Oh Canada...

UCI Masters Mountainbike World Championships
Sunday September 3
Kamloops, British Columbia

The ride for all the marbles. The last dance. The whole shootin' match.
My plan is no secret. Time to leave everything out on the course. I am going to roll across the finishline with NOTHING left. Whatever happens...happens.

To quote one of my favorite movies, "I am superfly T-N-T...I am the Guns of Navarone...I'm a mushroom cloud layin' motherf--er...motherf--er."

I still have the hat...and Boston lost tonight to the Oakland A's. Huh...I guess this jinx stuff really works.
I'll update when I can...if there's cell service...
Enjoy the ride...

I LOVE Hate Mail

It seems that the entire Red Sox Nation is angry with me. They blame me for the Jinx that they suffer from. When I roam the halls at Clif Bar, I sometimes get snarls from some of the "New Englanders." Next they will want to blame me for Bode not winning any medals or something crazy like that.

No way. I'm not accepting the blame for their losing streak. Nope, they are doing this to themselves just like Ty has done to me. I am the victim here. Tyler is the one they should blame. One of their very own!

First my clothes were stolen, then they were turned over to savage beasts. All this after I recovered the hat from the summit house because I understand...I understand the significance of the hat. I went out of my way to save it.

By keeping the hat, I am merely retaining what little I can from this atrocity. He should have thought twice. I was acting out of kindness, saving his hat, and that's the thanks I get. Turning a pack of wild dogs on my stuff. No way. No way am I turning the hat over. You can't mess with Pat-In-The-Hat and expect to get away with it.

I don't have to be from New England to understand the value of a favorite hat...I am a man of many hats (hence "Pat in the Hat") , and I too have a favorite. And ...it is a sweet Boston Red Sox Hat that I am wearing right now.
I will gladly send Tyler one of these...

Thuggz...

Hat Hostage Situation UPDATE:

I am looking for a reputable individual or group that would handle all of the details and hostage negotiations.
I talked to these guys, but I checked their records...and it seems that they had problems in the past. Something about shooting Marvin in the face, divine intervention, Ezechial 25:17 and "The Wolf." So I kept looking...

Then these Bounty hunters offered to pay me for the hat. It seems one of them is a pretty good baseball player and a Red Sox fan. (He even threw out the first pitch of a Boston game once, just like Ty).

But it turns out, he had a MAJOR drinking problem, and bailed on the whole thing (he forgot).
I have decided to scrap the whole idea and just keep the hat. Afterall, my Thermal had been so terribly mutilated, it is useless to trade a hat that is in great shape for a useless shirt. So, even though I am not a Red Sox fan, I guess I will wear it.

So Ty, what do you think of them apples? I'm keeping the hat. Thanks. Me and my hat will see you in Europe next week. Don't forget your sunscreen. You're gonna need it with no hat to protect you.

Mt. Washington...The House of Pain

I just received these photos from Jonathon McElvery. He is an excellent photographer, yet even with his skillz, it seems, there is no way to truly capture how steep it is. If you click on the MotionBased link below and check out my GPS data from the race you start to get the idea. I think there was something like 50 meters of flat between the start and the finish. I am riding Alpe d'Huez in two weeks "Just for fun" to compare the two fabled climbs (as well as many others while I am over there).

2006photos@jsmcelvery.com

2006photos@jsmcelvery.com

Enjoy the ride...

War Crimes...

So...I have received a response via e-mail as to the condition of my Thermal T-neck that is being held captive in Boulder, CO. Pictures were provided (and can be viewed below). As of press time, there was no mention of the possibility of a hostage swap.
Upon viewing the photos, I was appalled at the treatment of my belongings. Especially after I have displayed Tylers Boston Red SUX hat with all decency while being held hostage here in my remote village on the North Coast of California.

Just for review...
Geneva Convention relative to the Treatment of Prisoners of War Article 13

"Prisoners of war must at all times be humanely treated. Any unlawful act or
omission by the Detaining Power causing death or seriously endangering the
health of a prisoner of war in its custody is prohibited, and will be regarded
as a serious breach of the present Convention. In particular, no prisoner of war
may be subjected to physical mutilation or to medical or scientific experiments
of any kind which are not justified by the medical, dental or hospital treatment
of the prisoner concerned and carried out in his interest. Likewise, prisoners
of war must at all times be protected, particularly against acts of violence or
intimidation and against insults and public curiosity. Measures of reprisal
against prisoners of war are prohibited."

The following photos contain graphic detail and may evoke blind rage...View at your own discretion.

This calls for immediate and extreme retaliation. Paybacks are a bitch...

Pat In The Hat: A Hostage Situation

I'm holding Tyler's hat hostage till I get my sweet thermal back!
So I go to these Tyler Hamilton Foundation events to help raise money. Sometimes we get a couple of pieces of clothing embroidered with the foundation logo on it to wear at the event. For this trip, we were to each get a warm-up suit to keep us warm at the summit of Mt. Washington, a tee shirt and a thermal zip t-neck...easily the coolest piece in the bunch. Since my stuff was waiting for me in Boulder, CO to be picked up the previous weekend where my flight and trip were canceled, Tyler flew out with it in his luggage. (I know you are thinking, "What a nice guy"). But WAIT...not so fast.
You see, Tyler has such an incredible reputation for being such a giving person, and he is. I have stood with him at the top of some climb in some nasty rainstorms, shivering uncontrollably right alongside of him, and he will insist that you wear his jacket. I have watched him give his jacket to someone in those conditions more than once, and it never ceases to inspire me. He is a rare person like that, and I wish to be known for the same.
Sometimes though, it can go too far. Not in some crazy, weird, "Here, wear my shorts and I will ride naked" kind of way, Nope. When he gets in this giving mood, and he has run out of his stuff to give, he starts giving out other peoples stuff. His wife Haven can attest to this. Ty recently gave me one of "His" shirts, when it was really Haven's. (I secretly gave it back to her upon hearing the story that it was hers to begin with). The next day, I caught him trying to give it to somebody else. It's funny, he thinks just because it has his name on it, it's his to give. (And really, it is his to give...I'm just saying...there is a line...and he crosses it.)
Tyler and I are the same size. He will attest that he has bigger gunz than me, but that is HIGHLY debatable. He decided that he would poach my clothes earmarked for me. I managed to get the sweat suit, but not the sweet T-Neck. Apparently, he had already stole Haven's too. To me, this means war. "Game on" I say...
So on Saturday, after the race, we were sitting in the summit house on Mt. Washington waiting for the rest of the racers to finish up before we could drive down. I noticed Ty had left his backpack, his helmet with his shorts and jersey, and his beloved Red Sox hat. The one he was given when he threw out the first pitch of one of their games after winning the Gold Medal in the Olympics. I throw the stuff in the van and head down the hill...thinking nothing of it at the time. It was not until we had said our goodbyes on Sunday and started driving to the airport that I realized what the gross wet thing that was hitting my massive calves was. It was his helmet with the wet jersey and shorts...and...HIS BO SOX HAT!!!
I whip out the Treo, snap off a picture and text him on his phone, informing him I am holding his hat hostage until my ransome demands are met, I want my T-Neck!!!

His response was, "Eff-You, I want my hat back now!!!" (Clearly, I am on to something here...)
To where I shot back, "Don't Eff with Pat-In-The-Hat...Your hat is coming with me."
So the banter goes back and forth for a while, and then the idea was thrown around that I should make a sign and take a picture of random people holding the sign, flaunting the hostage.
Quickly the plan was assembled as we approached the toll booth on Interstate 93 near Manchester, NH. Our first model...

the toll collector.

Upon sending this...silence...to which finally he finally responded with, "Anchor ate your thermal."

So, I still have his hat, as promised, and a lot of "Ransom" shots have been taken. They are as follows...

PK is in on the Situation...and it has driven him to drink. He HATES the BO SOX, but could use a painting cap for his new pad.

Just give me my Thermal and nobody will lose their pants over this

Your hat is very happy here...

Don't mess with S/Him

Paul is ecstatic about your generosity.

Kit doesn't like that hat, but is thankful, none-the-less

Gary Likes the hat, and actually looks good in it, unlike you....

Give me back my Thermal, or I'm gonna open this can of "Whoop Ass"

So, what I'm trying to say Ty, is Thanks, Thanks for the cool hat. We all LOVE it.

I expect to see my T-Neck in the mail soon.

I left my hamstrings...in New Hampshire

Mt Washington, NH
9th Place overall (Tyler Hamilton, 1st)
2nd place Men 30-35 (Tyler Hamilton, 1st)

Details coming soon....


From one Bay...to another, overnight.



Revere Beach Wall

Dunkin' in Revere, MA

"Wicked" Steep.

One mile back...

Grounded...

So...The past two weeks have flown by. When I last posted, I was on my way to Aspen, CO for the final stop on the NORBA National series, and effectively, my final race as a pro in the US. Thursday, August 10, I was supposed to fly after work to Denver, pick up a friends car and drive the remainder of the way to Aspen. Well, just like this whole year has gone, surprises happen when you least expect them...
Thursday night after waiting seemingly forever for my plane to arrive from Atlanta, my flight was canceled. The flight from Atlanta never made it off the ground due to weather. Keep in mind, this was also the very same day where the Terror Level went to Red. Because so many people missed their flights due to "increased insecurity" that day, the soonest I could get a rescheduled confirmed flight was Saturday morning. I tried everything in the book. Different airports, different times. Different connections. The closest I was getting was Santa Fe, NM before Saturday. With that in mind, and a sick feeling in my stomach, I canceled my flight and hence my final race On the NORBA circuit. This was not supposed to happen. It was the last time I was going to see many of these people, and somehow I felt robbed.
After pulling myself out of a depression on Friday, I realized that while I may have missed out on that opportunity, but when one falls away, another arises. After studying the schedules online, I found the perfect racing supplement locally, Howell Mountain Challenge in the hills surrounding Napa, CA. Perfect. A local race on the dirt with a good field of local pros. Excellent preparation for what is coming up on my schedule.
I arrive on Sunday morning after spending Saturday visiting with many relatives scattered around the Napa valley. I am feeling better than good. I know the race is going to go well...I can just feel it.
Long story short, I had the race of my life. I had a great start, set a good hard pace. I dropped a lot of people, and then worked on shelling the remaining trailers in the opening minutes of the race. About eight miles into the first of three ten mile loops, I was descending a fire road at a high rate of speed. My front wheel clipped a tree branch and kicked it up into my rear wheel where it got stuck in the spokes. It managed to rip out a couple of spokes before it forced itself onto the frame and managed to break my frame in two places. My race was over, and my weekend was nearly a complete failure with catastrophic results. The good in it all was I was okay. I did not take a "dirt nap" or have an "agricultural experience." Despite the frame breaking at a high rate of speed, I managed to keep the bike upright and safe from danger. The one shining moment in this whole thing was I looked at my stopwatch when it happened, and I managed to gain over a minute and a half in not even a full lap...and I was just starting to get'r goin'.
I was as far as I could be from the start/finish line when this happened...so I had quite a hike to get back. On my journey, I managed to run into my good friend and now boss, Gary Erikson, owner of Clif Bar. He too had a mechanical that day. We had a great chat on out hike. It had been a long time since we had spoken. Some things were meant to be I guess...
Enjoy your time with your friends, when you can...
Sorry, no pictures this time...my camera is still packed for Aspen. Maybe I will bust it out before I head off to Mt. Washington, NH next weekend, August 17th.
Till then...enjoy the ride...

You Got Up Dog?

I raced in Fort Ord last weekend where the experience was totally different. I managed to have some fun, mostly because everyone was acting their age and not throwing temper tantrums and waterbottles.

It will be good to see Ty racing again...even if it's his back wheel for a minute...

My career as a fulltime pro is winding down fast. Next I am off to Aspen, Co for the NORBA National Series finals. Interestingly, it was my crash in Aspen that ultimately ended my career as a ski racer at the ripe age of 20. And now, 15 years later, it will be on the very same slopes that I will race my final time in the US as a pro. Isn't that Ironic?...Don't you think? I have been invited to represent THF in New Hampshire in the Mount Washington Hillclimb. By the numbers... Terminus 6288 ft. (1916.58 meters)Base (Toll House) 1565 ft. (477 meters)Elevation gain 4727 ft. (1440.79 meters)Length 7.6 miles (12.23 kilometers)Grade Avg.12%, extended 18%, final 100 yds. 22%Road surface 65% paved, 35% packed gravel. Record 49:24 by Tom Danielson, 2002. And apparently, the hard part is not the road...it's the weather. Check it out.

Does anybody have some spare legs I can borrow? Because I am pretty sure mine will be obliterated by the time I get to the top...but this is what I love.

After Mt. Washington, I have a weekend of rest and then I head to Canada for my final race...World Mountainbike Championships in Kamloops, British Columbia. I have heard the new course suits my strengths even better than last year. And with a fith place under my belt from last year...well...no predictions...just dreams and aspirations. It would sure be nice to go out on top.

And just when you think it's time to take a much needed break, I head to Europe. I have decided to forego the World Cup and focus all of my efforts on the THF MS Global Ride. It was just going to be too much of a hassle, bringing two bikes over trying to rush around Europe to race AND lead the ride. Besides, I am so slow, they would undoubtedly kick me out after a lap or two. So, Spend a week of running around to race for 40 minutes or so??? I don't think so. Besides, I will be retired...And a new card carrying member of the PLT (that's Pro Leisure Tour).

Besides, I have found my next gig http://www.prostaredown.com/ Care to jump in the ring with me?

Enjoy you ride...and try not to stare at those that enjoy less conventionally.

Sorry...I have been busy.

It happens...we get busy. I have had my entire life turned upside-down. My new job has me going into work early and training late. By the time I get food in my belly, it is way past my bed time. My spare time to write has been severely hampered by this transition I have been going through. Not to mention I have been racing on the weekends...nowhere near my home. I know..I know...Blah, blah, blah. You don't want to hear it.

Last weekend, I was racing in the Masters District Championships up in Woodfords. (Yeah, Like I knew where the effe Woodfords was). I threw my tent, backpack stove and sleeping bag in the car and drove deep into the Sierras on Friday night. I ended up camping somewhere near Kirkwood. It was a warm night with a ton of stars out. It sure felt good to get out and sleep under the stars. It is not the best thing to do before a race...but it sure beat trying to find a motel room at one in the morning in the middle of nowhere.

The race course was beautiful. Probably the most beautiful of all the races in California. Too bad it only had two mini-climbs in it. (Especially with the Sierras RIGHT there next to the course). I was happy because I made the winning break of ten guys. With one lap to go, two guys from two teams that had teammates in the break started fighting. I mean they were throwing waterbottles at each other, brake checking each other and yelling explicatives that I don't care to mention here (it's a family show...). I managed to tolerate this for about a half a lap before I got really frustrated and downright sick of it. It was bad enough that wherever I go, most NON-cyclists and even occasional cyclists treat me as if I am a doper because Floyd was deemed a doper, then we all must be dopers. To these people, I represent the entire professional cycling population to them...and so I must defend the beauty of the sport as much as it sucks.
Not to mention these are grown men, acting like a bunch of school children fighting over a dodgeball game or something. I finally rode up next to them after nearly getting taken out numerous times by their shenanigans and politely told them to grow up and ride their bikes. The only reply I heard was"Mind your own effin' business". So I sat up and pulled out of the race...not ever wanting to ever race my bike again.

In my mind, the sport that I love, the sport that has allowed me to recreate myself, the sport that has allowed me to make a difference in others lives is under severe public scrutiny for deep rooted corruption amongst the ranks. I am already feeling personally attacked for even being a competitor in the sport. And now, I find myself, on the most beautiful course in California, racing for a district title and these guys are not upholding the beauty of the sport and the true spirit of competition. I mean really, we are not racing for anything other than the joy of the experience and your name on a sheet of paper that says for one split second in time, you were the fastest. In reality, while trying to impress others, nobody gives a shit. You are really only impressing yourself...and if you believe differently, you are good at lying to yourself. They are not racing a smart and tough race, instead, they are making asses of themselves and ruining my experience in the process. You would think better of grown men...in all regards.

After collecting myself while sitting by a high Sierra stream on that afternoon, I realized that my journey is really up to me. I can allow them to ruin it or not...it's my choice.
I choose to continue on my journey that I dreamed about, decided on, planned for and have lived everyday since.