Official Page of Team Seagal

Highest JErk On Earth!

2012-01-27T21:27:00.002-06:00

This JeRk wE kNoW is Saluting JeRkdom from damn near the top of the world.

i needed to borrow some superior attitude to get up here, hope you don't mine!

...btw this is Stella Point, about 100m below the summit.

That's a proper salute going on inside those mittens.

- Emily Korsch 2012 Mt. Kilimanjaro

Toscani's Super Secret DBH Recon Century

2012-01-23T12:34:00.002-06:00

Greetings, Soldiers of the Jerk Army! It's that time of year, the time betwixt the fat holidays, and the warming-weather. The time of year when some people cry themselves into riding their train0r, whilst others will get buff at the gym, and completely forget about their bike. Others still, will press on, getting ever more hardened, through a process of cold forging. And, as we know from the back of Nico's Nico Toscani action figure blister package, "hardened" can be defined as

1. Strengthening - having been made harder or stronger 2. toughened by experience - sufficiently experienced, to have become unconcerned about something that most would find unpleasant or difficult.

With this ultimate goal in mind, Nico had the idea to achieve heinous (rhymes with anus) centuriousity this past Sunday. The weather called for the day to becoming slowly warmer, however this would be without the help of the sun. Unperturbed, our "murder" was to meet at Casa del Toscani at 0830 hours - a murder consisting of Orin "Arm Baby" Boyd, Samuel "Concave Braking Surfaces" Axel, Harlan "Reflection of Jesus" Banks, Nico "One Chainring" Toscani, and myself, Casey "Why Did I Remove My Fenders" Ryback.Manifest Destiny was the call of the day, as we have been destined to ride west, in order to do recon on the region that we'd be assaulting once again in a month. In doing so, we realized that the tailwind from the southeast would be helping us keep a full head of steam on the way out, but would then leave a steamer the size of a head on top of our attempts to go full steam once we turned back.

We set sail, taking a sneaky route out to Creve Coeur Lake, and realized that this is pretty much what the day would look like the whole time:

With conditions like this, I was having flashbacks to the rainy years of the Rim Wrecker race at Council Bluff, where at the end, no one had any brake pads left at all.

Going through the flats of Creve Coeur, the wind was vicious enough to have my 215 lb ass wishing for the first big hill - Hog Hollow. Of course, that hill's wrist was snapped before we even started the fucking ride. My HR didn't even get over 170. Continuing our sneaky path, we entered onto the old Marquette Ride route, wherebouts we ascended Shepard, and had to make a quick guerilla-style photo attack of the snake mailbox:

As we were clipping back into to start pedaling, the front door cracked open just enough for the ten year old kid who lives there to finally get the chance to curse in public, as he yelled out "Get the fuck away from my mailbox!" immediately followed by the door slamming shut again. As you might expect, we were as intimidated as you could possibly be from a 10 year old who hasn't hit puberty.

Circling around, and giving the middle finger to Bartizan as we passed by, we continued up, down, and around, finally stopping for provisions at the Six Flags Gas Station. Apple turnovers, creme-filled donuts, and McDoubles never tasted so good. Re-boarding our man-train, we were freezing cold, so we took refuge on the slopes of the Allenton Loop. As Mr. Axel can atest, it warmed us up quite quickly. Curving around and slogging up Alt Road, our legs were reminding us how many miles we had traveled already. No matter, as we used our minds to snap the wrists of the wills of our legs, and proceeded to destroy that hill. Not long after, we found ourselves on Woods Road, a glorious stretch of asphalt. We passed by an amazing statue that had me thinking "If I had wings I would fly, let me contemplate..."

Not long up that climb, we got to see just how much stronger of a climb Mr. Banks is when he has a gigantic ice boner. However, photographic evidence of this currently only exists in my brain - and until we can transfer those images to a printer, we may never be able to re-experience it. Miles ticked by, through the stop-sign farm that is known as Hutchinson Road, and from there Clayton was our ticket back. Mr. Axel hit the target with his banana peel:

Around this time, Army Baby started to become severely afflicted with some severe pains in his knee. I was surprised, because I had figured that if he were to develop some aches, cramps or something like that, it would have been urethra cramps, as both he and Snurb were pissing approximately every 7 to 8 minutes. It had me wondering if they had gone into the doctor for the stomach-stapling surgery, but the doctor fucked up and accidentally stapled their bladders instead, leaving them with bladders the size of a hot mountain tip.

Snurb, Axel and Tr0rscr0rnr0rz0rz kept their pace choo-choo-ing home, while LegTitty and I rolled back in a more Snoop-esque way - laid back. Lack back, that is, until, at the intersection of Hanley and Clayton, we looked to our left and were amazed to see see a navy blue Chevy Malibu being driven by an actual, 6 foot tall penis. Literally, an anatomically correct penis, shriveled balls, curly pubes and all. It was disproportionately short for how wide it was, and sitting kind of slumped over, not fully erect like a properly-functioning penis would be. Regardless, it was big enough to drive a car, arms and all. It managed to extend one of it's penis-fingers over at us, telling us that we were number one, as the other penis-hand honked the horn. I tried to accelerate, as I wanted a second look at that man-sized penis that somehow was piloting this car, with it's two shorter, more limp-looking penis friends in the passenger seats. My tired legs deflated my sprinting attempt, so I gave up. Much to my delight, I saw that Malibu less than 1/2 mile down the road, stopped in the middle of the driving lane, blocking traffic (totally something that a penis would do if it were driving a car) with it's windows down, waiting for me. That penis could drive AND talk! It told me, quite emphatically, to Fuck off, because I was on a bike and that I was a pussy. I asked that penis to get out of the car so it could tell me that face to... shaft, but it declined. I guess it wasn't motivated enough, so I encouraged it again to get out of the vehicle, and I was a little louder this time, thinking maybe it had some fumunda cheese in it's penis-ears. But I can only assume that since it was so slumped over in the seat, perhaps it couldn't even stand full upright - otherwise known as impotent. It then turned into a neighborhood - the whole incident just leaving me to believe that penis to be just a poorly functioning DICK.

I was glad to hit the home stretch, passed the State Hospital, which was in an interesting state of fog - it kind of summarizes the day:

Quite exciting, was our Westerly Recon. We learned many things, and are now getting excited for Death By Hills, which we'll say is happening on the same days as Froze Toes. The hills will be relentless, and so I have an image for you to burn into your memory for when your valiantly ascending the hills - Tommy "The French Tickler" Voeckler:

-Casey F. Ryback

Old Line Sunday at Castlerock

2012-01-15T16:48:00.015-06:00

Greetings, Team Seagal Minions! This blog and our team are both about education, as stated before. Education, current events, and historical preservation. But more on that later.

You know, anyone who has ridden mountain bikes for a while in St. Louis, such as anyone on our team, may have the tendency to view Castlewood with a certain "meh" attitude. That is, since it is essentially the most accessible trail system to the city (and much of the county) and since it is a well-laid out series of loops, on which it is hard to get lost. They're the local stomping grounds. Yours truly has ridden there since grade school, which means that for people like myself, there are no surprises, and can seem a bit tired. If someone moves a single rock, I'll probably wonder where that rock went.

BUT, that doesn't mean the place isn't plenty of fun, when going with the right mindset. And the right jerk.

For this particular Sunday, Nico and I decided to take advantage of the remaining snow, and crush out some miles before the "thaw" part of the freeze/thaw cycle reared it's sloppy, un-baller head. That meant getting to The Jerk's House early. Which meant getting up even earlier in order visit the "Brown House."

Having successfully received Energor's brown fuji gift to me, I headed out and arrived to find him having already been preparing a tasty meal of his favorite - crowns - and a delicious egg/rye/pepper cheese/hummus sammich:

After sitting in his breakfast nook and putting those foods into my face, I stepped over to put our plates into the sink where I turned around and noticed a beautiful sight: A bin full of amazing empties that have been crushed by the Jerk Himself.

We then wasted no time in transferring ourselves, and our shit out to the place to be seen on a nice day like today - the pavilion lot at the 'Wood. Nico also waste no time blastin' his nips for the whole park to see:

The sun was shining, threatening to cause problems, so we un-blasted our nips and sallied forth. The trail was frozen with a harder surface than Criss Angel's lap while playing Santa at the boys home on Christmas Eve:

Our two-man man train choo-choo'd around the stinging nettle loop (where we noticed the cable-roots having been cut out, making the "narrows" section more easily ridable) and curved our way back to the Blue Ribbon. Jerkscani piloted me up the first counter-clockwise hill, which brought us to a newly-discovered overlook, which is nothing less than a gift that has been bestowed upon us from Energor himself.

Continuing down the trail:

Our euphoria was growing faster than a jenkem high as the trail unfurled beneath our tires. Something dawned on us, that we have been riding past all this glorious yet forgotten trail, and we made a decision - to transform "just another Castlewood ride" in "Old Line Sunday." In the spirit of historical preservation, and in light of all the BULLSHIT switch-back cutting on the Chubb Trail, we decided to do our part to preserve the old, historically significant lines for future generations by riding where the trail use to go (note the old being ridden and the new line off to the side):

Forgotten trail is all over Castlewood - you just have to look for it, 10 feet at a time.

We had to see some of the other sights, like the 1980's mansion of the future:Things that are sure to be in that mansion:
-a red Ferrari Testarossa and/or a Lamborghini Countach
-a mountain of cocaine on a desk
-very tall ferns
-leather couches
-an intercom system
-a large, deep cut-out in the wall where the big-screen projection TV used to go

To which I say:

After 2.5 hours, a visit to the blorffs were not a bad way to finish Old Line Sunday:

The year is starting anew - many things happening and stewing. For example, Death By Hills is not far away, and we expect to see the return of the New East Coast Syndicate crossing over from the eastern to the western shore - he must already be on his way, as I can already smell his newest tubeset.

-Casey Fucking Ryback

P.S. 23!

New Year's Resolution: Moar Middlefork

2012-01-08T22:10:00.011-06:00

Greetings, Team Seagal Patriots! As stated before, this blog is primarily focused on education. Just ask our New East Coast Syndicate, who matriculated in our Jenkem Program recently. His studies have been very fruitful, and we consider him to be one of our most promising students.

This past Sunday, many of us received an education in how awesome the Middlefork Trail continues to be, especially both Showtime and BabyTitty who completed a hat-trick of Middleforks, wherein they did visited this most glorious trail 3 times in 3 days. There was to be several soldiers launching a full-fledged attack utilizing an attack party of myself, Nico, BabyTitty, Pry0r, Borskorn, Samuel Axel, It's Not Delivery, and my buddy Marc.

Reports were glowing, and the weather was excellent. My alarm went off around 7am, and as I sat up from bed I could literally feel something fall to the bottom inside my body, which prompted me to skip the rest of my morning routine until I had properly opened the bomb bay doors, and unleashed my devastating payload onto the small town of Toiletania. Fortunately for me though, the Geneva Convention does not apply in my bathroom.

We rolled down there a little past our planned meet-up time, but were on the trail ready to chase down all the other man-trains that were apparently choo-chooing down the trail, as evidenced by the packed DD/32 lot. Pizza time was even later than the rest of us, though we decided to shove off and except him to catch up, which he most certainly did.

Right away, the pace was not a relaxed one with Mr. Boyd and Nico driving the front. They are in good form currently, especially having ridden these parts the previous two days. Marc was hanging with them, though I found myself off the back after the first gravel road, having stopped to remove my outer shell. Out of sight from the rest of the crew, I tried to settle into a sustainable pace and enjoy the trail, which I certainly did. Even stopped to snap a photo of this tree: It looked to me like Criss Angel, while wearing a shirt with a boner on the front, was in heat, and he had been grinding himself all over this tree, since there were no little league teams around out in the woods. So he had to make do.

The trail was really in absolutely phenomenal shape - almost no debris or mud to speak of at all - it was almost as if Bob Jenkins had been meticulously down there preparing that trail for Cedar Cross as well. Rolling farther down the trail, I soon joined forces with Mr. Axel, Pry0r, and Borsken. Resting briefly at Barten Fen, we continued to roll down where we found tax dollars being put to good use with the paving of a 200-yd section of gravel road:

I also spent some time chasing Mr. Axel up some beautiful singletrack hills (you can just barely see his elbows):

We c-c-c-c-crushed out way onwards, drawing ever closer to Strother Creek. It was at that point, that our party split just slightly. Myself, S. Axel and Marc continued on the gravel, past Shasta, up the big hill, and on past the witness tree:

Finishing the last bit of gravel, we turned into the singletrack for the last time to ascend the last ~3 miles:

Rolling up the trail, my feet becoming quite chilly indeed, I was happy to complete another Middlefork loop with my brain fully intact. Got some awesome helmet-hair:

Nico, Boyd and Pizza Time, having taken the double-back route, took longer to finish up. We hung out, but the heat was steadily leaving our bodies, so we decided to head to Dos Primos where they could join us. In order to effectively communicate this, I left a note on Nico's car:Effective communication is the key to any relationship, whether that be with your significant other, or your team mate.

Dos Primos, as usual, was superb, however I was stunned as Nico, Gino-ward and Boyd did not join us. This is especially surprising, as Nico has been known to eat at Dos Primos upwards of 2 times a day for 2-3 days straight. These times, they are a changin'. http://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gif

A smooth trip home was very pleasing, as was the fancy beer that I had while relaxing at home:

I had to drink away my sorrows, because I realized I missed my chance at winning this item:
http://www.ebay.com/itm/Taxidermy-Wild-Grey-Amorous-Squirrels-/280661487228?pt=UK_Collectables_AnimalCollectables_SM&hash=item4158ba6e7c

-Casey F. Ryback

2012 Kona Raijin - Official World Premier!

2012-01-04T21:57:00.009-06:00

Greetings, Team Seagal Fans and all other jerks having stumbled into our blog, which is kinda like the "gimp room" of the internet. As we've stated before, we feel that mountain biking sits at the top of our cycling heirarchy. Which is one of many reasons why we are so happy to have Kona as a sponsor - they've always placed badass mountain bikes as their top priority.

Which is why we're so honored that they've agreed to have US (Yes, us! Can you believe it?) be the FIRST to publicly unveil their first titanium 29" frame - the 2012 Kona Raijin! This is the world's first official look at what's coming. These photos are of the much-drooled-over prototype frame that was built up for some (extensive) testing, and while it won't be identical to the production version, you'll be hard-pressed to identify the differences:

Drawing on their extensive knowledge in titanium, (I would kill a lot of people to obtain any of these old Kona ti frames) and their supremely excellent 29'r expertise, (and relying on Lynskey for manufacturing) Kona has concocted a frame that has enough manliness to be included on our List of Manliness.

Team Seagal's (partial) List of Manliness:
-the Kona Raijin
-chopping wood
-having a full beard
-smoking a cigarette while doing hard manual labor (like chopping wood)
-nailin' broads
-exposed chest hair
-using a chainsaw
-grilling/BBQ'ing in the cold weather
-callouses
-hot sauce on everything
-movies like "The Expendables," (and it's coming sequel) "Predator," "Unforgiven," and "Commando," or anything with Charles Bronson
-shaving with your hunting knife
-dominating the mosh pit and snapping your neck while headbanging at a Napalm Death concert
-tattoos on WWII veterans (like this)

Obviously that list is in no particular order.

Another list, detailing some crucial features:

*Press fit BB30 bottom bracket

* 44mm HT designed for a 1.5″ external lower cup for tapered fork, with a zero stack upper cup (Frame is drawn around 100mm fork using external 1.5″ lower cup)

* Sliding dropouts

* Will come with both singlespeed and derailleur hangers

*Realistic tire clearance

* 27.2mm seat post
* 5 frame sizes: 16″, 18″, 19″, 20″, & 22″

...though specific geometry numbers have yet to be set in stone. As you can see, Kona has definitely been making their prototype more of a bro-totype, and have been taking careful notes as they endlessly shred their super-secret test trails. Rest assured the production frame will be capable some serious face-melting and t'aint-coddling.

It kind of goes without saying that this will be a relatively limited production run, due out in mid-late spring; so don't be like Sully and get dropped by your friends - get yours ordered today!

-Casey F. Ryback

CXmas 2011 - Once Again, Dashing Hopes of Running for Public Office (pic heavy!)

2011-12-18T20:12:00.057-06:00

Greetings, Team Seagal Grinches! When it comes to holiday cheer, you know that at CXmas, you ass will be crammed so full of it that you won't walk right for a week. And this year proved no less fruitful in the way of ass-cramming, nog-soaked hot-cheer-injections.

But first, let me say that for anyone who may have made a navigational error, or been involved in an involuntary-but-no-less-erotic-man-pile, we shall be issuing entry-fee refund checks promptly. Email us as engorged_xmas_boner@we'reallamateurs.com

There are many hilarious stories that sprung up from yesterday's debauchery. Fortunately, we put the "rad" into "debauchery." I knew that today would be a good one when T-tocs messaged me to let me know that his first CXmas Poo was underway, and doing well.

Nad and I arrived to meet Gino "Father CXmas" Felino: and assist with course marking, not long after stopping at the nearby U-Gas for coffee. Business must be good at the U-Gas, as the clerk was showing off his baller status with a Rolex on his right wrist. We were quite pleased to see how warm it was turning out to be - thus continuing the warming trend that we have experienced each year since the First CXmas, when it was this cold.

Once finished with teh course, we watched as moar and moar CXmas jerks arrived, in various attire:

Can't wait to unwrap that gift!

Devin was lucky this year, not getting the biggest gift we could wrap. For after seeing all the tandems and utility bikes, we saw a need to get larger, tandem/utility-bike friendly gifts: Our gift wrapping was pretty awesome, no doubt. However, I realized that something was lacking, and that something was moar penises. so I made sure to give our gifts an extra hot beef injection (also see header photo):

Of course, what Non-Race would be complete without Ben "Waldo/Tricky Dick" G?

For the festorvities, we were fully prepared thanks to PBR-Dave and his tireless efforts to keep that sweet Pabst nector flowing down into our mouths:

Speaking of nector, we had, once again, jerked off many elves in order to fill that many cartons:

We had all the ingredients - gifts, egg nog, dudes, chicks, slutty santa's, but there was one thing missing - emissaries from Jefferson City. Once I saw that neither Nick "New-Father" Smith, Borb, Adam, Stoney, Pete, Corey, etc... weren't arriving, I immediately knew that we had way more nog than we'd need. With their crew not around to drink several cartons EACH, I knew there would be healthy leftovers. In fact, we now have so much egg nog left that we're considering keeping it over until next year, at which point we will use the curds to make some sort of new Team Seagal- branded egg nog cheese which will be handed out. So make sure to attend next year, because you certainly won't want to miss that.

There was much in the way of other fluids as well:

Crotch's Private Stock

And it was with these CXmas Party favors from which emerged the quote of the day: "Some egg nog, a little mistletoe, before you know it you're taking it right in the ass." Truer words may have nevar been spoken.

Something else missing was Davey B's dong. With that longing weighing heavily in both It's-Not-Delivery's and Mason's heart, we were incredibly happy to have received a most excellent gift from the South City Cycling Club and their partner Eddie's Southtown Donuts (At Murdoch and Kingshighway) - a huge quantity of the greatest donuts I've ever seen! Behold:

All I can say is that you won't see Dunkin' Donuts or Schnuck's Bakery making anatomically correct donuts, despite the fact that they weren't long enough to accurately depict anyone on Team Seagal. Minor detail, I guess. I'll just have to dub them the "STLPAF-Dave Memorial Donuts."

Despite not having our beloved STLPAF Dave attend, or anyone from Red Wheel for that matter, we DID have the St. Louis Steve Tilford impersonator stop by for a few minutes:
Rumor has it that there was even a Grman appearance at the start, but that can't be true, because he doesn't ride bikes anymore.

At least we had other mid-state jerks attend, such as the Josh Carroll/Val-Columbia Man-Train in the Party Van, and Dan Fuhrman, seen here giving the Team Seagal Salute:

Also good to see Christian Stitz, a man whose presence seems to be moar seldom these days, but always appreciated. Truly, a jerk of Energor-Like Proportions.

Unfortunately, the New East Coast Syndicate was not able to be in attendance for the day's proceedings, however, he did send an official care package with careful instructions not to open until CXmas. The camera's magically didn't work when Jorkword tore into his present from C-Dubs with giddy Xmas-morning excitement, resembling the exact opposite of what the boys feel on Xmas morning at Criss Angel's house - sadness and gagging. Included with his gift is the piece of paper being held by none other than Nico, on the spokecard. I can only tell C-dubs that I hope he enjoyed his inevitable CXmas Expedition to the top of Mt. Fuji as much as Nico enjoyed his gift.

As per usual, Gino "I-Will-Not-Be-Running-CXmas-Any-Longer-So-I-Can-Focus-On-My-Non-Fiction-Criss-Angel-Romance-Novel" Felino addressed the attendees, and before we knew it, they were off in a flurry of middle fingors and good tidings. Once having navigated their way through a cacophony of turns, paths, roads, pathletes, wheel-sucking canyons, sand, and Hub-owners, they arrived at their first major hurdle - the site of last year's Vomitory, the egg nog station.

Due to popular demand, we had several options available to our thirsty patrons:
-soy nog
-organic dairy-free coconut nog
-regular nog
-"Irish" nog

Here, the man who puts the "Ugly" into "Coyote Ugly", John Farinella tends bar at the station for CXmas'ers:
Not surprisingly, the runners going up and down the stairs weren't very interested in our nog offerings. However, I was surprised when Tom of SCCC came through asking if there were any "man-goo" variations - despite not having any available, he was so insistent that I had to "beat him off" with a stick.

Bob was so excited to show off his new brakes, he Tokyo-drifted right around me leaving sweet flat spots in his tire:
He was also a little stunned at how strong our Irish Nog was:

On such a nice day as we had, there are all kinds of people showing up at Creve Coeur, including a new type of pathlete, the wind-blader:
My disappointment meter was approaching the red-zone when our very own Sasha refused her portion of nog, instead offering an alternative of her own, that I "blow her." I informed her that I would in fact accept her counter-offer, and to let me know what time would work best for her.

Stephanie was true to her word, and in a Babe-Ruth-esque move, called her shot at the start by proclaiming that she would drink 3 cups. Mission Accomplished:

The merriment was flowing for sure, though this year it only flowed into mouths, instead of out, like last year.

From the Vomitory, our CXmas'ers proceeded up those stairs to a new challenge this year, one more phallic than ever before. But not before passing through a barrage of official Hub water balloons, personally filled by Ron Clip, and hurled by Joel and his boy, and Mash0r along with Mini and Micro Mash0r:

Once passed the water balloons that seemed to be mostly aimed at the crotch, Punch0r and Tagg0rt, taking a tip from Criss Angel, were waiting at the playground for people to come by, and pump them full of dong-nuts. There, the course actually went down the slide, which is extra-super fun.

Of course, there was the Lance Armstrong Edition Donut:

Some people are more adept at descending than others. So some people thoroughly enjoyed the slide:

...while others, who might not be as confident on the downhills, were terrified out of their minds:

Despite Nick Smith not being here, I do feel that our mindsets and general approach to bike riding are very much aligned. For example, I've yet to attend one of his races at Binder Lake and not found moonshine. So it isn't terribly surprising that we also were able to provide moonshine, this one being cherry-infused:

Once peeling themselves away from those donuts, we sent them on the long trek that found themselves descending the much-drier-than-last-year gravel hill back down to the lake, where they would journey back to the other side of the river, over the Bangert Island for some great cross-bike-friendly singletrack, where the lucky/motivated first 50 got an amazing spoke card, and then back through the gift-giving gauntlet:

sweet jersey, brah!

now THERE is a great PBR ad!

Once they were given their gift, they were on the final stretch, back to home base, where the debauchery resumed, and we would put the "Dear Ted" into retarded. You're 2011 CXmas winnars:

1st Man: Mike "Polk Audio Schwag Provider" Bobelak
2nd Man: Rock "Carbon Wheels at a Non-Race" Wamsley
3rd Man: Jacob "You Didn't Make an Ass Out of Yourself So I Can't Give You a Nickname" Rohter (sp?)

1st SS: Dave "I'm Extremely Jealous of Your Stein" Smith

1st Woman: Cat "Proof There Are Hot Biker Chicks Out There" Ebeling

Lots of stupid good times, and smiling faces as they filed in. One trail-user in particular rolled up, in a most reclined fashion, wind-sock-a-flyin, a PBR in his handebar-mounted bottle cage, and holding a gift.

Man: "Yes, I'm supposed to ask for a 'Coach'?"
Me, hardly able to believe my eyes, "Why that would be me!"
Man: "I'm supposed to deliver this gift to you!"

Ash his wife rolled up, she called out to him, "Did you find Coach?"
Who says that 'bent riders are huge dorks? Oh yeah, I do. Nevertheless, this couple gets the Team Seagal Seal of Approval!

Nice dickey, Kate:

As dicussed with the South City Cycling Club council, we decided that on a great way to woo your wife, girlfriend, or even some savory sea-hag at the bar. You casually let her know, in your most suave voice, that "this ass ain't gonna stretch itself." The Council: Despite those fine asses, which they use to very effective ends, I'm sure they're all actually quite respectable in real life... you know, when they aren't eating each other's penis donuts and getting prizes for being the best dressed male - here he is along with the best dressed female, Val

Despite the general confusion at times, and despite the horrific odors currently coming from both my feet and ass, we all managed to have a kick-ass time, collect about 200 canned goods for charity (thanks to Sasha for doing the leg work), and watch all the recumbents pass by on the path. The proof is in the sauce:

Father time here wanted a photo of him with his pumpkin topper attached to the helmet:

Post-ride, many things were revealed. One of which being the owner of the unblinking brown eye, into which I had to look during the Tall Oak Challenge earlier this year. Thanks alot, Jason "unbleached ass hair" Pryor. Which is only fitting that we find these things out now, since he is part of our newest Team Seagal freshman class.

Yes, we have recently signed on 3 moar people into our squad of jerks - all of whom have proven themselves to be extremely jerky. So we know they'll fit right in. But moar on that lator, as we shall introduce you moar proporly at a lator date.

We counted roughly 75 people, although only 74 front wheels made it through to the finish. Sorry, Kirby. Despite the nuttiness, I think we all learned something about ourselves - middle fingers can be used to great effect, most of which being a greeting. Just be careful to show it to others who aren't "in the know."

Merry CXmas!

-Casey "Toilet Humor is Still Humor" Ryback

moar photo links
Lawman

Punchor

Crotch

This Just In

2011-12-18T06:35:00.003-06:00

-Casey F. Ryback

CXmas is "On My Mind"

2011-12-13T10:54:00.004-06:00

Greetings Jerks,

Mason Storm here to remind you all that this Sunday, Dec 18 2011 is the 4th Annual CXmas and it starts at HIGH Noon, same great start/finish as last year! This will no doubt be filled with greatness, and seeing that it will be my last for a while I expect there will be some nice little "EXTRAS" planned by not only me, but a few other JERKS as well. So bring your bicycle, your slutty santa gear, thirst for NOG, and holiday cheer to somewhere out West were bike lanes extend over the river and meet a bunch of JERKS for a friendly bike ride. Until then please enjoy this video, and I'll see ya THIS Sunday!

Mason "moving to seattle in 4 weeks" Storm

Stay Tuned

2011-12-04T18:59:00.002-06:00

Greetings, you jerks. As you know, we like to think of this site as one that is primarily focused on culture, education, and breaking news. But mostly education. For example, our "Educate the Public About Criss Angel" Initiative is going swimmingly, and in the coming months we hope to ramp up our "Take a Gigantic Shit On I.C.P./Juggalo" program.

That being said, we have some very exciting Sponsor-related news to drop very soon - and when we say "drop," we're talking like a Coach or Masson morning constitutional. After seeing it, you will feel relief in the same way.

Not since this contraption has the bicycle world been rocked the way it is about to be:

-Casey F. Ryback

A little Cxmas cheer from the Doctor

2011-11-30T08:26:00.007-06:00

Jerks!! This is how we celebrate the holiday season in Arizona. With Santa, The Scottsdale Gun Club, and Master Steven watching the border, the CXMAS season will be joyous and safe!! Happy CXMAS and drink 15-20 eggnogs for your Doctor, who is currently getting fitted for a serious bullet proof vest.

5 Minutes with Monty

2011-11-26T15:52:00.006-06:00

You just can't miss a good five minutes with Monty.

If ya got a good female coon hound ready to drop pup's, well drop one of em' to Monty.

Mounted Un-Pleasantly

2011-11-20T21:07:00.013-06:00

Greetings. My name is Coach, and, well, I like to party.

Waking up Sunday, there was a certain "misery" in the air. The miserable stench of a bleak, Flemish existence that could do only one thing: lead us on high to catch a glimpse of certain glory. And what better place to that then the Mt. Pleasant winery! Now this place is known for being a horrific, lower-back wrenching climb-fest. And approaching today, you could certainly come to a reasonable conclusion that this would be the case again. Well, you would be right again this year... to a certain extent. But there would be another variable added into the equation - slop!

Only a select few people braved the weather and conditions, but this year, that seems to have been somewhat typical of the field sizes anyway. Let's just say that the turnouts as of late have been putting the "weak" into "weekend racing." (It's there - just move the letters around.) But that didn't keep the sideline from being very active, and helping to provide "crucial" motivation to those balls deep into the sloppy mess of a course. And even though we were providing them with life-giving PBR, or Alf's favorite drink (Coors), there may have been a Merlot or Norton hand-up given at some point.

It was glorious - I signed up early, thinking and hoping that I might end up being the only Singlespeeder there and would take first place by default, however those hopes were dashed when I came across my teammate and fellow singlespeeder Eric. Those hopes were dashed much like when Criss Angel walks into the boys shower room and dashes the hopes of all the boys hoping to not have sore B-holes that day. Utterly crushing.

Helping to set up the course, in the rain, the overall lay-out was a little more side-stepping of the hillside this year. Despite much in the way of off-camber turns, the usual twists and turns kept our attention, especially since the ground was becoming more and more slippery as the day went on, more drizzling rain fell, and more racers sheared off the top layer of grass and soil. There was one climb that made me feel like Bolo getting punched by Van Damne:

Spied during our race (All photos courtesy of Mike Dawson):

Me eating shit

Eric not fucking around

The neutral start down the pavement was essentially just a slower version of the hole-shot, at which point when the pavement ended it was game on, with a very smooth power delivery, lest you be needlessly spinning your wheels. The first lap was a learning experience for many of us as we all slid out at some point, however I did my duty by slowly picking people off in a reverse manner, finishing squarely at the back of the whole race where I wouldn't cause any problems. It was only a few laps from the end that the cold rain finally worked it's way through all of my clothing and I felt my warm sweat-soaked clothing slowly turn into cold mud-soaked clothing. But my superior attitude and superior state of mind embraced it and I burnt up all my hate-fueled vengeance to finish the race warm. Peat the Awesome and Eric the Jerk were free to fly and cause some serious "wristal" damage. Damage they did - after lapping me, Eric went on to finish in first place with Peat in 2nd!

It was good to see a good showing by the elusive South City Cycling Club including Al, Tom and Jeff - having last intermixed with their ranks at Burnin', their mustaches were notably absent, though truly, their badassery was not.

After our race was finished, I went and joined in the heckling ranks alongside esteemed Hub Overlord Ron, Brian "G.S." Busken and several other to cheer on Tyler "Fiery Hatred" Bicknese, whom I believe is secretly a vocalist for a hardcore death metal band. The band is probably named "Bearded Furiousity." Caleb was also in that race, borrowing a bike, and was the crowd favorite by executing proper form and riding the huge climb every time and staying upright in front of the peanut gallery. I was also glad to see the guy on the Scattante bike, and even though it's a mail-orde bike, I like it because it has the words "scat" and "t'ant" in the name. Which accurately describes it.

The B Race did a great job of furthering to prepare the course for the A's, whom would would be racing on a ground surface that was the equivalent of a peep show floor, it was so slippery. The stage was set for epicnicity:

We had quite a battle going for a while between the newly-crowned King Of Columbia - The Professor: ...Butthead and Logan, with Professor taking an early lead, only to see that lead slip due to recurring problems with his rear brake. And on a course like this, having both brakes would be slightly advantageous. Seeing Professor struggling with his braking situation had me wondering if we'd see a StL native LvB ride his Fuji all the way to victory, as he managed to pull out a good respectable gap on the field. I knew things were going awry when seeing him wipe out at least once or twice, and then fading back, only to see his chances at victory dissappear from view when he... uh, quit. That left Butthead to lead the charge up Mt. Pleasant with a front-of-the-A-race newcomber in tow - D-Wayne:
I wasn't sure he'd be able to pull ahead, simply for one reason - you can't win a cyclocross race if you're going to smile the whole time like you're actually having a good time. PAIN FACE! That being said, he never was more than 10 seconds behind Butthead - no small feat. The crowd watched as their rear wheels most awesomely churned the mud, a rare sight in a StL CX race. Professor rode the rest of the race dueling with Devin, whose beard is well on it's way to achieving "grifter" status. As the race grew long, we all realized that it must be getting tough to keep riding up those huge climbs, so the superfans and I decided that they might need extra help. Extra help = running along side them up the hill while yelling and blowing my yellow horn right in their faces.

No one was spared - TK chose wisely by riding his gold-plated 29'r and made the slick stuff seem easy. However, it was even more amazing to see the dudes with tires 1/2 the width ride the slick shit just the same - Roland Sallinger might as well have been been on a 4 stroke the way he motored around the course, unable to ride only one spot. Roland may not have won the race, but he was the cleanest jerk out there - nary a wipe out. Impressive. For a fucking jerk.

It was too bad to not see Hermann CX God Jeff Yielding make it this year, as I just *know* he would have been like a kid in a candy store in these conditions. OOOweee.

I think we learned something yesterday. CX races are a lot like cheap hookers when they're wet and sloppy - it doesn't look very inviting or seem like a good idea beforehand, but once you're started and shit starts flyin', it is just plain fun and you want to do it again. And you have to take a long, scalding hot shower afterwards.

-Casey F. Ryback

P.S. This is what I think of, each time I see Nad sign his last name:

P.P.S. Will someone get Casey Saunders a handlebar and/or helmet mirror?

PIZZA TIME ADDITION

Go read this post. If you like to have fun of any type you should (Except for the type of fun Chris Angel likes to have, he is not welcome). If you expect a void in your life that will need some awzormness this december, check out this post.

Check out this post!

Snapping Wrists and New Sponsor!

2011-11-14T21:42:00.002-06:00

Greetings, Team Seagal Tifosi! What glorious days these are, in middle November, with temperatures approaching 80 degrees. Yesterday while doing Matson laps, I was sweating more than Criss Angel on "To Catch A Predator." Fortunately, I, The Crotch, have been drinking a lot of La Crotch so I knew I was well-hydrated.

Whew. Okay. So this week, some of us raced at Concordia Seminary, others raced at Creve Coeur (but not many, as shown in the turnout), and still others (or "other") were down at Louisville. Our very own Professor was definitely giving some of his most riveting lectures down in Lue-vull on how to obtain a snapped wrist for yourself. See for yourself at :45 seconds:

...and notice Badass of the World (BAOTW) Barry Wicks getting super awesome at 6:26.

Enough of that tomfoolery though, we have business to discuss. That business being our newest sponsor - Eagle's Nest Outfitters! Thanks to Superior Attitude and Superior State of Mind, the company that makes one of the greatest backpacking/camping products on the market, the ENO Hammock system, has gazed into our eye(s)(mine being brown) and decided to jump on board. It makes sense, seeing as how almost all of us already use the hammocks already - and if you would have been at this year's Burnin', you would have seen our hammock district. Needless to say, we're glad to have them on our side, and look forward to a good relationship!

One place where we will not need a hammock will be next weekend at the Bubba race at Mt. Pleasant. A cool venue that is about as fun to race as it is to have Criss Angel sleep over at your house. And if you're not into that kind of thing, may we suggest a spin at the continuously improving Matson Hill - one badass trail that is about 300 times moar enjoyable than it was just 2 or 3 years ago.

Finally, when future generations unearth our remains and find the funny contraptions we used to stay fit, what will they think of this one:

-CFR

This Just In

2011-11-08T22:05:00.003-06:00

Greetings, Team Seagal Loyalists. Today we bring amazing news to you, involving one of our most esteemed sponsors, Velocity Rims and Wheels!

Read This

In this age of moving manufacturing overseas for cheap labor, Velocity is bringing their rim manufacturing into the States! So now if you're looking for American-made rims, you aren't limited to Enve Rims and their Seagal-esque pricetags. Velocity's huge product range is affordable, and offers loads of performance. Now they are just that much closer to home.

Moving along, we are balls-deep in the 2011 CX season. A season that so far has rattled our bones, snapped many a wrist, and dispensed much in the way of skull dollars. Oh, and lets not forget that the Good Professor Robert Burns has been essentially unstoppable! To say that he is simply a top CX hero would be like saying that might be just a couple of fat dudes doing meth at an ICP concert. In fact, Professor is to Missouri CX what Criss Angel is to douchebags everywhere - a God amongst men. Truly, legs of pure Quantanium.

This weekend we're lucky to have ourselves a double-header, first Concordia Seminary on Saturday, and then the Death Blow on Sunday will be at Creve Coeur Lake, the upper part. Special guest at Concordia CX will be our own Shop Ministor, having come in from Milwaukee, where the beer flows like wine, and the women flock like the salmon of capistrano. Look for him in the A Race alongside with our newest recruit - Roland Sallinger, engaging in a "Scorched Earth" policy, wherebouts he will be making un-usable all land behind him, thus making any efforts to pass him futile. Life in his wake will be as bleak and hopeless as a Soviet Winter. Please show him your appreciation.

Until then, prepare your minds and T'aints for a thorough thrashing this coming weekend.

-Casey F. Ryback

Another Day, Another Jork

2011-10-23T18:26:00.006-06:00

Greetings, Team Seagal Junkies! We are nothing, if not educators. We are constantly on the search for knowledge which we can impart upon our followers. Sometimes it may not be knowledge in the traditional, academic sense (such as with our continuing jenkem research) but instead, knowledge of breaking news. Today is one of those days that we are able to bring to you truly earth-shattering news of Energor-like proportions.

Today, we introduce to you our newest member, Roland Sallinger - a top researcher at a nearby recumbent factory where he has put much effort into legitimizing the discipline of recumbent triathlons. Under his direction, required chain lengths have grown longer and their paths have become ever more convoluted as they pass through the most complex chain guides ever installed on bikes. He has worked tirelessly to improve the recumbents position in the two-wheeled pecking order:

1. mountain bikes
2. cyclocross bikes
3. road bikes
4. hybrid/fitness bikes
5. tri/tt bikes
6. penny farthings/"ordinaries"
7. walmart/target specials
8. recumbents
9. rusty walmart/target bikes
10. This bike

They used to be at the bottom, but since rusty bikes may not actually propel you forward, they dropped down.

We operate in the same manner, therefore the Team Seagal Department Of Recruitment and Killing (D.O.R.K.) saw fit to make a move:

Unfortunately, the Mayor of Pizza Town distributed his uniform at an inopportune time. Good thing his Superior Attitude and Superior State of Mind saw him through to a superior finish.

If your looking for a way to welcome him to the team, at the next race give him the "Criss Angel Salute" using this water gun:

Welcome aboard the Man Train, Jerk!
-Casey F. Ryback

This Just In: 2011 Burnin' at the Bluff Kicked Untold Amounts of Ass

2011-10-10T17:46:00.000-06:00

Greetings, Team Seagal studio audience! If you're just tuning into our broadcast, we last left off with our heroes preparing for a most epic battle on the Shores of Council BLUFF Lake. Mr. Toscani been fastidiously translating the last few Chinese scrolls in hopes finding new meaning to Mr. Boyd's "arm baby," while at the same time a last minute bombshell was dropped, informing us that Mason would not be able to join us for the race, instead being able to arrive just in time to add to the aftermath. The last minute cliffhanger left us wondering in which category Punchor would be racing. We now re-join our Team, in a reminiscing of past events, according to the rotting memory of the Coach.

To say that this year's Burnin' at the Bluff was a remarkably enjoyable bicycle race would be like saying that I wouldn't particularly care to be in the crowd of a Criss Angel performance at a gathering of juggalos. Or like saying that Crank Brothers pedals have a somewhat questionable record of reliability. To say it is and understatement is, itself, and understatement.

This race is always highly anticipated, and few people have been anticipating the race like our very own Lawman, who, in the last few months alone, has spent more time at Council Bluff than Criss Angel has spend coaching middle school boys swim teams in the last year. But what has he been doing down there? As an official trail steward, he has been clearing the trail and just engaging in general "trail foreplay" in an effort to get the "trail juices" flowing, so that it can more easily handle the repeated pounding from hundreds and hundreds of dudes and ladies on Saturday. But he hasn't been the only one working to ensure proper conditions for this year's Burnin'. As part of a recent directive passed down from Team Seagal HQ, our team collectively engaged in the most ambitious secret weather dance we've evar undertaken. In fact, as part of this effort, we actually had an entire herd of Himalayan Yak (the most manly of all yaks) brought in so that we would have enough of that... secret ingredient. Nothing was going to cause this year to be anything less than perfect.

We had our work cut out for us this year. The competition level would mean that this year would be no picnic, despite what the right wing media would have you believe. That is why we made sure to not fuck around (well, maybe we fucked around a little bit), and sent one of strongest fighting forces evar to engage in battle on the shores of Council BLUFF Lake. In the Singlespeed class, we manned two squads: Team Singlespeed Jerk-Off, consisting of Nad "Internationally Renowned Bathtub Mary Artist" Snurb, Orin "Arm Baby and Leg Titty" Boyd, and the Ultimate Jerk - Nico "That Solo Business Is For The Birds" Toscani; and Team "Jerks Effusing Noxious and Keenly Euphoric Madness" (or J.E.N.K.E.M.) consisting of Casey "In Fact, Did You Know That..." Ryback, Gino "I Used To Wear Rings On Every Finger" Felino, and Jonathon "Stoveward P. Stovington III, Esq" Cold. In the Solo classes, we fielded the power trio of Capt. Jack "Trek Speed Concept Handlebar Expert" Tagg0rt, Cock "Stag Beer Is Better Than Stag Movies" Punch0r, and Sasha "The Great Thing About Losing That Weight Is That My Boobs Didn't" Petrosevitch. And of course, we had our hand in the Clydesdale (or All That Is Man) class with "Trail Fluffer" Lawman teaming up with allies Keith "Hollywood" Weinkein and Brian "Gun Show" Busken, all under the tutelage of their coach, Jason "I Know The Most Interesting Man In The World Which Makes Me The Second Most Interesting Man In the World" Pryor. Our man Forrest "I've Had My Fingers In More Fish Taco's Than You Could Evar Dream Of" Taft was putting the "in man" in manning the aid station at the Enough Boat Ramp. Unfortunately, not all of us were able to be on the front lines this weekend, most notably the Professor, who was steadfastly engaging in wrist-strengthening activities so as to most effectively be able to lay waste to the entire CX world in the coming months.

Our reality started its descent into twisted euphoria by Friday night. I picked up recent Great Divide Race finisher Luke "Pain?" Doney and his Salsa Fargo, then picked up Forrest "I'm 23" Taft and his brown stallion where we then proceeded to choo-choo our way down through Potosi, past the booby school, and arriving at our final resting place, Group Campsite C, where we were greeted by Orin "Jim 'Hacksaw' Duggan" Boyd:

The night progressed, or regressed, depending on how you look at it, with many truths becoming known, such as Nico's love affair with a tree, as evidenced by his hickey:

Scooter was able to stay on two legs all night, which is the first time in a long time. To prove he had full control of his capacities, he proved it by practicing some martial arts (probably Akido) in front of our commission artwork:

Scooter puts the "do a kid" in "akido."

Much firewood was burnt that night, as we discussed all that was in store. I awoke the next morning to view our expansive estate of a campsite, one that had many different areas, such as our very own hammock district:

Which I couldn't help but think that this gathering of hammocks was foretold:

The aftermath of the previous night was still there:

Major McPizza-Town was nearly carried off by this beast while driving:

A quick stroll to the registration only helped to fuel my anxiousness and excitement, especially when I saw a trailer full of kegs, prize-boxes, and huge jerks:

"Guess what this smells like!"

I spoke with T0rgg0rt about his equipment choices, and he showed me one of his many secrets, the elusive and rarely seen 5-bolt XTR crank set (note the greatest singlespeed chain of all time, matched only by the gold version):

I give you the Face of Manliness:

Not long after that photo was taken, we were off in a flurry of smoke and drama in true Burnin' fashion. Cruising down the pavement, my singlespeed and I were unfortunately not able to get the most important thing in a 12 hour mountain bike race - the holeshot. Instead, it was "All Aboard the Man-Train" and fortunately I was able to stay ahead of the caboose. Flossing the trail, I was bobbing and weaving all obstacles, happy to finally be on a tubeless wheelset - some Blunt SL rims, courtesy of one of our awesome sponsors, Velocity. The trail was pretty much like we all expected it to be: more dry than Criss Angel after a month-long sexual conversion camp. There was one unexpected water crossing, and despite being very short, it was so deep, that I thought I was in the movie Poltergeist III where that little girl was standing in the puddle but then those demon arms reached up and pulled her down. Fortunately, all that had to be done to avoid the demon arms (which may have been in there, who knows) was pull a sweet wheelie and let the rear wheel drop in, and quickly pedal away - full of badassery.

Laps ticked off. At one point, I encountered Jim Krewet, my arch enemy, having snapped my wrist at 2.5 mph last year on the last climb - I resisted the urge to engage in Geneva-Convention-violating acts of sabotage.

The weather was glorious, and so was the comradery. Amazing things were happening even early in the day, such as the Law Firm of Ploch, Steinmetz and Donn snapping off the first two laps in under 2 hours. Snappety-tastic. The weather never got too hot, but it was warm enough to make the impending night laps comfortably mild. The only big surprise was the tree that was down on the final climb, which definitely mixed things up.

In between laps, it was relorxed and awesorme back in the Hammock District:

Our Team Jerk-Off held a confident lead most of the day, and managed to hold it into the night laps, no doubt in part helped by such thorough preparation as this - giving Mini-Steven his headlights back. This would be the first time since 2008 RIM that Mini-Steven would be able to see after dark:

One of my favorite quotes of the day came after I had been on the side of the trail fixing a broken chain (pretty good after 4 seasons of use) and watched Peat pass by. Getting the bike back in order, I hopped back on my brown rocket and started moving down the trail, post haste. Snapping the wrist of a couple of other dudes, I wondered how long it would take, if even possible, for me to catch up to Peat. He's definitely a faster rider than me overall, but I was counting on his steadier pace due to his entrance in the Mario van Peebles class, and my fresher legs. I caught up with him after a little while and rode with him for probably a good 20-25 minutes - this being his *7th* lap, I on my 3rd. And he was not screwing around - I was working quite hard to hang with him. Anyway, at the dam I offered to pull in front and take lead for a while, to which he answered "I dunno man, I'm pretty fast through this next section." Truly, Superior Attitude and Superior State of Mind.

I unfortunately was not able to fully enjoy a night lap, which can be one of the most awesome mountain bike experiences. However, I was able to get back and fully enjoy the spoils of the Team Seagal and Burnin' sponsor, Pabst Blue Ribbon. And it wasn't long before I was seeing this image, and with a similar level of focus:

It was close to the 8 o'clock hour before the Tropical Storm made landfall, and did indeed proceed to set one of the many records that were broken/set that night: least amount of time between stone sober and properly euphoric. Mason and I made an excellent stop off at the Mesa campground where we found Zach, Drewballz, and STLPAF Dave, among others, gettin' their food on. I had to help them regulate some fat ribs, while Mason and Dave did the same to some fresh oysters. Potentially the first oysters to be eaten at Council Bluff. The word "pioneers" comes to mind.

Have finally met some badasses from the elusive South City Cycling Club, I give them the highly-prized Team Seagal Seal of Approval:

PBR Dave always hooks this race up, with enough beer to get refill Council Bluff Lake. Also, being tons and tons of schwag, this most odd one being the Pabst Topsy-Turvy:

PBR Dave tapping the second keg:

That IS a discman, with 45 second skip protection, and we played some Witchery on it:

2011 SS Champs:


We've all got vans.

Now unfortunately, my camera, while a trusty and pink companion, it has difficulties understanding how it should work when it's dark and I'm drunk. So despite my best efforts, all of my podium shots were pretty much useless. So I'll just let you in on the secret: Sasha managed 6 laps to take the women's Solo class (again!) Actually, here's a photo, courtesy of Mr. Rybar:

"Looks Better In a Skinsuit Than You'd Think" Lawman and his squad with Keith and Brian smashed their way to the top of the podium in the All-That-Is-Man Class as well - but then, how could they not. Have you seen them?

Jack "Pancake Breakfast" Tr0rggr0rt got in more laps on his SS that he'd evar done, at 5 which is a huge amount of laps, no matter who you talk to - even getting in the all important night lorps. And from all of this gloriousness, things went downhill quickly. Or uphill, again depending on how you look at it. Peat "Slash" Henry had to continue to hydrate himself after completing a simply Predator-like 9 laps on his rigid singlespeed:

Of course, even though Peat's accomplishment sets a new SS solo record, it wasn't *quite* enough to catch up to the inspired performance of People's Champion, Dwayne G who, set a new Burnin' Solo World Record of 10 laps. All joking aside, it was made all the more impressive after the year he and his family have undergone. I don't think there was anything that could have prevented him achieving complete and total success. Congratulations!

Another record being set was by the Dream Team of the Ploch, Steinmetz and Donn of doing 12 laps. To go any faster, they'd need to have beards. When Garrett passed me, it was akin to two satellites in orbit passing each other in the opposite direction - the relative speed being something like 34,000 mph.

Before too long, we retreated to the Hammock District in order to make the best TC Man Food:

Mason's record-setting transition from sober to euphoric was moving along at a surprisingly quick pace - I had lost track of him until the next morning, when he poured out of the back of his car. Stories of finding him at 3:30 am sleeping in the field were circulating, along with golf claps of approval.

Waking up the next morning, there was much to share amongst our motley crew of jorks. We sported some fresh schwag, like in this photo, if you can find Nico, you'll notice his sweet camo shirt. That's IF you can spot him:

Still in a bit of a daze from the prorvious night, I ventured down to my fortress of solitude, or the Zambian Hut, to engage in some personal reflection and my morning constitution. I arrived to find Norcword trying to fend off his female admirers. You'd be surprised how much his fan club has grown:

It's like I always say, you can't drink all day if you don't start first thing. And being a Coach, my advice carries with it a certain weight. This being Lawman's own Burnin' Coffee Stout:

Whew. Looking back, I believe that there are more photos with middle fingers than without. Mission: Accomplished. What a great time.

Another mission that has been accomplished: a badass Burnin' courtesy of a true OG, Farinella and the rest of the Mesa jerks. We all managed to survive. Super pumped with only one mtb race left on the calendar - the BT Epic. And then... CX.

In order to continue to elevate ourselves to the next level, we will be following the Gray Wolf's lead, and using his training program:

That program includes:
-taking the bus up hills
-not carrying water
-using a belt for all items to carry
-spending at least $6000 on wheel (otherwise, don't bother)
-make all our own custom lycra bike clothing with our names written in acrylic paint
-remove the granny ring from the bike, and mate it to an 11-21 cassette
-always attack the pack
-spend 1.5 hours the night before every ride figuring out what to wear
-don't wear a helmet
-eat only sugar

You're welcome.

-Casey F. Ryback

Burnin' Awaits... For You

2011-10-04T21:43:00.000-06:00

It won't be long now... In order to help you prepare for this ultimate test of manliness on Saturday, we're providing you with a short video clip. Study it, for it should help you better understand true badassness. It's from Predator:

Try to be like Billy.

- Casey F. Ryback

Chorbb TT, Burnin... Holy Shit

2011-10-02T22:24:00.001-06:00

Greetings Team Seagal Disciples. This is the time of year that starts to *really* get interesting. The greatest mountain bike races on Earth (G.M.B.R.O.E.) are going on, such as the Chorbb TT, Rapture in Misery (usually), Berryman Epic, CX season is starting to ramp up, and of course... BURNIN'. My t'aint is quivering in anticipation. But more on Burnin' lator.

But first, the Team Seagal Department of Public Information has released recently de-classified documents that reveal the results of the Chubb Time Trial, held this past Sunday. For the second time in Team Seagal history, we have swept the podium! First place in the Singlespeed Class was one Nico "The Ultimate Jerk" Toscani, Second place was one Orin "Get Fucked" Boyd, and Third place was in fact one Jonathon "Stoveward P. Stovington III, Esq." Cold! Seen in action in order, courtesy of the esteemed Mr. Rybar:

There have only been a few other times when I have received news of such truly amazing proportions - the most recent such incident was when Nico divulged the existence of a toilet within his family's possession known simply as "The General" on account of it being the extinct 7 gallon flush. This just goes to show you what a year's worth of Chubb Mondays can get you.

Speaking of toilets, I think that I speak for the entire Team Seagal War Machine when I say that I am more than excited at the chance to use the pit toilets at the Council Bluff campground next weekend, because that means we are on the front lines of the Burnin' at the Bluff race. It has been a full year now since we last watched the final man-train choo-choo it's way up that climb, and it has been a full year since I lost our team's 2nd place spot less than 1 minute from the finish line. Thanks, Jim Krewet. Well it is a new year, and our t'aints have been fully-tempered on all different trails across the land, ready to lay waste to all that oppose them (and by them, I mean our t'aints.)

We'll be launching assaults on all fronts, so watch yer B-side. 'Specially you, Mr. Jenkins - you had better be wearing your B-side chastity belt. I know that even though our trusty Doctor can't be there at the Blorff, he will be there in spirit along with C-dorbs. And I know that Ministor will be there in spirit drinking some Faux-sure right there next to me and my brat-burgers.

This. Will. Be. Awesorme.

-Casey F. Ryback

The First Gateway Cross Cup

2011-09-22T21:15:00.001-06:00

Greetings, Team Seagal aficionados. This past Wednesday, an event came to the StL that has been very highly anticipated ever since word first came of its existence. An event of such great proportions, that only the most amazing, most dedicated and ridiculous fan base that our local scene could produce. It has been of utmost importance in the Team Seagal War Room, that the rest of the CX world in some way remembers this place.

And what better way to remember what park it was held in than to honor its namesake, and dress as He-Man himself. Forrest Taft, of course, dressed as a snot rocket, to honor the time-honored tradition of cleaning the pipes.

After having had the best possible primer last weekend in Hermann, we had our voices thoroughly tested and our broadswords sharpened. Despite a course that didn't really feature anything that *really* slowed the racers down, I believe that we did manage to inject a some good flavor into the racers. We had reinforcements from Christopher and Farinella (despite his dead bullhorn), the $$$ fisherman, Jason in his wiener suit, of course all the Kona crew, Elmo, the chicken, it was all there. Between Caleb and Keith, both of whom had never been to a CX race, I think this race was successful in converting two more over to the skinny-ish tire side. And after reading T-tocs' sign, perhaps the pro's now realize that they are, in fact, jerks.

And a big thanks goes to Dan at Route 66 for the yellow horn. More noise is always good.

No usual long-winded story-arc to tell... there was simply too much debauchery and too many amazing stories to re-tell here, and that was only from the roughly 2 hours that I was there. But instead, just that this race has to be one of, if not the coolest bike race to come to our modest midwestern city. It brought people in the community from both sides of the "aisle," from deep within the mountain scene to high atop the road pedestal. EVERYONE was there - and that's the best part of it. It was awesome to get to see everyone. Even saw 'Dmon' for the first time since last season! Won't be long before Bubba returns, but before then we have some more mountain biking to do - Burnin' runs deep within my loins.

Oh, and Barry Wicks definitely now knows that T-tocs is 23.

-Casey F. Ryback, as He-Man

Ride to the Ride STL TO Columbia MO MS150 2011-Mobile.m4v

2011-09-13T17:25:00.002-06:00

This past Friday I rode my Fixed Gear 29er from STL to Columbia MO via the KT Trail and MKT Trail, and these are the photos from the trip. I have to send out a huge shout out to Mrs. Storm for the drop at teh trail head, Nick Smith at Red Wheel Bike Shop for the light hook up, and all of our sponsors for making such nice stuff!

Storm

It's almost that time when...

2011-09-11T22:13:00.004-06:00

...Crotch prepares his CX race-only wheels. Of course, these are the same wheels that I used at the end of last season - the same bearing grease made from the hides and blubber of freshly-clubbed baby seals, the same tires hand-sewn by the same gentleman who tends my yak farm (from which I farm other substances), and the same glue which was actually made from Secretariat. Of course, it all has to be mounted to those badass Velocity Major Tom Rims, which are the ONLY way to go around here. Clearly, when it comes to having the best and most exlusive shit on race day, there is only one way to do it. (And when it comes to someone at the pinnacle of fitness, and for whom the best parts truly make a difference, it's definitely the Coach.) And now the tires are inflated, life having been breathed back into their lungs and ready for battle high atop the Mt. Staircase at Hermann City Park this coming weekend.

So only one question remains, will you be there, or will you be like this guy:

- Casey F. Ryback

P.S. If you show up on a "Rowbike" or and Elliptigo, I will give you a massage like that.

2011 Tall Oak Challenge - A True Jerk-off!

2011-08-30T06:52:00.011-06:00

Greetings, Team Seagal Fans! Whenever you get such a varied group of jerks in one place, all competing against each other, it truly becomes a jerk-off. And such was the case this weekend at Binder Lake, where there was an excellent showing from Missouri's most talented racers. The Duo class was stacked this year, with at least 4 teams with having a shot at the win. And let us not forget the Mario Van Peebles class, which also wasn't fucking around. Your heroes (us) sent a solid showing of soldiers into battle, all of which came out unscathed and completely victorious.

This is one of the races that is highly anticipated every year, because it is superbly run, there is plenty of food available, the trails are very rewarding and well-maintained, and despite the lake, there isn't a triathlete anywhere in sight. I know that I was heavily distraught when it looked to me as though I would not be able to attend this year, the first time in like four years. Fortunately, my world got "flip-turned upside down," and with a quick power-business phone call, I was back on track. No problem, brah.

And so it was, our lineup was to be Professor, Gino Felino and Orin Boyd going Mario Van Peebles style, and myself (Casey F. Ryback) teaming up with my co-worker, Marc, in the Duo/Man-Train class.

In the Crotch-Express was of course myself, Boyd, and Marc, and we were cutting our travel time pretty tight, but thankfully we did manage to make a quick stop at a gas station that has the greatest hand-dryer on the market: Whenever you see one of those, you know that your hands will be at least as dry as Criss Angel's throat after a week in Vegas.

Not long after that stop though, we had an unplanned stop, but one of Missouri's Finest, who wasn't too pleased at my chosen speed. However, he had apparently pulled over plenty of other racers on their way to Jeff City, as he knew about the race. He was also interested to hear more about Team Seagal, so I took a minute to give him the abridged summary of our team's storied history, and a brief summarization of our constitution and by-laws. At that point, he was understandably intimidated, so he let me off with a much smaller ticket that can be taken care of over the phone. But since we hadn't planned on a second stop, we were now unsure as to whether we'd make it to the start line on time.

No problem, bing bang boom, and I'm filling my water bottle up as the Nick's Dad's antique rifle was shot off, signaling the start of the race. So we were off on the rolling start through the woods, with the typical first-lap man-trains developing. Unfortunately, I was the caboose of one man-train in particular, wherein the guy directly in front of me was definitely not wearing his best shorts - there was a thin spot in the lycra just above his chamois, and it allowed a nearly unimpeded view of his "unblinking eye." Too late now, as at this point I can't "un-see" it, so at the final grassy climb, I jumped tracks, hit the afterburners, and choo-chooed past the group of dudes that I was tailing. None were able to hang onto the Crotch-train, and so before long I was handing over the baton to my co-hort, who set some blazin' fast times.

Most of the day I was unable to keep track of Mayor McPizza-Town, as he was off riding all the trails, non-race loops included, in the area. Orin and Professor were taking no prisoners, although unfortunately Professor had to make like a Catholic and pull out due to some unexplained pains.

The duo class was getting lit up by the top three teams who were going so fast that they were at risk of being accused of beard-doping, despite a lack of facial hair. Case in point, the knock-down drag-out man-brawl did spill Devin's blood:

The trail was in excellent shape, with many signs of recent and significant trail work having been completed. Many spots had been re-routed to make for smoother, more sustainable turns, and as usual, no problems with erosion. In fact, it was so dry that it was dusty, as evidenced by my sock-line: This is the kind of trail that rewards you for taking a better line and not using your brakes. You never really get the opportunity to go so fast that you run out of gear, and so you are often in the sweet spot, and you are able to keep your effort level relatively steady. One word comes to mind: flossing. Well, that and jenkem.

Over the course of the day there were many encounters on the trail, and everyone seemed to be in a good mood, and allowed passing quite well. I learn many things while on my bike, for example, I learned that Women's class superstar Gabby was using this race to train for her planned ascension onto the high euphoric plains of glory, the heights from which she will look down upon the rest of us mere mortal racers and smirk, knowing her greatness. This will all be achieved by completing her first 12 Hour Solo mission around the hallowed grounds of Council Bluff Lake on October 8th.

Of course, a good chunk of the reason to go to this races is to hang out with other truly euphoric individuals.

And what race at Binder Lake would be complete without a little authentic, mid-Missouri moonshine?
"I wouldn't pay for it, but hey..."

With the sight of moonshine, there was one thing that was next on the weekend's itinerary, and that would be the 2011 Binder Brawl, a re-match between Mr. Jenkins and Nick, the result of which would be a peak in the day's homo-eroticism. And while that was very enticing to stick around for, food was more important, so we were off. However, as we pulled onto the grass, we got stopped by an old man in a minivan who wanted to see our permits to park on the grass, claiming that his family had donated the land and they had never issued grass-parking permits. Fortunately, I wielded a large Sword of Logic, which I promptly used to snap his mind's wrist. Wasn't even really a fair fight.

We were given directions to the mexican restaurant of choice, El Jimador. The food was excellent, however the walls resembled what I believe the inside of Criss Angel's window-less van looks like:

The inside of that van looks like that after he watches this Barney and Friends video clip on his phone:
The wall-decor wasn't the only thing on display at El Jimador, however. We had an excellent conversation regarding the gentleman in the corner whose style can only be described as a mix between Kid Rock and Gary Fischer, we called him Kid Fischer. No photographic evidence was acquired of him, or of the "heavyset" gentleman behind us wearing a shirt proclaiming that "This is what awesome looks like." Well, if his shirt is true, then awesome looks like a life of increasing health problems, constant heavy breathing, and a resting heart rate of 103.

Before we leave, we must conduct a little business. If you are missing this CXmas spoke card, send us an email (see the email address at the very bottom of our page.) Tell us what number is on the back and we'll see that you are re-united:

Another amazing race in the books where we cared more about having a badass time than actual results. Crushing trail, snapping wrists, drinking tall boys from our esteemed sponsor, and seeing cool people. That's what it's all about. Next endurance mtb race on the calendar for us is probably Rapture, and after that, Burnin. Oh my god.

I have a philosophical question that was posed to me the other day, and I'd like to share. What good are the ventilation-friendly clipless sandals when riding a recumbent, if the leading surface of the shoe is the solid bottom? I think this helps further prove that with a recumbent, it is even less about any kind of performance than it is achieving the perfect style - a style that is labeled "failure."

See you at Herman CX, and then at the pro-heavy Gateway Cross Cup. Don't miss 'em.

-Casey F. Ryback

2011 Spoke Pony Redux, and the MWSSC!

2011-08-14T20:52:00.028-06:00

Greetings, loyal Team Seagal minions. It isn't too often that there are two excellent opportunities to races one's mountain bike over the course of one weekend, within the same state. At least, not here in Missouri. So when the large obelisk of opportunity erects itself, one must jump on the chance, and take that chance deep.

The Tropical Storm and I had been looking forward to making a return trip to the Spoke Pony 3/6hr Race, having podium'd once before. Last time, that race was located within the limits of the lovely Landahl trails. And while we would absolutely love to ride and race those trails (about which we can not rave enough) again, the new venue at Swope Park is so beautifully constructed, that they should have sent a poet.

Not only was there a shit-ton of badass mountain bike racing to be had in KC, the next day there would be the Missouri Singlespeed Championships at Truman Lake, the trails around which had been recently been featured in Dirt Rag magazine. Not too shabby.

So our marching orders were sent down from the Team Seagal War Room. With more than one teammate expecting a child any day now, another up at Kona's HQ, and yet more still with equally as good of an excuse to not be there, it was to be that myself (The Coarch), Masson Storm, and Harlan Banks would be deployed on Friday night to rendezvous with a Kansas City ally, Nick, who would be providing us soldier's quarters. The drive over was filled with discussion, and also filled with random nuggets of joy like this, which was found on a truck stop men's room "sanitary dispenser" (take close look for the return instructions): Not too often can we include photos from truck stop men's room.

On the way over to Swope on Sat morning, we did pass by a bar in KC called "Buddies Bar" where we're pretty sure that you can get yourself a... stiff drink. Make sure to check it out. We arrived to find a great spot for the tent, and low and behold, we were able to set up our tent next to the other St. Louis group: Just enough space. It was there that we connected with The Holtmans, Strove on his 17.5lb road bike and Val, Christine and her partner, Dave Hagen, and Keith Weinkein. We had a good mix of true east-side jerks, however it was most unfortunate to realize that we were the only ones whom had made the trek over. To miss this race was truly a missed opportunity to be able to experience the quality trails at Swope. But more on that later.

We also got to make new allies in our fight against the sand. For example, the Singlespeed Pirate was there to show us how to effectively flush out any sand: Getting to see Rich Anderson, who regularly snaps Storm and I's wrists, as he creaked his way past camp:

One by one, the laps ticked by as the trails got more and more dry (it had 1.5 inches of rain the night before) and the trails became we reveled in the "mild" temperatures, and even had humidity that was at levels lower than the usual "Missouri Men's Bath-house Sauna Room" humidity levels. Those be some steamy bath-houses, by the way. We were also reveling in the trails that we were riding, which had this effect on those unaccustomed to such difficulty:

Stories of flat tires, over-the-bar excursions, and chaffed t'aints were rolling in faster than Criss Angel to an Altar Boy Training Camp. Of course, wrecks are like sodomy - all fun and games until it happens to someone on your team. And on Masson's 2nd lap, he had an involuntary dismount. He rolled in as we passed the baton: Turns out that he was in some serious pain after going down harder than Criss Angel on Violent J from ICP. It left this souvenir on his top tube: Here is what I envisioned Masson's wreck to be like:
(That's right, two TNG references in one post.)

I was out on course, ducking my head to get past "Headache," getting in a full-body workout as I cleared the "8-Pin Alley" section, blasting through Nate's section, up and over "Marci's Playground," past "Faceplant," and then holding my nose through the Dead Hooker Zone before emerging at the staging area, to find The Tropical Storm in some pain, and since we were pretty well behind, and since a lot of our 3-hour buddies had just finished and were drinking PBR tall-boys, I pulled the plug as well, happy in the snapping of the trail's wrist that we inflicted. (There may be a fairly large impact crater where Masson landed, so to the trail builders, we're sorry.)

All was not lost, as we had some *very* good conversations with the good friends, and the Swope brain-childs, who have some shit in the works that will blow your mind. And not just cool trail design, but an expansive urban trail network, the likes of which have not been seen in the Midwest, or really anywhere else in the country. As my vision became slightly less focused, we cheered as the remaining 6-hour soldiers man-training their way in and out of the staging area.

At that same time, we also watched the 3-hour podiums. Team Seagal Allies, Nick and Keith, got 2nd and 3rd in their respective 3-Hour age classes - here we see the two in a photo entitled, "Two Guys One Cup:"

Our own Harlan Banks, AKA Nad, not only won the 3 Hour SS class, (there wasn't anyone else in it, btw) but he also put in the fastest fucking 3 hour lap, and therefore winning the overall 3-hour Solo dude class! Here you see him drinking on the podium, with Nick in 4th, as per his contract with our team: Nice fucking work, jork.

Fortunately, the dead hooker was found, and brought back to safety by a caring racer: That was one hellafied sleazy trail section, brah.

Jerktown USA, population - 3:

Peat hasn't even signed the drinking-on-the-podium contract, but honors it nonetheless since he took 3rd in the 6hr solo 20-29 class:

Right back atcha, Burnsey:

One thing that separates mountain bikers from roadies, is the amount of beer at the event. There was more Boulevard, Tallgrass, and of course, PBR than one could shake a baby at. It was after the race was over that many things were revealed to us, specifically the existence of this belt buckle (please don't look at it the photo if it offends you): There was another one somewhere involving a blow-up doll being violated, but that may have to wait for some other time. I'd actually like to take this moment to personally apologize to C-Dubs for discussing and showing this photo, as I know that his more conservative, older-generation sensibilities might have trouble with it.

It didn't take long before our hunger got the better of us, and we craved some serious meat. Good thing we were in KC, for if you go to KC and don't get some barbecue, then you must be one of 2 things - a vegetarian/vegan, or you like dudes; in which case, you still get meat, am I right? Anyway, so before leaving, I transferred my crap over to the Steve/Peat/Val/Dave/Holtman caravan, where we headed to Gates BBQ. Masson and Harlan were headed back to StL, but not before going to Arthur Bryant's. My proof of being at Gates, as my memory of this isn't too reliable:

Sore undercarriages finally getting some rest, I tried to convince my companions to let me stop at Buddie's bar for some true relaxation, but they weren't having any of it. So instead, we stopped at Wendy's for ice cream and then headed to the hotel. Speaking of Wendy's, I am once again puzzled by strange fast food signage, this time involving a Wendy's sign(s):

The next day we awoke to begin the rest of the journey over to Truman Lake, where we would surely get to be impressed with the state of Missouri singlespeeding, all coming out at the chance to be crowned the Missouri Singlespeed Champion. Seen while on the way to the race:

Unfortunately, there were only about 30 people there, and that includes a handful of geared dudes for the geared class. Fortunately, last year's Missouri Singlespeed Wrestling Champion, Nick Smith (of was that Mr. Jenkins?) was there, and he brought a healthy man train of Red Wheel jerks, such as Stoney, Turbo, and Chris Bopp, all of whom were looking completely devoid of any sand. Unstoppable force Garrett Steinmetz also stopped by, since he didn't get to finished the Spoke Pony on account of a frame that had its wrist snapped.

Despite the lackluster turn-out, the riding was fierce and the weather was amaz0rz. The trail, while not offering the same level of technical challenges that we found at Swope (but then, not much does) DID offer much in the way of fast descents, tight turns, and the ability to settle into a groove and keep it all day. Well, that is until the newly-constructed section, with it's soft ground, sucked your soul out of your nose, ate it, and then shit it back out onto the ground for you to pick up on the next lap. Churning out 50-52 minute laps, I found myself feeling much better than I expected, and even managed to choo-choo past a couple of people. However, those gains were wiped away with a double flat tire, 10 minutes from the end of the race. Oh well, that's what I get for using the same tires I was using last year at this time.

It was a fun race, regardless of how many people showed up. Although things like this remind you how much mountain bike racing can, at times, be like an individual time trial. It was also here where I was reminded that there are, in fact, still people that like Nickelback, and will take offense to your assertions (or as I like to think of them, factual statements) that the band purpose is simply to serve as a warning to others. I mean, it's not too often that people will actually pay to attend a concert just so they can throw shit at them. (Sorry Dave, I just love making fun of them too much.)

After eating at a suitable restaurant, El Camino, Peat showed his battle wounds from the weekend's festivities:

Anyway, this weekend was a blast, between mountain bike racing, cool people, beer, eating BBQ - how much better can a weekend get?

-Casey F. Ryback

We

Swooping into Swope Park

2011-08-08T21:46:00.003-06:00

Greetings, Team Seagal Loyalistas. There have not been nearly enough updates this season, but fear not: across our ranks, there have been many miles logged, despite the recent heat wave. We have attended many of the recent races, including the Courtois Challenge, in which Nico got very cozy with a stream crossing. Ooooweee.

Coming up this weekend are two excellent races, the much-anticipated return of the Spoke Pony 3/6 Hour race, which had last made an appearance back in 'aught 8, where Mason and I took 3rd place: See here. We will never forget the Xanadu-like trail conditions that day. But this year, it is changing venues, from Landahl to Swope Park. To put this kind of euphoria into perspective, this is like getting a "Commando/Predator" combo Blu-ray pack for Christmas one year, and then the next year getting a "Marked for Death/On Deadly Ground" combo DVD pack. In other words, Going from badass wrist-snapping to t'aint-melting badassery. You can't lose.

By the end of that race, we'll be as messed up as a Steven Seagal sex slave, if Steven Seagal fed his sex slaves PBR.

Fortunately, we'll have a second race at which to try our wrists on sunday, the Midwest Single Speed Championships, which is not being held in Jeff City for the first time. I guess those Red Wheel bros were gettin' all bummed about the StL Man-Train choo-chooing all over their home turf. (We'll just have to make sure to do that at the Tall Oak Challenge instead.) So who knows what will happen there, other than a RE-FUCKING-SULTS.

How do we get these results, you have been wondering? Chubb laps.

So until race day, I have two things that you can put into your brain:

1) Read this.

2) Watch this:

Even though CX isn't too far away, there is still PLENTY of mtb racing left: Tall Oak, Rapture in Misery, Burnin' at the mother fucking Blorff, Berryman Epic...

-CFR

RIP Hightower.

2011-08-04T07:43:00.002-06:00

Greetings, Team Seagal Fans. It is with heavy heart and fingers that I type this out. Beloved 80's and early 90's movie star and former NFL star Bubba Smith, otherwise known as "Sgt. Moses Hightower" in his landmark 1984 role in the seminal "Police Academy" series, has passed away.

The story

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=phHZ2HOkn8s

Seen here as "Spare Tire" Dixon, facing off against Al Bundy:

I know that our own beloved Nico Toscani has taken this loss very hard. Please offer your condolences to him when you see him.

Goodnight, sweet prince.

-Casey F. Ryback

Levis Trow 100 , 3rd times not a charm!

2011-07-21T10:56:00.020-06:00

Well for the 3rd year in a row, Myself, Ttocs, and Toscani escaped the blast furnace and headed north to Wisconsin. A few hours outside of MKE you have a IMBA epic trail system that has everything a MTB'ers heart desires, plus you throw in the chance to have much cooler temps than back home, well the choice to do this race each year is an easy one. We ended up leaving STL Thursday at 1pm, which put us at our Sisters apartment by 7pm. We unloaded our Big Units, busted out some showers, and hoofed it to Comet Cafe for Ttocs birthday meal!

Our attitudes at this point couldn't have been moar superior, as we ate our killer meals and crushed many a beverage we discussed our excitement to ride one of our favorite trail systems in a few days.

After the amazing birthday crush-a-ton we journeyed to Stubby's Bar for moar beverages and cheap thursday night special prices! Ministor, our Superior MKE soldier meet us there and we continued the discussion of one amazing trail system/race. We made our travels to IMBA excellence the next morning.

After some much needed sleep, we awoke to glorious temps and a killer breakfast at TROCADERO. We then headed back to our top secret mke HQ to load up and head out to Levis Trow Mounds. Holy shit it has begun...

We knew that business await in the Northern WI wilderness. We were prepared, we had a mini keg, we had our Kona's, and we had Superior Attitude. We arrived at our destination early enough to hand pick our base camp, and get our evenings dialed. It started to rain early and really never stopped. It was about this time that I (storm) started to notice some serious pain and swelling in my right knee. I retired to my hammock with hopes of IMBA's finest in the A.M.

We all got an earrrrly nights sleep to the sound of rain. Rain was coming down when we awoke at 6am for race preparations, but the rain was coming down steady while every 10 minutes it increased in rainfall. Storm's knee was still in the wrong place and spirits were not high. Nico was preparing for the 100 mile start time at 8am, rain was still falling. HARD! Knowing that it was worth the wait to see what the weather might do, the race was called back an hour-9am start time. Now we wait.

9am was coming, Nico was most superior and suited for the mission at hand- a 100 miles of IMBA goodness. It stopped raining at 8:50 while the racers meeting was being had and when the shotgun fired for the start- rain came again. About 24 give or say went out on the 9am start. Ministor and the Brothers Hoff waited in the rain. The 50 mile race started at 1pm. We sat through rain. Not just any rain storm, a fucking monsoon!

Holy shit! That was a crazy rain, and when Toscani came in after lap 1, he saw the damage:

1 wet ass camp
1 broken Kona pop-up tent
3 Kona's pushed over by the serious wind
EVERYTHING WET

The rain slowly died down after the monsoon fell and with the majority of the campsite being sand- it soaked it up fast! Nico rolled in another lap while the three 50 milers waited. We were very strategic in our damaged items. The broken Kona tent became the clothes line. Ttocs tent was opened wide for the rest of the day due to an inch of rainfall inside the hut. We entertained ourselves with discussion of other riders and their tale of zero brake pads after 1 lap! Really? We wouldnt beleive this until our turn into the woods was had.

The 50 mile race started on time with some serious sun above our heads. With the much cooler temps in the WI north, it was still hot. Ministor rolled out solo and Storm took lap 1 for the Brothers Hoff. Nico came through not too long after Ministor was going out for lap number 2. Ttocs waited for Storm. He soon arrived and confirmed that no more laps were in for him due to the swollen knee and pain that coincided. He said. "Have fun..." and Ttocs rolled out for his lap.

After Ttocs returned from his lap all of us and most if not everyone else had decided it was over, and we all cracked a PBR. Between the horrible trail conditions and serious lack of braking power it just wasn't our year. I couldn't believe that only after 12.5mi our brakes were smoked, I mean no meat on the bone.,...at all!

With our hopes and dreams of another great Levis 100 shattered we could only look forward to the evening ahead full of Braquitos, PBR, and a secret mini keg of Hopslam!!! Theres a reason the photos stop here from that night as I think the 4 of us could agree we barely made it to our beds. In fact it was so hot and humid that night Nico was found looking for cooler shelter in the early morning hours. This lead him to the visitor center where he found that he was locked in and had to break out via the front window. The next day we broke camp and hit the road with Saint Louis in our sights!

Even though the race hadn't gone as planned or hoped, like always we had a great trip and great time with our good friend Ministor, and of course our sister Claire. I plan on continuing this tradition as long as this race remains on the calendar! The trail, when not a river, remains one of the most unique systems I have ever raced and what better time to escape the Lou than in mid July!

The ride home was a breeze considering we were able to bypass MKE and head straight home via Rockford Ill, and in just under 7hrs we found ourselves crossing the old man looking at our hometowns gateway to the west. Another Levis in the books, and now its time to focus up on what the 2011 MTB season has left for us. Hope to see you all at Spoke Pony and then MWSSC August 13-14!

Storm and T Tocs

The Simple Strap - is there anything it can't do?

2011-07-10T18:47:00.005-06:00

Greetings, overheated jerks. The one thing that the Simple Strap (one of our exteemed sponsors) can't do, is change the ambient temperature outdoors. Well, not yet. But once you have a couple of these things in your bag of stuff, you'll look back on your life before you had them, and wonder how you survived such a miserable existence. Here are a couple of recently-discovered uses:

Next weekend is the Shawnee Mission Mayhem - We've already been there once, as chronicled in this account. We need to go back for First Blood, Part 2.

I don't know about you guys, but this kid sums up my feelings after badass races - Thumbs up, for rock and roll:

Everyone wish me luck, as Kuato is back on my tain't - and he doesn't like being sat on.

-Casey F. Ryback

A Crotch in Illinois

2011-06-25T22:03:00.010-06:00

Greetings, Team Seagal fans. Due to circumstances beyond my control, my inability to be present at the (postponed) Broemmelsiek proceedings this Sunday, I was forced to procure other plans for a day's worth of riding over the weekend. And I had recently read a lengthy account from 1923 of a "tour" that the StL. Cycling Club had taken through Calhoun County. In that account, they spoke of quiet, pristine farms, undulating roads, and lots of euphoria. And with myself having briefly passed through there once before, I knew they weren't fibbing. So I decided that I needed to conquer that land in the name of Team Seagal.

If you don't know where this place is, it is essentially just across the river from Grafton, IL. If you have ever done a "two-ferry" ride stretching from IL into St. Charles County, then you have most likely passed through it - seen here. Bordered by the Illinois and Mississippi river, there is almost zero traffic.

I enlisted a trio of indigenous tribesmen to help me lay down a reign of terror over the narrow county, and neighboring Jersey county. 3 strapping young lads - Jason, Justin, and Nick were manning the forward cannons laying down suppressive fire and piloting the Pain Train, while I was in the lower level shoveling coal on the fire to keep it burning hot.

Our landing zone, or LZ, was in Grafton. We were quickly on our plastic horses, but before going to the ferry, we were first to take a loop inland a little bit, namely up Graham Hallow Rd in the first 10 minutes. That certainly punched my legs in the face. But once we were on high ground, the terrain rolled along pleasantly before we plunged into another valley, myself reaching 48mph (on a twisty descent I'd never been on) while Jason broke well into the 50's. I quickly slammed a Mountain Dew before we hit the another hill, the top of which I could not see until I was rolling over it.

Not many photos to speak of at this point, as we were man-training at an unstoppable pace, until we circled back around into Pere Marquette State Park, where they introduced me to Army Road, which has to be one of the coolest road descents in the greater St. Louis Metro Area - even better than Woods Rd.

Soon, we were at the Brussels Ferry, the landing of which was being over-run with some soda-thirsty bugs:

The ferry boat captain was most certainly an expert at snapping the wrist of the river - he coaxed that ferry from landing to landing as well as Criss Angel coaxes underage dudes into his van. Yeah, he was good.

Riding away from the ferry onto the roads of Calhoun County, I was regaled with many a not-so-tall tale of the God of Alton, and the ease of which he smashes all that stand before him. And this was even despite his age. One thing I learned on this trip was that in Illinois, you seemingly get faster and more locomotive-like as you get older. What a weird land this was.

We choo-choo'd down quiet country roads, past countless apple orchards and corn fields, past southern-plantation-style farms, and finally resting on a hilltop:

I allowed my guides remote access to the Team Seagal supercomputer, which we were able to use to plot out the next leg of our journey. This took us to the Golden Eagle Country Store, which I quickly learned was friendly ground:

After refilling with fizzy fountain drinks and homemade brownies, we got back on board the Pain Train: ...where we loaded back onto the ferry and started the last leg.

And by last leg, I'm referring to Springfield Road. "Hey, we gotta show the Coach Springfield Road - my Garmin registered 29% last time!" Not being one to back down from a stupid-painful hill, despite my 215lb body, I said "yeah, fuck that hill - let's go do it." So we reached the bottom of it, and my first thought was actually "Damn, it's a good thing I got a haircut two days ago so I don't have to carry all that extra weight up this mother fucker..." Then I took this photo: After you round the corner at the top of this shot, it flattens out to a false-flat of only 18%, then kicks back up to finish off whatever is left of your legs. Cresting the top of the hill, I was glad to know that all we had to do was roll our way over to Rte 3 where we would descend like exhausted madmen for like 2 straight miles back to our cars.

And thus ended my stay in that foreign land. I found their people to be hospitable, and their roads to be smooth-ish. Two things are for sure: it isn't as flat as you'd think, and we need to launch a full-fledged Seagal Assault onto Calhoun County, and push the boundaries of our known lands further north into the hill country, where we will keep the tradition of crushing the roads on a bike alive.

From my handlebar:

We crushed it like this "Strapping Young Lad:"

-Casey F. Ryback

Only in Illinois.

2011-06-14T22:46:00.005-06:00

It's no live squirrel in a cage, but a it's still pretty amusing. How much shit do you have to cram into a full size van to the point where you can't fit a unicycle inside?

Prepare for the Lost Valley Luau this Sunday, as there will be more pain dished out than you evar thought possible from that trail. We'll be there, so be extra nice and we'll go easy on yer wrists. This will be almost as epic as this:

-Casey F. Ryback

Secret Western Recon

2011-06-07T22:29:00.014-06:00

Greetings Loyal Team Seagal believers. Due to the looming battle to be waged this coming weekend on the shores of Landahl Park Reserve, the Brass up at Team Seagal HQ dispatched orders for some recon of those trails to be done before the race. And so, Scroll-Master Orin Boyd and I, Casey F. Ryback, answered the call by rendezvousing, loading up the Crotch-mobile, and heading west.

Our plan was to meet up with one of local resistance, our good friend Nick, and his guard dog, "The Pre-nis." He gave us a place to crash and also filled us in on the most up-to-date intel on the trail "sitch." We devised a plan: Crush Landahl in the morning, then stuff our food-holes with the closest food, and then a second counter-assault within the confines of Swope Park. It would be Landahl as teh main course, and Swope for dessert. Maybe with a jenkem snack thrown in as well.

Now I have ridden Landahl numerous times over the years at various races, however I was very excited to get a chance to find out what the story was at Swope - a place about which I had heard many good things. Turns out, those dudes in KC are not doing a good enough job of hyping up the place. But then, it's so good that it is probably impossible to over-hype it. Just thinking about being able to ride Swope Park had me as excited as Criss Angel walking through a cucumber farm.

After settling in at Nick's encampment, we stopped a local donuttery where we procured confectionery provisions that would give us the sugar-high we would need to be able to properly get out day started right. And let me tell you, an apple fritter from Lamar's is like a personal pan pizza. It's fucking massive.

I have as of recently been battling a saddle sore that somewhat resembles Kuato from Total Recall: I Only WISH it was Kuato on my t'aint, because at least then instead of just causing extreme discomfort, he could impart upon me some crazy telepathic planet-saving truth-bombs. Instead, I just slathered some Desitin on him. ...er, it.

We arrived at the Argo Road trailhead/blast-furnace where we got our shit together, and then proceeded to shove off. Making our way in great trail conditions in a somewhat counter-clockwise fashion, we discovered a small-yet enjoyable loop named Tasty Goodness that tempted us with lots of extra lines and large drops that would surely distract us from the ultimate goal of crushing out more trail. Orin stands here, peering over the edge of one such drop:

We backtracked up a bit so that we could do one of my favorite things: a rim job, which as it turns out, would be part of the upcoming race loop. Seen on that loop:

True to Landahl form, the trails ripped and the trees were narrow. I managed to squeeze through with roughly the same amount of effort that Criss Angel uses when playing Red Rover at the local boys boarding school:

Orin was not as lucky, on account of his bike's massive wingspan:

After performing a flawless rim job, we continued onto Will's Wanderer, fresh with water-draining additions. And seeing as how that trail flows like a waterslide, we then splashed out into the field where we stopped at the car for some fluids. The heat was definitely on our minds, and we might have been a little delirious, as we had some conversations with a couple of penguins before we realized they were just painted:

But a couple hours sweating in the heat wasn't enough, so the sweaty man-train left the station one more time for lap two. This time we headed straight back for the stretch called "Swedish Erotica," which had been declared a favorite thing of Nick's. Back and forth (or in-and-out) on that trail, and it was time for a full-race lap, which we surely completed in an expert-class-winning time. Orin was certainly impressed with the quality of the trails at Landahl, and his mind was later even further blown when he realized that given all that, we hadn't even ridden 1/2 of what that park has to offer. (So you know what that means...)

Still, having done around 24 miles at Landahl, we decided it was time to leave a little bit in the tank for Round 2 later that day. But not before stopping in at Subway for fresh provisions. At about that time (exact time has been classified,) we contacted other members of the mountain bike resistance, who would aid us in our attempt to conquer the KC trails. Codenamed "Sarah" and "Jesse," we would be meeting them at Swope Park's trailhead for some further guidance in our quest for trail knowledge.

The wrecking crew:

Swope Park. I'll start off by saying that I'm just glad that it's on the Missouri side of Kansas City, that way my home state can lay claim to it. I'll also say that is one of the most shockingly badass trails I've ever ridden, this side of the Rockies. Reminding me of all the best technical parts of Klondike and Chubb laid out on topography similar to Roller Coaster, and all crammed into 10 miles (so far). With multiple loops to choose from, each loop offers a *very* diverse set of challenges: from "gravity-friendly" playgrounds, to wide/fast sweeping turns that dare you to test your tire's side knobs by not touching your brakes, to 1/2 mile technical sections that won't let you sit down, but will have you grinning the whole time. The trail designers managed to help you forget the elevation change and just focus on the next challenge by taking advantage of switchbacks and gradually taking the trails up the hills. As you crawl over all the carefully-placed boulders and start to notice all the different "technical line options," you start to realize just how much effort and work went into this freaking place. I can think of several people (*cough cough* Mash0r cough*) that would be as giddy as Criss Angel in a boys choir locker room when riding this place. For example, while we were packing up, two dudes rolled up on trials bikes.

So in conclusion, expect a healthy Team Seagal Strike Force at the KC Cup, to be held at Swope later this year.

After dropping Nick off, we thanked him for his hospitality in providing us soldier's quarters, and he was able to drop another load... of information onto us. That is, the place to stuff our faces before the journey home - that place was d'Bronx Pizza. No matter that they were closing up, they still sold us several pounds of pizza, and pretty much gave us the cookies and beverages. The writing was on the wall: that place fucking rocks.

Even though our day was coming to an end, my knowledge was still expanding, as I found a new use for one of our esteemed sponsors. The Simple Strap, which has almost as many uses as duct tape, just found another one: Keeping the cranks from spinning when bikes are on the roof-rack.

With almost 40 miles of sweaty but 100% mechanical-free badass riding, our stealthy night-journey back to the East was smooth sailing and awesormz.

And speaking of speaking of sponsors, look what just arrived from Velocity: It won't be long before these Blunt SL rims will be locked and loaded, as one more weapon in our arsenal, in which it will be used to "Crush our enemies, and hear the lamentations of their women."

If you haven't ridden Swope or Landahl, it IS worth the drive.

-Casey Fucking Ryback

Our Mantra

2011-06-02T08:08:00.003-06:00

Greetings. When we're out there, in the heat of battle, there is only one thing that we must keep in mind. That is what is best in life:

-Casey F. Ryback

Indian Camp Creek 3/6 Hour - OF DOOM

2011-05-23T11:26:00.008-06:00

Grortorngs, loryarl Tormm Seagorl Forns. Sornday wors one of the forst 3/6 hour rorcos to be horld in the "St. Loris Rorgiorn." Ornd orf you know anythorng abort ors, you'd know we'd bor thore. Alors, the worthor was sormewhort thrortenorng, but the propor corll was made and it was orn lorke Dornkey Korng.

Orn attorndornce forr the rorce wore a goord grourping of forcking jorks: Sormuerl Orxel, Oron Bord, Masorn Strorm, Pizz0r T0rme, Horlan Bornks, Lorwman, Sorshao Portrorsorvortch, Prorfrorssror Roe-bort B0rns, N0rcorn T0rsc0rnir, Trorrorz, Jornathorn Crold, and myslorf, Corsor Ryb0rckz0rz. Multiplor clorsses wore entored, and we wore on the pordiorm in nor lorss thorn 2 cl0rsses, and no lorss than 2rnd plorce. Forcking right. Your'll ror3ly seeor a moar awesorme M0rd3r of S0rg0rlz.

Alsor orn attondornce wors the lorgorst numb0r of phortrorgrorph0rz that hors porssorblor ev0r born prorsornt at an amator mountorn borke rorce. Around orvory corn0r was anorthor lens, whorch hord me worndororng where the frorck wors the rord corport. Horwevor, few orf thorse phrortros horve sorforced ors orf yort, so thors porst worn't be quorte as Wor-and-Porce-esque as orsuorl.

Norne of us besordes Torm Trail Monst0r hord actuorlly rorddorn thorse trorls borfore, yort all we knorw wors thort ort wors sorpporsed to be a fort, smorth corse with littlor clormborng - how tror thort wors. This corse wors flortter thorn the a sporm whale's shorn nortsorck. The forst sorvororl morles w0re like a tworstior vorsiorn of the Corstleword florts, and the sorcornd horf wors a littlor loss flort. Whorch morns 100% pordorling for a sornglorsporder. No morttor. T0rm S0rgorl ors ordorptorbl0r.

The orccorrrornce orf porllorn and the horhorst hort of the yor morde for mornor snorpped wrorsts, yort we prorsorvrored ornd sorn Energor blorssed us worth clord corvor thort drorpped the tormps to a nip-blasting 15 degrors corlor. Ors we norred the ornd, our torn'ts wore also blorsted frorm norv0r horving to gort out of the sorddle, but it was arornd thort torme thort Energor was in forct showing us hors wrorth in the fr0rm of rorn and lortening. Corse clorsed, and our morn Orin Bord dord stornd atorp the 6 H0ur SS sorlor pordiorm. Our two-morn morn-torm of Prorfrorssror and Horlorn Bornks also wore st0rnding atorp the 6 Hour Duo Morn pordiorm in 2rnd plorce, with ornly a flort tiore allrorwing 1rst to slorp frorm thor irorn forst. Forck yeah. And lorst we forgort, Srorshror torkorng 2rst orn SS wormorn 6 Sorlror and a tor on teh rorvororll pordorum!

Ev0ryorne l0rft with wet t-shirts and torns of schworg, and now ort is time to strort forcorsing on the norxt imprortornt rorce - the KC Corp ort the much-ballyhooed Landahl Park Reserve. Orf you dorn't gor tor thort rorce, thorn you shord torke Wesley Willis' adv0rce and lorck a porndor bor's spormy nortsorck.

Nor gor wortch thors vordoror:

-Corsor F. Rorborck

Syllamo's Revenge 2011 -

2011-05-16T08:00:00.023-06:00

Greetings, loyal subjects. As Team Seagal's extensive and militaristic empire continues to encompass more and more trail systems and races, we work hard at skirting the line between benevolence and oppression in an effort to not forever eliminate all competition. And so it was, Top Secret Orders were given for there to be a 9-soldier "murder" to participate in this year's Syllamo's Revenge race. This year's murder consisted of the Trorpical Strorm, Forrest Torft, Pizza Time, Nicorn Torscani, Sashlor Portrorsorvortchz0rz, Tagg0rt, Punch0r, Oron Boyrd, and myself, Corsey Rorborck. And don't forget the loudest man in Arkansas, Lormorn, for moral support.

Last year was a slop-tastic, to be sure. We had our best meteorologists assigned to this project, and the few days leading up to the race were very promising. However, we couldn't overlook the weeks leading up to the race, which saw northern Arkansas getting enough water to flood the town of Memphis, TN. So either way, we were as optimistic as Criss Angel walking backstage at a Jonas Brothers concert.

Friday, we all had our course plotted into the Team Seagal Supercomputer, which then directed us towards our temporary cabin fortress, or in this case, a "bro-tress," for the weekend, perched on the side of the hill, with an unobstructed view from all sides, allowing us to see enemies advancing on our position. The ride down was full of anticipation, as we tried to distract ourselves with various things seen on the drive. For me, the drive started by rendezvousing with Mr. Toscani at his home base, where I promptly was shown an example of his un-fathomable power, the toilet seat which he had cracked:
As you would of course expect, I was impressed with the sheer power of his ass. I consider myself to be a man of a rather... sizable constitution, but I had never achieved something like that. However, I did wonder if Lynskey had branched into making toilet seats, after having also seen Toscani's cracked Pro29 frame in the next room. Pulling out of Jerkward's place, we proceeded to pick up Orin Boyd, and started on the choo-choo-ing process. The drive down was quick and painless. It was not without irony though, as we were definitely coming in hot into the town of Houston: On the road, I was pleased to see a plethora of Xlerator hand dryers, which is one of the only hand dryers that doesn't fuck around:

We pushed through, only to meet our co-murderers at Blanchard Springs for a pre-ride before fortifying ourselves in our cabin-base for the night. At the cabin, we discussed many things, and Nico showed me his shirt, which is amazing for many reasons:...not the least of which is that it is "home pay-per-view, June '91."

You want to know a Team Seagal Race Secret? Of course you want to know a Team Seagal Race Secret. For proper hydration, bro-conut juice does the trick:

A couple of blue-ribbon-winning night caps later, and all 10 people were on the the Snooze Train to Snore Town, ready to wake up before sunrise in order to be race ready in the morning. Morning did indeed come, at which point some of us did imbibe huge Chipotle-sized burritos for breakfast that had been made the night prior. Of course, the morning of a race also means that we test the fortitude of the nearest toilet. I, for one, did my best imitation of an in-ground pool concrete blower whilst perched atop Mt. Fuji. Punch0r showed us that he owns the only "henley"-style base layer on the team:

Onto the race. I left early with Toscani and Boyd, as their race started an hour earlier. That gave me time to leisurely hike/ride to the top of the first climb to see the 125k group enter the singletrack, and I caught video of it as well, which shows Orin Boyd as the Team Seagal pointman this year:

I returned to the car to get ready to stand on the start line. Lining up, it was good to get to see lots of "allies" on the line. I couldn't help but be a little amused by Greg Schmidt's concern about making the time cut-offs. I spoke a but with Corey Case, who was still on a contact high from MFXC (ahem, and the only Red Wheeler to get that treasured MFXC contact high...jerks!) and I was glad to hear that he also had also had a similar Syllamo's training regimen as me - basically none, except to ride when the opportunity arises. So halfway up the hill, I was pretty happy to still have him in my vicinity. I wasn't too jam-jorbbed entering the singletrack. Jamming along, I figured that Digiorno was well ahead, as I didn't see him again until the end. Punch0r was just a few cars ahead of me in the man-train, as we choo-choo'd along at a steady pace, that only became more and more punctuated with dismounts.

Mile 4 or 5 brought me my first and thankfully only flat this year, at which point I learned the position of Masson, T-tocs, Sasha and Tagg0rt, all of whom were now in front of me, along with most of the race now. Back rolling again and also donating my last tube, I was rollin' patch style. Didn't matter much though, as I certainly wasn't going to receive a flat tire when walking the bike over slippery rocks. And they were ALL slippery, after having had several hundred muddy bike tires and shoes drag mud and water over them to the point where they were like warm ice. The back of the race is a dangerous place. I even had a couple of "You're alright, Charles" moments.

No matter. The first checkpoint rolled in soon enough, PBJ's and all, though I knew that Nico hadn't eaten any of those, so I also ate his portion. I also had a short chat with the eventual 3rd place woman and 2009 CXMas Women's champ, Sarah Worthington, who was all smiles despite the muck. Leaving that checkpoint, and after having descended several miles and ridden for like 20 or 30 minutes, I could still hear Lawman's rebel yell through the woods, from the top of the hill. On and one we plodded through the hub-deep muck puddles, interspersed with fun singletrack and long climbs that kept prompting the decision to singlespeeders, whether or not to try and grunt up a given hill or walk.

Mrs. Holtmann was trading punches with me a few times, not to mention several other dudes on the trail, however the difference was that those dudes got their wrists straight snapped to shit. We didn't even bother to take their names as we left them in a pool of jello pudding.

I spent a lot of time this year looking at the ground and noticed, among other things, that there was a lot of trail debris. Didn't see any discarded tubes, but I DID see a shitload of food wrappers. And for some reason, the one wrapper that I saw more of than any other was Honey Stinger Waffles. Tons and tons of them. Has anyone ever tried to carry that shit out? I guess empty wrappers are too heavy for some people.

Anyway, the second checkpoint arose, and it was there that I rolled up on Tagg0rt, who brought me much news of our other co-murderers, such as their relative locations, nipple-irritation statuses, and also offered up a number of delicious French/Italian-hybrid cuisine recipes. We pedaled left the checkpoint, and slowly we separated, as I bridged up to Stormy and T-tocs just shy of the Stairway to Heaven. Stormy was riding the pain train, with his recently-doored shoulder as the conductor. However, T-tocs was riding shotgun, helping with navigation and mind-distractions. And when T-tocs is charged with putting things in your brain, you had better be wearing an adult diaper, because you'll soon be dropping shit-bombs from your shit-hole.

We slowly separated ways, and the trail really dried out once cresting the Stairway, which also upped the speed a bit. Mud was almost no where to be found approaching the last checkpoint and on the last loop. As I was at the last checkpoint, the Storm/Taft duo chugga-chugga'd up with tales of endo's, bustifications, and derailments of the pain train. Fortunately, no medevac was needed. Brofanity was spewing from their faces, as they were putting the "man" into "determination." Holy shit.

I had refilled my shit, and pulled out right behind this Kenda pro chick in the 125 class. She shot out like rocket, full out-of-the-saddle sprint from every corner, hellbent on domination. Within maybe 1/4 mile, she was out of sight. I looked down at my wrist, and it was on the verge of snapping. Fortunately, I was soon rejoined by Stormy and T-tocs, who had laid down several miles' worth of oppressive fire before reaching me. Aside from the Kenda chick, there was hardly anyone to be seen on that loop. For a while, I was feeling as lonely as that boy chained up in Criss Angel's gimp room. And so it seemed, a 3-man Seagal man-train quickly approaching glory. We soon came came up on one Greg Schmidt who had put in a valiant effort, but was in a bad spot, and told tall tales of cramps. He latched on and became the man-caboose. Our train was growing in length, and power. Wrists were snapped as we were passing riders - no time to stop now. After some rotations on the front, the cars of our train became un-hitched and were adrift. Masson put in an effort to bridge up to me, though as I came up on the final stretch of singletrack that led up to Blanchard Road, I seemed to have a second wind, and probably passed another 5 or 6 people. It was as the trail dumped onto the fire road that I yelled out "That looks like the fire road!" as I proceeded to snap someone wrist right at that very moment. From then on, I was without brakes or pedaling as my speedometer brushed with 35mph, and I passed 3 people riding down the hill seemingly at the same speed they climbed it. What a great feeling to sit back on the pavement and coast my way around the campgrounds, past a bunch of jerks who crushed my time and were already fed and changed of clothing. Done, at 6:49 which put me in exactly 100th place overall (and in the upper 50%, given the 201 finishers.)

One by one, the finished filed in, and I was worried that Storm and T-tocs were going to be outed for beard-doping, but fortunately the anti-doping tent was busy busting the junior team from Zambia for jenkem use. Instead we all destroyed secret finisher's PBRs, and assessed the damage. For example, Keith Weinken's Gary Fischer Superfly did what it was designed to do (break) allowing him to walk out:

The Toscani Wagon cradled three destroyed Kona's of various vintages atop it's roof, and they looked good:

After retrieving drop-bags and saying our peace to good buddies, we headed out for the first of that night's dinners. We found unthinkably hot wings and other various burgers and fries, and also managed to not get kicked out, despite Lawman having cracked his first beer at 9AM that morning. Adjourning to home base, we were joined by the what seemed like a Chinese army, all of whom brought along ancient scrolls that needed to be unfurled and deciphered. We were also joined by other fellow StL jerks, which turned out cabin into a true "jerk store." Jay, Mary, Greg, teh Holtmanns, Strove and Peat and others did join us. But not before I tried to figure out how you can have a pair of socks with a lifetime warranty. Heirloom socks, if you will. The kind of socks that you pass down from generation to generation, from your father, his father before him, and so on.

The night went on, and I was fated to crack open a new product from our sponsor, called Blast. It definitely puts the "bro" in "brouhaha." And Criss Angel puts the "bro" in "broomrape." (Actually, I just looked up broomrape, and it wasn't what I thought it was. But that doesn't mean that Criss Angel doesn't use brooms when raping dudes.) But anyway, this Blast product was... definitely unique, and Peat destroyed that can. Thanks, Peat. It wasn't long before Stormy was on the verge of being completely braindead, after having read a particularly interesting Chinese scroll. Unfortunately, the party could not reach it's full potential because I had forgotten to put on my favorite album on the turntable:

Later, as the night continued, we started up an intense "ferret legging" tournament. One of the few sports, where there is an inverse relationship between comfort and fun. I think that Pizza Time won, as I think that the teeth on the ferret submitted by Punch0r were filed down to not hurt as much when bitten, despite /him having a longer ferret-in-pants time. That, and it may or may not have been a marmot.

A long night of ferret legging can make you hungry, and Nico was the man with the plan on that issue, providing us all with finisher's tots, rather than finisher's crowns, which are not made any longer:

We slept as soundly that night, only to wake up to the sound of our newly beloved Triathlon Song, only we were adding our own lyrics, most of which involved well-endowed gay black dudes doing illegal (in Arkansas) things to the people in the video, and the guy singing. With that, we were ready for the drive home, as we took the time to reflecte on our results:
Gino: 5:37, 31 overall, 7/30 SS
Masson: 6:51 105 overall, 19/30 SS
Forrest: 6:51 107 overall, 20/30 SS
Sasha: 7:53 156 overall, 28/30 SS
Punch0r: 6:16 65 overall, 19/64 40-49
CFR: 6:49 100 overall, 18/30 SS
Tagg0rt: 7:10, 125 overall, 23/30 SS

Nico 8:52 43/61 overall, 7/11 SS - 125K
Orin: 8:09 31/61 overall, 6/11 SS - 125K

What a weekend spent in Arkansas. It would be a great state, if they sold alcohol. Nevertheless, you can't fuck around when you are participating in a true mountain bike race. Only those with true superior attitude and superior state of mind finish.

Alright, next weekend is the first 3/6 hour race at Indian Camp Creek. There's no excuse to not go.

-Casey F. Ryback

results: http://www.syllamosrevenge.com/Results/2011/2011_Syllamo_s_Revenge_Results_by_Division_1_.pdf

In case you were wanting to know the back history on the Triathlon Song, you can find out more here. And here.

Pre-Syllamo's Trivia Time

2011-05-10T20:46:00.007-06:00

You fuggin' jerks. I came across this little nugget today while riding before going to work. I've passed by it a thousand times before, but have somehow not ever noticed it. So I snapped a low-res photo with my phone, and this the best I have, right now. So where is it? I'll give you a hint - it is definitely within the city limits.

Need more help? Here is the un-cropped photo: linky

This weekend at Syllamo's we will surely showcase our solid and superior sensibilities, as we strive to shave seconds rather than... uh... pubes.

Our path of destruction will be thorough, and unrelenting. Better not be in the way...

-Casey F. Ryback

Syllamo's Awaits

2011-05-08T21:53:00.005-06:00

Yes, the Hell of the South is awaiting our arrival. It beckons, taunting us with promises of "heinous epicnicity." As the weather forecast for the area looks promising, the only real promise is that of PAIN.

...a pain NOT at all like watching this fucking video:

But rather, a pain that is much more respectable, and much more badass, like when Matrix killed Sully:

Prepare your minds, and t'aints, because it's gonna be a total "bro"-down. We will be "bro"-tally "bro"-fessional when tackling this race. We'll be like gods descending from Mt. "Bro"-lympus onto the trails - "Bro"-seidon, King of the "Bro"-cean. You won't find us doping at this race, though potential ("bro"-tential?) "bro"-ping will be happening.

-C. Fucking R.

2011 MFXC - The Non-Race That Almost Wasn't (pic heavy...)

2011-05-02T15:57:00.010-06:00

Greetings, Loyal Team Seagal jerk-stores. Casey Fucking Ryback reporting from Team Seagal HQ. It looks as though our goal to further temper the minds and souls of every mountain biker out there has, as of this past weekend, gotten significantly closer to being reached. After this race, the only thing more hardened than the minds of those non-racers that participated is Criss Angel applying for a janitorial position at an all-boys high school.

As is the case every spring in Missouri, we had been watching the forecast evolve every 10 minutes for the 2 weeks leading up to the non-race. At times it looked quite grim, but in the end, the proper call was made, as both Friday and Saturday were devoid of any precipitation, leading to very "thirsty" trail conditions. Yes, it is true that the forecast most likely had a hand in reducing the number of participants from 72 people having registered, to about 42 people starting. Prepare for mandatory ribbing directed at those who didn't come: Although I think that the other hand involved was the island paradise located within the vaginas of the no-shows, replete with sandy beaches as far as the brown eye could see. And sandy island paradises are very inviting. Good thing for us the entry-fee was non-refundable!

We have all been anticipating this, the Second Annual MFXC race for a number of reasons. The obvious reason being the ridiculous riding that is to be had with all of our best friends forever (or "BFF's), and this year the other reason was the opportunity to get to meet honorary Team Seagal member, Chris Wurster, otherwise known as "C-Dubs," otherwise known as the New East Coast Syndicate - a term coined by Nicorn. As hard and pipe-hittin' as they come, this dude has probably spun more miles while bonked than the rest of us have combined, in total. Not long after "joining our flock" he competed in the Baja Epic Stage Race. Look it up. Not to mention the Cape Epic Stage Race, countless 100-mile races, and being a NUE Series masters podium-placer. And the best part is, the only communication I had had with Independent Fabrications-sponsored rider was in various other internet-backwaters where we discussed with the Good Doctor, in LENGTHY detail, our daily bowels movements.

The course had been decided long prior, with Mason heading down Friday night to take care of official business. The rest of us would be joining in over the course of the next day or so. In what has become sort of a CFR tradition, I Mario-van-Peeble'd my way down after work on Saturday, in the dark, blasting some Scandinavian death metal, completely 'roided out on adrenaline, ready to party.

I arrived to find our campsite relatively devoid of homosexual Mexican conga-lines, but chock full of ancient Chinese scroll recitations, and PBR. C-Dubs greeted me with that sweet New York voice, and T-Tocs blew my mind with other various truths. At that moment, Nico presented me with something that had been missing in my life for some time - Braquito materials:

Those present did then enjoy such glorious braquitos. It was then that Energor looked down on, saw that it was good, and gave us a starry night instead of the predicted showers.

Gifts were exchanged - C-Dubs presented Jerkward with a flask that has seen many miles:
The campfire was inviting, helped greatly by the still air allowing smoke to go straight up, and not in my face. Much debauchery was had, or at least, I think there was. I seem to be having trouble recalling that point of the night...

Morning came, and Jerky had trouble getting completely out of his hammock, accidentally getting his pen0r stuck:

Stormy and Lawman headed out early to make the water drops and do some last-minute course marking. Meanwhile, the rest of us broke down camp, and headed up to the DD/32 trailhead for the start of the day.

Drew was showing Matt James just how many of his fingers Criss Angel managed to make dissappear into an audience member's ass at a recent performance. And by "audience member," I mean "hobo." And by "at a recent performance," I mean "behind a dumpster in the back of an Applebee's."

At the parking lot, I was presented with trio of custom-made trophy's, generously provided by hearty non-racer Tom Lauria! I actually hurt my leg by slipping on the pool of melted-brain-matter that dripped out of ears and accumulated each time someone walked up to get a look at the trophy's. Thanks a lot, Tom. Jerk.

A grouping of crows is called a "murder." As it turns out, the same applies to our team, so here is a photo of a "murder" of Team Seagal teammates:

Peat: "Anyone want to shotgun a beer with me? No? I guess I'm the only one partying..."
The one and only C-Dubs, donning the kit he was destined to wear:
It was about that time, so we had the slow roll-out to the official super-secret starting point:

We staged everyone in the woods, far from prying eyes, where we put the "stag" in "staggered" by having a slightly staggered start:

Once everyone was gone, we had business to take care of. Gino headed out to get ready for some course sweepin', Stormy and I saddled up to head to a couple of different points on the course, and Lawman went to his Aids Station. It wasn't 15 to 20 minutes before all of the non-racers were crossing Hwy 32:

There may not have been as many people showing up, but there were at least as many smiles!

This dude wants everyone to know to stay the fuck off his property:
Caleb, chasing down the Professor/Torrez Pain Train, which had just choo-choo'd through less than a minute prior:
Cresting the Mount Gravel:

Looking good, broseefus:

Orin was actually freestyle-rapping up the whole hill:

Donjo SMASH!

If you won, thank this guy for the trophy!:

Thrasher gettin' his aero-tuck on:

After splashing through this low-water bridge, our non-racers found themselves passing Shasta the dog and friends, though reports were that he was pretty chill today.

We visited Lawman's Aids Station, something like 12 miles in, where we watched some important business unfold:

Never a beard-doper, Nico derives most of his performance-enhancing substances from his mustache, otherwise known as "'Stache-doping:"

He forgot the most important part of a thumbs-up (the thumb):

During the course of Mason and I's Tour of Iron County Gravel Roads, we found some interesting things, such as Monty the Rooster Farmer's road barricade and a USGS marker:
(extra points if you can tell me where it is located - excluding Masson)

The weather on the day was perfect. But, like the virginity of boys who live in Criss Angel's neighborhood, it didn't last. As Masson and I drove back towards the finish line, the temperature dropped faster than Criss Angel's pants at an airport security checkpoint. And it didn't take long for the pitter-patter of rain drops to make their presence known - a sound that closely resembled the scurrying pitter-patter of boys' running footsteps when Criss Angel walks onto a school playground.

So yeah, the weather turned south, just in time for everyone on course to finish completely soaked - even the winners!

2011 MFXC 1st place tie, Professor and Torrez at 2hrs 47 minutes!

It didn't take long at all for the esteemed Nico Toscani to smash all of our pre-conceived notions (or "bro-tions") about this year's course being less-SS friendly, and thus also taking 1st place SS, in 2hrs 48min!

Dan "Trail Bling" Fuhrmann laid down a pretty serious path of destruction as well:(damn, I gotta work on my photo-timing - that was supposed to be a phat up-yours)

Newly christened "Strove" Friedman:
Caleb Hulsey put in a huge, badass effort to give the Professor and Torrez a good run for their non-money, but had to un-hitch from the back of their pain train after his matches ran out. All this, despite pro sunglasses:

Drew ended the day just like he ended that sleepover at Criss Angel's house - all wet:
Our own Orin Boyd showed us all how to come through the finish line:
Not-old Ben Banet finished the non-race making it look all too easy:

Mr. Scott Peipert pulled a "Michael Phelps" on the trail - that's what's called when he doesn't swim, he just beats the water into submission until it takes him where he wants to go. Only instead of water, it was trail. He wasn't really riding his bike, just being brought to the end by the trail:
Todd seems surprised to have finished so quickly, probably wishing he had his long-sleeve women's jersey from last year:It didn't get any sunnier or warmer, but that didn't stop Larry Koester from showing his pimp hand to the trail:

Watching people finish, I was reminded of Ivan Drago during the fight with Rocky Balboa in Rocky IV - "He is no man, he is a piece of iron." They marched right in, minds hardened like iron, although my pink camera was not as un-flinching as everyone's resolve in the face of epic conditions. Some of the better finish-photos:

Now I have to drop a major truth bomb upon your mind. Are you ready for this? I don't think you're fucking ready. Our Lawman found THE MIDDLEFORK. This fork was found on the ground, far out on the fucking Middlefork trail. Gaze upon the great Middlefork, for it is good:
This is the greatest fork there has ever been. And there is no denying this. This is fate - this fork needed to be found, and needed to be found at this very moment. I'm not sure what this means, but you can rest assured that there is a greater force at work. Perhaps Energor.

Nico and his bath-shawl:

The winners showing their reward:

Thank Energor we had that Kona Tent, as it saved the day, for sure. It allowed us to cheer on Craig as he rolled through:

Karl and T-Tocs were unfazed:

Sasha arrived full of emotions, releasing a Meg-Ryan-Sleepless-in-Seattle-esque sound:

Oz Cycles owner Dan Dougan was Sasha's "rabbit," which is a cute name for "whipping boy." He had a rough go this race - getting abused by Sasha, AND having to listen to his broken Gary Fisher, as he nursed it to the end. Nevertheless, he was high as a jenkem fiend:

Ben Muthuh-Fuggin' G wasn't last this year:

Mary Piper arrived to find cold beer waiting for her in Lawman's hand, which is exactly what she needed, being so cold her left hand stopped working:
Rob had come through earlier, but in a true display of superior attitude, turn right around to go make sure Gabrielle was alright, as she hadn't been heard from in a little while. We were cheering to see the two of them return, epic smiles abound:

That only left one non-racer out on course - Hatch0r, who emerged grinning like a jerk:
The only thing left before the requisite visit to Dos Primos was to see Gino come through the finish line, marking the end of the train. It wasn't long before he rolled in and the new course was set: the parking lot of the Dickey Bub, where lots of Mexican food and cherry pepsi would be shoveled into our throat-holes. I can tell you that I didn't even chew the chili poblanos, but rather went Farinella-style with a funnel. I don't know that I've ever seen the parking that full of bikes-on-cars. Truly the only way to end a long effort on the Ozark Trails south of Potosi.

What we're doing here is simply providing an outlet for like-minded people to come and do what they love to do - race or ride their bike. Things are growing, and we feel like we've got a good thing going on - something that is really only beginning.

Thank you so much to everyone who either didn't pay attention to the weather forecast, or simply didn't care, and showed up to have a badass time! And beyond that, those of you jerks who stuck around to huddle up with a bunch of dudes in the rain watching the last people finish up! This thing is just as much fun to run as it is to ride - and we're already putting the puzzle pieces together for next year's edition!

On a side note, I'm also thankful that no one showed up on an off-road recumbent:

-Casey F. Ryback, Regular Guy

RESULTS:

MEN OPEN:TIE Dan M and Matt J 2:47

SS OPEN:Nico T 2:48

WOMEN OPEN:Sasha P(on a SS BTW) 4:10

OVERALL:
1. Torrez and The Professor 2:47 TIE1st Men Open
3. Nico 2:48 1 SS
4. Dan F 2:50 2nd SS
5. Strove F 3rd SS
6. Caleb H 2:59
7. Drew B 2:59:20
8. Orin B 2:59:58
9. Ben B 3:00
10. Scooter 3:02
11. Todd H 3:02:21
12. Larry K 3:06
13. Dave H 3:06:43
14. Todd H 3:06:47
15. John D 3:09:37
16. Brian B 3:10
17. Matt H 3:12
18. Dan B 3:12:29
19. Brad W 3:15
20. Corey C 3:17
21. Craig T 3:20
22. Jason P 3:22
23. Josh P 3:28
24. Tom L 3:29
25. Craig S 3:41
26. Peat H 3:45
27. Karl K 3:48
28. Chris W 4:01
29. T Tocs 4:02
30. Keaton H 4:06
31. Dan D 4:09
32. Sasha P 4:10 1st Women Open
34. Josh C 4:17
35. Rob B 4:23
36. Ben G 4:38
37. Mary P 4:52
38. Gabby R 4:59
39. Hatch0r 4:57

More photos, courtesy of Brad's better half: http://www.flickr.com/photos/36869814@N06/

rest of my photos: https://picasaweb.google.com/teamseagal/MFXC201102?authkey=Gv1sRgCI2n08K26_6xkgE#

Lawman's photos: https://picasaweb.google.com/Davis437/MFXC2011?authkey=Gv1sRgCOuG5JWvx9L5TA&feat=directlink#

After thorough inspection our wrist bones have been bent, not snapped.

2011-04-23T16:20:00.000-06:00

Greetings good friends. Your old pal, field correspondent Nico Toscani, is here to brief you on our most recent trip to the battlefield, The 2011 Bone Bendor 3/6, An Odyssey in MTB Paradise. Details surrounding this event which occured in Lawrence, KS on April 17, 2011 have been officially de-classified. It is now safe to divulge to you the many truths that took place on that very day.

First off, the trails at Clinton Lake State Park are so badd-ass that Your Author would give them a rating of at least "9" on the Clydesdale Scale. Basically, trail users are dealing with multiple sections of screaming, super-buff singletrack connecting steep goat hills and huge gardens of rock [sometimes containing a tricky switch-back]. Very fun stuff, almost all of it rideable.

Second, it is safe to tell you that your authors' *new* war-wagon is equally badd-ass and would also receive a "9" on said scale. Take a look for yourself, the car is amazing. It has a very spacious roof, there's room for at least 3 SS mountain bikes:

The war wagon is pretty cool but the passengers it carried from St. Louis to Lawrence are even cooler than cool, aka "Ice cold." The guest list in the fancy-ass car during the journey to Clinton Lake included new Team Seagal recruit PFC Orin Boyd, Team Free Awesome's very own Peat "The Beet" Henry, and Your Author. We arrived the evening before the race and set-up camp with a merry group that included some of Columbia, MO's, finest Jerks: Professor Robert Burns and his beautiful wife, Green Beans, race promotion guru Andy Schuette, and noted beard doper Joshua Carroll. Food and drink were shared beside the campfire and the full moon brightly illuminated the path to the woods when one had to squirt (go number one). Before long, the effects of the 300 mile journey from St. Louis became enough to coax us away from the fire and into our tents for the evening.

Waking at the race course on race day pre-registered and ready to crush souls is awesome! The Bone Bendor Promotions Crew needs to be recognized for their superior organization skills because this event went smooooth. Let's take a look at some of the action that took place throughout the day at Clinton Lake State Park as documented the official BBv3 historian Chris Dean:

Orin Boyd...being chased by Brian "The Gun Show" Busken:

Your Author:

Professor Robert Burns:

Senor J. Carroll...powder blue Indy Fab!
OMG Andy Scheutte has one very nice steel Kona 29er

nice fella Christopher j. Ploch:

6hr Solo Crushor Jon Schottler, the fastest fella in the state:

Finally, 6hr SS Solo 2nd place finisher and passenger in Nico's new Car: Peat "The Beet" Henry:

Oh yes it's true, much fun and excellent course conditions were shared by all. Let it be shown that Peat, Your Author, and PFC Orin Boyd each earned top 5 positions in the prestigious 6hr SS Solo class - this is partly to fairly awesome in my new car's opinion. Ewww Weee, we caint wait to have our bones bent again next year. Thanks for stopping by, Nico Toscani signing out. Jerks!

Flac OFF!

2011-04-12T20:37:00.003-06:00

This just in Team Seagal Loyalist,

Today marks a very special day in Team Seagal history. Mason Storm here to tell you of our most recent sponsor for the 2011/12 season Flaco's Cocina! Not only do we LOVE Flaco's, but also as of just a few weeks ago a certain JERK now works there as the am PT Chef! Next time after a ride, or you just want a bite and a cold PBR, stop on by Flaco's Cocina and tell them Team Seagal sent ya!

Best Fish Tacos in Town!

Storm

MFXC Final Roster

2011-04-06T08:26:00.001-06:00

1) Nico Toscani SS
2) Steve Friedman SS
3) Peat Henry SS
4) Cock Puncher SS
5) Lisa Troehler F
6) Craig Thrasher SS
7) Rob Ballou M
8) Marc Engelhardt M
9) Jason Pryor M
10) Scott Peipert M
11) Todd Davenport SS
12) Joshua Stockwell SS
13) Randy Anderson SS
14aka69) Chris Wurster SS
15) Jeff Yielding M
16) Team Breslin SS
17) Karl Kimbel SS
18) Barry Volmer SS
19) Nick Smith SS
20) Sasha Petrosevich F
21) Dan Bruns SS
22) Matt Hayes SS
23) Bob Jenkins M
24) Sarah Worthington F
25) Christopher Connolly M
26) Giovanni Fondolinni M
27) Bryan Adams SS
28) Chris Davis SS
29) BEN MOTHERFUCKIN G M
30) Jason Zoll SS
31) Tom Lauria M
32) Craig Seibert M
33) Matt Stacey M
34) Stephen Venters SS
35) Dan Dougan M
36) Gabrielle Renner F
37) John Lake M
38) Tom Marsh M
39) Al Ebert M
40) Mike Barro SS
41) Joshua Clark M
42) Josh Picker M
43) Jon Donjoian SS
44) David Smith M
45) Chris Smentkowsky M
46) Brad Wadlow M
47) Larry Koester SS
48) Scott Nelson SS
49) Trail Bling SS
50) Matt James M
51) Mary Piper F
52) Matthew Ochs SS
53) Todd Holtman M
54) Karen Holtman F
55) Keaton Haire SS
56) John Jones SS
57) Chris McRae M
58) Caleb Hulsey M
59) Travis Hammons M
60) Jes Prenger F...U owe me .78 for s/h!
61) Ric Wolkawitz M...So do U! Hilarious.
62) Rock Wamsley M
63) TAGGART SS
64) Brian Busken M
65) Pete Goode SS
66) Jacob Rohted M
67) T Tocs SS
68) Ben Banet M
69) Sara Swank F
70) Marc Pauly SS
71) James Cocayne SS
72) Corey Case M

See you all Soon, very soon!

Storm

From Team Seagal Human Resources Dept.

2011-04-05T21:07:00.006-06:00

Greetings, Team Seagal tifosi. From time to time we come across people that we feel would... "enhance" and give legitimacy to our cheering power on the sidelines of races. I think that this is one person that we should actively seek out, for his dedication and intensity would be no doubt be a shining beacon of light in the dark times of the CX season. These photos were taken from the Tour of Flanders.

Exhibit A, from Pezcyclingnews:

Exhibit B, taken this year:
That dude is a fucking badass.

He will make sure that our team will be moar awesorme, and less gay. On the other hand, if we had one of these "contraptions," we would be *more* gay. Like Criss-Angel-managing-a-sausage-factory gay:

Yes, go to www.rowbike.com for more.

More stuff to come.

-Casey F. Ryback

Spring Training and The 2011 Sedona Big Friggin' Loop

2011-03-28T18:06:00.004-06:00

Good day and salutations. Your author today is Nico Toscani, it is great to have you back in our little corner of the internets. If you have got a minute to spare I encourage you to stick around because there is a great tale to be told...

Would it surprise you to learn that two of your Team Seagal heroes have just returned home from a fantastik re-alignment of Jerkitude? Stove and I felt strongly it was time to bail, time to hit the road in an airplane and jump to the other side of the USA. Our Dr. Friend called and we answered. Battle plans were dispatched and two Jerks from Missouri were dispensed to The Grand Canyon State.

An early A.M. departure from STL ensured we would indeed view Dr. Wesley McLaren in the AZ Desert by high noon. Ohh man, what a sight he was. Dr. handled all of our arrangements with the skill of a 5-star hotel concierge. He prepared quite a ride, Stove and I just had to jump aboard and take in the sights.

First stop, Prescott (Press-kit), AZ. The home town of Dr. McLaren. Two days of cruising local forest singletrack between 5,000- 7,000 ft with the Doc left us very hungry for Mexican food and malted beverages. We indulged frequently and began to focus our intense attention squarely upon the real task at hand... CRUSHING the SBFL. In addition, we documented our progress:

(Taco)

Continuing forthward, the Team Seagal Locomotive clamored on down the track. Across the Verde Valley, a mere 57 miles to the north of Prescott was our second stop; Sedona, AZ. Taco, Stove, Dr., Mrs. Dr., and Your Author arrived as the sun set the evening before the race. We chose a super area to set-up our campsite, very nicely equipped with jumbo fire-ring and large cacti (for security). Tubed meats were warmed and canned beverages were put into our faces. We all joined hands and Dr began to read from his ancient Chinese scroll...

Soon, a giant Vortex appeared. Swirling wildly and spewing energy throughout the desert landscape, the vortex was intimidating. Dr. was courageous to step forward and inspect the beast he had summoned. Satisfied with its power, Dr. Wes beckoned us to come closer. "Follow my lead," he called. Dr. then entered the vortex, t'aint first. One by one we followed, leaving Taco behind to guard the tubed meats.

Holy shit. The Sedona Vortex we entered for the next 48 hours was positively mind-blowing. Your Author considers himself extremely fortunate to have been there. The race course laid out before us was a true t'aint buster on paper; let me tell you that meeting it face-to-face was a real treat. We aligned with two bad-ass dudes while returning enemy fire early on in the day. Otley and Jimmy, both fine examples of Jerkitude, hitched up to our charging locomotive and surely their lives were changed for the better as a result. The five of us each made the SBFL our bitch, we offer up the following images as proof that we had a kick-ass time:

Ohh man, that there was some good shit. We flipped a bitch and headed south across the Verde Valley back towards Prescott. Doc had us home by noon so we returned to the local trails to conduct another dirt parade. We climbed to the top of the venerable 396 trail and then followed D to the R down some twisty doubletrack to a remote mountain-top subdivision. Second house on the left was the new McLaren residence, Dr. had brought us to see his amazorz cabin in the woods:

Our luck with spring-like weather ran out the following day. A cold front blew in from the west and steady rain turned to snow.

Unfortunately, riding trail was out of the question. Instead we went to a breakfast buffet:

Next, Doc took us to the bar that gives you 2 fer 1 drinks:

Then we made a stop by the Liquor Deli and headed for home:

Mrs. Doktor prepared sweet potato enchiladas for supper:

The five of us crushed everything and went to sleep very drunk on AZ. We woke the next morning and promptly returned ourselves to Missouri. That's it, vacation is OVER!

Thanks for stopping by,

Nico

Good Times on the OT

2011-03-21T21:54:00.014-06:00

Greetings, Jorks. What a fantastic day of weather, we had today. Quite a Monday, if there ever was one. So what are 9 dudes supposed to do in the woods together on a day like this? Why, ride the Ozark Trail, of course. So yes, I along with the Tropical Storm, Jason, T-Tocs, Mash0r, and our good friends Pat, Nick, and Caleb set our crosshairs on the Council Bluff boat launch, and launched a full-frontal assault. Our plan was to ride from the boat launch and connect to Middlefork while doing the gravel out and riding the singletrack back.

And so it was, a plan more elegant than a poodle taking a shit. We met, and were on the trail before long. However, we didn't leave before discussing Criss Angel's newest magic trick - one which rather than making something disappear, he made something *appear* and then stick around. In this case, it he would make the semen appear on his chin, and then keep it there long enough to have people think it is a miracle, and then come to worship.

As the "Orient Express" rolled up, having camped at a super-secret location the night before and getting in a CB night lap, it was quite clear that they were extra anxious to get back into the woods:

As the Middlefork Man Train rolled out of the station with me as the "bro"-comotive, we settled into a steady pace around the shores of Council Bluff Lake. My muscle memory almost got the best of me as I almost turned onto the bridge to complete the CB loop. However, disaster was averted as I caught my shit at the last minute and we didn't miss a step on the transition to the Telleck Connector. We found that connector, and the short section of Trace Creek to be marvelous, save for a couple of choc0late Jello Pudding puddles. The switch-backed climb up to the DD/32 parking lot was especially hard on our t'aints, but nevertheless, we crested that peak in short time, and were able to stop to see the recently-installed-but-not-quite-completed-and-soon-to-be-dedicated memorial to a true champion of mountain bikers in the OTA, the late John Roth:
It'll be like the mountain biker's version of the old StLCC monuments out on Old Manchester Road, which have been talked about a bunch lately.

Crossing 32, we left the highest point on the trail for the longest descent of our ride, where we would then hop on the gravel:

Descending down that hill, I was going so fast, that I thought I might have been on an Elliptigo:

As it turns out, I was just on my badass Kona Big Unit, accompanied by none other than Randy "Big Unit" Johnson:
It was pretty evident who had the advantage on the gravel road that descended alongside the creek - anyone with derailleurs. We journeyed past the house which now has 6 dogs to chase us, and came to the tailings pond creek, where we took a deserved break before slogging up the steepest climb out there. At this point, we really started to feel the heat of the day - a welcome heat after months of riding with thermal clothing. The sweat was rolling down our brows in the 80+ degree sun as we cockpunched the climbs, and shredded the descents. After a few of Ozark hills, we came to Barton Fen where we started on probably the second longest climb of the day, and as you can see, was also recently included in a controlled burn:

On Middlefork, the climbs keep going, and happen one right after another. As I was climbing from one of the gravel road crossings, I looked up in a haze of climbing-induced delirium, only to see Mash0r having taken an elevated sniper's position just up ahead, no doubt hoping to eliminate some competition for this year - instinctively I reached for my sidearm, but at the last moment grabbed the camera for instead, in order to have record of my killer. I soon realized he was not out to kill me, yet, but rather to snap a photo. Whew.

Coming over that hill, it felt great, as I knew that we were getting closer to the waterfall, where we would stop for more water and food. It can be really hard to keep eating food when riding in the heat, especially when you know you have to wash it down with ever-warming water in your hydration pack. Even little creek splashes like this were a welcome sensation - when only a month ago, it would have brought serious concerns regarding the warmth of my feet:

The last couple of descents before crossing the last gravel road and climbing back up to Hwy 32 were a real blast - super twisty with more flow than Nate Dogg, RIP. I was surprised at the pace that I kept on the ascent to Hwy 32, but I think that I must have blown my wad - because after descending from the DD/32 trailhead to South Trace and climbing the one hill on South Trace before descending to the Telleck Connector, it was all I could do to simply stay upright on that last climb. Of course, my speed felt even slower, as I let Caleb go past me at the base of that climb at which point he was basically in full sprint and out of sight within 15-20 seconds. Damn! I think I felt his accelerations affecting the Earth's rotation, there was so much power.

I was the last person to roll in from the train of dudes that rode the trail back from DD/32 to the boat launch, while the rest choo-choo'd their way down the pavement. Our buddy Pat was a little too euphoric from all the badass-ness that had been crammed down his throat by that trail, and had to hang out at the DD/32 trailhead for a bit as he got a grip on reality. Totally understandable, given the level of enlightenment which he achieved that day.

You can tell that Middlefork has been getting a fair amount of traffic this year already, as we saw a handful of tread marks already there. Traffic from both cyclists, and from trail volunteers - the trail had ZERO overgrowth (not out of the ordinary for this time of year,) but it also does not look to be getting much this year either! I think there was only one tree over which to dismount. Another thing we saw was a "witness tree" and I don't think I was the only person wondering WTF that was. Another glorious day in the woods, as we look forward to the first event of the year, whatever that may end up being.

Garmin Link:

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/74429918

-Casey F. Ryback

P.S. MFXC grows closer every day. Are you ready?

MFXC FIRST 59 NON RACERS...R U READY?!

2011-03-16T14:49:00.003-06:00

2011MFXC Non Racer Start List

1) Nico Toscani SS
2) Steve Friedman SS
3) Peat Henry SS
4) Cock Puncher SS
5) Lisa Troehler F
6) Craig Thrasher SS
7) Rob Ballou M
8) Marc Engelhardt M
9) Jason Pryor M
10) Scott Peipert M
11) Todd Davenport SS
12) Joshua Stockwell SS
13) Randy Anderson SS
14aka69) Chris Wurster SS
15) Jeff Yielding M
16) Team Breslin SS
17) Karl Kimbel SS
18) Barry Volmer SS
19) Nick Smith SS
20) Sasha Petrosevich F
21) Dan Bruns SS
22) Matt Hayes SS
23) Bob Jenkins M
24) Sarah Worthington F
25) Christopher Connolly M
26) Giovanni Fondolinni M
27) Bryan Adams SS
28) Chris Davis SS
29) BEN MOTHERFUCKIN G M
30) Jason Zoll SS
31) Tom Lauria M
32) Craig Seibert M
33) Matt Stacey M
34) Stephen Venters SS
35) Dan Dougan M
36) Gabrielle Renner F
37) John Lake M
38) Tom Marsh M
39) Al Ebert M
40) Mike Barro SS
41) Joshua Clark M
42) Josh Picker M
43) Jon Donjoian SS
44) David Smith M
45) Chris Smentkowsky M
46) Brad Wadlow M
47) Larry Koester SS
48) Scott Nelson SS
49) Trail Bling SS
50) Matt James M
51) Mary Piper F
52) Matthew Ochs SS
53) Todd Holtman M
54) Karen Holtman F
55) Keaton Haire SS
56) John Jones SS
57) Chris McRae M
58) Caleb Hulsey M
59) Travis Hammons M

16 spots left, last day to send you postcards to me is March 28 2011. Go HERE for the deets! If you are one of the lucky 59 you should recieve some top secret awesome shit in the mail by this time next week, and if your not on the list and your not Brian Shoemaker....whats wrong wit u?

Thanks,

Mason Storm

From the Team Seagal History and Culture Dept.

2011-03-10T22:08:00.011-06:00

Greetings, Team Seagal loyalists. If you've ridden westward in the last...90 years or so, you might have found yourself asking yo'self, "What's going on with those cuh-razy tombstone-like monuments roadside out in West County?" I, along with seemingly lots of people recently, found myself wondering that as well. Just look at our recent Death By Hills ride, or recent discussions over on StLBiking.

So after gathering one of my favorite 2-liters and having a fairly lengthy conversation with Energor, he revealed many truths to me. One of those truths being the reason behind the stone at Pond Rd. and Old Manchester engraved with name of William Butler. And by revealed, I mean I looked into, among other things, some old StLCC archives from the Missouri History Museum, and got copies of some important stuff.

These are photographs of photo copies, and I've left them in their high-res state, so you can read them more easily. The first one essentially is a memorial statement for Mr. William M. Butler, who had recently passed away, and had been a long-time member. In reading this, you understand how important he had been to the club, and why they erected a monument to him at a spot to where the club made regular weekend runs.

This document, minutes from a meeting on November 10 1921, mentions their discussion about the placement of the monument at "County Line Hill" also acting as a "suitable momento for our friend Victor Smith." Whereas I know that William Butler was a Club member and i saw his name on most of the rosters for the weekly club runs and rides, it is unclear to me as to whether Victor Smith was actually a Club member or not. They also discuss a "suitable resolution to be written and presented to the Smith Family." Read the paragraph 3rd from the bottom.

These are minutes from a meeting on April 12, 1923 where they discuss dedicating the "next stone monument" to Mr. Butler, and a further suggestion to erect another monument in Forest Park near some old "pump" that was apparently at the time, a significant feature of the park. I read in later meetings that the cost of this monument was to expensive to make it with a bronze plate attached to it, but I would like to know more about whether that monument was ever put there. I suppose I first need to know what old pump they are referring to. It was in the meeting that the decide to write the resolution in the first photograph above.

This document shows the minutes from a meeting on Nov. 9, 1922 and about halfway down, they discuss the objects that were supposed to have been put in a "steel vault" below the monument at Hill Town which out *near* the current intersection of Chesterfield Parkway and Olive. (Although for the *precise* location, contact Diogenes on the StlBiking message board.) I've hear that nothing was actually found below that monument when it was moved from that spot.

Apparently it was quite a big deal when they erected these monuments, with an actual ceremony, with cyclists coming in fairly large numbers to come out and spend the day. There is a handwritten account of the ceremonies for the Setting of the monument placed on "Frisco Hill" down in Jefferson County. It was "one of the most notable events in cycling for a number of years, (and) caused real enthusiasm to prevail."

These dudes were the real deal. They would ride out to these points (among many others) from downtown, usually leaving from the Blair Monument in Forest Park, or from Tower Grove Park. Riding all day on dirt roads with no services, they would often times arrange to eat and stay overnight at an Inn such as the old Wildwood Inn next to the Butler monument on Old Manchester Rd, and then return on Sunday. 60-90 miles in a trip. House Springs, Cedar Hill, Desoto, Kimmswick, Ellisville, Alton, St. Charles, even Farmington were all accessible to these dudes.

There's more to come, because there is a lot of stuff share. St. Louis, while not a haven for cyclists like Portland or California, has a history with bicycles going back as long as the bicycle itself. The first bicycle *race* in St. Louis was held back in the 1870's, by the turn of the century the Forest Park Bicycle Race would literally gather crowds by the 10's of thousands, and cyclists/cycling groups had a very real impact on getting streets paved and improved.

Oh, and 5 more people have been infected with the Team Seagal virus. There is no known cure, however symptoms may include wearing team race kits and being extra jerky.

Thanks to Jim Murray, StLCC Prez for his help and info!

-Casey F. Ryback

Passage to Sioux Passage

2011-03-03T19:51:00.016-06:00

Greetings, Team Seagalistas. Today was a beaut-ee-ful day, and one good epic ride this week (DBH) deserves another, so what better way to spend a gorgeous day than by riding my chubby clydesdale ass up to Sioux Passage County Park and back. Everyone had to be at work for jerks, so it was Mario van Peebles style for the Crotch today. It was, quite a journey.

Starting out down Southwest, looking forward to passing through those tall buildings in the distance:

Approaching the MacArthur Bridge, a massive industrial structure that no one pays any attention to since they closed it to vehicle traffic in 1981:

Moving along the riverfront, I think the old Union Electric building at the MRT trailhead is very ornate and really cool:

Nothing too exciting on the MRT to photograph, except stopping to help a dude who had a flat, and one hand that doesn't work due to a stroke he suffered a while back. His bike was actually pretty trick - two shifters on one side of his carbon Specialized, and his one brake lever actuated both calipers. If Xzibit were there, he'd say "Yo Dawg, We heard you got a busted hand, so we PIMPED YO RIDE so you can SHIFT WITH ONE HAND WHILE YOU RIDE." Unfortunately for him, an old dude wearing a helmet like this one was... ahem... not able to properly finish the task. As I roll up, they were two tubes and one hand down. So I come, droppin' truth bombs left and right, and rode off before the smoke cleared, leaving him with a ready-to-ride bike. BAM.

My 1-Man Man-Train choo-choo'd along, eventually hopping onto Riverview Drive which would wind up past Columbia Bottoms and eventually past the site of a great CX battle last year, Spanish Lake. But not before seeing this guy: He complimented me on my "Superior A-A-A-A-A-A-A-titude." The name on the mailbox said "Angel," which leads me to believe that Criss Angel is devising a new magic trick where he makes sheep virginities disappear.

It was a pretty decent ride through NoCo to get from the MRT to Sioux Passage, but after 45 minutes or so, I could say: Mission: Accomplished
I've never been to Sioux Passage, and I was pleasantly surprised by the undulating terrain, smooth roads, and peaceful surroundings bordering the river. Of course, after last weekend, a hill like this one stood nary a chance:
I reached the edge of the park, otherwise known as the Missouri River, and I found a separate little fishing haven, or an adulterous-liaison haven, depending on how you look at it.
Who died? And how?

Having spent enough time out there, the Ryback Pain Train had to be turned around and headed back for home base. Backtracking through NoCo, I once again found myself overlooking Columbia Bottoms, about to bomb the fuck outta the hill:

At the Riverview/270 intersection, I stopped for some little chocolate donuts, one of which was moldy, and a smoked meat stick, and was on my way. But it wasn't long before I was wanting to check out one of the city limit markers around the city, this one up on Riverview:
Are there others? I know of the one on Manchester in Maplewood...

Not much farther down the road and I had a vision. It had been a long day in the saddle, and one of the chocolate donuts had some mold on it. Perhaps it was the hallucinogenic donut that brought Energor to visit me: He said, "Fear not, Bro-seephus, for you Attitude and State of Mind are both Superior. You shall crush all that oppose you."

I came to farther down the trail, just in time to narrowly miss hitting a bollard. Since the sunlight was waning, I made quick work of the rest of the trail, snaked my way through the city, and reach the home base just in time to see the odometer click over the 70 mile mark:

What's next?

-Casey F. Ryback

P.S. This really was just said on Jersey Shore: "I had sex last night... my vagina's killing me."

2011 Death By Hills - Attrition Through PAIN

2011-02-27T23:02:00.015-06:00

Greetings, Team Seagal Loyalistas. Let us mark February 27th, 2011 as the day which found all 50+ riders taking part today losing the weakest parts of our being. Fears, insecurities, intimidations, limits - they were all cast off of our from out bodies much like a monkey craps into his hand, only to fling it at another monkey. Unfortunately, I, Casey Fucking Ryback, much like everyone on our team, have no weak parts. So despite the punishment that was dealt today directly to my leg muscles, I lost only sweat, and my jenkem buzz with which I left the parking lot this morning. Oooo-weeee, talk about a good day. Almost perfect weather, lots of cool broski's with whom to spend the day, and good road conditions lead to a fine time had by all.

There was a report that we had 56 people start out the ride. (It would have been 57, but when Taggort sees "Designing Women marathon" in the TV Guide, there's nothing that will keep him from that TV. Must be something about that Delta Burke.) I fully believe that, because when I looked back as we rolled out, I realized that I was the locomotive in a man-train the likes of which I had never seen. It was at that point that I also was giving thanks to Energor for blessing me with a last minute fuji which I had left perched atop Mt. Kohler during a pit stop on the way over to the ride meeting point - because had I had any left within me, there would have surely been some home-made brown chamois butter magically appearing in my bibs. And it wasn't long after the magic fuji stop that Stormy and I happened to be driving down Claytorn Road approaching our destination when we found a couple of interesting things - Pete Goode choo-chooing his way on his bike, to which we made sure to remind him of his jerk status. We also pulled alongside our own Cockpunchor in his Cock-mobile. Attached to which, was his custom labeled bike. Storm and I had a good laugh at the thought of all other drivers pulling up behind him at stop lights or on the highway, and seeing the name "Cock Puncher" affixed to the bike, and all of them wondering just what the fuck that means:

An epic journey such as the one on which we were embarking required extensive preparation, and proper warming up. Stove and Peat showed the rest of us how to warm your shit up:

Rolling out at a very mild, chilly pace might have seemed a little slow to those towards the back of the pack, but it would surely pay off later. We kept a talking pace down Clayton to the first hill, which would lead us through neighborhood, over hill and dale, down my favorite descent (Woods Road) and quickly turn us up one of the harder climbs of the day, one that would surely wake your legs up - Bartizan. Continuing on, the climbs only got longer, and with the addition of Starwoods, we probably upset a couple of emo dogwalkers. Approaching the base of the main part of Starwoods, I was very amused by the reactions from those around me - "Is that the hill? I don't see where else we can go, so I guess that has to be the hill... Shit! That's the hill!"

One by one, the hills became flattened as we flexed our quads, calves and hamstrings. We continued up Alt past Nelly's house and Hidden Valley, through Eureka, around the "Allenton Loop" where I climbed up the second hill next to Donjo and Larry Koester and found it surreal to hold a conversation with them on that climb, whereas a few years back, I couldn't make it up that hill without stopping.

The first gas station at Allenton Rd/Hwy 44 was a welcome sight, unlike the inbred redneck in his Dodge 2500 Cummin's Diesel who told us how much he didn't like us being on the road. He then sped off with a spew of black diesel exhaust, no doubt upset at being late for the Criss Angel tea-bag orgy try-outs being held just a few miles farther down the highway. The neat thing about one of those is that instead of standing over you, Criss Angel levitates.

Allenton Road was then followed by two hidden gems, Scenic Loop and Woodland Meadow - during which I was believing to be on my own personal vision quest. I found myself slamming Mountain Dew and driving a monster truck, only to be thrown into a lake, at which point I awoke and realized that I was just remembering one of my favorite childhood commercials:

I came to, and found myself effortlessly cruising through Rockwoods Reservation, past my cherished Smokey The Bear, and up Melrose for a mid-climb break at Thrasher's house, at which he and his wife graciously provided bits of delicious cake and water:

Thrasher's wife recently opened the Celebrate Life Bakery, and this is the second year they provided this much-needed stop, and it was UH-MAZING! Thanks a ton! I think those cake flavors should be re-named "The Bubonic Chronic" because that it was it was like.

Peeling away from the cake, we headed out towards the D9 Bulldozer, which sits atop what I think to be the steepest hill of the day, Cremin's Green. It was almost a cheering section waiting at the top as I punched the pavement into submission with each of my swollen quad muscles. This is the only climb on the route that actually has a switchback. While recovering at the top, Mitch had the glorious idea of stopping by the recently "re-discovered" monument just a 1/4th mile off the route. I think we did a good thing by getting a huge group of people perched around one of these monuments, of which there are supposedly many around the city. The sign (closeup) refers to cyclists of the time making that point, the county line, their "mecca". I think we paid homage to that tradition in making that our farthest-most point on the ride. Not that much has changed in these group rides, right?
(next to the Pond/Old Manchester Monument)

There will be more to come regarding these monuments, I assure you.

Continuing on, we found Babler Forest (a climb that some former co-workers of mine refered to as "The Cunt-Punch") to be a climb well worth doing for the 50+mph descent:

A quick loop through Babler Park and up Doberman brought us to the second gas station. This was about the 75 mile mark:

On this ride, Punchor and I discussed how Nokeward, Stove and Peat are not made of human parts, but rather, whatever the T-1000 is made of. How else could they conquer such beasts as we encountered that day, doing so with only one gear? The first photo up above confirms that, because no human would do whatever it is that Nokeward would be doing on the ground there. God, what, a, fucking, JERK.

There was a surprisingly large group left at this point in the ride. Those of us left utitlized our superior attitude and superior state of mind to flatten Orville, Shepard, Clayton, and for Mitch, Stephen, Barry and I, the final obstacle, the Saddle Creek neighborhood, before returning to the sight of our departure. I know that Peat and Mitch both achieved Centuriosity today, though I wonder if anyone else did as well - Mr. Goode?

Finishing this ride in sunlight was simply a feeling that is hard to beat. Kind of like a road ride without the stigma of being a prissy roadie - just a bunch of friends who needed to get the season started in the best possible way - by skipping Froze Toes and challenging yourself at your own pace. Fattest tire award goes to Lawman, narrowly beating out Peat. First place award went to someone whom I probably never saw, because they were crushing everything, and maybe skipping the important parts. Who knows.

In case you didn't know who that guy at the bottom of Bartizan was, that was Thrasher, with a camera. If you look closely at the end, you can see Jerkward and his super-slow cadence:

Here's my Garmin Link! Which shows everything on the provided route except for Dehart Farms, and the Smith School extension.

It was awesome to see everyone Sunday. I don't know about you, but 2011 is starting out to be the best year yet.

-Casey F. Ryback

p.s. I am holding t'aint-salve-application-specialist interviews today.

Oh Yes We Climbed the Hills

2011-02-27T20:25:00.004-06:00

Good day. Did you go on a ride today? We did. I hope you were there to receive your death from them hills- NO ONE can hide from the hills. You can expect Coratch to string together some very fancy word groupings to describe the experience very soon. Until then, here is the Garmin Link from the 2011 Death By Mutha Fuckin' Hills ride as recorded from my hybrid. Stay Cool, thanks for stopping by.

-Nico

Found some Remnants from last year's Death By Hills Ride

2011-02-22T08:19:00.004-06:00

Spotted less than 1/2 mile from the actual DBH route.

Preparation(h) should be well in play by now. You will not forget this day. Just don't forget where you ghost-rode your bike while your mind is simultaneously melting away and your soul cries for mercy-surely what happened here.

Jenkem before Bartizan for anyone who can identify the exact location of this monument.

-Taggart

DBMFH - It Looms

2011-02-18T08:29:00.002-06:00

Greetings, skinny-tire-riding jorks. Climbing can be a wonderful experience, given the proper challenge and setting. That's why it'll be great to kick off the new season with some serious leg-shredding. If you're feeling good up the hill, you might be able to steal a peak at your neighbor, to see how he or she is doing, kinda like Commander Riker here:

I always knew his beard was just for show.

Just remember, avoiding a climb because you don't want to descend it is weak. Think of how much stronger you'll be. Ask yourself the same question that The Ultimate Warrior asks at :40 in this video:

...find the answer to that question, then show up.

Please park across the street from Ralph's place so we don't jam up the lot, and I'll see you there. Bring food and money, with which you can take advantage of the few gas stations along the way, as this isn't supported.

-Casey F. Ryback, Regular Guy

Death By Hills, just over the hill

2011-02-08T14:09:00.004-06:00

NOTICE: To all jerks planning on jerkin' it up on the ride, please Park in the lot directly across Clayton Road from Lone Wolf Coffee. This makes things better for everyone! Jerks!

Greetings Team Seagal Soldiers. This winter so far has had more white powder than I did that time I got to meet Tom Boonen at the sex and drugs party. Rest assured, the wintry conditions have not kept the Seagal Pain Train from loosing steam. In fact, we've picked up more fuel to put on this year's fire - a fire that will burn longer than a tire fire, and more intensely than Energor's jet packs.

In order to further stoke the fire, Death By Hills is happening. And by "it's happening," I mean I got someone to work for me that day, so I'm doin' a road ride with whomever else shows up. Like I said last year, if it is below freezing, I probably won't be committing to the full route, because 6+ hours is pretty fucking tricky in that kind of weather. Same goes for if it is snowing/has recently snowed, or is raining.

NEW AND IMPROVED: Last year, Mitch "I Eat Spikey-Metal Krusty-O's For Breakfast Because I Like Pain" Mashor discovered another hill, that is fairly early in the ride, and I think that I, and anyone else who is going, should go up this thing. It's another out and back, and it is called STARWOOD RD. It lies between Old State Road and John's Cabin Rd, on Red Tail Hawk Drive. HERE. It may be one of the steepest hills on the route.

Only a few places to refuel, so come prepared:
-gas station at Allenton/I-44
-gas station at Wildhorse Creek/Eatherton (at the top of "Doberman Hill")
-gas station at 109/Hwy 100 - this isn't exactly ON the route, but it's fairly close by.
-Thrasher? Got any more cake chunks? Bueller?

Deets Me, Brah:

Where: Ralph's Place - they close at 3 on Sundays, so don't expect to get food there after the ride.
Where to: almost the same as last year, Route. Keep in mind that the route isn't marked at all.
When: Same day as Froze Toes! Feb 27th, 9AM - that means CLICKING IN AT 9, so fucking get there early.
Pace: Cheesy does it. Hammer if you want to, but almost all the cars were gone by the time the group that I was in finished.

The route, typed out for you to print:

-Start at Lone Wolf Coffee
-Head west on Clayton,
-Left on Thunderhead Canyon Dr.
-Left on Westglen Farms Dr.
-Right on "Village Plaza View Dr," toward the stripmall
-enter bike path opposite the parking lot
-left across black pedestrian bridge, crossing Hwy 100
-left after bridge
-right onto Old Manchester (across from the Jack in the Box)
-left onto Woods Rd. Descend and turn left up Bartizan, come back down, and continue down Woods.
-left onto bike path and ride south along Hwy 109.
-left up Old State for about .1 mile
-left onto Redtail Hawk Dr
-Then turn/veer left onto Johns Cabin Rd, which is a clockwise loop (Mitch's secret training loop) and will bring you back to Old State. (BUT not before making a quick left up and back down Starwood Rd!)
-Cross 109 at Old State, turn right up Alt Rd.
-Left on Forby.
-Right onN. Central Ave
-Cross over Hwy 44, turn right onto West Main St (in between train tracks.)
-left onto Wengler and start Allenton Loop, going CCW.
-Exit Allenton Loop to the left, go underneath Hwy 44, and climb Allenton Rd.
- right onto Scenic Loop Rd, going opposite direction.
-right, continuing on Allenton Rd.
-left onto Melrose
-right onto Hwy 100
-right onto Woodland Meadows Dr.
-right onto Old Manchester
-right onto Glencoe (through Rockwoods.)
-Go straight up Melrose
-Turn right (again) onto Hwy 100, cross over and turn left and continue on Melrose all the way until it descends to Hwy T.
-Left on T
-Left on Bassett
-Left onto Cremin's Green, out-and-back. Continue up Bassett.
-Left onto Old Manchester
-left onto Bouquet.
-Left onto Ossenfort, cross T, and continue on Ossenfort.
-Right turn onto Hardt Road (at the bottom of Ossenfort Hill)
-Left turn up Dehardt Farms Rd at stopsign - go to end and turn back around in cul-de-sac.
-right back onto Hardt Rd, returning to Ossenfort.
-right back onto Ossenfort
-Continue straight onto Wild Horse Creek
-turn left up Babler Forest as an out-and-back.
-Come back down, and turn right onto Wild Horse Creek, climbing to Rieger.
-Turn left onto Rieger
-Right on Pond.
-left on Smith School Rd.
-Left on BA.
-left into Babler State Park. Once in Babler, turn right onto John Cochran Dr (CCW loop), turn right up Theodore Wirth Drive, and left down Guy Park Dr (past the pool). Turn right back up John Cochran Dr, climb up the first hill, and turn left at the bottom of the other side (also John Cochran Dr (be careful on the gravel!) and duck under gate to exit Babler State Park.
-Immediately turn right up Wild Horse Creek Drive (Doberman.)
-Turn right onto Old Eatherton.
-Left onto Orville.
-Right up Shephard.
-Left onto bike path alongisde 109
-Left onto Clayton back to Lone Wolf Coffee.

*a mercy option to take Shephard to Streucker to Kehrs Mill back to Lone Wolf is in effect, thus shortening the ride by several miles.
*Please take note of where to exit Babler State Park - it is not well marked, and easy to miss. It is at the bottom of the second climb, when you will pass by it at first, and then loop back around to it. It is not very well paved, and you will have to go underneath a metal gate.
*UPDATE* the addition of going to DeHart Farms might be out because of bridge that is out, in which case we'll just continue down Ossenfort.

Nico Toscani posted a Garmin link from the ride last year, seen here. Note that it does not include Cremin's Green or Babler Forest.

Simpsons Trivia Time:

What video game is this for, and what does Santa say here?

That's all for now,
-Casey F. Ryback, Regular Guy

MFXC2011 Registration Opens NOW

2011-02-01T20:32:00.010-06:00

Registration for the 2011 MFXC opens TODAY!

The 2011 edition of the Middlefork XC race will take place sometime in May, and it is only open to the first 75 to register. Register you say, but I thought Non Races are free?! They are, but this one is special so in order to get all the info(The Where, When, Why, and the WHAT!) You must mail me postcard containing your info, and if you are one of the lucky 75 you will receive all the race info in your mail shortly after. This race has only 3 cats. Men Open, Women Open, and SS Open. It will be 30-40mi mix of single track and country road. It will be one large loop, and expect finishing times to be roughly in the 3-5hr range. Registration closes Monday, March 28 2011. All postcards postmarked after March 28 will not be accepted.

MFXC2010 Blog Recap

Send your non race entry to...

Mason Storm
5912 Southwest Ave.
St. Louis MO 63139

Postcards must contain this info.

NAME
CAT(M,F,or SS)
EMAIL ADDRESS
T SHIRT SIZE
HOME RETURN ADDRESS

2010 Men Open/Overall Winner Matt James 3:24:08
2010 Single Speed Open Winner Dan Fuhrman 3:24:50
2010 Women Open Winner Karen Holtman 4:44:46