Reset and Reload

I think I stole that from Claude Julian. Or Laird Hamilton. Not sure which. But I have been preaching that to the girls I coach for lacrosse for the past two years. Reset. Reload. Something bad happens. Reset. You make a mistake? Reset. Come to the sideline and reload with your teammates. Put the toxic stuff in a box. For a minute. For an hour. For a week. I do know Laird was a big fan of using a vacation as a mini-camp. Dude I am old AF. I need a reset every day just to keep moving forward. Yoga. Meditation. CBDs. Walking the dog. At some point your life becomes way more chill. Most people who don't know me think I am chill. I am the least chill person I know. I just hide it well. What I do know is I am damn lucky. And my family time is sacred. The Cape is one of those places that just heal me. I have been going there since I was a little kid. In my youth it was all about the Ocean. And shenanigans. Jesus I think back to some of the stuff we did as a kid and I am like how did I live to be this old?

Bikes saved me. Simple fact. Not sure what it is about it. Maybe the community. Or the space it creates for you. When I am on the bike everything just washes away. It is one of those unique things that require an odd focus. It is zen like in so many ways. This year has been brutal. So much going on. This vacation more than any of the past years was a reset. Not like I had a plan. Some of it is the new Stigmata. I am way past bikes having souls. But there is something about this bike. It has taken me a while to get used to it. But now? It is like a second skin. I can drift into it and lose myself after about three to four pedal strokes. This is the first time I have been able to ride it on the Cape. And I have to say I am more in love with this bike now than ever.

For those unfamiliar with the "Cape" It is where this whole party started. Yes the Vikings were here first (on the east coast) Columbus did his thing (south of FLA) but the Pilgrims. Yeah those crazy bastards made this work. Landed in Provincetown. Not Plimouth Rock as the myth goes. God the Bay must have seemed like a godsend after the open ocean. The Cape is some kind of magical place. Not unlike the Redwoods in Norcal. It just has a smell and a vibe. The Forest is soulful. And feeds the soul. Nickerson State Park to me is Valhalla. I have been riding in there for more than a decade. On CX bikes, MTB bikes all of it. But this year on Stiggy it all came together. It is the ultimate over/under bike spot. A MTB is way overbiking. A OG CX bike is underbiking. A modern carbon CX bike with disc brakes and tubeless 40s? hahaha. Sweet spot man.

I rode a bunch. I luckily hooked up with my good friend Finn and his buddy John and got the locals tour. I kept getting lost and finding all the cool shit. I would stop on every ride and just smell the pine and touch the soil. I HATE rocks. And roots. It sucks. I guess if that is what you are into cool. I am not. Life is hard enough. I want my forest bathes to sooth my soul. I did have one rather exciting moment. I don't often flat (especially in this age of tubeless) but when I do I do it big time. I was flying down a sick dirt road. I hear what sounds like a gun go off. Ok. I stop. Rear tire is FUBAR'd. I literally laugh. Ok. Luckily I have friends who love me. And as much as I am a hamfist with very little mechanical ability my friends have always coached me on what to pack. In my saddle bag was a tire boot and duct tape (Thanks Michele) and a small tube (Thanks Scott!) Multiple CO2 chargers. I had this. I double booted that bad boy and rode like Baryshnikov the rest of the way home.

I tried to replicate my ride with the locals one day and it ended a bit lost and found-ish. But I am a Gemini with ADD. I live to get lost amigo. When I get lost that is when the fun begins. I think we all are a bit too obsessed with knowing where we are. I mean you are where are you are even if you don't know where you are. You aren't lost until you can't find your way home. I think I learned this surfing and being on the ocean. The ocean teaches you not to panic. You panic when your surfboard breaks in half in double over head waves you die. You panic when you snap your mast in half on your sailboard when it is blowing 25 knots offshore? You die. Well maybe not die. But shit will get real fast. And maybe then you die. So yeah bikes? Meh. Destroying one of your fave tires off the gridish? Improvise. Figure it out. Again. With a little help from my friends I was back riding in no time. And once again feeling so lucky for this biker life.

If you live near the Cape. Get down and ride. The roads maybe aren't my jam. The rail trail and all the great stuff off of it are life changing. Especially Nickerson. It has been my dream to do a CX camp in there. Get some friends and a few camp sites. Ride and hang for 3 days. It would be sick. Speaking of friends. So yeah my rear tire was done and dusted. And I of course brought zero back up. The Cape is all about tourists and bikes on the path. Tubeless CX tires are like a magic unicorn. But Sea Sports Cyclery had me covered. I drove up and scored a sweet Tracer tire and Stan's sealant. I prayed the tape on my rims would hold for one more set up. It did. I love setting up tubeless tires. If it  is the most rewarding thing you can do for a bike.

The new tire was a nice surprise. I assumed it would be horrible but was actually really nice. At this point beggars can't be choosers anyway. The other revelation from my vacation was visiting a new yoga studio. My wife completes me. I know that sounds weird. But she makes me a better person. Everyday. And yoga is one of the things she has gotten me into. The first time I tried Yoga it was in Danville, CA. Pretty sure Christy Turlington  went to the same studio. It was super chill. Non-heated. Yoga. Hippie style. When we moved home I resisted for a while and then started going to "hot" yoga with my wife. I mean it is "hot" in India. It makes sense to do yoga in a sauna right? Hahaha. My experience with hot yoga is sort of like how I race CX. Go in hot, wreck myself, curse life, battle back, take no prisoners, outlast the bastards. So when I finally joined my wife for yoga on the Cape I literally had to empty my cup. Check myself. 100%. Yoga is an opportunity. You think you know yourself but do you? We all hold so much baggage. This studio was unlike any I had been in before. Not heated. Average age? 68? But damn. Those yogis could lay it down. So impressed.

The takeaway? This obsession with youth is madness. Yes. We all get old. If we are lucky. Slow down. Smell the flowers. Surf the earth. Reset and reload. You have all the tools you need. I am on the other side of mid-way to a century. How did that happen? Luck. I never thought I would get past 30. What does the next half of my century have in store? No idea. But I am wide open. I know what is important. It is the simple things. Pulling off the beaten path and finding some loamy pine covered single track that leads to a pond. We are lucky to have this biker life. I am blessed to be a part of this beautiful family. Peace my friends.

Laatste Ronde

"This was never about the money, this was about us against the system. The system that kills the human spirit. We stand for something. We are here to show the guys that are inching their way on the freeways in their metal coffins that the human spirit is still alive." -Bodhi 

That quote has been my mantra for the better part of decade. Honestly, that is how I have lived my entire life without even realizing it. When I first leaped into the bike industry way back in another lifetime most of the people I rode with and hung out with were rebels, non-conformists, dirtbags, trouble basically. I learned everything from them. When we decided to do the first Ronde de Rosey it was a reaction to the "system" and that system was a certain HUGE road race in NY that shall remain nameless. We had had enough of being taken advantage of and having to pay what at the time seemed like a King's ransom to "race" some of the nicest dirt roads in NY....So we decided screw the system. We aren't giving the people who are destroying the sport our hard earned money anymore. And we will do our own cool bandit version and make it better.

At the time no one was doing what we were about to do. It was pre-GPS, pre-Strava. And it was glorious. Were we the first ones to seek and enjoy the trails around these parts on CX bikes? Of course not. But we were the first ones to go all in. And to create a ride around the premise that you don't have to drive four hours from home and pay $100 to do a cool ride. Now don't get me wrong. Things have changed dramatically in ten years. There are so many legit gravel rides that are worth every penny you pay to register. I am happy to drive to VT and hand over my hard earned money to Rasputitsa or Peter Vollers or any number of gravel race promoters. The value proposition works with gravel. And they all get it. They treat the riders like kings and queens. And they all give back to the community. In the unmentioned road race you were lucky if you got scored correctly. And god forbid you flatted. No one was helping you...am I saying we ushered in a gravel revolution in New England? Maybe. The Ronde was never meant to be a race. It was meant to be an adventure with cool people. And meant to be a catalyst to grow a community and support a great cause in Bikes not Bombs. The first Ronde was just a bunch of rival CX teams smashing through the woods getting lost and breaking their bikes and loving every second of it. 

Over the years the RdR has gotten bigger. And has had its challenges. As its has grown so have we. We being Rosey, myself, Michele, Greg and all those involved. Over the years we have pissed some people off. I think it is impossible to build a community and put on an event without pissing someone off. But we have always tried to listen and to respect. I can still remember being chewed out by NEMBA about going through LLF one of the first renditions. This year was especially challenging as it seemed like it rained all Spring. We postponed which we have never done in the history of the RdR. But it was the right thing to do. The new date looked GREAT! Sunshine. Warm. Perfect. We all descended upon the Washington Square Tavern eager to set out on a great ride with a bunch of rad friends. HUP has always had a really strong showing. And this year did not disappoint. I mean look at that Team photo?! Damn. 

We rolled out from the Tavern as a team. Picked up some people out around BC and headed to the aqueducts toward Wellesley. Things got a bit dicey as we hit the first single track trails so we decided to split up into smaller groups. Team Super Wolf Blood Moon had to cut it short anyway. I had a lacrosse game to coach later that day. So the plan was always to cut the head off the route and do a RdR Lite. I am always amazed at how my friends Michele and Greg curate these routes. In the old days Rosey and I would go out and do ride, after ride, after ride with ribbons in our hands to mark the route. Now with strava heat maps and some trail wizardry and yes some trail blazing voila you have a kick ass route. This Ronde was one for the ages. Sometimes you get so used to a ride or route you sort of get complacent. I am a grizzled veteran of these rides. Nothing really surprises me. I mean if it can happen it has happened to me at this point doing gravel rides. But the gods tested us on this one I will say that. Maybe the God of Thunder was angry we postponed it. Maybe we forgot to sacrifice a goat. Who knows. But as we took the Weston rail trail toward Waltham I noticed the sky darken. I wasn't worried. The forecast was for a nice day. 

But as we rode along the trail it started to drizzle. By the time we got over the top of Prospect Hill it was now full on raining. As we descended the Greenway it was pouring rain. It was almost laughable at how insane it was. I mean water was pouring down the trail. All the granite and exposed roots made the trail insanely treacherous. We ping ponged off all the roots and rocks and just prayed we would not crash into a tree. As we rode down a group of trail runners were running up. They all were smiling and happy. Chatted with us. It was so cool to see a group of like minded trail users just laughing at these insane conditions. As we popped out onto the road we realized it was only just getting more intense. So Roger tapped into his local knowledge and we made a bee-line home to the Tavern. I don't think I have been that cold on a ride in May in my life. It wasn't Mt Shasta at the Lemurian cold. I almost died during that race but it was close. Didn't know you could get hypothermia riding in May. Weird.

When we got back to the Tavern we saw some other teams rolling in. Lots made the smart call and pulled the plug. Others suffered through the rain and did the full route. Hats off to everyone who endured those conditions. In a testament to people's skills no one got hurt, no one complained and everyone had a blast. At the Tavern I raised a pint of Fiddlehead and said Skol. Its been ten great years. I am pretty sure this is the last RdR. It is an amazing event. And one we all cherish. But it has run its course. We will of course still find ways to build and support this great community. And we will always support our friends at Bikes not Bombs. They do such important work.

A HUGE thanks to all the riders and folks who have supported the RdR. Major shout out to Rosey. That man is unreal. He has made this happen every year with a smile on his face. Always made everyone feel a part of the event and welcomed. A Huge thanks to our sponsors: The Washington Square Tavern, Mad Alchemy, Stan's No Tubes, Skratch Labs, WTB, Floyd's of Leadville, 3Cross, Feedback Sports, Ortleib. This Laatste Ronde will be the kick off of our farewell tour. Ideally this farewell tour is more Sabbath than Slayer. Keep posted for news on the 2019 Zank SSCX Series soon.