were slowly fading. It was now nearly impossible to see from pink ribbon to pink ribbon. The walk down through the bush was much more difficult. We were not envying the racers we met heading up to the Onion King at that time. 

At this point in the race a selection seemed to have naturally occurred. Only the strongest willed people were left. I could see it in the eyes of the racers I met – there was nothing that would stop any of them from finishing this race!

**All 21 racers who started Task 5 completed it.**

Task 6 – The Finish

After our video interview, we were each given a car tire inner tube and had the choice of blowing it up by mouth, renting a pump, or using our own pump. I had my bike pump in the car and, after getting approval to go to my car to get it, Stephanie and I inflated our tires. We walked along the highway a few miles upriver and across a covered bridge, where we found another fire pit and a checkpoint.

We were tested on a few more things. First we had to get into a very cold pond chest deep, holding only our Greek book. We were shown a sign and were told to translate it. Another racer, Cully, had caught up and got in the water with us. It was so cold that I lost control of my breathing and was shaking very badly again. My brain shut down, and my book started falling apart. I kept hoping that one of the others would soon find the answer. After a minute and a half they gave us a clue: It was an animal. We kept searching, but it was not until the next clue was given three minutes later that we had any luck: It eats grass. Cully guessed right: Goat ! We got up close to the fire to heat up.

While they told us the next task, we were given a plastic teaspoon and a sandbag. We had to get on a scale, subtract our age from our weight, and then figure out 19 percent of that. Or something like that. I was a little fuzzy with the details by this time. The number we got was the number of pounds of sand we had to scoop into our sandbag. I needed 28 pounds.  We were told there are 32 teaspoons in a pound. If our bag was within five pounds of our goal weight, we could go, but if we missed, we had to eat another onion. My eyeballing was way off and my bag weighed 40 pounds. I ate my penalty onion and puked again.

We were told to bring our sandbags back up to the Axe Shop. I lost the trail in the dark and backtracked until I found Stephanie. She stated that she got lost too, so we decided it was safer to stay together. It was great to have company at a time like that. We were both in a pretty similar physical state.

At this point of sleep deprivation, your brain shuts down in short micro-sleep moments, even when you are walking. We were a happy, overtired mess, walking like giggling zombies, sharing what we were experiencing; seeing dancing lights and hearing voices.

We had to take a quick break to take the sandbag off our shoulders every five to ten minutes. On a couple of occasions, we dozed off while we sitting down for a minute, until one of us said we had to keep moving!

Slowly but surely we managed to stagger up to the Axe Shop by dawn on Sunday. We unloaded our sandbag and got a skull to take back to the farm.

By the covered bridge, we assembled the rest of our gear and were told to follow the river back to the farm. We tried different methods to get down the river, including floating the backpack in the inner tube. But the water was very shallow in sections, so we decided just to carry everything as we carefully walked the mile and a half on the slippery rocks. We both took it nice and slow, while one more racer quickly passed us. We let him go, deciding it was not worth chasing the difference between fifth and sixth place. We did not want to risk breaking an ankle or a wrist on the slippery rocks. All we wanted to do was to finish without long-term injury.

To add to the weirdness, the rocks on the river bottom had the same hue as the skulls they gave us. I started having visions of walking on skulls. Now I know why it is called a death race!

We finally reached our exit point under a bridge and had only a short walk back to the farm, where we were given our final challenge.

We had to complete 100 pushups before we were allowed to cross the finish line. I got a second (or thirteenth) wind and whipped them out in sets of twenty. I even managed handclaps on a few of them. Showoff…

The race was officially over! Stephanie and I tied for 6^th place, after 33 and a half hours of non-stop hard work. I was exhausted but happy. I gave one last exit interview and then sat down by the fire, eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich that, for obvious reasons, just tasted like raw onions.

I had a great time, and would do this race again anytime. I just suffered minor cuts and bruises, and my knees were stiff for a couple of days.

By the way, I got the car towed to a shop and took a rental car home, so in a week or two (or more!), I get to go back to beautiful Vermont.

**Of the 21 racers who started Task 6, 19 people made it to the finish.**

I could go on and on telling stories from this race, and how mentally deep this race was. Here is a 13 minute video that does a great job showing what it takes to finish.

If you are going to just see one video this is it: (the password is “run” )

http://www.vimeo.com/13142263

The winner, Joe Decker, came in at 28 hours. Here is an excerpt from his book describing how he became the Worlds Fittest Man. Pretty inspirational stuff: 

http://www.joe-decker.com/excerpt.html

The last one to complete the race, Bryan Wollam, finished in just under 39 hours. Here is his audition video. Another inspirational guy with a message:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bfz39o5gBNs&feature=player_embedded

Oh, and here is my audition tape:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PDy4QCE-Ui4

And here is the ten minute video  about the 2009 race that made me sign up:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8rtMFKpOYqo&feature=fvw

March 2010 - Team EMC² Featured Cyclist: Mike Fox
    
Submitted by Tim Radcliff


Team EMC² was founded by several riders who rode the West Suburban Wheelman's Lombard ride.  This ride has had plenty of regulars over the years, but it has seen several iterations with riders coming and going.  One rider in particular remained a consistent fixture of the ride: Mike Fox.  Mike will have trained on the same course 30 years this summer.  But now he wears the Team EMC² kit.

Mike's history over those 30 years includes rides with many strong Chicago-area athletes.  Years ago, Babe Vandevelde (Christian's great uncle) was a regular participant.  Several elite-caliber riders drilled the ride, including the likes of Fabio Orlandi and other national-level racers.  Mike was one of those strong men, too.  He reminded me recently that he dropped Christian Vandevelde on a ride. . . (but he also added that Christian was in 7th grade...details, shmeetails)

Now, it is impossible to miss Mike on the rides.  The following characteristics come to mind:

Consistent.    Safe.    Coach.    Quick-witted.    Low Cadence.  (Very, very low cadence.) 
And, of course, "Ga'head."

Put them all together and you have a steady, safe, and experienced leader in a fast moving paceline.  Let's go deeper on some of these characteristics.

Mike's commitment and discipline to answer the early alarm to ride at 5am is remarkable.  He has done it year after year, for 30 years.  But this should not suprise us given his U.S. Marine background.  He rarely misses a ride, and gets steadily faster throughout the year.  For that matter, he rarely misses an opportunity to ride outside in the winter.  When the hum of indoor trainers emits from most cyclist's houses, he is on his mountain bike rolling the Prairie Path.

Mike's presence also brings a balance of speed with safety to our training rides.  If there is unsafe riding, he won't hesitate to try to correct it.  And anyone who has ridden with us knows that.  Face it, Mike hasn't lasted so long by being taken down by squirrely riders.  He tries to make sure those around him make good decisions so we can all ride another day.  No one on Team EMC² cares if you're fast if you're unsafe. 

Regarding his role as coach, Mike clearly has a great deal of experience and knowledge about training and racing, and is generous with his time when imparting ideas to others.  For example, Mike was vocal throughout his 4-person TT race.  Knowing his co-riders' strengths and limits, he coached a relatively inexperienced team to a strong time, with a great finish.  One rider was shed late, but Mike had the train rolling at full throttle.  On or off the bike, I get the sense Mike could talk cycling all day long.  He is a student of the sport, but a great teacher and coach as well.  If you are new to racing, you would be wise to listen to his advice.

And once you get to know Mike, you'll notice his quick wit.  This comes in handy when a training ride becomes work or if we need a day at a more modest pace.  Mike's humor reminds us not to take ourselves or our sport too seriously.  Cycling better be fun, or 5am rides really suck.  He will find the lighter side in just about anything.  But there is a downside:  It is difficult to ride fast when you are laughing so hard.

Mike has a unique pedaling cadence.  Not Lance's cadence.  Not even Jan Ullrich's cadence.  His is more like a. . .a. . . Ferris Wheel.  He pushes a huge gear, and what's interesting is that he rarely gets dropped!  You get him up to speed, and he just keeps it rolling.  He keeps pushing that huge gear, tucked right in with the best.

Which leads me to my final observation about Mr. Fox.  He knows his body and his limits, and he rides smart.  He knows when to take pulls and when to tuck into the line. 

So for those of you who have not ridden with him, picture this:  An early morning paceline is winding up to a speed that is a bit more race-pace.  Imagine there are plenty of strong men driving it along - Dave Reed, Tony Meadors, Tom Zurawski, Jim Landenberger, etc.  26 to 28 mph steady.  As the lead rider drops back after a pull, Mike smoothly and safely drops his cadence from 60 rpm's to 55 rpm's, lets a small gap appear, and almost without fail commands, "Ga'head."  

The receding rider need not even look around once he hears "Ga'head."  We all trust Mike enough to let a perfect gap form with no disruption to the train.  And we know that if he wants you to slot in, you better slot in.

Mike is the most senior member of EMC² and brings a unique dynamic to our team's chemistry.  He brings leadership and stability to our rides.  He might not be driving at the front all the time, but his presence is felt and respected. 

He is an ex-U.S. Marine and it clearly shows in terms of his consistency, his steadiness within the rides, and his training ethic.  It's an honor to train and race with him, and Team EMC² is stronger because of Mike Fox.

Now go ride your bike.  Ga'head.