Scaramouche Will You Do The Fandango

Saturday was the 2nd annual Bohemian Sto Mil and also my second time riding it. While the month was different, the wind was just a gently breeze this year and the temps were milder... it looked like there were a few familiar butt holes lined up at the beginning so hopes were high that this years race would be a better time than it was 13 months ago.  Last years Sto Mil was a brutal endeavor and I was more than a little excited that this years version was not going to be a repeat of last years sufferfest as far as the weather was concerned, now the hills could be a whole other matter. Last years write up can be found HERE if you're so inclined.



It was an absolutely beautiful morning for the race and an hour earlier than last year to try and avoid some of the heat but as it turned out, there was no actual heat. It did get a bit warm but I wouldn't say that it ever got really hot, almost perfect weather this year. The plan this year was to ride with Todd and Isabel at a fairly steady but comfortable pace.


Right out of the gates we had to stop before we even left the parking lot, Todd had to adjust a seat... usually it's his own seat, it's such a common practice during rides that he sort of gets a lot of guff for it. This time however it was Isabel's seat that needed the adjustment, they had to raise her seat up to accommodate both bikes on the car and then forgot to lower it until we tried to ride off. It was a nice view of the field riding off into the sunset though as we waited to start. It was ok though because as I said, racing wasn't really ever in the plans anyway.


After about 5 or so minutes we were off and onto the gravel and the next 99 miles. Now as I said the plan was that all three of us were going to ride together but somewhere between parking lot and first gravel it was decided that Isabel was pretty sure she only had 40 or so miles in her that day so she told Todd that we should just ride at our own pace and she'd ride her abbreviated route.





The delayed start really didn't phase me and I kind of liked not worrying about making sure not to go out too fast chasing folks or getting mixed up in a crowd of folks jockeying for position, it was kind of nice to just be the three of us with the whole road to ourselves. Surprisingly once Todd and I were cut loose, it wasn't long before we started catching people, we weren't going out all that hard I didn't think but perhaps we were going better than I thought. I knew that the Fargo was at least a good 15 or so pounds lighter than the loaded Pugs from last year and I also knew I was fresher this year than I was at the Sto Mil last year but it still seemed odd that we were catching folks so soon out of the start with a 5 minute penalty.



Not feeling like I was chasing rabbits but rather riding at a good pace I could maintain for the day, I decided to just keep riding as we were riding and see how things went. It wasn't long after that we started hitting the famous Sto Mil minimum maintenance roads, some of them could be classified as zero maintenance roads but they sure are a lot of fun.


This sketchy dry water crossing kept you on your toes, a few feet to the left or to the right and your day would suck a lot more than you wanted it to. Fortunately we navigated it without issue.


Todd and I even caught up to Michael and the three of us made up a train of purple Fargos for a good portion of the first 2/3rds of the Sto Mil. The Fargo was a great choice of bike for this type of gravel race and not once did I feel like I might have been better off with a different bike.


We even managed to ride for a bit with Joe before he decided we were going too slow and went on up ahead of us.



The thick gravel of last year was still there this year, this particular section is kind of a flat and faster section and last year I was surprised that there was such a long section of flat. Little did I know last year that this was the section leading up to Bohemian Everest, this year I knew what was coming and the flat didn't seem like so much of a blessing but more of an omen of what was to come.




I know that the hill doesn't look like much from pictures but I promise you it's quite the hill. About 8/10ths of a mile long it has two false summits you can't see from the approach before you finally get to it's highest point and at it's steepest it ticks upwards of 18% for grade. I did manage to knock about 15 seconds off of this years effort over last years, I'll take that any day of the week.



At the summit was a friendly crop duster, it was kind of interesting to watch  him making a few runs on the field as we rode along. Not sure he was as happy about it as we were, I'm guessing we were fouling up his spraying but to his credit he didn't douse us with pesticide.


How tall was that hill we climbed really, well it's not often in Nebraska that you can see a town that is about 8.5 miles away. That grain elevator to the best of my calculations is Schuyler and we were on road X, yep it was more than your average Nebraska roller.




Rolled into czech point one with plenty of time to spare, I'm not sure if they had cut off times last year but they stressed it this year so it was good to see that we were cruising along at a pace that would get us where we needed to be well before we needed to be there. Drink the water at your own risk however.


Since we had a little extra time, we toasted one to Chrome Christ in the St. Mary's cemetery across the street. It was our first holy ditch beer and it tasted simply divine if I do say so myself.




Leaving the czech point we started the MMR sections in earnest, when they are good they are smooth and fast rolling but when they aren't they are just a rutted, jarring mess. The MMRs on the Sto Mil this year were the latter unfortunately, I was glad I had the plus tires on most of them.



Blessing's sister setup an impromptu SAG stop with food, ice and cold Coke; she was the MVP that day and it was a nice surprise and refreshing.


Purple Fargos for days, just a small and extra small away from having a full size run. It's also kind of fun to see how everyone customizes their bikes once they purchase them, three different Fargos and none of them are set up exactly the same.


Rolling into David City, it was tempting to forget the race and go cruise the Midway at the Butler County Fair and find a deep fat fried Twinkie or some sort of meat on a stick and just sit in the shade and people watch. We also would have had enough time to find a good turtle and enter the turtle race that started at 2 pm... heck the way we were going, maybe we could have entered the turtle race. Nah, we were actually cruising along pretty well, right around a 13 mph average still at this point not blazing fast but also not super slow either.



In David City was also an optional Oasis in the form of a gas station on the corner of O street and Hwy 15. Todd and I expected to find some pizza there to eat but we also found Sarah, which we didn't expect to find but we were glad we got to chat with her a bit before she took off down the road. Todd and I stuck around a bit longer to finish our pizza and cokes, this is why I am not a racer, racers don't stop for cokes and pizza mid way through a race but I've tried racing on nothing but gels, blocks and drink mixes and let me tell you, nothing tastes as good as greasy pizza 60 miles into a 100 mile gravel race.




Leaving out of David City, there is a pretty decent section of relatively flat gravel, probably 8-10 miles, which is good for digestion and just cruising along before you get back into the hills and MMRs. 10 miles goes fast when it's flat and it was pretty uneventful.



There was quite a gathering at czech point 2 by the time we got to mile 80, looking at the Garmin we were still riding well in advance of the cutoff times for the course, so we took a bit more time here than we probably should have. Otis was even nice enough to share his tots and fried pickles, those hit the spot pretty good. I didn't feel like I could eat anything substantial but a few tots and fried pickles were just the ticket. Once Todd was done smooching on Isabel, we decided it was time to move on and finish the last 20 miles so we could but this race to bed.




The last 20 miles made up for the 10 miles of flat that we got coming out of David City, I'm not sure if the hills were as bad as they seemed or if tired legs made it seem that way but it was just one hill after another and some of the roughest MMRs we rode all day were also in this section. Of all the parts of the body that ended up being sore the day after, the hands ended up being one of them which isn't usually the case on gravel. Caught up with Joy out on course and Sarah again as well, always good to find friends and share a little suffering with them.


I always like finding these little churches in the middle of nowhere that still seem to be thriving and well cared for, the Plasi Church has been here (in one form or another) for 142 years but has burnt down and been rebuilt twice. The church here now was built in 1934, the third church to sit here in this very spot and it's been there for the last 84 years, that's a fair piece of time for a building out in the country.



The last MMR of the day was probably the best one, I guess you should always go out on a positive as that's what people will remember most when they think about the MMRs. There was also this cool bridge in the last 3 miles as well, I think we crossed this one last year too maybe but I was so spent that I barely noticed it. This year we stopped for a bit and just enjoyed the day, I know we were only 3 miles from finishing but it just seemed like a good place for a break... would have been a perfect spot for a bridge beer if we had one on us. After a few minutes we did get back on the bikes and finish it out together in just a tad over 8 hours of rolling time, not too shabby for 100 miles of gravel.

This years Sto Mil was a much better event for me, last years was just horrible as far as wind went and it just beat you down, almost half the field didn't finish last year. This year only 11 of the 70 riders were unable to finish. For me personally, I managed to cut 3 hours and 15 minutes off of last years race time; that's no small amount of time and I was pretty surprised that we were moving that fast this year or that I was moving that slow last year. Looking at the numbers I did manage to also gain about 3 mph on the average mph for the race, like I said most of that could be attributed to the difference in the weather but I also felt fresher this year which definitely didn't hurt. Last year was the first year I got more serious into gravel racing and already had 3 or so races done by the time the Sto Mil showed up on the schedule, my legs were not used to that kind of output that early in the season and they showed that they were not happy by not really showing up for the race last year. This year I still felt like I had a decent amount of energy left in the tank, not that I wanted to keep riding but I could have if the course had been longer.


I also wasn't as physically beat up this year, I thought that the Ergon saddle was the best fit for me but after getting the Fargo I started to really dig the shape of the stock WTB Volt that was on it. I wasn't crazy about the weight or the excess padding of the Volt however but for a stock saddle it was good. I talked to Swanson, who is now in international sales for WTB, and he sent me WTBs new fit system for measuring to see what size saddle I needed. Most fit systems are uber confusing with gel pads you sit on or tape measurements on your "sit bones" and I never felt like I was getting it right as there was a lot of room for error or interpretation if you weren't doing it just right. WTB has a great system, it's not yet out in the wild so I won't go into details but I used it, told Swanson what the magic number was based on that fit system and he in turn shipped me a Silverado Pro saddle in the size the system said I should use. The fit was spot on, my backside hasn't ever felt as good at the end of a 100 mile race as it did on Saturday. Sure there was still some soreness but none of the chaffing that has plagued me the last couple of years, no screaming in the shower when the water hit me because my butt had been flayed of it's skin. I know that WTB has been around a long time and their saddles, or saddles of a similar shape design, seem to adorn a lot of bikes as the stock saddle but the jump from that stock saddle to a high end WTB saddle is night and day. Sometimes the tried and true is better than jumping on the latest and greatest, I'm sold so far on the Silverado Pro. I'm going to ride it a bit more and test it again on Gravel Worlds but if the results are similar, there will be a few less Ergons atop my seat sticks and a few more WTB saddles there in the near future.

As always I be remiss if I didn't thank Cycle Works for being such a great shop to ride for and a great member of the Lincoln community as a whole, they do an incredible amount of great things in and around Lincoln. I'd also like to thank the SMNDFBR crew for continuing to be a rad group of folks to ride with, those Saturday rides are a blast and help make races like this a bit easier to finish. The other half gets a huge high five also, not many people would be okay with the amount of riding I usually try squeeze into a week and it doesn't go unnoticed.

If you haven't signed up for the Sto Mil, you really should. It's a well organized race, the scenery is top notch and at $0 you really can't beat the price. Thanks Ryno, Russell and Gina for putting on this event.

Bolest & Utrpeni On The Bohemian Sto Mil

Since the beginning of this blog, long before there were any regular readers, my mantra was that I am not a racer. That, more than any single thing I've ever written in this blog, still stands true today. Being short and stocky, like the bikes I prefer to ride currently, I do not posses the racers build nor do I posses or want to posses the racers mind set, it has got to be exhausting always needing to be the fastest, the strongest, the best just to make yourself happy; who needs that floating around in their head? That is not to say I don't love a good challenge but a challenge against the me of last year, last week or yesterday in an attempt to be a better me than I was; not better than you but a better version of me. I enter races not to see if I could be faster or stronger or better than number 12, in all honesty I'd rather ride along side number 12 and share the experiences and the scenery with them. If you are a mile ahead of me or a mile behind me neither of you concern me any more or any less than the other because neither or you matter in my race and neither of you factor into it's outcome, I cherish embracing the struggle with the person next me way more than trying to catch the phantom ahead of me or staying in front of the sound of tires behind me. The proverb that slow and steady wins the race is false but sometimes, hell often times, winning isn't everything and a lot of the times it really isn't anything. If that's your thing, then do you, I have no desire to tell you how you should race or how to find meaning in endless hours of turning cranks. But I digress, if were ever going to get this blog to bed, I better stop rambling on and get down to the brass tacks of what was the inaugural edition of the Bohemian Sto Mil for me.





In the wee hours of the morning I arose and began my last minute preparation before getting in the FIT and descending on the still sleeping town of Prague Nebraska. I had never been to Prague previously but much like most rural farming towns in Nebraska it was not without it's quaintness and charm in it's almost Norman Rockwell like appearance; I especially fancied the last building pictured here as it's the only place I've ever seen with an neon sign indicating they were "Closed". I like small town America, I like the fact that not much has changed in these towns, names of businesses on the buildings may have changed but they are for the most part still the same buildings they were a hundred or more years ago. In a world that sometimes is in too big of a hurry to change just for the sake of changing, it's nice to visit these towns on the weekends; hell if it weren't for the other half I could see myself in one of these little towns sitting on the porch, telling some whippersnapper to get off my lawn. It's a good dream, until you factor in the amount of Bud Lite, Busch Light and Miller Light there are in places like this in comparison to craft beer... that's a deal breaker, wake up and get good tasting beer small town America, then we can talk.


The race was to start and end in the town park which had a unique way of making sure it's playground equipment kept that just out of the box look.


Czech in was smooth, quick and simple thanks to race organizers Rhino and Russell, they even brought an assortment of Kolaches for the enjoyment of the participants. The easiest way to attract cyclists is with free pastries, throw in a little cold beverage and they may never leave your side.




Most of our usual Saturday morning crew threw their postcards into the mail weeks or even months ago and came down to race, always good to see the gang show up in force for these events. Hands down some of the greatest guys and gals I've ever shared hours of gravel with. Great people, every last one of them and strong riders as well; I just knew today was going to be a good day for most of them, filled with struggles and weariness but only through struggle do we truly find rest.


Right around 10 til 8, we all lined up behind the pace truck for the rider meeting. The only reason I wasn't in that group and got this picture was because Roy, Carlos and Joe all decided to camp the night before at Czechland Lake and they were cutting it a little bit close and in their rush to get tot he start missed all 50 or so of us standing around in the park and rode right by, so I left to go round them back up.



Back safely in the heard, it was time to follow this guy out of town and start this race.



The first quarter mile or so was a neutral start as we rolled through town on the paved streets, this was the closest I'd get to the lead pack all day but with temps getting into the mid 90s and steady winds in the 20-25 mph range with gusts that had to top 30 mph the last thing I wanted to do was chase skinny tire rabbits on a fat bike right out of the gate.





Once on the gravel we circled around the back half of Czechland Lake, I rode along with Joe and Janelle for a bit before Joe continued on ahead of me and I pulled slightly ahead of Janelle. Both were riding really strong at this point in the race.




Not too long after getting into the heart of the gravel, I found myself in very familiar territory all by myself; so as I usually do I settled into a nice pace and tried to take in some of the sites. The winds, temps and humidity were all already in full effect and the water from the center pivot looked more than a little inviting.




Right around mile 16 it was time to get down to the meat of the race and the first really big hill on Road 30. The hill itself was about a mile long climb ranking in at a gradient right around 18ish % at its steepest and if that wasn't enough it was also straight into the strong south winds for just that little bit of added effort. The last two pictures are courtesy of Gina who was out there supporting and encouraging riders the entire day and picking up those who could no longer go on and there were more than a couple on this day. I have the utmost respect for anyone willing to selflessly give up their day to come help out with these gravel races. Nobody is making money off of these races, I would be willing to bet most of the organizers are ecstatic if the money coming in through entry fees gets anywhere close to the money going out for prizes, supplies, etc.; without the Ginas of the world there would be no Bohemian Sto Mils to race in.




A few more miles down the road and we had successfully made it to Czech point one and 25 miles into the race. I could tell that this was going to be a long day for me, the winds were something else and it was a constant struggle to maintain momentum when you were pedaling into the teeth of the wind, often times you'd have to pedal just to keep moving on the decent downhills, there was truly no rest for the wicked this day.



Shortly after the first Czech point I managed to somehow catch up to Doug, Todd and Brian and we rode along for a little while together. Honestly I think the main reason I was able to catch them and ride with them for even the little bit that I did was because we had hit the worst of the sandy roads on the course and the Pugsley provided me with the only advantage it had to offer for the day as it floated while everyone else sank, slowing them down far more than it did me allowing me to maintain their pace. When I say sandy I'm not talking loose gravel but actual sand like you'd find on the beach, so fine that the wind was already covering up the tracks of the cyclists who passed before us probably not 10 minutes ahead.




We rolled into David City, Czech point 2, at mile 42 as more or less as a small group but this would be the last time I'd see Todd or Brian for the day; Doug and I would continue on as a smaller group and Janelle pulled the plug. I can't say as I blame her, while only 40 miles in it certainly felt like a lot more than that, I've ridden 100 miles and wasn't as tired and worn out as I felt on Saturday. It was a little before getting to David City that I started to realize that it was going to take all I had to make it to the end.





Doug and I continued on mostly by ourselves although near Loma we picked up a third, whose name I can't remember unfortunately. My mind was elsewhere by now trying to focus on anything but the task at hand as much as possible. There was still a ton of stuff to see and I even managed a few pictures, like us getting off the road to allow this tractor to go by without decapitating us. Sometime self preservation over rides that whole share the road thing.




Doug and I rolled into Loma, or what's left of Loma anyway, at about mile 68 and stopped into the tavern to check in and to grab some refreshments. We also met up with Janelle again who was riding around with Gina after getting picked up from David City, we also met up with Ed, who pulled the plug here ending his day.


To be honest as I sat there in the shade enjoying my Negra Modelo, Coke and oranges, the idea of just sitting here for a few hours sounded more than a little enticing. I was well into survival mode by now and pretty much had been since David City, the legs were gone but the mind was still in the fight and that's about the only thing that kept me going. If I'd had a dress I might have shed the kit, done my best To Wong Foo impression and just blended into the woodwork, giving up riding and living the life of a drag queen; I hear it's been done here before by people far more famous than I.


I knew if I left Loma I'd have to finish because the next easy place to get picked up was Czech point 3 at Weston and I couldn't stop there as it was a mere 12 miles from the finish. There weren't too many pictures after Loma, as I said I was in survival mode and I was on auto pilot for the most part. I could see my legs turning but I think at that point they did so on their own out of habit. I envied these cows, these simple minded, soaking in the mud pond, cows... just standing there, not going anywhere, with there little cow faces. Not moving sounded a lot like heaven, even if it meant you'd end up as a pair of boots and someone's dinner down the line. Stupid yet to be boot/food cows!


Headphones in, nose to the grindstone I unknowingly took a picture of this hill, most likely because I was thinking bad thoughts about the hill and wanted to record it for posterity. Doug and I rolled into Weston and I sat inside and consumed a bunch of random stuff, Chocolate Milk, a bag of Cool Ranch Doritos, an Grandmother's cookie and some crazy new prickly pear juice spiked Mt. Dew lemonade drink. Yeah, I had to Google that last one when I got home too, just to make sure my addled mind wasn't making shit up but it does exist and from what I remember it wasn't all that bad. As we sat there Oak, Matt Wills, and Dylan caught up to us and we chatted for a bit; I half joked that we were 12 miles from the finish which meant if I averaged 2 mph, I was only 6 hours from being done. I say only half joked because realistically if we hadn't turned north and had still been heading south into the wind and hills, that 2 mph might have been a reality. I hurt, things that shouldn't hurt did... my ribs hurt from breathing, my kidney on the right side hurt; maybe from being slightly dehydrated, maybe from the constant pounding of the MMRs or from who knew what but about the only thing that didn't hurt were my legs but only because they were dead and numb. I finally convinced Doug to head out on his own and finish this thing, after Loma he was much quicker and would often wait at turns for me to arrive. I knew I was finishing by the time I got to Weston but I didn't see the need to prolong the suffering for Doug as he could easily finish in the next hour or less and I knew it'd be more than that for me. So at Weston we parted ways.


I finished as I knew I would and just like I thought, Doug finished 33 minutes ahead of me and was waiting with the rest of the guys when I got there. I was spent, the group had a chair waiting for me... the one seen at the corner of the table but I couldn't sit at it. Not that I didn't want to but I felt like I needed to decompress, to just sit down at the next nearest table and participate from a far for the time being. The kitchen was about to close and the kind waitress asked if she could get me a menu but I doubt I could have focused on one at that time, I asked for a hamburger to which she said they had several kinds. Not in the frame of mind to make insurmountable decisions like what kind of hamburger, I said just a plain old hamburger... in retrospect I should have been more specific and stated a traditional hamburger; mustard, ketchup, pickles, onions, lettuce and tomato because what I got was a bun and a piece of meat, nothing more... which is what I ordered and it was delicious, totally my fault and not hers but it spoke volumes about where I was mentally after the ride and why I couldn't people at that time.


It was one of... no scratch that, it was the single hardest 100 miles I have ever done on a bicycle; it even surpassed my failed Gravel Worlds attempt from two years ago for suckage. It was hot, humid, windy, hilly as hell, all we were missing was Mark Wahlberg and we could have had the gravel version of The Perfect Storm. It wasn't all bad though....

By the numbers, 10 hours 27 minutes moving time, 12 hours 46 minutes total time, averaged almost 10 mph (9.6) and hung on for the finish and first place in the fat bike division, 24th over all and didn't even come in DFL. 57 people started the day, 2 in the fat bike category, but only 27 finished and just me in the fat bike division, it was a rough one for all involved.

Positive things to take away, nutrition seemed good, hydration seemed good, mental game was strong, it had to be or I'd have pulled the plug around mile 42. Really the only negatives were things I couldn't control... heat, humidity and wind and there is nothing you can do to change any of those so I'd say there were no real negatives coming away from this race. Also on the positive side, my riding partners the #SOVAG crew; each and everyone of you folks mean the world to me and have helped me to grow as a cyclist and become a better rider. I hope I've at least given a little back to each of you as you have given to me. A special thank you to Doug for sticking with me for those middle miles and letting me slow you down, appreciate it buddy.

Cycle Works, I don't even know where to start with those guys... 4 years ago I was a guy tagging along on their Tuesday night rides through Wilderness Park and now... so much has changed, there like family. So much support from so many people at the shop, I don't think I'd even being doing these races if it weren't for the folks at Cycle Works. Nathan who never left my sorry ass on those first rides in Wilderness and always made me feel welcomed, Rick for putting up with me (I honestly don't think the guy knew what to think of me at first, maybe still doesn't), Kris for supporting me and giving me the free reign to create what at the time was a one of a kind group shop ride with Fat Bikes all the way through winter, Damon... such a great guy and a fabulous human being, the guy is way more to the Lincoln cycling community than you can sum up in words. Brody, Gary and the rest of the mechanics for keeping my bikes running, lord knows I don't treat them like I should most of the time.

Much thanks to Rhino and Russel for the awesome event on a challenging yet fun course and all of the volunteers that helped to pull the event together and make it the outstanding time that it was and will continue to be for years to come.

As always last but certainly not least by any stretch of the imagination, the other half who puts up with so much of me being gone or only half there because I'm exhausted or blogging or preparing for the next ride, race, whatever. Love you more than you know, you're one of a kind.