6/12/24 via 666

If you're particularly observant, you'll notice there's been a change to the "events" page very recently. The 666 race, while maintaining the same gonzo spirit, has been altered numerically to 6/12/24. In the spirit of being an ultra-endurance destination, we thought it was time to step up our mountain bike race to the same level of challenge as our 100 mile snowshoe race, 100- 500 mile trail run, and most notoriously of all, The Death Race, which has received so much attention lately that its being adapted into a reality program on cable called "Unbreakable."

So the six hour race that was the standard is now the entry level. Accordingly there are twelve and now a twenty four hour option. I've ran ultra-endurance races before, and I still don't know how to best prepare for those sorts of incredible durations of physical strain. Besides putting in the miles, intelligently, taking measures to avoid injury; peaking at the right time; and conditioning my mind to keep moving forward and embrace each step; I can't put together a full proof plan. A lot can happen in 24 hours.

And this is why we're planning so intently now. 24 hours on a mountain bike over challenging terrain is a big commitment. No doubt about it. It will be everything you expect from a Peak Race. All nighters around the bonfire, an Amee Farm pig roasting on the spit. By the way, in addition to being an extreme endurance event, this will be extremely locavore. We estimate the average 24 hour participant will travel about 50,000 times the distance that the pig will. Its not too early to register www.peakraces.com.

Sisyphus Lives in Pittsfield

I don’t know what started it, exactly, this fascination with dragging random cumbersome objects to the mountaintop cabin. When I first arrived here over two years ago, it was an eighty pound wagon wheel, which, as an unorthodox workout regimen, the owner, and ultra endurance race fanatic, lugged several miles from his lovely farm up steep forest roads one thousand vertical feet to the top. Now, his financial intern, who spent a significant proportion of the first term of his education yanking weeds from said farm, had to take it back down.

The two young farmers, who had been running the Appalachian Trail before inheriting the responsibility of running the farm, padlocked his Specialized Rockhopper to the barn rafters. The key was attached to the wheel in such a way that the intern had to retrieve the wheel from the summit to unlock his steed. He got it down, freed his bike, good natured laughs were shared all around. About a week later, as I was buffing Noodle’s Revenge, a different intern was a few switchbacks above me, struggling and bumbling with the same wheel. He asked for help and we got it back to its original spot. 

A month later, a bikram yoga instructor and the female farmer got into the spirit of things, rolling a six foot wooden wire spool through town, and up a dirt road, managing to make it half way up the mountain. A couple of months after that, the US olympic wrestling team, in town for a Death Race camp style training session, were compelled to roll it the rest of the way to the top, by far the steepest section. 

And there it remained for the last two years (It did make a decent table for race aid stations) until the latest DR campers wheeled it back down, and replaced it with a five foot truck tire and two fifty pound sand bags. Exasperated I walked to the cabin to survey the damage, pulled a dagger stuck in the cabin door, and could not find the tire, though it should’ve been obvious. 

I found it finally, laying off the side of Luvin It next to a set of confused tire prints and even more perplexing footprints. I gave it a good yank and in a huff, decided to let it roll to the bottom until a vision of my folly thankfully got the best of me. Maybe if I wish for it loud enough, next time someone will decide to carry up something equally burdensome, but infinitely more useful, like some nice adirondack chairs. 

Fresh Shoots

With the trails looking (and feeling, ouch!) like a gigantic network of luge runs, its hard to imagine that we’ve turned the corner and spring will soon arrive...even if it seems that winter, a good, hard Vermont winter anyway, decided not to show. Normally we’d be in the thick of snowshoe season, but so far, not a shoer in sight and its easy to see why. 

I was happy to get out there in the beginning of the month with my new razor toothed hand saw cutting limbs and clearing out widow makers. The mild winter, assuming it stays that way, will almost certainly shorten the mud season and I’m predicting we’ll be open for mountain biking in the beginning of May if not earlier. 

And this spring the idea of renewal will be a whole lot more profound. We were hard at work rejuvenating the trails after significant storm damage and as of last autumn, we are completely back! A one of a kind trail bridge is in the works to cross Tweed River (at the present moment, we’re using a makeshift, but safe, ibeam bridge) after losing the old one to Irene. I’m not going to say anymore than that. I promise to give you full details as things develop, but I’m going to let it be a surprise for now. 

An upstart handmade bike manufacturer,  Xprezo bikes, has partnered with Green Mountain Bikes and MTBVT.COM  and tentatively plan to run demos on our trails come spring. They’re our neighbors in Quebec and we’re excited to showcase their bikes. Their steeds look incredibly buff and they’ll also be featured at the 666 mountain bike race this year. Can’t wait!