TUESDAY TRAINING

Breakiron Breakout

Bad weather can't keep a good Grimpeur down. The Temperatures dropped into the 40's with a cold wind and wet roads (but little rain) for the race up Breakiron's dastardly slopes. Despite this, six riders made the start including one who is notoriously weather averse. Legs, drawn by the siren call of series points, not only  broke character- he busted out carbon fiber and skinny tires. Methinks he is serious. Watch your backs, kids.

The Fat Cat expected little of himself, harping on about how the hill's profile really didn't fit him; Traditional excuse tendered. Surprisingly, the race didn't split apart as much as would be usual on a climb with 20% grades. After the worst of it, The Fat Cat found himself within eye-shot of the leaders.

Shocked, he coached himself to stay at, but not cross, the line. He focused on Big Daddy, fooling himself that he might catch him. And then it happened! Fat Cat finally caught Big Daddy Birdman on a climb. Birdman said he just didn't have it that day? Fat Cat, capable of speaking in sentences even, said, "Well get it, man!" and upped the pace a smidge. In another first, he rode away from Birdman. We'll give Fat Cat this short gloating window, he may never get it again.

In the end, Boyscout pulled away to extend his reign in polka-dots. Talks-With-Legs pulled off a stunning upset, cresting ahead of Cross-Eye to take second. He also secured another week as the overall points leader. Looks like the yellow jersey(figurative for now) has given him wings. Fat Cat just missed the podium with a very self-satisfying fourth place. Birdman was next with Brahma Mama carrying up the coveted red latern.

Now rememder, the Grimp is not all about who can turn the pedals the fastest. Its also about endurance and perseverence...embracing suffering. As such all the participants were awarded 1 extra point for braving the elements(Very Hogwatian,eh? 50 points-Gryffindor!). This will be the norm with conditions below fifty with rain, any days with snow, severe cold or any other weather requiring a stout heart and a weak mind.

After the hill climb was over, the Grimpeurs headed down Summer School and Aarons creek into town and then back to Cheat lake via Dug Hill etc. for an early finish.

The overall standings are as follows:
(1) Talks-With-Legs, 17pts
(2) Boyscout, 15 pts
(3) Cross-eye, 12 pts
(4) Birdman, 11pts
(5) Fat Cat, 10 pts
(6) Tallboy, 6 pts
(7) Brahma Mama 5 pts
(8) Sandbag 4pts
(9) Trip 2 pts
(10) Fixie 1 pt.

Kobayashi Maru

The Grimpeurs raced up Snake Hill Road yesterday. High points were available with eight riders at the start. The Fat Cat kept it at 90% from bottom to top, wheezing like an octogenarian, 5-pack-a-day smoker whose oxygen tank just ran out. The leaders were kept in sight throughout the joyous ordeal and , possibly for the first time ever, The Fat Cat did, distantly, witness the win. Boyscout took the top spot along with eight whopping points ( We didn't get the polka-dot jersey back in time for the podium shot). He was followed by Randy and then Andy rhymed out the podium.

On the upper reaches of the climb, Talks-with-legs snuck up behind Fat Cat. It was particularly disturbing in that a blind man can usually mark Legs' approach via the constant discourse. The pace had apparently stolen the power of speech from the great orator, almost. He did have the capacity to ask The Fat Cat who was riding just ahead. Fatty must have been right at the red line because the supreme effort of saying ANDY (with an implied DAMMIT) nearly caused a brilliant explosion of flesh and lung right there.  Legs used the occasion to pull away by about 20 yards. Fat Cat wondered if he had some extra reserve deep down in the bottom of his own pain locker, maybe under that musty old cyclocross shirt.  Maybe he could sprint up the last incline, take 4th place, vomiting as he crossed the line. Or maybe, legs would just speed up a little himself, leaving The Cat to die in his wake. The musty old shirt lay undisturbed. Legs was 4th and Fat Cat was 5th.

The Fat Cat wobbled around in a haze of oxygen debt while the remaining riders crested the climb. Brahma Mama was followed up by Trip and "Fixie" Jack  who brought up the Red Lantern on his brand new cross bike with soul crushing knobbies.

The overall standings are as follows: (1.)  Legs has dethroned Big Daddy with 11 points  (2.)  Birdman is tied with Boyscout at 8.  (4.) Randy -who shall be called Cross-eye for his fascination with ultralight cross bikes- is in sole position of 4th place with 7 points. (5) Fat Cat and Andy  -or Tall-Boy because, well he's tall- are tied for 5th at 6 points. (7.) Sandbag has 4 points.  (8.) Brahma Mama has 3 points (She'd have more if training Tuesdays counted). (9.) Trip has 2. (10.) Fixie has 1.

The rest of the ride consisted of a pleasant jaunt through Preston County. The Grimpeurs turned onto East Street behind the Pharmacy in Masontown. They proceeded to drift down Long Hollow (or South Street or Gibson depending on the map you use). A right onto Dillon's Creek Road led to that steep punchy climb and everyone knocked it out. The Grimp took another right onto Oak Flat Road and crossed Rt 7 to bombed out Burke Rd. Zinn Chapel Road led to Born Road where the wide fields and blossoming fall colors slowed the pace. After that it was Kingwood Pike and the rocket ride down Summer School before each Grimpeur went off on their separate paths.

Next up is the Tuesday Training Ride on Mud Pike at 12:30. The next point race is next Thursday, 9:30 (botanical gardens start-try to ride there if possible).

Tuesdays Are Back

In the spirit of getting some of the old ways back in The Grimp. The 12:30, 2hr or less, lunch-time ride is back on the menu. It always starts in Haydentown and there is no rest for the last on the course. Don't worry, that is usually the Fat Cat. The Grimpeurs sorta raced up the Pike. That is to say that Brahma Mama kicked tail, The Fat Cat blew big time, and Legs hung out with Fatso until he could stand it no longer.

After The Cat recovered, he combined his anger at the 44 minute climb with a return time deadline and kept up a strong tempo pace leading the group all the way across Skyline, down Jumonville through Fairchance and back to Haydentown. It was a great workout ride. We'll do that same sorta thing next week for those interested. Call it a training ride for the Grimp point climbs.

Here is an idea for a Grimpeur jersey. I was thinking that we would sell it to ourselves for cost plus ten dollars. The extra money would go toward a cyclist of the year type award, one we can do to praise our brethern while they are still alive to hear it. (Oh, yeah- Legs read "The Road Less Traveled" post ride in honor of The Fat Cat.) Here is the tentative design. Any of you graphic artist types, feel free to submit a design or logo.

Old Time Grimp

The endless Seattlesque weather torturing West Virginia and Southwestern PA retreated swiftly at the announcement of the 2011-2012 Grimpeur Championship points series. Talks-With-Legs, Big Daddy Birdman, The Flanders Fat Cat and Sandbag showed up on a fantastically sunny and temperate day to give the old Mud Pike Mountain what for.

Back in the days when the mighty Aerobinator roamed the hills, The Grimp was a painful affair. It was all someone of the Fat Cat's stature could do to hold on to the slipstream across the rolling spine of the mountain. All uphills were anaerobic death marches. Since then the Grimp has migrated from Tuesdays to Thursdays and has matured into a congenial cycling affair. Each incarnation has its merits. Meandering through hill and dale, parsing out the nature of God and man on the backs of carbon and aluminum steeds has become well-loved. However,the Aerobinators ghost got the Fat Cat nostalgic for the days when all was given to the climb.

So, it was decided, by royal fiat, that old and new be combined. From this day forth, one day a week, willing Grimpeurs will attack a designated hill/mountain with all the fervor they can muster. For their efforts, points will be awarded. The points will be based on how many riders are on that days ride. For example: If there are six riders, the first to the top gets six points and the last gets three. The series will continue through next September with a trophy presentation and other wondrous prizes and accolades. The weekly winner takes the Polka-dot jersey at the top of the mountain and keeps it until someone wrests it from him/her by beating them to the top on a subsequent ride. On the second Tuesday of each month the ride will be on Mud Pike and will be for double points (I just thought that part up!).

After flogging themselves for 30 minutes or so, The Grimp will go casual again. The world's problems will be solved from atop bicycles and stress will be pedaled away.

With the above in mind, the four combatants line up at the other side of 857, muscles twitching like racehorses in the starting gates. They rode the false flat at a pace above the norm, but still not punitive. After that, the story must be told from the rear, as any familiar with the illustrious history of The Grimp, must have expected.

The Fat Cat held on valiantly as the gradient ballooned. Ahead he could see Big Daddy and Sandbag just ahead of Talks-With-Legs through about 2/3 of the climb. However, around each turn in the road, the leaders grew smaller. The Fat Cat was alone by the pull-off before the small downhill dip.

The race had been won several minutes before that Fat Cat arrived on his erstwhile blue cross bike, Earnestina, at 38 minutes. Birdman had edged out Talks-With-Legs by a half a wheel and Sandbag had faded to third. By virtue of his performance, Bridman got 8 points and stripped the Jersey from Fat Cat's back. (Somebody had to get it to the top, so why not wear it. It'd be the last chance.) Legs got 6 points, sanbag got three and Fat Cat got 2.

Another tradition of the Grimp is The Fat Cat's excuse. This time it came on the part of the climb called "Baby Bear". The Fat Cat had to stop as a real live bear (and it was no baby)regarded him from the middle of the road.

From then on it was a happy ride, sometimes fiesty, sometimes calm. The Grimpeurs stopped at the Summit Inn for coffee, green tea and excellent conversation. The descent of Jumonville was fast, with Grimpeurs passing trucks and cars along the way.

Over the finishing miles along the Mountain's feet, The polka dotted engine and the red lantern caboose teamed up and lashed across the countryside and back to Haydentown.

It was a truly great ride and an illustrious start to the Grimpeur Championship series. Can't wait to see you all out there next week.

Oh, one more point of order. Fan and Tim thought it'd be nice for one Grimpeur to do a post ride poem. Fran did a nice one last week. I'll go a little off course and offer up a painting:

Greatest Grimpeur Inspires Greatest Grimp

On September 15th 2011, twenty friends gathered in the Laurel Mountains of Pennsylvania, just across the West Virginia border, to honor the memory of Kean bird.
The sky at the bottom of Mud Pike, a traditional climb for the Grimpeurs, was low. The rain was steady and the temperature struggled into the fifties. Our destination, the top of the mountain was shrouded in dark clouds. One might think that such conditions on a Thursday morning at 9:30 would wash out a group of roadies in spandex but, not so. As we waited in the lot at the bottom of the mountain, cars saddled with bikes and bikes saddled with riders steadily streamed in. When all had finally arrived, it was the greatest number of cyclists to ever ride a grimp. Such is the draw of our friend Kean. How apropos that we all had to suffer to honor him. I think he would have liked that.

Despite the sadness that had brought us to the mountain, the mood was upbeat. We had had enough of mourning. Some laughed at the conditions, shared memories and caught up with old friends all the way up The Pike. Some choose to push themselves for a quick ascent or to wrestle a single speed up category one grades. Some found a quiet gap and let the effort wash away any residual sadness. At times it was eerie, riding up and up in an envelope of white. Even experienced Grimpeurs lost track of where they were on the mountain. It felt like riding the hill for the first time. Indeed it was the first time without the threat of Kean slashing past.

When all the Grimpeurs, old hands and first timers alike, had arrived at the top, a small ceremony was held. Gunnar read a poem entitled, “The Men Who Ride Bikes.” A chainring encircling a picture of Kean, arms raised in triumph, was tacked to a tree, not on the very top of the mountain, but just on the other side- no need to explain the symbolism. Flowers from yesterday’s funeral service were laid below the plaque, as his family had wished. Wine and whiskey found its way into the cups of all and the Grimpeurs raised a toast to the champion of the Grimpeurs, Kean bird. A bottle of wine was laid into a hole beneath the memorial tree and covered over with earth so that the Grimpeurs would return and raise their cups again in a year’s time to each other and the memory of their friend. I for one was left with a good feeling.

With that, the Grimpeurs said goodbye and descended the mountain, their eyes stinging from the rain but not in sorrow, for they saw that Kean was a man who had not lived his life in vain. He had the respect and love of his friends and family. He inspired people to be better. He brought us all together. Kean Bird made a mark in this world on the positive side of the ledger. What more could any man ask for?

Now, those Grimpeurs who travel on, keep racing for the top of the mountain together and don’t let up until the finish. It’s just on the other side of the mountain and Kean marks the winner.

Those in attendance:
Hannah Schrum, Steve Harouff, Jay Downs, Timothy Nelms, Linda Litman, Abraham Schauer Shogren, Andrew Walker, Don Dickerson, Gunnar Shogren, Betsy Schauer Shogren, Kean Bird, Frank Gmeindl, Frances Cole Toro, Mark Rosso, Matt Kettering, Dave Light, Craig Weimer, Evan Williams, Mike VanderRyanBerg, Tricia Lewis, Robin West Barnett

The Best Among Us

I'm glad to see you all here tonight. The drinks are all on me, though I don't think they could brew enough to make us forget. But, to forget is not why we Grimpeurs and all the rest have gathered here today. We have come here to remember our friend, Kean Bird.

As the universe is prone to do, either according to some unfathomable plan or through the cold dictates of randomness, it has taken a man before his time. On this day, it was someone it had no business with. Kean was the pinnacle of health, someone you'd refer to when you wanted to emphasize what a strong bicyclist looks like, as in: Damn, you flew up that hill, I thought I was chasing Kean. He was the record holder for the fastest climb up Mud Pike, the true measure of a Grimpeur. Before Kean's pancreas turned on him, he was having his best year as a cyclist. Anytime you checked the standings of a local race, there he was at the top. Sad to say, I really didn't know Kean outside of cycling, I'll leave talk of him outside cycling to those of you who want to say you piece later. I can tell you that there was both joy and fear when he rode up to the courthouse before a group ride. In the meat of a ride, I often found myself squeezing into Kean's slipstream as he mercilessly pounded the pedals. He could hear me wheezing and grunting and he loved the sound of it. He'd take me to the limit and I'd see him glance back now and then to make sure he still had me. Sometimes he'd yell something back like, "Stay in your big ring!" Then he'd give a wry smile as he tweaked up the pace. Kean would put you through hell but he'd always be there at the top waiting. He'd never leave you behind now matter how bad you were. Honestly, I was sure that was what he was going to do this time, put himself, ans us, through hell. I can't believe he won't be waiting at the top of the hill.

Anyway, that's enough out of me. Raise your glass, all, to Kean Bird, the best of the Grimpeurs. Now, let's here some of your stories and celebrate the life of our friend we called Aerobinator.