Talking Rough Riding, Rawland, and more on the Vinnie Tortorich Podcast

I am honored to be a guest on Vinnie Tortorich's "America's Angriest Trainer" podcast this week, talking cycling, Silver State 508, Badwater 135, the NSNG lifestyle, Rough Riding and my beloved Rawland bicycles. Here is this link to listen.

 Yours truly with Vinnie at The 508 finish line in 2008

Vinnie is a several-time Furnace Creek 508 veteran, as you can see here, and a life-long cyclist. He is the author of "Fitness Confidential: Adventures in the Weight Loss Game" (a book which heavily features The 508) and one of the smartest, clearest thinking people I know, especially in the world of health and fitness. (If you think you are going to lose weight from working out more, or harder, read his book and learn the error of your ways.)

Here are links to topics discussed in the conversation:

Badwater 135

Silver State 508

Yoga Tune Up@

Rawland Bicycles

Grant Petersen's "Just Ride"

Ritchey Shield 650B Tyres

Challenge Paris-Roubaix Tyres
A rational discussion of the reality of bicycle helmet use

1993 24 Hours of Canaan (Rhymes with Insane)

1993 24 Hours of Canaan (Rhymes with Insane)

By Chris Kostman

Originally published in Bicycle Guide in 1993, although they basically ruined it when they edited it. This is what I really wrote.

Above, L-R: Harry Winand, Gene Oberpriller, John Stamstad, and the author, Chris Kostman at the 24 Hours of Canaan. Photo by Grant Petersen.

I was in the shower with one shaved leg. Suddenly my teammate Harry Winand bursts in the door and tells me that I've been bumped up from fourth rider out to third. I've got five minutes until I have to hit the trail. So with one hairy leg and one shaved, I throw on my clothes and head over to the start/finish line. What an auspicious start it would prove to be. Not having had the luxury of pre-riding the course, I had little idea of what to expect. Let's just say that 11.5 miles of mud, swampy bog, puddles, rocks, five crashes, and six river crossings was not what I'd expected.

In common parlance this 24 hour four or five rider relay race held in the Canaan Valley of West Virginia is called the 24 Hours of Canaan, but it's more like the 24 Hours of Insane. Why? Well, there was a LeMans start with the first riders out all lined up across a river from their bikes. At the gunshot, they sprinted across the river, scrambled up the bank to mount their bikes, then turned around and pedaled straight back into the running masses to ford the river yet again. Each lap would start and finish with this river crossing. Got the picture?

The 11.5 mile loop was something like The Longest Mile, eleven point five times in a row. There's mile after mile of solid mud fireroad (how could there be a fire with this much water on the ground?) and singletrack that's worn down and rutted out with every passing rider (factor in 98 teams doing from twelve to nineteen loops each). Puddle after puddle of indeterminate depth would force two options: ride high on the edge of the trail and risk having your tyres slide right out and dumping you in the water, or blasting hell be damned through the puddles. Sometimes you'd plow through like Moses in the Red Sea, other times it was an over the bars projection lesson. Oh yeah, some of these "puddles" were 50 yards long and up to three feet deep.

Then there were hills so steep that crawling up on all fours would be difficult. With a bike, in the mud, in a race, turned one of the hills into a medieval torture machine. I glued Ritchey Z-Max tyre treads to my Vittoria shoes to try to get more traction. Teammate Gene Oberpriller, who passed up a ride in the CoreStates PRO Championships to join the rest of us from Team Bridgestone in this mayhem, swears that the tree roots were glowing flourescent green when he scrambled up The Hill on his last lap. In daylight, no less... (Of course, he did post the fastest lap average of the event, so maybe he just pushed a little TOO hard...)

Then there's Moonrocks. Huge expanses of slab rock on this downhill stretch had water eroded ruts covering it that never headed in the desired direction. It was all but unrideable and I for one didn't even try. I just shouldered my bike and sprinted down, down, down. The 300 yard mud bog prior to Moonrocks sometimes added twenty pounds to my XO-1, making this stretch even more brutal and treacherous

And the six river crossings? They were actually the highlight of the course, for they cleaned the gobs of mud and blood off of the bike, making it lighter and functional again. It got to the point where  we couldn't wait to ford the icy waters, even if we did face plant occasionally. Heck, when else would we get our face clean, anyway?

That brings up the best part of the race, the four hour stints between rides. Some camped out in the mud, cleaning themselves and their bikes in the river. Some of us had the luxury of cruising back to a hotel, showering, putting on clean clothes, eating warm food, having our bikes cleaned, lubed, and tuned by Grant and Ernie from Bridgestone, then napping or watching Beavis and Butthead on MTV. What a life!

"I'm just paranoid the whole time I'm out there," said teammate John Stamstad at one point, summing up the common theme of the weekend. There's paranoia about crashing. Paranoia about getting lost. Paranoia about a major mechanical necessitating a long walk out. Paranoia about getting passed. Paranoia about losing the baton that needed to be handed off each lap. (You get to go back out and look for it!) Paranoia about all of the above happening to the teammate that's out riding while you're trying to relax and get ready for another 70 to 90 minute interval session. Paranoia? INSANE!

Oh yeah, about the race... The local heroes, Teams Black and White and Nukey Boys, edged us out for first and second. They're tough riders with the homecourt advantage of knowing the best lines, not to mention the alternate routes to avoid some of the more impassable sections, but they claimed to have won fair and square. (Late in the race, both teams passes us without actually passing us...) Still, we're happy with third, considering that we're composed of a crit racer, a roadie, an ultra marathon weenie, and a triathageek, and that we rode bikes (XO-1's with Moustache bars) that one magazine called "suitable only for riding to and from the trailhead, but not on the trail." To slightly modify Arny Schwarzenegger's famous line: "We'll be back, and so will our 'road bikes.'"

Fan Mail for "Mountain Bikes: Who Needs Them?"

I wrote "Mountain Bikes: Who Needs Them" over twenty years ago now: it was originally published in the February 1993 issue of Bicycle Guide, then the coolest bike magazine in the USA. That article has been on this blog since it went live in 2007, and still generates comments and emails direct to me. This first email came in today, proving, once again, that the writer didn't really read what I wrote. (Boiled down simply, I wrote: What most people call "mountain biking" doesn't require a mountain bike. Likewise, as our ego-bruised writer states, and as I wrote, real "mountain biking" does generally require a mountain bike.):

You sir, are the most ignorant ass hat I have encountered on the internet and single-handedly represent everything that makes road cyclists come off as self righteous douchebags. Just because your idea of mountain biking is a chicken shit ride down a sandy road doesn't mean that road bikes are appropriate or even safe to recommend for most mountain bikers. Virtually every mountain bike ride I take involves some sort of terrain or impact that would disintegrate my Foil faster than you can say something stupid. The idea that the 30 foot doubles or jagged rock gardens that can be conquered at speed on my M9 could even be ridden on a fully rigid road bike is nothing more than your lack of perspective at what is being done on mountain bikes, your hubris at your own skills, and the tremendous ignorance and arrogance that would allow you to post this stupidity online for all to see. - TB, 12-3-13

Adding extra irony is that TB's Facebook background photo shows him on a road bike, even though, in his own words, apparently everyone who rides a road bike is a "self righteous douchebag."

OK, since I'm writing this post, I'm going to take the time to post the emails I've received over the years about my article, so here you go, in chronological order, completely unedited:

I really hate the way you dis mountain bikes. I dispise road bikes they are very    (no extremely) primitive. I ride a full suspension ATB. I wouldnt ride anything else. Do you have a problem with technologie????? - RP, 5-10-98

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HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!!!!!

You're funny!

Come to Phoenix and ride our rocky, sandy, harsh trails on your road bike so we can laugh at you.  You said in your article that you might only need an mtb for something like Slickrock trail.  Slickrock trail is a freakin' sidewalk compared to my nearest trail; which I RIDE to on m full suspension GT with 2.35 tires.

I started riding on an unsuspended Cannondale in 1986.  Trails that were impossible for me then are cake now.  Believe me I'm thinking for myself.  No marketing hype is going to snatch $2000 from my pocket for a new bike.  I checked them out, rode it and decided the comfort and control advantages of suspension were worth the investment.  I wouldn't go back to riding a hardtail let alone take a road bike on the trail.

Have fun riding cuz after all that is what it is about. - MC, 12-9-98

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Are you the same Chris Kostman that wrote "Mountain Bikes: Who Needs Them?" back in 1993?  That great article had a dramatic effect on my cycling, and all I can say is "thanks you!"

At the time that article came out I was starting to ride off road with an old road bike and loving it.  When I read your piece, I couldn't believe any mainstream mag would print it, and the tips really helped. because of that piece I really went all out, and eventually god rid of my mtb's all together (I won't be riding the Iditabike any time soon). Now I just own one road/bike for everything - and my bike handling skills and the types of terrain I can cover on it have grown exponentially. Your piece really snapped me out of the money-draining, must-have-the-latest-hi-tech-gizmo thing. As I recall there were some pretty amusing letters that followed that piece - along with that great follow up article you wrote (in the BOB mag?). - GK, 5-13-99

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Dear Mr. Kostman,

I chanced across your self-defense rebuttal about mountain bikes.  I'm not a biker myself, but I want to pat you on the back for standing up for yourself.  It is truly sad when ignorant people beat up on another person's ideas which they do not understand.

When you speak from experience and others complain by theory, I'll believe the guy with experience every time. Like you said, if you're biking on a road, then use a road bike. If a person is biking across broken rocks and fallen trees, THEN get a (highly mortgaged) mountain bike.

I'm too old to bike now. I did grow up in the country and rode a "road" bike to school from grades four through eight. Did own a baby "hog" (Harley) for a short time.

Mr. Kostman, you seem to be doing all the right things. Head forward. Don't spend too much time "throwing rocks" at the complaining dummies. Maybe, issue some open challenges, some "put up or shut up" dares: my bike and my skills against whatever you think you've got. Get witnesses, too.

To a winner from CM, 9-14-00

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I couldn't agree more, when I was a kid we built trail bikes from 19'" frames and had no gears, one speed, one brake, street tires, and modified short stick handle bars, and I'll bet those bike would smoke any mountain bike on the market today, even without alloys, they weighted nothing, we could pull almost any incline, and fly down any hills at crazy speeds without worry of blowing shocks,,, shocks....? I like to feel the ground. Love the article, bet it pissed off everybody...... lol EK, 5-10-01

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Great article about "Mountain Bikes- Who needs them?," though I just came across it in August 2001.  Have you written any updates? 

I'm sure that all of your views have stayed fairly firm, though I'd wonder if you, like me, have embraced more suspension as you get any older? Granted I don't have the skills to set records on 24 hours/ distance races, but for the intermediate/advanced rider who has hit 30 years old and would like to take the shock out of drops, washboards, roots, etc. have you looked to more comfort as you have gotten older?

I don't intend this to be a topic for another article, but I'd like to see your views on the advances in technology/weight loss for some of these 21lb. full suspension bikes and if anything has changed with age. Thanks, EV, 8-21-01

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I have been relieved of my job at the local bike shop for 'being too roadie.' I am living in a fairly pavementless area on the northern shore of lake superior, where I ride forest roads and trails on my rb-1 or my steel bianchi cyclocross bike.  When I feel like pavement riding I usually grab my old Bianchi Pista. - CJ, 5-22-02

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I think you have a serious attitude problem and feel sad that you have so much anger towards a truly wonderful pursuit. Perhaps a bit of therapy or a change in ethnicity might make you a happier and less critical soul. Have a nice day. - Y, 7-30-02

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Chris Kostman invented under-biking, first in Bicycle Guide on an RB-1 and, later, in the '94 Bstone catalog. I singletrack my Romulus because Chris told me it was possible. - JB, 4-21-04
 
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It occurs to me I need to thank you for writing all those years ago about riding road bikes on unpaved surfaces. Inspired by your writings, I've developed a love of dirt and gravel road travel on my Mercian fixed-gear. - RF, 5-3-04

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That link was a jumping off point for a bunch of weekend reading in the Way subdirectory of your web space.  Much great stuff, thank you.

One Nit:  You say "trust me when I say I'm just an Average Joe, not a Superman."

Ahem.  someone who will go out for 125 rides with two bottles of water and a energy bar?
 
Someone who will do the triple iron-man thing in France?  Someone who races RAAM as a 20 year old?

Helllooooo!! Reality knocking! "Average" is not an accurate adjective.

Now, if I complete the Cascade 1200 this June - less than two years after my first century ride, less than three years after ending 20 years of sedentary living with becoming a bike commuter - I'll stand up as your "Average Joe".  Until then you need to find another "average" stand in.

Done with the nit.

Thanks for the training advice on the site.  I'm applying it. - MR, 2-29-05

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Hey Chris... Its nice to hear from the author himself. What I meant by flushing it out more, is that you tell us to develop skills so good that technology becomes meaningless. You don't dig further and tell us how to maneuver a skinny tire through 2" of sand. You take the approach of "Go for it!". Which is great, but takes a giant leap of faith for someone who isn't accustomed to the idea.

I'm willing to take my 23mm up and down a nearby fireroad, but I also have trails near me which require creek crossing (will hitting an unseen rock produce a pinch flat faster than a knobbie), or sand patches, or wide singletrack with deep ruts from the knobbies before us.
 
It seems you gave birth to the idea of US cyclocross, early!  Last month, I was planning on quelching my bike desire by building up a go-fast, a tourer, a singlespeed/fixte, a grocery getter, a you name it. Then, I realized, I could do all of this with a change of wheels. Specialized bikes are for specialized people. If all I did was tour, I think I'd want to get a tall touring frame for myself (I'm 6'6"). But, if all I did was MTB, I don't think a tall tourer would work for the agility needed of some trails.  Perhaps I'm mistaken, I'm still new.  :)

Anyway, I've got my eyes on the surly cross-check and acquiring a couple set of wheels.   I look forward to experimenting with different options. Thanks for writing your article! - DB, 2-28-05

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Thanks to you also for your efforts over the last 15+ years. I was really psyched on you and the B-stone boys rallying XOs in the dirt when I was in college and on your lightning rod "road-bikes-on-the-dirt" article. There was a whole crew of us at that time in North Georgia riding beat old 700c roadies on these great epic dirt loops, some of us on tubs. Anyway, it was a big influence on me. After a short trip into MTB style equipment in the late 90's (still rigid onespeeding with cantis), I ride nothing but skinnies in the dirt (35s). Later on pal, MC, 3-9-05

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Well, if the photos on your site are an indication of the kind of "trails" you ride, then no, you don't need a mountain bike. Come on out to the Rockies and see how long your wheels last.

Beautiful rides, by the way. They remind me of my commute. I'd take my Atlantis on them. - HCH, 9-5-05

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Anyone who is seriously into mountain biking, knows that training on a road bike in addition to trail riding, is the key to mountain biking success. In other words, to be good on a mountain bike, especially where endurance events are concerned, spending more time on the road bike than the mountain bike is often necessary.
 
I would not, however, designate one as "better than" the other, they are just "different". Which many people will not hear in their rush to "defend" since becoming defensive is a normal reaction in human nature, when people perceive that their beliefs are being questioned or attacked. There is a definite place in any cyclists arsenal for a mountain bike. I sure wouldn't take my carbon Cinelli with flyweight carbon fork up any mountain bike trail, and the mountain bike allows us to ride where the road bike doesn't, but for pure conditioning, the road bike is essential as AN ADDITION, not as a replacement.

Here is an interesting fact I discovered quite by accident. When riding El Moro a few times I used to see people hiking with poles, and asked them what they were training for. They replied "Whitney". OK, well I'd planned to do the Whitney hike before meeting those people, went forward after my encounters with the pole hikers, and did the hike solo, without any sort of "hiking training" whatsoever. I pretty much aced it up and back in less than 13 hours, since it is not really hiking, but more like stair climbing, two steps at a time. Much like the leg movements we make when cycling, and using the same muscles. I never once trained by hiking, and I am quite sure, as I passed all those people with hiking poles on the trail, that all of my road and mountain biking prior to doing the Whitney hike, was the key to my success.
 
Why polarize people with the idea that "my ride is better than your ride"? Each bike has its own function, the applications are simply different, not better or worse. - BM, 3-30-10

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I was amused in Chris's article re "mountain bikes." During the early '60's I was known, to the Oakland East Bay Regional Park Service, as that crazy "Mountain-man": IF I couldn't ride it (over the terrain) I carried it. Me and my trusty English-made traditional 10 speed!! There wasn't a fire road or mountain trail that ever slowed me down. If it was there ... I traversed it. On another note, six years ago, I encountered an hysterical mountain-biker: he was riding DOWN a trail that only a mountain goat would ever attempt ....... of course ........ I was going UP:)  It seems that he felt that his $7,000 mountain bike (I bought my first house for less than that) would take him, safely, anywhere. Wrong! But for this old guy (me), he and his $7,000 "magic carpet" would have ended at the bottom of a jagged rock filled ravine. I saved him and his trusty steed from total carnage. I did everything to put him back together except wash his "dirty laundry":)) I remember this well because I still have two torn rotators that, periodically refreshes my gallantry:) Ah, yes: $7,000 for a luxury ride to near total destruction. I may not be able to enjoy the trails any longer but at least I don't have to worry about saving some nut ass pedaling a $7,000 hype. My old ten speed had Dunlop Road Speed radial tires with heavy-duty inner tube. I rode this bike thousands of miles ...... NEVER had a flat!!!
 
So, my enfashionados/demons: reread Chris's old article re: 'Any bike Anywhere' .... get real and save yourself some $$. By the way ..... I ride, daily, 30 miles of 'Alpine Pass' mode, on my $3000 Star Trac recumbent stationary bike:)) But, if any of you, out there, with an old "clunker" AND a healthy pair of gams ....... I'll gladly trade you ....... just kidding. I wouldn't ask that of anyone. In the meantime ..... I'll just peddle my ancient hulk to no-where. And .... I'll be happy in knowing that I'm still able to grunt, huff, pant .... AND complain:)) The signature of a true jock.

The worst incident with my old 10 speed was when I was tooling down College Ave. in Berkeley, California ..... some IDIOT opened his, parked, car door in front of me. I had no choice but to grab the door frame. My bike ended in some shrubs. I got a big grass stain on my posterior. The car?: popped windshield, broken door hinge, and a smashed hood where this 250 pound muscled cyclist bounced from the hood onto a lush green lawn. The driver?: wet pants .... as I read him the riot act!!!!!!!!!!!! You guys have been there so you know how good it is to ride the trails and away from two tons of steel with a loose nut behind the wheel!!!

Yours in the sport of friendly humor along with just plain common sense. - AA, 3-3--10

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Over this winter I think I will finally scan and post all the letters to the editor which were sent to Bicycle Guide back in 1993, many of which were very supportive from those who "got" what I was saying, while others were just hilarious. That 1993 article is truly the gift that keeps on giving, when I consider how it still evokes knee-jerk responses from people whose identity is tied up in the width of their bike's tyres, along with positive, friendly emails from those who got my point and appreciate the adventurous way of life.

Meanwhile, enjoy the ride, everyone. Life is short!

Keeping It Light

The author with his mascot, Gumby, during the 1987 Race Across America. What could be more fun than having my sister-in-law crawl inside my inflatable 6" tall Gumby to surprise me?

It astounds me how overly seriously so many people take their cycling and endurance sports. It's like they just literally want to suck the life and the fun out of the whole experience.

Not me!

I honestly believe I enjoy cycling, and getting "out there" under human power, more intensely, and more intently, than just about anybody. I do this largely by "keeping it light."

When I'm out on my bike, when I'm "out there," I make a point of taking everything in, all the time. Some people stare continuously at the white line, or the butt of the rider in front of them, all the time. I don't get that. I prefer constantly using my peripheral vision to soak in as much enjoyment, information, inspiration, and light as possible. Not ony is this fun and smile-inducing, but it helps me to notice little roads or trails off to the side of the road, or way off in the distance on some hillside, giving me inspiration for more places to explore. I'm also more likely to notice weather changes in the offing, or aggressive drivers, or historic markers, or viewpoints to check out. If I don't pay attention, I'm liable to miss that glimpse of wildlife along the way, or a waterfall, or a dolphin in the ocean, or a classic car in somebody's yard or driveway, or a funnily decorated mailbox, or a funny sign, or a funky café or mini-mart. I've got to take it all in!
You noticed those wild turkeys over there to the right, on the way to Lake Cuyamaca, right?

Yes, I really do stop during my rides. It amazes me how many people just blast right over the summit of a big climb, without even stopping to enjoy the view or take photo at the summit. Seriously? Likewise for those who have ridden past some historic marker placed by the county, some historical group, or the Clampers a million times, but have never stopped to read it. I pretty much always stop for those signs. In fact, I want to find an area in California that is thickly covered in historic markers and viewpoints and then create a cycling event that specifically involves stopping at all of them! (Any suggestions?)

California Registered Historical Landmark No. 858, along Sunrise Highway on Mount Laguna.

If cycling isn't about embracing the world around us and getting to know it, why not just ride indoors on a trainer?

Naturally, I at least nod at all the other cyclists I see, and sometimes I wave at them. Amazingly, I even verbally greet those riders that I catch along the way! (I know, I know, that's so uncommon anymore. Sad.) Of course, I don't discriminate based upon their type of bike, clothes, or anything else. Anybody on two human-powered wheels is fine by me, and automatically "on my team." (I make a point of chatting it up with motorcyclists, too, treating them as fellow two-wheeled lovers of the world. Being a human is the best way to be respected by another human, I believe. However, if one slides off the pavement because they are driving their motorbike like an idiot, I will ride on by.)

When I meet somebody to go for a ride, I am actually there to ride with them. I know, call me crazy, but it's not my idea of fun to "half-wheel" a friend. The friendship, conversation, and mutual enjoyment are paramount when I ride with somebody. I also keep it light by talking a lot - generally about non-cycling stuff - with my friends when I'm riding. All that sullen silence so common in group rides is not for me. (Quite boorish, that is.)

Of course, I enjoy a silent jam with friends sometimes, too: Let our pedals do the talking! But when I really want to "train," which isn't often, I join a racing type club ride, enter a race or timed event, or I just go ride on my own and use my heartrate monitor and personal records on various stretches of road to push myself.

My late friend and mentor, Willard Bascom, said "The whole point of life is to enjoy it." By keeping it light, I do that as much and as often as possible.

Yeah, I stop to check out these kinds of signs, too. That's my Ritchey Break-Away. In this case, they explained the devastating, but natural, fire which had swept through this area of Mount Laguna.

OK, we all stop to get water at National Forest Visitors' Centers, but how about going inside? They often have neat pins, postcards, books, and maps which I'll buy during a ride. Nice volunteers, too!

Just one of many displays inside the Visitor's Center shown above, atop Mount Laguna. Want to visit this amazing Mount Laguna? Come ride our Mount Laguna Bicycle Classic in April! Info.

Racing to the Light

Above: A giant painting called "Picture Without Words" by Edward Ruscha, as currently on display at the Getty Center, the inspiration for this post. This photo of the painting is by the author.

I've been thinking about "light" a lot lately, on a multitude of levels. For example, we ultra athletes are all "racing to the light" in many ways: During our ultra challenges, we're moving forward relentlessly, through the night, towards the sunrise, the first break of dawn. Each new day brings forth new opportunities, new energy, and perhaps the day in which we'll cross our finish line.

Likewise, when we're racing eastward, as I was for nearly eleven days during the 1987 Race Across America, we're racing right into the morning sun every day. When I did that race, I'd sleep three hours a night, from about 3 or 4am to 6 or 7am*. I always went to sleep when it was still dark out, and then got up after the sunrise, to pretend, in a way, that I had slept through the whole night. After I got up, I'd get back on my bike, and start rolling eastward, usually with some oatmeal to eat while pedaling. Not worrying about my speed just yet, I'd be squinting into the new day's sun. The memory of that daily ritual is one of the strongest of the entire experience. As I'd roll towards the light, I'd set my goals for the day: which state lines I'd cross that day, which other racers I'd pass, where I'd want to arrive by nightfall, and how many miles I wanted to ride before I finally took my three hour sleep break. That morning process of setting goals would repeat until the finish line. "The fulness of life lies in dreaming, and manifesting, the impossible dreams," wrote Sri Chinmoy.

Go east, young man: The author during the 1987 Race Across America.

Crossing the finish line of an epic race in the darkness feels more like denouement than climax to me, so finishing in the daylight is always a goal of mine, whenever possible. When I arrived at the Washington Monument after pedaling 3,127 miles in ten days, 23 hours, and 58 minutes, it was just shy of 2pm on a weekday. The whole city was abustle, I felt part of the energy, and the light was streaming down on me. I was alive, and all was well:

"Light" has many other meanings and connotations, as well, and I will explore them more in future posts and articles.

* During RAAM, I did not sleep the first or last nights of the race, so I slept a total of 24 hours during eleven days. Amazingly enough, that's considered a lot by RAAM standards. Many competitors get by on half that amount. I consider that stupid, self-defeating, not athletic, and, for lack of a better word, not very graceful. I definitely rode faster than I otherwise would have as a result of sleeping "so much" during my RAAM.

My Rawland rSogn, The One Bike To Rule Them All

For the majority of my cycling career, I have longed for just one bike that would do anything and work in nearly any circumstance or setting. My slogan is "any bike, anywhere," and I live by that credo, having first brought this philosophy to the cycling world with my seminal "Mountain Bikes: Who Needs Them?" article in the the February 1993 issue of Bicycle Guide. (That article inspired a teenager named Sean Virnig to start riding his Bridgestone RB-1 in the woods near his Minnesoata home, laying the foundation for a bike company he'd later start called Rawland.)

I got to know Sean in the summer of 2010 when he and his wife Anna attended our Rough Riders Rally in Marin. Besides being the most interesting people to attend, they also won Best in Show for Sean's Rawland Drakkar bike, shown above.
Despite enjoying taking nearly any road bike down nearly any road or trail, I'd always believed that one optimal bike could really be "the one bike to rule them all." And so it is, after a 22 year quest, that I am pleased to own and ride such a mythic bicycle, the Rawland rSogn. This bike will go anywhere and do it with style and aplomb. It also has two sets of wheels for presto-chango self-reinvention.

Above: I prefer down-tube shifters in most circumstances. These are 8-speed era Dura Ace shifters which Sean had in his stash and kindly donated to me. Because these don't normally mate with modern Shimano derailleurs, the cable is attached at the rear with the Sheldon Brown routing.

Massive tyre clearance, front and rear: Above you can see the Rawland set up with 38mm wide Pacenti Pari-Moto road tyres, and below you can see it with the 2.1"/51mm wide Pacenti Quasi-Moto knobbies.

According to the Rawland Bicycles website, the rSogn is a contemporary lightweight steel all-arounder. Carrying on the success of the cantilever Sogn (cSogn), the rSogn is a reissue of this versatile all-arounder, hence the moniker. The rSogn was conceptualized and then specified through a month-long, open-forum process. Optimized for 650b wheel size without toe overlap in any tire size, the rSogn features the following elegant features many have come to appreciate, in no particular order:

• 8/5/8 standard-diameter tubing: MD and ML
• 9/6/9 standard-diameter tubing: LG and XL
• Non-heat treated tubing
• Pacenti biplane MTB crown
• Fits 58mm tires (e.g., Pacenti Neo Moto 2.3)
• 63mm rake for low trail; ideal for top-load
• Low, graceful fork bend
• Takes double-ring, spindle type cranks
• 68mm bottom bracket shell width
• 1-1/8” threadless steerer
• Stainless steel cast dropouts
• Head tube reinforcing rings
• Metal head tube badge
• Rear and front rack mounts
• Equidistance fender mounts facing the wheels
• Lowrider mounts
• Seat stay frame pump peg
• Triple water bottle mounts
• Star water bottle braze-on reinforcements
• Seatstay rack mounts
• Split brake cable stops at 10 o’clock
• Stainless steel chain hanger
• Down tube shifter mounts
• 132.5mm rear spacing for use with either 130mm or 135mm hub
• 27.2mm seat post diameter
Regarding the wheels:
The stock wheels on my rSogn are 32 hole, front and back, built by Mark at Rivendell. They have Shimano 105 hubs laced with straight gauge DT spokes to Velocity Synergy 650B rims. The tyres are 650B Pacento Quasi-Moto 2.1 (51mm) knobbies. Cassette is Shimnano HG40 8-speed 12-30. I have used these wheels with various tyres for quite a few years on various bikes and 650B conversions.
The alternative set of wheels were custom built for me by Dave Prion (below), the general manager of The Bicycle Outfitter in Los Altos, CA and my friend and wheel builder since the mid-80s. These are custom "event" or road wheels. The rear features a 24 hole Chris King R45 cassette hub laced with 24 butted Wheelsmith spokes to a 36 hole Velocity Synergy rim. 12 spoke holes in the rear rim are not used. The front features 18 butted Wheelsmith spokes laced between a 36 hole HB011 6-volt 3-watt dynohub and a 36 hole Velocity Synergy rim. 18 spoke holes in the front rim are not used. The tyres are Pacenti Pari-Moto 650B 38mm. Cassette is Shimano HG40 8-speed 12-28.
Here's the full build-up of the bike:

Brand	Rawland rSogn 2011 (Size ML; see size chart below) Saddle height: 77cm; Reach: 80cm
Serial #	M11051227
Headset	Chris King
Bars	Ritchey Classic Silver: 44cm width, 31.8mm O/S center section, 128mm Drop, 73mm Reach
Stem	Ritchey Classic Silver, 9cm
Brk Levers	Sram S500 road brake levers
Brakes	Paul's Neo-Retro cantilivers with Paul's Moon Unit cable hangers, Paul's Rack Adapter bolts, and Paul's Funky Monkey front cable guide (and Nitto rear cable guide)
Saddle	Berthoud Aravis, titanium rails
Post	Ritchey Classic Silver, 27.2, 350mm length, 25mm Offset, 43x38mm cradle
Shifters	Shimano Dura Ace 7402 8-speed down-tube
Front Der.	Shimano Dura Ace 7700 (9-speed era)
Rear Der.	Shimano XTR M971 (Recent 9-speed era) with JagWire inline cable adjuster
Bottom Bracket	Shimano Isis
Crankarms	Ritchey 175 with 34/50 rings; Arms custom polished and laser-etched by Tom at Perfect Perforations.
Pedals	Ritchey Peloton (Look Delta style)
Chain	Sram 8-speed
Cages	Nitto R (3)
Tape	Ritchey "cork"

Click here for a full slideshow of the bike with nearly 50 images.
Thanks for the amazing bike, Sean and Anna!

Pay Attention (Trust Your Gut, not always your GPS)

Out exploring yesterday, we came up on this sign. Of course, this was after coming back down the private road behind the sign that we'd accessed via a long, uphill, and unmarked trail. When we hit that road at the top of the trail, my sense of direction told me we needed to head back down and, lo and behold, we'd been on private property ever since topping out on that that road, I mean driveway. Seeing this sign, and it's admonition to not always believe one's GPS while navigating, reminded me of how we repeatedly tell people who are traveling to Death Valley for an AdventureCORPS event to NEVER follow a GPS there. We state that emphatically because people have literally died while attempting to reach Death Valley on a dirt road route, courtesy of their GPS, despite the fact that there are four excellent paved roads which lead into Death Valley. (Thankfully, none of these people were en route to joining us.)

After yesterday's excursion, there was this gem of a story on the ABC News about some Japanese tourists who literally drove into the ocean in Australia because their GPS told them to do so. Here's a photo:
Seriously?

Is all this dependence on technology making people just plan stupid, making them lose their sense of direction, their awareness of what just seems and feels right?

This morning's yoga class was an obvious opportunity to work on "awareness" and I really got a lot out of Garth's class, but I find it helpful - and more logical - to just be aware all the time. This is especially critical while out exploring and always while moving quickly over varying terrain, whether by foot, bicycle, or motor vehicle.

As the saying goes, "Pay Attention!"

Back to the Future: Founding Fathers of Ultra Cycling Tackle Furnace Creek 508

Minutes before the start, the four racers in the 1982 Great American Bike Race eagerly awaited the biggest challenge of their lives (photo above). They didn't know what to expect. No one did. This was the first non-stop bicycle race across the United States and the four men would race 2,876 miles from the Santa Monica Pier to the Empire State Building in New York City. All four competitors would finish. ABC Wide World of Sports would tell this story to millions of viewers. "Ultra cycling" became a new sport and the world as we know it was officially underway. Within a year, legions of cyclists were inspired to become "ultra cyclists" and new races were created to develop the sport, including the John Marino Open, the predecessor to Furnace Creek 508.

I began cycling in February of 1982, inspired by Sheldon Jackson, a schoolteacher colleague of my parents who had bicycle toured across America the previous summer. He had regaled us with his cycling stories shortly after my parents, brother, and I had returned from a one-year sabbatical involving 25,000 miles of road tripping through 20-some countries in Europe and Egypt. Having skipped the eighth grade to learn about the world up close and personal, I dreamed of seeing more of the world under my own power. Only 14 and therefore without a driver's license, my bicycle gave me the freedom to roam, and to head for any horizon which intrigued me. My first ride, the day after I bought my dream bike (a copy of Sheldon's), was 50 miles to Mt. Baldy and back from my hometown of Glendora, CA.

I also subscribed to Bicycling Magazine and began reading about these four god-men who would be bicycle racing across America that summer. One day the phone rang and another of my parents’ colleagues, Wayne Hysen, wanted to know if I "had ever heard of Lon Haldeman." I had just read all about him and the other Great American Bike Race competitors - John Howard, Michael Shermer, and John Marino - so I answered in the affirmative. Wayne said, "Well, I'm from Illinois, so when I heard about Lon attempting this race across America, I invited him and his support team to base out of our house before the race in June. Do you want to meet him?" I sure did!

Standing in the foyer of the Hysens' home that August, I looked up at this towering giant of a man with dark brown tree trunk legs, asked him for his autograph, and told him I was going to do that bicycle race across America some day, "maybe when I'm 25!" That seemed so far away, such an "old age." I was only 15, and Lon, though he seemed like such a grown man to me, was just 23.

Lon would win the race that summer and I was absolutely mesmerized by the TV coverage of the race. Lon would also win again, with the race rechristened "Race Across America," in 1983. I had been there at the starting line that year, and had followed along - by car - for the first hundred miles or so. I knew I would do that race some day; there was no doubt.

Cycling events were few and far between back then and most of us enthusiasts entered any cycling event we could find, whether a criterium, a century, a road race, a bicycle rally, a time trial, or one of those rare and illusive events which so few had ridden, a "double century." I'd ridden my first double at age 16 that year, still riding in racquetball shoes as I had not yet painted my parents' house to pay for my first pair of Sidi bike shoes. Now, somehow, I had come up with the idea of riding from San Francisco to Los Angeles, non-stop, against the clock, to set a record, and, more importantly, to become - like my idols - an ultra cyclist.

Columbus Day, 1983 I was in Santa Barbara to compete in a criterium. I saw John Marino across a parking lot, running a Race Across America booth at the event's bike expo. I literally sprinted across the lot to meet this living legend. He had come in fourth out of four in the inaugural race, but nobody had suffered more. And what's more, it was his vision which had created the race in the first place, the natural progression for a man who had thrice ridden against the clock - but against no other competitors - to challenge the Guinness World Record for trans-America riding. Twice he had been successful. With those efforts under his belt, he had created a race to provide others with the same opportunity to do what I much later came to describe as "exploring the inner and outer universes."

I told John that I wanted to become an ultra cyclist and to ride from SF to LA against the clock, setting a record. He seemed curious and wrote his home phone number on the back of his Race Across America business card, offering to advise me. Not an hour later, I met Michael Shermer, who was there to compete, and he said he'd help me, too. Now I had a mission: to drum up sponsors, solicit media coverage, organize my crew, and train like a real cyclist. John helped me prepare a press release and got me into the industry-only bike show to solicit support. Shermer introduced me to potential sponsors and put the good word in for me. Lon kept letting me hang out with his support team each summer before the race and even let me lead him on training rides in the Glendora area. (When my friends saw me out on the road with him, I became a superhero in their eyes!)

Photo of the skinny guy: That's me at LA City Hall, after riding there against the clock from SF in 1984.

By early 1984, at age 16 and 17, I was lining up to race alongside Marino, Shermer, John Howard and others in 200km, 300km, and 400km "RAAM Building Races" known as brevets. Then that April 17-18, I rode the 472 miles from SF to LA in 31 hours, 13 minutes, setting the first ever record in the process. It was broken a week later, turning the fire inside me into a bonfire. A month later, Marino asked me to work on his race staff at the John Marino Open. I had a blast doing that, wanting to impress my mentors and idols, while watching a new crop of racers tackle the 715-mile race. Many of them, aware of my recent SF-LA record, asked me why I wasn't racing with them. I was astounded; I didn't think I was in their league. (And I surely never would have guessed that I would take over the leadership of the race just six years later.)

Above, Left to Right: Me (age 17), RAAM director Bob Hustwit, race official Mark Straley, and John Marino working at the 1984 John Marino Open, the predecessor to Furnace Creek 508. (It was a cold night in Anza, CA; we were huddled around a log fire in that trash can.)

A year later, there I was, lining up at the start of the 1985 John Marino Open, just a few weeks before graduating from high school, and fresh off getting "my" SF-LA record back, with a time of 22 hours, 38 minutes over the 429-mile route. The top twelve at this "JMO" would qualify for the 1985 Race Across America. I managed to tie for 12th, moving from behind to ahead of much of the field by simply never giving up, something I had learned from watching the four founding fathers do so on television just three summers prior.

I was getting ready to go off to college at U.C. Berkeley, so racing across America was the furthest thing from my mind, but Marino invited me to join his Race Across America race staff. It would be my first road trip without my parents. I was just 18 and would have a front row seat to the dramatic, dark duel between Michael Secrest, the first new ultra superstar to challenge the founding four, and Jonathan Boyer, the first American to race in the Tour de France, a true pro cyclist trying his hand at this new type of bicycle racing.

It was an absolutely pivotal nine days on the road and laid the final bricks in the foundation upon which my life, purpose, and career would be based. Within two years I would also be a finisher of the Race Across America, the youngest so far at age 20. My college studies in archaeology would continue, but there was no doubt I would be an entrepreneur with a focus on human potential and that I would continue to compete as an ultra athlete for a lifetime.

Photo: That's me with my amazing support crew at the finish of the 1987 Race Across America. I was 20 years old and on top of the world.

This spring, 29 years after that original Great American Bike Race, I pitched Marino on the idea of the four founding fathers competing together as a four-man team in Furnace Creek 508, a race I have organized since he turned it over to me 21 years ago. Marino loved the idea and pitched it to Shermer. He figured he could just squeeze it into his schedule as the head of the Skeptics Society. Amazingly, Haldeman and Howard also both agreed. Lon would fly in for the race just hours after finishing leading one of his transcontinental PAC Tour events. Howard would make it happen between coaching engagements and setting more national or world records in one form of competitive cycling or another. They've all been training like crazy and making plans via email and cell phone.

It will be an absolute honor to share the roads with all 223 competitors in this year's race, along with all the support crews, and the absolutely amazing race staff. None of us would be here if it weren't for the vision, and pure sense of adventure, that Lon Haldeman, John Howard, Michael Shermer, and John Marino all displayed during the summer of 1982. After inspiring me on my own ultra path - as a competitor, as an event promoter, and as a human being - I am absolutely ecstatic to have them compete in this year's 508. I am equally humbled, for I can think of no greater tip of the hat for my idols to offer than to enter this race which I love so much and which they begat. And for everyone in the race this year, I offer the solemn observation that you never know who YOU are going to inspire with your own efforts "out there" on the fabled Furnace Creek 508 race course. May we all roll so well and for so long as the founding four have done, and do.

Life has come full circle.

- Chris Kostman, Oak Park, CA

READ THIS ESSAY ON THE FURNACE CREEK 508 WEBSITE: Click

2011 RACE MAGAZINE, INCLUDING 35 PAGES OF HISTORIC ARTICLES

The 2011 Furnace Creek 508 Race Magazine includes over 35 pages of historic articles about the founding fathers and the original races from 1980, 1982, and 1983. It's a 13.7MB file, so it's very large and may take a few minutes to download. (508 entrants and staff will receive a printed copy of the entire 84-page, full-color magazine at Racer Check-In on Friday, October 7!) Download it here.

Special thanks to Patsy Inouye, a fellow cyclist who is a librarian, for finding and sending me scans of many of the historic articles reprinted in the 2011 race magazine, as well as to two-time 508 finisher Bob Corman of Infinity Press for printing this special edition of the race magazine, and to Marcus Edvalson for creating the whole new suite of Furnace Creek 508 logos featured on and in this magazine, on the race website, and on the 2011 race gear and clothing. Special thanks also to Kevin Fung for his tremendous efforts in designing the 2011 Furnace Creek 508 Race Magazine. This was Kevin's biggest job yet for us and he pulled it off with aplomb!

Clearly, the spirit of the Great American Bike race lives on in this great American bike race!
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2011 FURNACE CREEK 508 RACE WEBCAST

Follow all 223 competitors, including the Four Founding Fathers (AKA "Team Great American Toad"), as they participate in the 2011 Furnace Creek 508 via the live webcast on October 7-10, 2011 at this link.

The Classic Cyclist, Part Four

Above: Self-portrait of the author with Jim Swarzman during the San Diego 200km Brevet, January, 2011

The Classic Cyclist, Part Four

By Chris Kostman

Click here for Part One, click here for Part Two, and click here for Part Three of this series.

As I explained in the first three parts of this article, cyclists entering the sport of road cycling over the past fifteen or so years have tended to come in by way of mountain biking, triathlon, or fitness, rather than pure road cycling. As a result, most of these “cyclists” lack the knowledge which makes up the foundation of the classic cyclists’ repertoire and which respects the backbone of the sport. The point of this series of articles it to bring these uninitiated cyclists “up to speed.” Continuing with the theme begun in the first three parts of this article, here are some more things the classic cyclist knows and does:

CLASSIC STYLE

The classic cyclist “looks just right” on his bike. The clean and minimalist bike set-up and the spotless, humming drivetrain are mirrored in two additional manners by the cyclist astride the wheel: Attire is neither garish nor loud, nicely fitting (neither “parachuting” nor the dreaded “sausage effect”), and tasteful. Most importantly, the classic cyclist’s posture and demeanour on the bicycle are confident, relaxed, and powerful with a tendency to ride “back on the saddle” with hands either on the bar tops while in traffic or enjoying conversation with another rider, or deep in the drops while pushing the pace. Pedaling style is the very definition of souplesse. As such, the classic cyclist is recognizable by these trademark characteristics even while running errands in street clothes on a 50-year-old three-speed.

FLOW

The classic cyclist flows seamlessly with other cyclists and road users, while smoothly tackling all that the road and trail surfaces dish out. By staying in the moment, relaxed, aware, and paying attention with full peripheral vision and attentive hearing, “obstacles,” hazards, pedestrians, cyclists, and other forms of traffic are taken into account as forward momentum is maintained. She rides smoothly and calmly, whether riding solo, sitting in a group, or leading a paceline. When others are following, road hazards are quietly pointed out with small, but specific, hand signals and gestures (verbal warnings are rarely used). By riding predictably and elegantly, the classic cyclist saves energy, minimizes risk, and flows proactively through the world.

NUMBERS ADD UP TO NOTHING

The classic cyclist does not fixate on mileage on elapsed time, nor elevation gain. In the grand scheme of things, a 100-mile ride is no better nor more worthy than an 87-mile ride. Miles are ridden for the sake of the experience, not to fill a spreadsheet. (In fact, many classic cyclists eschew bicycle computers and training logs.) Likewise, he will stop to enjoy a view, to read a historic marker, to help another cyclist (or motorist), to take a photograph, or to sit down and enjoy a cup of tea at a new, or favorite, café. All such moments are part of “the ride” and are to be savored as much as the hard push up a mountain pass while “putting the hurt” on friends and clubmates.

FINESSE AND BALANCE

Riding no-hands for miles on end, removing or installing booties and leg warmers, and putting on a jacket while pedaling are all commonplace and natural acts for the classic cyclist. Indeed, he can change all pieces of clothing, except for shorts, while pedaling. Stopping for a café or scenic view is one thing, but stopping for actions better done while rolling smoothly onwards is quite another. The skills, balance, and awareness necessary for these classic talents make cycling safer, more graceful, and more rewarding.

THE WHOLISTIC CYCLIST

The classic cyclist is an outdoor athlete who puts a premium on personal health, always takes a broad and selfless point of view, and pursues a soft life’s walk on the planet. Stopping to pick up some trash - especially any items clearly dropped by another cyclist - is a natural, every-ride experience. Running errands by bike, such as stops at the post office and bank at the start or finish of a ride, or actually bike commuting regularly, minimizes her footprint and provides more opportunities to “enjoy the ride.” An attitude of “you only live once” permeates her sense of adventure, her sense of purpose, and her appreciation for all that cycling brings to her life. The classic cyclist lives by the mantra, “if you’re going to do something, do it well.”

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Chris Kostman has been a classic cyclist since 1982. Besides competing in races as diverse as the Race Across America, the Iditabike Mountain Bike Race, the Triple Ironman, and the 24 Hours of Canaan, he also organizes the Badwater Ultramarathon and Furnace Creek 508 races, as well as the Rough Riders Rally, CORPScamp Death Valley, and a series of four century, ultra century, and double century rides in California. Kostman is regularly seen on the roads and trails of California and beyond, riding brevets, centuries, bike tours, and other events and adventures. Learn more at www.adventurecorps.com.

Above three images: The author and his Rivendell Roadeo prior to the 2011 San Diego 200km Brevet.