DBH and Teh Fec-Ker

Greetings, Team Seagal Aficionados. It happened again - no, not the moist bed thing, I'm talkin' about The Death By Hills ride. Despite the biggest snowstorm in two years happening just a few days prior, we were able to complete a most heinous route, from which we will build copious amounts of muscle and endurance capacity. Holy shit.

The route was the same, and as usual, only a few knew where they were going. Many people showed up, despite the morning temperatures being just like I like my women: in the teens. That didn't stop a ton of wrist-snapping experts to saddle up early and actually ride TO the ride, a la Pete Goode, who also was there, having rode there. I mean, you wanna talk about iron t'aints, anyone who rode to the ride with the intentions of doing the whole thing has a t'aint that is so hardened, it must have been forged in Satan's red hot b-hole. Hell, perhaps their t'aints were made of titanium. T'aintanium, if you will.

The rest of us mere mortals showed up in our vehicles carrying our bikes. Justin White, in a classic move, showed up after something like a 12 hour all-night shift. He doesn't give a fuck. Another such mortal was good ole' Jimmy Bacon, who had the balls to show up to a Seagal ride on a tri-bike. I know I know, such an egregious infraction of badassery risks severe berating and belittling, the likes of which they've nevar heard bef0re. But, much like wearing pink boxing shorts, if you can back it up, it's cool - and back it up he did. When I learned of his front chainring combo of a 42/56, I felt something in my wrist that may have developed a small crack. Then, Later on, when he pulled away from my bloated ass up each climb, that cracked wrist turned fully-snapped. I'll admit it.

Shall I mention the rest of us, who, in continuing the tradition set by Matt Keeven in the first install ment of DBH by riding his fucking SS 29'r with road tires. Fuck! This year, included in the SS class were Jerkward Nicscani, Baby J (who quadrupled his single-ride climbing on this ride and also snapped the fuck out of my wrist), Snurby-McSnurberson, Stroveward Frodeman, and let us not forget Peat Henry who rode out to the ride with Dwayne and Brett, only to ride back home for over 120 miles on the day. All of them showed me their legs, cast from the purest Quantanium.

How much more badassery could be exhibited today?

Well I'll give you another example - Mike Bobelak, on the final stretch coming DOWN the gnarly steep Bartizan Hill, received the dreaded front-tire-blowout. I was witness to this, and witness a superior state of mind as his kept the mother fucker upright, ever-slo-slightly correcting when needed, until he was able to bring his bucking bronco to a halt. Wrists of the tube-flatting demons: snapped. Speaking of demons, hey Damon, of Principia, when you gonna come back 'round?

Today as we ascended onto the ethereal planes of existence on the way up each classic Missouri hill, our earthen bodies were left behind while our attitudes, minds, and spirits reach new levels of euphoria, despite the lack of jenkem on route. We all found new ways to come to terms with the pain that tries to get us to dismount and walk our sorry asses to the top, rather than using our trusty steeds. This, despite each time I had my head down, staring at my cassette (which happened a lot) I had a constant thought, "man, my derailleur sho' is close to my spokes..."

Hill by hill, we destroyed everything. Some dropped off, while others continued onto glory. I was amused by the lady with whom I reach the top of Bartizan, as I said "Alright, 1 down!" And she exasperatingly said something to the effect of, "Geez, how many more are there gonna be like that one?!" I kind of chuckled while saying, "only a few like this one..." I wonder how she ended up. With stronger legs, no doubt.

Strove came through in spades, providing the kegger around mile 10 or something, and that was awesome - almost as awesome as his parents standing out in the cold providing us hungry cyclists with delicious PBJs! Doesn't get much more Superior. Upon seeing that sammich table, I was more relieved than Criss Angel after a few hours in the boy scout camp shower house.

Don't be a pussy! DO IT
Even though Cremin's Green was all snowed over, as was Starwoods and Scenic Loop, we were still mighty hungry. No big deal.

As Schlomo ingeniously put it, perhaps all the people were scared away from the ice that wasn't on the roads, and decided to go do the Live For Flats ride instead of our Death By Hills ride. The least they could do is the Scraping By on Rollers ride. Geez.

Gregward and Tittay showed up in rare form today, atop geared bikes. No matter, their status is already cemented in the Halls of Badassery, on account of their repeated skull-crushing performances. Gino especially, since he has concocted a most challenging of rides, surpassing anything any of our minds has yet to come up with. If you've been perusing this internet gimp room of a blog that we have, you may have read about it already, his 100% self-supported gravel ride, the Fec-Kar, which will turn your nuts into large rocks, the kind of which you'll find in the bottom of the streams that will be providing your drinking water.

I'm a little overwhelmed at the level of badassery displayed today, so I'm going to eat another dinner.

In the meantime, this dog is awesome.

Why would he do that? Because fuck you, that's why!

Stankfully yours,
-Casey F. Ryback


FeC-Kar Update #1

To ensure that Missouri's throngs of gravel grinderers don't disappear into the rugged Ozark wilderness, here is the first of a couple of updates.

There will be two separate routes for the FeC-Kar. The main event at 110 miles and the Lil FeC-Kar at 70 miles. Both will have their share of climbing. Both will share a lot of the same route, albeit sometimes in different directions.

FeC-Kar 110 and Lil FeC-Kar 70
Iron County-Karkaghne Gravel Ride

Date: Sunday 3/10/13
Start time: 8:00am
Start Location : Boatlaunch Parking Lot, Council Bluff Lake

Finishing Time Cut-Off: 7:00pm

Important Details:

Non-Race: Only the 110 mile route will be run as a non-race with the top 10 or so finishers scored. Those planning on non-racing need to make sure they will have some sort of way to take digital photos. A cell phone is fine. I will explain this further in another post.

Caution: Choose the distance that you feel is appropriate. There will be no volunteers on course, and no one to help you if you are having trouble finishing. You must be entirely self-sufficient. The courses are in mostly forest service land. There are no gas stations or similar businesses. I will have a couple of spots on course with a water cooler or two. If you're that type, there are also a few treatable streams/springs. I will also be driving parts of the course throughout the day but you can't count on seeing me. I plan to pack up and be out of there by a little after 7 Sunday. Cell-phone service is spotty down there, generally only working on certain ridgetops.

Bike Recommendations: Ride whatever you like to ride on gravel roads. I recommend a cross bike with decent size tires. These are ozark rural gravel roads. They can be a little rough/course, and are never what I would call smooth.  A mountain bike would be fine (and comfy) but would be overkill in weight and such. The 110 mile route is 80%+ gravel. Nearly all of the pavement comes at the beginning/finish. It's a necessarily evil for having an easily found parking lot of good size. The 70 mile route will have a little over 1 mile of singletrack, but it is not technical or rough.

Course: The Thursday or Friday before the date I will post maps of the routes. You are required to print out your own copies. I will have arrow markings on the road, but they will be as minimal as possible. Also the maps will help you with any bailout options, and will be key for those non-racing.

Now, enough official sounding BS. If you're taints and legs need a good warm-up be at Lone Wolf Sunday morning for Death by Hills.

Also, if you want a professional-like, top-notch gravel race go do the Cedar Cross outside Jeff City. That Bob Jenkins knows how to throw a party gravel race. He has things like volunteers, prize monies, swaggage, and a crazy low entry fee. There won't be any of that shit at the FeC-Kar, except the low entry fee.

-Gino "Ginorm/Digiorno/It's Not Delivery/Pizza Time" Felino


Death By Hills - gonna be wiggity wack

Greetings. If I hear the fucking words "snowpocalypse," snowmaggaedon" or any ironic derivation of how a few inches of snow is going to be the end of the world, I am going to find some puppies and then hack them up for barbeque. Cute puppies - the kind that Sarah McGlaughlin would sing sad songs about for ASPCA commercials. Fuck. I don't remember hearing people using those words back when we would get several snowfalls like this per winter.

Since I've been asked multiple times this morning about Sunday, I'm still calling it a go. I think that we'll have enough time between now and 9am Sunday morning for the roads to become clear enough for us to ride without dodging swimming pools of slush.We may have to skip some hills (like the Scenic Loop) if they are closed or uncleared. However, snow in Missouri has a tendency to not stick around for very long - particularly on pavement.

So sack up/vag up, clean the sand/ice crystals out of your gash, and do what this day-laborer did (and what I plan on doing), and put some fenders on your bike to control the spray of the snow melt:
Don't have any fenders? Fenders don't fit your carbon race machine? Patronize your local bike shop and pick up some SKS Race-Blade fenders, or something like them.

If you're worried about getting sprayed in the face, seek out one of these contraptions:

See you Sunday.

Gaseously Yours,
-Casey F. Ryback


Wings Ride und Das DBH

Greetings, Jerks.  This past weekend found several of your heroes sallying forth into the hinterlands of Hermann, MO. Beckoned by a man who does more for Missouri cycling during his morning constitutional than the rest of us could hope to do in a decade, Jeff Yielding, we had a clear goal: to c-c-c-crush some gravelly roads o'er yonder. Myself, Jerkward, Titt-ay, Mr. Ax0l, and Dr. Roland Sallinger, alongside our noble ally Justin White, saddled up and met the rest of the people in Hermann at the Wings-a-Blazin. (pronounced "bl-ah-zn".)

We rolled out with a number of other like-minded wheelmen and women, happy to have a wonderfully sunny day keeping our spirits higher than the tops of the numerous hills we ascended. The roads pulled us through beautiful scenery, and passed some interesting homesteads:

Not far after that was "Happy Farm." No joke.

The first loop went quicker than I expected to, despite the headwind on the return trip down the Katy. It provided a warm nice warm-up for the second loop, which provided us with ample bosoms/opportunity to stretch our climbing legs. And fortunately, when you reach the top of a hill, you eventually have to go back down, and the descents were absolutely rippin'. Totally, brah.Myself and Edwardsville Todd arrived back at Wings-a-Blahzn just in time for our stomach to have squeezed every final drop of sustenance from the last snacks we had about an hour earlier - which worked out well, because we destroyed every morsel of food on our plates.

I could tell that everyone was excited to have this "season" getting underway, with much discussion about various gravel rides (I.E. the Fec-Kar), road rides, and mountain rides being had. Fuck.

Speaking of  rides, don't forget that the 5th Death By Hills is gonna get did this weekend. Other than the rules of the road, there aren't really any rules to consider. However, if I may offer up one suggested rule for this ride, it is this:


You're showing up for a long ride that is specifically designed to (and purposefully advertised as such) go up all the hardest hills in a certain area. So that being said, and since I/we are "organizing" this ride, it is annoying as fuck to hear someone's sandy vag start coughing up gritty beach sand. If you feel a sudden complaint coming on, take the advice of this gif:

By the way, the newest additions to the List of Manliness:
-bitter coffee
-defeating the Predator

-Casey F. Ryback


2013 World CX Championships

Greetings, Team Seagal Bandolero's!

There are only a handful of things, in life, that I have ever planned on doing more than a year before they happened. The wedding, school graduations, that time I attempted to assassinate Shaggy 2-Dope,
and now this: the World CX Championships coming to Louisville this year. Anyone who actually bothers to continue to read this fucking blog probably knows all about that race and how important it is/was, so I shouldn't have to explain that to you. That would be like Violent J trying to teach a random juggalo how to do meth and fail at life - they already are fucking experts at that business.

So I don't really have to tell you what it felt like as we walked the ~mile from the car to the course, the sheer excitement that coursed through my veins as we heard the loudspeakers in the distance, or the uncontrollable elation when seeing the Elite racers pass by for the first time, having waited so long! Not to mention the pride at hearing the loudest crowd I've ever heard, or will likely ever hear, at a bike race. It was so loud that Velonews said it was the "most frenzied championship" in the event's 63 year history, and was without a doubt louder than the 50,000-60,000 people last year in Koksijde, Belgium (despite having only 10,000 people.) It was so loud, that for most of the course, heckling was pretty much futile, so you might as well just cheer/scream/make noise. I felt like Homer Simpson in Australia when he saw the special toilet that made the water swirl the opposite way: patriotic. Go 'Murica!

I had waited a long time for this moment. Anyone know how to rotate video?

From our Travel Agent, Nico, providing us with insanely cheap hotel rates, to Tittay providing (some of) us with safe travel down there, it was a glorious event that will forever be etched into our brain, not unlike the scent of my fart gas has been forever singed into Mrs. Crotch's nostrils. Energor help her. The bars were filled with bike dorks all throughout the town, it was surreal.

The morning of the one AND ONLY race day, we awoke to a badass breakfast, which would serve to help fuel my frenzy the rest of the day. And once that food wore off, it would just be pure, un-distilled adrenaline that would keep the party rolling along the sideline where we would run into so many people from St. Louis, it almost felt like home! Fortunately for the rest of us though, Tittay forgot his never-ending air-horn for the second half of the day, hehehe...

Straight outta Belgium:

These goddamned Canucks fell off their moose on the way to a hockey game:

This headgear made me more than a little homesick:

 Super badass!

Unbeknownst to us, we were hanging out with and receiving dirty, sinful playing cards from none other than the owner of the Cross Crusade in Portland, OR. This was a man from whom we have much to learn. We were thankful, as it gave us something to do in between races:

Some dirty sinful business had worked its way onto course:

 Ms. Tittay and the business card for her new pen-pal:

Best placing American, Tim Johnson, as he pre-rides - we made sure to tell him to pre-ride that shit:

In Soviet Russia, flag waves you!

Tom, upon realizing his true sexuality after staring for a LOOOONG time at his playing card, decided to go for it whole-hog and maybe pick up some male-suitors in the process:

Tyl0r the Chicken meeting Chicken Little with Wonder Woman and a hot dog.

Brad Huff, up in dem trees, like The Predator:

Much of the crown, lining the hillside:

Hearing the thunderous pounding in the distance of the crowd banging on the boards lining the finishing straight was just chillingly badass. It was like a storm. Oooooo fucking weeee.

It wasn't until probably Wednesday that my voice started to sound like normal, and perhaps if I worked in a non-bike-related industry that would seem weird to my co-workers. All I know is that if you are a fan of bike racing (CX or otherwise) and you weren't down in Louisville this past weekend, you missed out - kinda like Criss Angel not getting a ticket onto the Noah's Ark of boys.

There is just too much to be said about this past weekend, and one thing is for sure, I am not the person to give you the true rundown. So go look up moar video and photos, you may find someone you recognize.

With this momentous occasion in the books, we now turn our focus onto a spring/summer of badass rides/races. Here are *SOME* of those that are on the radar for the next few months:

-"Wings" Ride
-Death By Hills
-Tour of Hermann, Gravel Edition
-Cedar Cross  << Don't forget to sign up now on bikereg.com!!
-The Hairy Hundred in SoBoCoMo
-Dirty Kanzaa
-Oh yeah, and training camp.

And now, time for some "Predator" movie trivia:
-Q. What was the name that Blaine, played by Jesse "The Body" Ventura, gave to the badass Mini-Gun that he was holding when killed?

-Q. When the Predator set his self-destruct mechanism at the end of the movie, he started to "playback" the sound of someone laughing, from earlier in the movie. Whose laugh was it?

Get your wind-blade sail ready for some serious training rides, as it's about to become gnarl-city.
-Casey F.U. Ryback