Behind the Scenes: Southern Singletrack in BIKE Magazine (July 2013 issue)

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Photo: Reuben Krabbe, article by Kristin Butcher, courtesy BIKE magazine

Photo: Reuben Krabbe, article by Kristin Butcher, courtesy BIKE magazine

Check out the July issue of BIKE magazine to see a 9-page feature story on Alabama singletrack by Southern-born, Colorado-based writer Kristin Butcher and Canadian outdoor photographer Reuben Krabbe. They stayed at Casa Cross-Freyer during their reporting/shooting trip to ‘Bama. We plied them with every authentic Southern food and fat-tire experience we could think of, from mud-bugs to freeze-dried okra to hula-hooping, trails-riding, gourd-banjo-making friends. They loved all of it. (Or at least convincingly pretended to.)

In planning the shoot, they asked for local “bomber-style riders” to be in the pics. I scratched my head, because I knew only two—trials-talented Chuck Lewis, and huckster Karl Peters. Which made me realize how very cross-country we are here (but that may be changing…) I asked if I could come along for the ride and do my best to stay out of the shot and not get in the way. It was one of the few times I’ve been on my bike these past 6 months, because I’ve been training exclusively through Iron Tribe.

In my nine years of travel writing/editing, I’ve learned how to be a good assistant on shoots, which can entail everything from holding reflectors to microwaving a water-soaked tampon to create a steamy mug for a cozy winter shot (a food stylist taught me this). On this BIKE shoot, it meant holding branches out of the way and pinning down young saplings with stones…then releasing them after Reuben nailed the shot. Sometimes, from the top of a tree…

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Reuben is a young phenom who shoots skiing all winter and cycling all summer and loves to go for really challenging shots, like a back-country night skiing shot lit by Aurora Borealis. He shoots bad-ass bomber riders, a category to which I can only aspire. But he’s also such a nice guy that he humored me by letting me ride in a few shots, even though my meager air-catching skills leave much to be desired.

I have to confess, I am jonesing to add the word “huck” to my riding vocabulary. I want to learn to catch air. Do a tail whip. I think full-face helmets are hot, and I covet one the way most women covet a pair of Manolo Blahniks. I started putting air between my tires and the trail, but it’s not “sick” air. Even though water-ski jumping was my weakest event—my longest jump was 113 feet at a time when the top girls were jumping 130 or more—there’s something about that feeling of flying that makes my heart race with joy.

As we rode the new trails at Anniston’s Coldwater Mountain, I studied Karl’s feet. I am used to being clipped to my pedals, attached to the bike, and the art of sticking to pedals without a clip is surprisingly elusive. And painful. Because the spiked pedal that’s not stuck to the bottom of one’s foot is a nano-second from raking the thin, tender flesh of one’s naked shin. Besides being eye-wateringly painful, the wounds look really crappy with heels and a skirt.

As we climbed a series of tight switchbacks, someone got stalled around a hairpin turn. Behind them, Karl put a foot down. And as I rode up, attempting to track-stand and sneak around him, I lost momentum and started one of those slow-mo tim-berrrrrr falls when you don’t unclip in time and topple over to the side. Which meant into Karl. As I reached out to arrest my fall, I planted my hand on the first thing in the way: his butt. It wasn’t a brief swat, either. It was a long, awkward cheek-plant which, if we had been in a cartoon with sound effects, might have sounded like a fog-horn.

Being more or less the first time I had met Karl, this was awkward. What does one say? After getting back on the bike and enduring a few painful minutes of awkward silence, I decided that an embarrassed apology or more awkward silence was worse than making light of it.

“Sorry, dude,” I said, “I’ve been staring at your ass all day, and I just couldn’t help myself.”

I think he blushed.

Here’s the really funny thing: After that, I started jumping the whoop-de-dos on that roller coastery Anniston downhill. Like, really jumping (okay, still not in the “huck” category, but both tires left the ground with a little style). I think I even did my first tail-whip. It was as if I had rubbed the Buddha’s belly for enlightenment. Karl’s jumping mojo had rubbed off.

At some point after the Magic Ass Grab, I was riding in front of Karl, and I hit a few jumps.

“You’re killing it, Cross!” he yelled.

I think I blushed.

Luckily, this did not make it into the story, which Kristin Butcher knocked out of the park with snappy writing, an eye for detail, and an ear for culture. But Karl made it in (pages 80 and 86). And Chuck Lewis. And my teammate Grace Ragland, a Leadville veteran. And Michael Balliet’s “southern drawl made out of velvet and shortcake,” that made the author “want to curl up in front of a fireplace and listen to him read the phone book.” (I love that line.) Even yours truly made a Where’s Waldo appearance on the opening spread, which is magnificent not for its riding but for Reuben’s stunning scenic shot of a dramatic S-curve on our flow trail, Lightning. (Squint really hard at the red dot, top right.)

Every issue of every magazine in existence has insanely awesome photos that, for whatever reason, don’t make it into the story. Because they’re horizontals when the designer needs a vertical. Or the colors don’t jibe with the other shot on the page. Or simply because there aren’t enough pages to show everything worth showing. There are locals who you don’t see in the pages, but served as stunning model material nonetheless. Omar Fraser rode a particularly technical section with aplomb. Jay Bradford went out in the sheeting rain. And the whole bike community came out for a brews cruise between three Birmingham microbreweries, a nighttime urban joy ride. (If I missed someone, apologies; it’s 5 a.m. as I write this.) (Check out a few additional photos from the shoot on his blog.)

My favorite part of this story? Besides the awesome words and images, it was meeting writer Kristin Butcher, who tried to teach me a nose wheelie in Chuck’s basement (check out her website, and look for her monthly column, Butcher Paper, in BIKE) and photog Reuben Krabbe, who thinks of shots that stretch the imagination. (Coming in a future issue: Karl Peters’ buck off the mandatory-air drop on lightning, which involved me throwing leaves at his torso just before takeoff.) They were fun and up for trying anything and able to describe and shoot a man playing a homemade gourd-banjo without once making a joke about Deliverance.

Download the digital edition of BIKE here or find the print mag at big bookstores in town.

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NY WOD

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I was in NYC for four days, where I learned that high-heel miles are like dog years and that one should never use the word “mugged” as a synonym for “posed for a grip-and-grin photo” because New Yorkers will assume you mean you’ve been robbed and ask if you’re okay.

I also discovered that pedicabs are considerably less nauseating than Yellow cabs (turns out you can’t get carsick on a bike).

To supplement my in-the-gym workouts, I asked The Coach to suggest some portable WODs that could be done in or outside a Manhattan-size hotel room. He adapted three WODs to mimic what folks are doing in the gym this week, keeping in mind I have little time and no access to equipment.

Because of recent out-of-town travel, I have been turning again and again to the Travel WOD app to try to maintain my 3x week workouts. These workouts use body weight and can be done either in a hotel room or a park with benches (for box jumps) and other common amenities.

Here is what I did today in a room approximately 3-lunges across:

10 min amrap of:
1 burpee
2 walking lunges (one per leg)
2 Sit Ups
2 burpees
4 walking lunges
4 Sit Ups
3 burpees
6 walking lunges
6 Sit Ups
4 burpees
8 walking lunges
8 sit ups
etc…Continue to increase the burpee by 1 rep and the lunges and sit ups by 2 reps until time runs out.

Reps: 216

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MC3 Women’s Weekend – June 29-30

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It’s my favorite time of the year—summer—and that means the MC3 Women’s Weekend! This weekend-long estrogen fest on wheels is returning to Oak Mountain State Park with a new format that includes road riders as well as mountain bikers. We’ll have a MTB clinic taught by IMBA-certified coaches, a Moonlight Banquet with catered hot food and cold libations, a camp-out, and group rides the next day.

Brought to you by Magic City Cycle Chix and this year’s title sponsor, Cahaba Cycles, the MC3 Women’s Weekend is one of a growing number of women-only cycling events, and it’s one of the first in our region. In 2011, this event drew 60 women from 8 states. We expect to sell out this year, so if you’re interested act quickly and REGISTER HERE, or visit this post over at MagicCityCycleChix.com to read more details. It’s open to riders of all levels, and we go out of our way to make it beginner-friendly and accessible to women.

We do our best to live up to our motto: Building Courage, Confidence, and Community…Two Wheels at a Time.

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Operation Iron Tribe: The Bike Test

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I couldn’t hang.

The wheel I was chasing belonged to Shonny Vanlandingham, a professional triathlete who won the Xterra World Championships a few years ago. Not-So-Fast Eddie (who has been doing a lot of office-chair riding these days) and I struggled to keep up. But we couldn’t keep up with the winningest mountain-biker (male or female) in the history of the sport.

I can live with that.

Shonny was my first “shero.” The first female athlete I really came to look up to. We met in 2010, when I had no idea who she was but agreed to do a “home stay” for a visiting pro  who flew into town to compete in the Xterra Pelham race. She later invited me to my first women’s clinic, and blew my mind with a novel concept: the front-wheel lift. I had been riding for 10 years, and didn’t even know what that was, ploughing with great speed into logs and obstacles and letting my front shock do the rest. After Shonny V introduced me to the subtleties of riding, my world was rocked. Shonny came to stay with us again for this year’s race, and as usual, she went slumming with invited us to join her on a ride.

While I am saving my final mountain-bike time-trial for the 6-month conclusion of Operation Iron Tribe, I have tested my legs on a couple of rides, both mountain and road. A few months into the case study, I rode most of the red loop at Oak Mountain State Park (the 17-mile time-trial course) and felt stronger than I have all year. I particularly noticed the difference on the climbs — I was able to power up short, steep sections without feeling like my legs were on fire, and on the 2-mile fire road climb, I stayed in my big front chain ring the whole time, never having to shift into granny gear. That’s the first time I have been able to do that since Mom got sick a year ago this month. My skills, however, have suffered from so little time on the bike. So have Eddie’s. We both dabbed and struggled on the hand-built rocky sections of Jekyll and Hyde, a favorite new trail at Oak Mountain State Park. Usually I can ride the whole thing without putting a foot down, but that ride left me feeling again like a newbie. Bike-handling skills are a perishable skill. But they can be regained with practice.

A few months ago, I entered my first road race, put on by Then-Fast Eddie’s team, GSMR. They created a special category for women, so we didn’t worry about getting run down by the Cat 4 men. To my surprise, I was able to hang with a “fastie” best friend of mine (The Scientist), who was coming off of months of traditional training for Cyclocross Worlds. To be fair, she was in “coaching the rest of the women’s field” mode, and I am certain she was not riding even close to all-out, and could have easily crushed me if she so chose. But she was pacing the lead rider in the simulated race, and I was able to hang. They toasted me in the sprint to the finish line, but I was happy to be able to cling to their rear wheels.

In my last post I noted that my V02 Max improved on the run and suffered slightly on the bike (probably because ITF training involves running, but no biking or stationary cycling). That said, I am surprised by how well the fitness gains have translated to cycling, a sport that, conventional wisdom holds, you can’t really train for without spending a lot of time on a bike. While I wouldn’t recommend training for cycling without spending time on a bike, I can say that the return-on-investment of my ITF training hours yielded gains that I wouldn’t expect to see with the same amount of time pedaling.

Today I did an iconic lunch-time ride with a bunch of very able cyclists. Had they not been kind, I would have gotten dropped like a hot potato on the climbs. My lungs burned a lot more than my legs, which means my cardiovascular fitness was the limiter, not my muscular endurance. But considering the fact that I have not ridden my road bike since, um, February, I was encouraged by how relatively well I fared.

I wonder what would happen if I kept up this 3-days-a-week ITF training, and added a day or two of cycling (or spinning) to the mix? Hmmm….

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Operation Iron Tribe: Midterm Test Results (Objective)

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Operation Iron Tribe is more than halfway through. Here are the test results conducted by my third-party tester Jesse Douglas of Physio Fitness on April 10, after three months of Iron Tribe training an average of three days a week (with an unplanned two-week hiatus, courtesy of a nasty chest cold).

During this three-month period, I relied almost entirely on ITF classes for my workouts. I abstained from spinning classes and rode my bike a total of 10 times (only two of which were true training rides — the others were low-intensity family rides or skills clinics).

If you’d like to download a PDF of the results below, click here. For a more comprehensive, 11-page analysis, with charts and graphs that show where my performance falls in the bell curve, download the full report here. Continue reading →

Operation Iron Tribe: Mid-Term Results (Subjective)

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“You lost your pot,” my mom said.

“What?” I said.

She’s famous for her non sequiturs. We were gathered in her Florida driveway with a group of friends who had volunteered to help with her epic moving sale. I thought maybe she was talking about a Dutch oven gone missing. I started to look around the garage sale tables for the missing pot.

“Your pot belly,” she said. “You were starting to get one. Did you know that?”

Thanks, Mom, for Exhibit A: the first piece of subjective evidence worth presenting in my mid-term evaluation.

We are officially halfway through the Operation Iron Tribe project.* I’ve been WOD-ing three times a week for three months now, with no spinning classes and very little outside running or cycling (as in, a very occasional social ride on the weekend). I repeated the battery of fitness tests and measurements we took before training commenced, and I’ll share those in the next post. But first, here are some subjective observations:

I feel stronger. I know: Duh. But it’s really noticeable. From lifting my squirming 5-year-old (the thing that threw out my back 16 months ago) to putting a rolling carry-on in the overhead compartment, everyday tasks that once required straining now feel fairly effortless. I remember an ITF believer telling me, “The first time I noticed it was when I was running through the airport carrying a heavy bag, and it felt easy.” Now I get what he means.

I feel more balanced. When I started this training, I could still do a few pull-ups, thanks to the residual strength from my water-skiing days. But I couldn’t do “real” push-ups. I could out-run most of the guys in my workouts, but I did most of the Olympic weight lifting moves with a bare bar. My abs were strong, but my back was weak. In short, my weaknesses were exposed. Through the constantly varied WODs, I couldn’t avoid them, but also didn’t focus on them exclusively. Those weak areas have been the most to improve (makes sense, because they had the most room for improvement). But I truly feel more balanced, and no longer worry about throwing out my back every time I wrestle my kid.

I still feel strong on the bike. I have done no spinning classes and very little cycling, and the few times I’ve been on the bike, I surprised myself. About two months in, I hopped on the mountain bike for the old red loop at Oak Mountain. I didn’t have enough time for a time trial of the whole thing, but I remember thinking on the ride, “This is the best I’ve felt on the bike in two years!” I had more power on the climbs. But my endurance didn’t seem to have suffered nearly as much as I expected. In a 20-mile practice road race, I was able to hang with the fasties. I got third, deftly out-maneuvered in the sprint finish—but I was really happy that I got that far.

I feel more powerful. Any quick-twitch movements feel more explosive. I noticed this while running up some stairs, or having to power up a short, steep hill on a bike. For a while, when I needed to stomp on the gas, there was nothing there. Now, I feel like I can surge when I want to, and I feel more horsepower. This is great for cycling.

I still get nervous about injury. Every time I have to do squat a heavy load, some subconscious governor clicks on and I just cannot squat to full depth. No matter how many times the coaches assure me my knees are not going to explode, I sometimes feel a little twinge that makes me really, really nervous. Likewise with snatches—I just can’t do a squat-snatch to save my life. And regular snatches make me feel like I’m going to throw out my back. My pre-existing injury explains my paranoia. And it’s either protecting me, or holding me back.

I’m having fun. I’m not bored, because The Coach keeps it interesting. Every WOD is different—you may repeat the same workout maybe twice in a year, for benchmark testing purposes. Some of them see me leading the pack (See: anything that involves running). Others I’m DFL (See: anything that involves heavy weights and lots of reps). But I love the learning process, and the competition, and the fact that workouts never last more than 25 minutes, and are sometimes as short as 4 excruciating minutes that wring you out and leave you limp on the floor. The camaraderie is high, and I enjoy seeing the same people at my home gym, Downtown.

My pants fit better. Aside from the dress whose sleeves my guns have out-grown, my clothes fit better. Sleeveless shirts no longer shame me. My belly is still not fit for a bikini, but there’s progress (See: Exhibit A). Exhibit B: My toddler poked my stomach and said, “Mommy! Your tummy’s less squishy!” And that’s all I have to say about that.

* Stay tuned for the objective results. We repeated most of the tests on March 10 (I’m late in posting—sorry, y’all) and have some hard data up for you next.

Cave Snob’s Paleo Pick: Cantina

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Cantina is one of my favorite places for MC3 meetings and informal gatherings, and not only because owner Jorge Castro suffered along with me in the trenches through Iron Tribe 101. Besides the charming setting and outdoor patio, this local spot has reasonable prices and several Tribe-friendly elements:

1. You order at the counter, so there’s no need to split checks.
2. The margaritas are fantastic. (And someone told me tequila is Paleo…I had no idea cave men had the wherewithal to ferment agave!)
3. Chips and salsa are something you have to order…which makes it easier not to eat them.
4. But if you’re having a cheat night with chips, the guac rocks.
5. The Paleo Plate (above).

During the 40-Day Transformation Challenge, Jorge modified a few popular menu items to make them Paleo-friendly. The Churrasco Steak (shown here), Cilantro Chicken, and Grilled Salmon big plates ($9.25) ditched the cheese and came served atop sauteed peppers and onions instead of mashed potatoes or rice and beans.

I think the price goes up a buck or two, but it’s still a reasonable price for dinner. I am partial to salmon, but the steak was my favorite, a flavorful cut of beef that paired well with the caralemized onions. The toppings added a boost of fresh flavor: pico de gallo, slivers of buttery avocado, and fresh cilantro.

Learning to Fly

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A few weeks ago, I set a goal to learn a back-flip on a trampoline before my 37th birthday. It’s not as ambitious as it sounds—I have been doing back flips into pools, off docks, and on a water-ski since I was a kid. But attempting a back-tuck on land–despite two years of middle school gymnastics–scared me too much. I never tried.

This was my little birthday gift to myself. A reminder that you’re only as old as you allow yourself to act. It can’t possibly be a symptom of mid-life crisis if you refuse to act middle-aged, right? I don’t want to grow up. I was not meant to. My Japanese middle name, after all, means “eternal child.” And I fully intend to live up to it.

So a week before my birthday, I organized a grown-up play date with some friends (kids optional) at the brand-new trampoline park in town. This place is my personal fantasyland — a giant warehouse filled with wall-to-wall trampolines and foam pits that approximated my childhood dream of diving into cotton candy. After a few practice hucks into a pit of chipped memory foam, I stuck my first back-tuck on a trampoline. And another. And another. Until I lost count.

Check!

This year, I want to learn to ride a bike like a boy. To me, at least, this means three things:

A) Master the elusive wheelie.
B) Catch big respectable air — and maybe even a tail-whip — with flat pedals.
C) Get as comfortable on my bike as I was on my water-ski. Which often means learning silly tricks whose badassedness is inversely proportional to their usefulness.

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I’ll let you know how it goes. And that rumor that I was invited to join the circus? True. Maybe if this whole writing career thing doesn’t pan put, I have something to fall back on: a foam pit.

Still Queasy

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WOD 4/9

70 double unders (got 13 consecutive, then switched to singles)
10 burpees
60 squats
10 burpees
50 kettlebell swings 35 lbs
10 burpees
40 overhead presses 55 lbs (I used 45 lbs)
10 burpees
30 medicine ball situps 14 lbs
10 burpees
20 wall ball shots 14 lbs
10 burpees

My time: 20:55
See other times for this workout

This one was a sufferfest. Just writing it all down 24 hours after the fact makes me feel a little puke-y.

I started out attempting double-unders (where the jump rope passes under you twice per jump) and got 13 in a row before wasting some serious time in a vain effort to repeat that. I thought for a minute I would try to “Rx” this WOD (ie complete it as prescribed, no modifications). By the time I realized that was SO not happening, I was still flailing around with the jump rope as the rest of the class was well into the squats.

I did get 25 kettlebell swings in a row before taking a break, which was a small victory. But the presses still noodle my arms by the fifth rep. And when it came to the wall balls, where you do a squat and then thrust a 14-pound medicine ball at a target up on the wall…well those just plain suck, especially after the presses. I tried to switch to a lighter ball, but The Drill Sargeant The Coach shamed encouraged me into sticking with the full 14.