If winter had a face, I would punch it - Stage Two

2/10/2008

By Ben, photos provided by Chris Diltz

The weather forecast.. Top one has windchill in blue (f) Bottom is windspeed and gusts (mph)

The tour. There is nothing quite like waking up at 7am on a Sunday, realizing it is 3 degrees out with 30mph winds coming out of the northwest, and getting dressed to do a bike race. I had trouble coming to terms with the forecast, so I sat in front of the computer in my union suit, the red, one piece, button up long underwear with the flap in the back, to double check the weather. Yup, clear and cold with a –30 degree wind chill. Accuweather.com had a severe weather warning, calling it "dangerously cold". I decided to check the Tour thread on the Chicago bike forums and see what people were saying. Someone posted a warning about doing heavy cardio workouts in that kind of cold. According to them, you can frostbite your lungs from breathing in so much cold air. Interesting. So I finished my cereal and cup of coffee and continued to get dressed. Being a messenger helps you know how to find the balance between dressing so you don’t freeze your ass off and still being mobile enough to ride a bike, so at least I felt like this was something I could do.

I’m out the door and into the frigid February air to ride to registration. My first couple of breaths hurt, and there was a dull ache in my head, sort of like when you drink a milkshake too fast and get an ice cream headache. I got to Stan’s place expecting to see only a few other bikes. I was really surprised to see over 50 locked up in front of his apartment. I ran inside, paid my 5 bucks, and got ready for the race.

The format of the race was really interesting. There were four rounds and a sprint final. In each round, the field was cut in half, and then the last four racers would have a one-lap sprint around the inner drive of Humbolt Park.

So 51 racers lined up in front of Stan’s place at Haddon and California to start the first round. The checkpoint was at 701 S. Dearborn. Only the first 27 of us to finish would move on to the next round. Molly and I lined up together near Mike Morrell. I remember someone making a comment about how Mike didn’t have goggles.

“Nah, I don’t need ‘em.” was Mike’s response.

I had two goals for this stage. One was to help Molly out, and the other was to beat Mike. We had raced fairly close in both of the other stages, but he had beaten me both times. The race started, and everyone took off in two directions. About two thirds of the racers went down Division to Milwaukee, and then into the Loop. The group that Mike, Molly, and I were in took off down California to Grand, and then into the Loop. We started to split up on Grand, and I lost Molly along the way. When we got to Grand and Milwaukee, it seemed that we had made a tactical error. The group that took Division had made better time, and the lead group of our pack was a little ways back from the leaders of the Division group. Everyone broke up once we hit the Loop, so it was hard to tell where you stood. I could see a lot of racers who had already turned around as I approached the checkpoint. Josh Korby signed my card and told me that I was in the twenties. Mike Morell had already left the checkpoint, and I could see Molly coming down the street in a big group. None of them were going to make the cut unless they gained a lot of ground on the way back. I thought about waiting for my teammate, and trying to help her make the cut, but I was on the bubble myself. If I had waited, I’m sure we both would have gotten cut.

I headed back into the Loop by myself. Somehow I had gotten separated from everyone else. It would be a long, cold, and lonely ride back to Humbolt Park. The first time took a turn heading west, the wind literally stopped me. It took all of my strength to turn the cranks and start moving into the 30mph headwind. I made it almost all the way back to Stan’s before I caught up to any other racers. I tried to draft the first guy that I caught, but he was gassed, and was only going about 10mph. So I passed him up and tried to bridge to a group of three. I made it, and found that Nate K , who is a couple points behind me in the messenger ranking, was in the group. As soon as Nate saw me, he tried to take off, because we were only about a half a mile from the finish. I sprinted forward and grabbed his wheel. We pulled ahead of the other two racers, and played cat and mouse all the way to the finish line. About a block away, I made my move and sprinted as hard as I could toward the line. Nate followed, but he wasn’t able to catch me. It must have looked really strange, because we must have been doing less than 20mph because of the headwind, but we were out of the saddle and going as hard as we could.

We both made the cut, but barely. I handed off my business card manifest at the finish line, and put my head down on my bars, because I was seeing stars and could hardly breath. I looked up to see Mike Morell (left), and he looked really scary. His eyelashes were covered in ice.

Someone asked him “Hey Mike, Can you blink?”

“I think so.”

We had five minutes to rest before the next round started. Everyone on the Cuttin’ Crew had made the cut but Molly. She came in a few minutes after I did. The next round was shorter than the first, to Mojo’s Coffee shop at 2256 W. Roscoe. Thankfully, everyone took off pretty slowly down Division in a big group. It continued this way up Western Ave. Finally, when we reached Logan, Al Urbanski made a move. He cut off east to Diversey, and took it to Damen. Most of the contenders went with him. I followed along with Nico, and about 10 others. This seemed like kind of a dumb way to get to the second checkpoint, but we were committed at this point. We reached the checkpoint in a big group, and I knew that only the top 13 would move on to the next round. I was happy to see that Jerry Moleman was the checkpoint worker. Jerry was the first friend I made when I came to Chicago to be a messenger. So I held my manifest out, and yelled “Hey Jerry!”

He looked up grabbed my card, signed it, and I was off, which gave me a little bit of an advantage. I turned around, and made the ride back to Stan’s. The pack had split up into several smaller groups. I made a break from the group that I was in about two blocks from the finish, and once again barely made the cut. Nate, Al (left) and Mike Morell didn’t make it, so this would move me up in the messenger ranking.

The third round was shorter again, to coffee shop at 1001 W. North Ave. Once again we took it slow at first down Division Street. I positioned myself, along with a couple other guys on the Crew right behind Nico. Everything was fine untill we got to the crazy intersections at Division, Milwaukee, and Ashland. Any savvy alleycat racer in Chicago knows that you have to make a move at that intersection in a race. I stuck to Nico’s wheel as he weaved through the traffic and made it without incident. But I wasn’t prepared for what Nico would do next. As we came into the underpass for the Edens Expressway, Nico suddenly made a left onto the entrance ramp. Four of us went with him, and I heard the guy behind me yell “Are you fucking serious!? The fucking Expressway!!?”

So we all bunched up into a tight paceline, and rode close to the retaining wall on the right side. Since it was early on a Sunday morning, all of the cars were going full speed, passing us at about 80mph. It had been a hell of a morning already, and now I found myself choking on exhaust fumes in the cold air and fearing for my life on my bike on the Edens. Thankfully, we got off at the North Ave. exit and headed east toward the checkpoint. Our move hadn’t saved us any time, and I could see some racers coming back on North who had already made the checkpoint. Nico was in and out of the checkpoint, and tearing back to Humbolt Park against a furious wind. I knew that we would have to pass people to make the cut, but I didn’t have anything left at this point. I watched Nico get smaller and smaller as we rode west. I limped back to Stan’s, frozen, exhausted, and beaten. I wouldn’t make it past the third round.

I watched the fourth round from the warmth and comfort of Stan’s third floor apartment while drinking coffee. My feet were numb, and the rest of my body felt exhausted and kind of weird from working so hard in the cold. I looked out the window and watched Nico, Brean, Jeff, Adam, Andrew, Avi, and Ted start the next round while picking ice out of my beard. I reflected on the morning so far. I had fun racing, but was kind of glad to have gotten cut, and to be in the warmth and comfort of the apartment. After about 15 minutes, someone looking out another window yelled, “Here they come!”

We watched out the window, and could see Ted, Andrew, Jeff, and lastly Avi coming up California from the south. Since only four would make the cut, this looked like it would be the last round. But then someone spotted Nico coming from the other direction. The racers all saw each other, and started sprinting towards Val Bostrom (right), who was collecting the cards for the finish. The first three made it easily, but Avi and Nico both converged on Val from different directions at almost the same time. Nico held out his card, but overshot Val, and Ended up smacking Avi in the face. Avi actually got his card into Val’s hand first, so it looked like the Orange Jersey wearing Nico would be eliminated before the final round. An argument ensued, gloves and index cards were thrown to the ground, and it looked like it might be an ugly end to the day. But Mike Morell, who is the tour organizer and a consummate gentleman, declared it a draw, and decided that five racers would be in the final sprint.

The racers got a little break before the next round. Andrew and Jeff were our only hope for taking the stage win, as everyone else on the crew had been eliminated. Andrew came upstairs and sat on the couch. He didn’t look too good, so the Cuttin’ Crew converged on him and started to rub him down. Molly took one leg, and Al took the other. I started rubbing his shoulders. After a ten minute break, everyone headed back outside for the final round; a one lap sprint around the inner drive of Humboldt Park. The five finalists lined up, and then took off slowly. There was a lot of strategy for the sprint. No one wanted to be the first to take off and get burned out. About 40 people waited at the finish, and people started to get impatient. We imagined all five finalists track-standing at the other end of the park, waiting for someone to go. Finally someone said “there they are!”

We saw Nico first, and he had about a 150 meter lead on everyone else. It looked like he would easily run away with the stage win. Out of nowhere though, Jeff started to accelerate out of the distant pack. He whipped to the outside of the inner drive, and started to make up ground on Nico. Everyone started screaming as Nico and Jeff got within 100 meters of the finish. They were both out of the saddle and sprinting as hard as they could into the headwind. Even in the three degree winter air, the scene was electric as Jeff passed Nico a few bike lengths from the line to take the win. Everyone watching was yelling and screaming the whole way.

Over the last couple of weeks, despite the cold weather, the Rooster has been pretty hot.

Ah Grate - Stage One

1/27/2008

By Molly

I woke up at 5:11 am, four minutes before my alarm was set to sound off. I had 6 hours sleep, but somehow felt rested anyway… most likely because it had been two weeks since the prologue, and two weeks since I’d been on the bike.

I rarely get sick, but when I do it’s usually something pretty nasty and intense – this was such an occasion. My first instinct was to go back to bed, pull the fuzzy warm covers over my head and forget that I was ever interested in riding on a cold Sunday morning. However I had ample time to talk myself into putting on my cold weather gear. I made a French press of Yerba Mate or as I lovingly refer to it as my “life juice” and headed out the door for my “warm up” ride to Stan’s house. When it was 30 degrees warmer my apartment at Central and Cermak didn’t seem like such a tough ride – this morning my IPOD and I were on the same page: Slow on the upstart and or frozen.

I arrived at California and Haddon around 7:15am and began to jump up and down to recover any feeling I once had in my feet. Hot coffee was offered, for a split second I fantasized pouring it on my feet – the moment was fleeting. I was brought out of my day dream as more people arrived. I was pleased to see a few familiar faces. I hadn’t looked at the route at all – I probably shouldn’t admit to this, but I was extremely unprepared. I found a fellow messenger who seemed to know every street to take. I repeated after him to try to memorize the route. Like a goldfish without a memory or more realistically a “molly-full-of-antibiotics” I instantly forgot everything that was said. “I’ll just follow you, Jerry!” was the end statement. We talked of bridges and continued our coffee.

I accepted that I was probably not going to do my best, but I came out to try anyway. This should count for something, yes? This put my mind at ease and shook off those pre-race jitters. I would follow a pack, hopefully stay in it and treat this as a training ride while enjoying the experience it had to offer.

At 8:15am everyone filed (or fell) down the stairs to head to Humboldt Park for the mass start. We had the course shouted to us along with warnings / disclaimers and then we were off. The pack quickly thinned as the strongest took a decent gap. The grueling part is always in the beginning. Without a warm up and everyone sprinting for a lead the only thing I can do is look for a wheel and suck it. It becomes a smaller pack of maybe 10 riders, I look around for my fellow messenger/tour guide and he’s nowhere to be found. It looked as though I was relying on a few strangers to get me though this race. I sat in the back most of the way into the city and was more cautious at red lights. The stretch down Grand was actually pretty pleasant – It reminded me of when I used to bike on the long board, it’s one of the best horizontal streets, and I took it often.

Once we got downtown I got a little cocky because I felt as though I was racing home turf. Grated bridges were nothing scary; I deal with on a daily basis. The only bridge I have beef with is the one on Wells Street. Careening to the left I rode up the sidewalk in front of 325 N. Wells which gave me an opportunity to see East West traffic from Wacker. I was able to make my way through it safely and quickly. The pack was sufficient and yelling commands; for example someone would shout out “slowing” at a traffic light or “clear” if it was safe to cross an intersection. I happened to be in the front of the pack on Grand headed west. We approached Clark Street. I saw an opportunity to cut through traffic not as a pack but solo. I didn’t yell. I didn’t know what I could have yelled. “Not clear!” seemed like it might have been confusing. I pulled a messenger move out of my bag and as a result heard several car horns sound off behind me. Thank goodness the cars stopped for the other bikers and thank goodness no one flicked me for being inconsiderate. I didn’t want to stop. Oops?

At one point during the downtown portion of the race it got me kind of giddy- Taxis stopped for the pack instead of the normal honking which solo riders seem to attract.

Still a novice I’m becoming savvy with the pack perks that the Tour provides.

Successfully crossing every bridge, we headed back towards Humboldt Park. I was beginning to warm up and I felt a lot better than when we started. I tried making small talk with someone but he had short answers…friendly enough, but not really having it. Meh.

As soon as we approached the Humboldt Park area the pace picked up considerably.

I held my ground. I hadn’t the slightest idea where the finish actually was, and it seemed like nobody else did either. There may have been a couple false sprints due to this.

“Pot hole!” said the person in front of me. “THUNK!” said my wheels. “SHIT!” said I.

Oh wait, there’s the finish. I’d worry about my wheels in a minute.

I had no idea that I was going to be amongst the first females to finish. It came down to Julia, Brynn and me. Still behind the two, I pushed ahead of Julia and rode past the crowd to finish second to the lovely Brynn. I didn’t expect to win and I didn’t, but then again I didn’t expect I’d come in anywhere close to first, so I was pleased. Numb footed and shaky I rode back to Stan’s to warm up and change into the dry top I’d brought with.

Getting the feeling back in my feet took some time, but it was time well spent. I had the chance to meet the first place female finisher, who was absolutely adorable and a very gracious winner. The winners were announced and beer mosas dispersed. I took a sip and quickly gave it away forgetting that I was still being dosed with antibiotics. I did get to partake in yummy vegan breakfast food. Thanks Al and James! They really are the best Cinnamon buns ever!

All in all, it was a good morning.

9+1=Stacked

Well, it's been on everyone's mind lately so we might as well come on out with it...

Brean has officially joined the Chicago Cuttin' Crew. No two ways about it. Your boy Bre is going to add experience, guidance, talent, tenacity, killer race resume, punctuality, uh, sarcasm, um, red hair, and, oh yeah, he does have his mature demeanor to contribute to the team.

We're damn proud and very glad to have him.

Wow...

That was pretty intense. Mother Nature hates Chicago. The race was structured like this. Here's the synopsis from the desk of Cuttin' Crew OG Mike Morell... --------------------------

Tour ’08 - Stage 2 results I seriously was expecting 20 maybe 30 people for this stage considering the conditions. If I wasn't organizing the damn thing I would've stayed home. But 50 riders started (and finished) the first leg. Congratulations to everyone for surviving with digits intact. And how about that dramatic finish on the inner drive? Jeffrey Perkins sprinting to catch and power by the orange jersey just yards before the line to wrap up first place. Nico retains the orange with three stages to go, but the race tightens. Remember, only the five highest stage scores count toward your final overall tally.

Here are the official results for Stage 2:

1st (also first fixed and messenger): Jeff "Rooster" Perkins

tied 2nd-5th (in no particular order): Avi Neurohr Ted Burger Andrew Nordyke Nico West

tied 6th-7th (in no particular order): Brean Adam Clark

tied 8th-13th (in no particular order): Austin Warner Andrew Yeoman Stanley Jon Gatto Ben Fietz Kevin Clark

tied 14th-25th (in no particular order): Evan Poncher Dan Cunningham Oren Miller Adam Herndon* Erik Herro Ivan Banning Kieran Aarons Nate K Mike Morell Al Urbanski Matt Lynch Bradley Gates

tied 26th-50th (in no particular order): Tyler Tazioli Carlo Fazioli Frank Chemotti Ryan R. Scott Sanderson Alexis Finch Leslie Chris Jensen Pip Potter Simon Q Nate Maier Rivaldo Laura Green Jon Skaggs Brynn Schwaba Brad Dehmlow Morgan Lee Brad Roback John Clark Molly Godlewski Edward Lynch Julia Asherman Jeremy Treister Neil McNamara Tom MacNeil

1st female: Laura Green

1st out of town: Frank Chemotti (Madison)

--------------------------

Click on the image of Mike or here for Chris Diltz's flickr page.

Oh, and one more thing...

In case you haven't gotten sick of him yet, Jeff just helped put together some more reading material. Luke over at chicagobikeracing.com set up an interview to get personal. In the midst of it, Jeff shared a quick scoop on the Crew, it's background and some tidbits on riding in Chicago.

Eyes and heads are turning to find out what's going on here in the Windy City and we don't intend to disappoint.

One quick favor to ask from you locals. If the next time you happen to see Jeff and he's on State street preaching anymore of the good word please finally take the mic away from him. In other news Maxwell has his cast off and is LOVING it! It's nice to see everyone rolling again, welcome back Max!

Stuporbowl XI

2/1/2008-2/3/2008

By Jeff

Top photo provided by Chris Go. All other photos provided by deplaqer unless otherwise credited

Warning: This is really long...

PRE-RACE ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Much of Friday’s radio chatter at 4 Star was devoted to making plans on not only getting up to Minneapolis this past weekend but also staying in Minneapolis over this past weekend.

Luckily, around lunchtime, we ran into an old receptionist turned friend thanks to one of our clients, Jaclyn (AKA JC). Mike Morell and I took her to a pleasant lunch at a downtown diner and eventually got to mentioning our trip to Minneapolis that night to do this race thing. We told her we had no plans but to race and whatnot when she lit up at the idea of setting us up with her best friend who could house us all. We aren’t proud people when it comes to these things so we took her up on her offer to call her friend Rachel and see if she would be fine with hosting 4 complete strangers for the weekend on about 12 hours notice.

Mike and I shrugged a "what the hell" shrug from across the table as she dialed up Rachel and waited for an answer.

"Hey bitch, it’s JC. I was just wondering if you wanted to have four hot bike messengers stay at your house this weekend. Give me a call back." Slap! Was the sound her phone made when she hung up.

Mike and I exchanged a quick "what the hell?" glance but refrained from questioning too much because it was probably typical signs of affection between the two.

"You guys will LOVE Rachel, she’s really funny and she’s in roller derby. Her roller name is Anne E. Briated" JC assured us.

"Awesome. Roller derby girls are kickass and can really party." Cut to Augie sharing his wisdom from behind the steering wheel. I pulled shotgun while Mike and Josh Korby rounded out a rather packed Ford Focus.

"She seemed fine with having us over. She said her mom was going to be visiting Saturday night but that should be okay anyway," added Josh.

We had intentions of leaving the city by 7:00 PM. True to form, we were still in the city at 9:00 PM. It was a cramped ride but we had to make do. After 5 hours, Josh sent Rachel a text to see if she would still be okay with us arriving a little later than expected. She responded by saying she was out and would be fine with having us come.

"See? What did I tell you? Roller girls can party," Augie reassured.

We finally arrive a little after 4:00 AM. Rachel left a light on for us, a good first sign that she’s nice. When we wake her up and walk into her house she introduces herself and the house Chihuahua, Stella and then she shows us the blankets and pillows set out for us in the basement. It was late, we were tired, she had a kickass dog, a case of beer, and she made us feel welcome, this trip was off to a very good start.

RACEDAY -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next morning we awoke to Stella jumping on each one of us in turn. Sure we only slept about 5 hours but this dog was too hyper and awesome to get upset.

"Good morning sunshine!" was the greeting we each received from Rachel’s roommate, Nikki (AKA Li'l Hellion). "My mom is coming by in a little bit so I hope you don’t mind the early rise, who wants coffee?" I never drink the stuff but it was a must for everyone. She went upstairs to the kitchen when Rachel came down to ask us about what the plans were for the day.

Mike began with, "We figured we could treat you to breakfast and then we should get going to registration for the race. The race is at 2 and registration opens some time before that. We should really check with—"

THUMP! THUMP! Was the noise made when Nikki fell down the last two steps to the basement while carrying a tray of coffee, beer and Jaegermeister. She was on the ground laughing hysterically by the time we all turned to see what happened. I quickly jumped up and picked up the bottle of Jaeger, Josh immediately reached for Nikki. Josh is nicer than I am.

I will say Li'l Hellion’s got some skills because despite not being able to handle that last step, only one cup of coffee spilled and she kept the tray upright. I refilled my coffee cup with Jaeger, Augie cracked another beer and we continued to plan out our day.

Andrew called around this time saying he has been wandering around the city since 5:30 AM. He took the Megabus on a last minute call, hadn't slept more than 20 minutes and still had nowhere to stay. Rachel and Nikki were cool with having yet another stranger come by to shower and sleep while we all went to get some food, so we invited him over.

The other three rode their bikes to breakfast. I was a bit slow-moving and figured I could keep our hostess company in her car as she drove to Legend's Café, a bar and grill that had 25 ounce Bloody Mary's. I forgot my I.D. but everyone else there was happy to partake.

We explained the whole premise behind the Stuporbowl and alleycats and how much fun these things are, how great they are for the messenger community and all of that when I saw outside that four more Chicagoans had found their way to Legend's. Trips, Nate, Molly and Ben all rode together and stopped to meet us on the way to registration.

It was awesome to see four members of the Crew could make it and it was even nicer to see there would be more people from Chicago actually there.

After breakfast, Rachel drove me home to get my gear and bike when we found Andrew was awake and working on his bike.

"Did you get a nap in?" I asked.

"No but I switched out my chainring and front tire and I’m ready to go," he replied with one foot practically out of the door.

He left and I started to get my gear together.

"So are you guys going to win this or something?" Rachel asked.

"Typically, people from out of town don’t really win alleycats. An overall winner is usually a local. They do make a category for someone who is from out of town though. They also do top woman and the best drinker. I’m kind of glad Andrew made it because I was considering the drinking race as opposed to the speed race and Andrew can do a good job repping our crew and Chicago in that manner."

"Oh, that sounds cool. Let us know about the after party and all of that when you guys are done then."

I thanked Rachel and wished her well before rolling out to find registration. I didn’t make it three blocks when I realized I was rolling halfway down an expressway exit for Interstate 35W. Good start.

When I got to One-on-One bike shop Augie was filling out a registration slip for me. I still had time but no money and he was just being nice. When he finished all of that, we walked through the coolest bike/coffee shop ever. It was full of vintage bikes, insane equipment and tons of cool people.

Shiprek

I was staring at a Cane Creek Carbon track wheel when out of the corner of my eye a big, grinning man who goes by the handle Shiprek popped into view to give me a nut-tap.

"Hey Rooster!" He said with a hug.

Shiprek is old school Cuttin' Crew. Since Chicago, he's been in Kansas City making a hell of a bike scene flourish (see bikeliker). We chatted a bit and I discovered he brought three other guys with him, Rob, Chris Go, and Grant. I met Grant before but I had never met Rob or Chris Go. Chris was doing an awesome rep, he came decked out in a button snap KC Royal’s Starter jacket, KC hat and Chief’s gloves.

"Are you hammering this one or what?" Shiprek asked.

"Haven’t made up my mind. This looks pretty confusing and I have no idea how to get to St. Paul."

The organizers last year had a huge, colorful map on the back of the manifest. It was the greatest map I’ve ever seen at a race and this year they did put another good map on the back but it wasn’t quite the same. If I got screwed over by direction last year, who knows how nasty this year would be.

We caught up a bit and then Andrew pulled me away to actually look at the map and figure out where we should go first and all that. Trips is anchored in MPLS so he made numbers on his manifest and map to indicate each stop. He planned out the first stop and a large, counterclockwise route for us to take to hit all the stops.

We all rode to the start as a group. It was a huge mass of about 360 bikes all rolling to some part of the river for the official start. Chicago and KC all kind of huddled together as one of the officials gave the rundown. My toes were getting a little cold and I was still wondering whether I should go for it or not.

They shouted us off and a mass of 300 some people all ran for their bikes. Trips directed us to run up a hill to get to the overpass above us. Andrew was shouting at us to hurry up as we each mounted our bikes on the street and rolled off as a few of the first people out of the park. Austin Horse and Pablo of New York were putting the hammer down as they rode the opposite direction so I shouted "Yeah New York!"

We were riding as a pack at a decent clip. KC Rob, Andrew, Korby, Mike, Augie, Molly, Ben, some other guys and I were towards the front of the group as Trips hung with us to shout directions.

"Right up here!" would be directions.

“RIGHT!” Andrew would shout to confirm.

"Right!" "Right!" "Right!" the shouts would echo through the group.

"CLEAR!" someone would say from the front of the pack every intersection we came to without a chance of getting hit.

The first stop was a bike shop on the Northwest side. The parking lot was covered with ice patches and we all had to single file to get our manifest stamped. Andrew was keeping track of Chicago as he was back out and on his bike before most of us.

Trips turned onto the street and immediately dropped his chain. None of us knew where we were so we rolled it slower waiting for him. He would shout even louder from a block away until we reached the next checkpoint, the first of many Bars.

That was a bit more congested because people were coming from another direction but this person was quick with the stamp so we got in and out in a group still. You could tell Andrew was holding back waiting for our escort who had bad luck in the Bar too.

Third stop was a mess. It was a Bar we all bum rushed and were directed by the people at the table to go to the back of the bar and buy a raffle ticket for a dollar. When we got to the back the guy selling the tickets wasn’t ready and asked for TWO bucks. Fucking opportunists. Luckily I had some cash on me but I would have been pretty pissed if I didn’t. He was taking some time with each person’s ticket and by now I was getting overly anxious. I ran back to the CP people with my ticket and they commanded me to write my name on it. More mysterious directions equals more aggravating. I write down my name and race number and hand my sheet over, thanking them regardless of my stress level.

I hand someone the pen I used and grabbed a manifest from off the table and run outside. This was a huge funnel and it was becoming apparent that we wouldn’t all stick together so I looked at the map for the first time to figure out what the hell to do.

It really tripped me out when I checked the map because there were no more numbers and no stamps. Then I realized as I see people rush in and out that I grabbed the wrong manifest! I run back in hoping it's still on the table and some dude in a Minnesota hockey jersey was having the same revelation I was so I traded him, thanked him and rolled out. My guess was he was doing the drinking race. Turns out, when I saw him later on that night, he was definitely doing the drinking race.

So now Andrew, Mike, Korby and I are following some random guy who looks like he knows where he's going. We slowly get an idea of where we are and what the hell is happening.

Checkpoint four was simple enough. Now it's time to study the map and make a route. A quick glimpse indicated we needed to cross the river west, cut down Washington, hit two CPs in the west part of downtown and float out to the westernmost Check.

We were all rolling rather smoothly as I tried to glance at the map every chance I had. Besides Andrew eating it in the alley behind One-On-One we were doing just fine in navigating the unfamiliar streets. After the downtown stops I found a decent route west.

"We have to take a right on 10th and then a left on some G street!" I shouted to Josh, Andrew and Morell, the only three with me. The map had tiny print and it was starting to disappear in the creases and crumples of my my manifest. "10th! Turn Right!"

10th was a one-way. We were going the wrong way. A four lane wrong way one-way. MPLS downtown streets on a Saturday could have had tumbleweeds rolling through them when comparing them to most Chicago streets.

"G STREET! LEFT!"

G street was another wrong way, only this time it was a bridge and two lanes with little room for anything but cars. Again it was fine, a cab crowded us a little for no reason but we eventually got to a larger two way bridge and shot out west.

The next CP was a house with some girls that made us all take our gloves off so they could draw mustaches on our fingers and made us pose for a camera. It was an amusing trick but the smell of the sharpie ink was very intense for someone short of breath.

As we ran out the house, I checked the map and shouted "Back where we came. Right on Lyndale! Then bomb Lyndale until 2100 block south!"

Ahhh. Tailwind. Lyndale came up on us quickly and I directed everyone right onto what appeared to be a merge lane for the expressway. Um. Yeah.

Andrew and I were skeptical but then I was just thinking "Fuck it, let’s just keep rolling" and Candles of course was down. There were a few dicey merges with off- and on-ramps but before we knew it we were back on a normal street and just about south enough for the next stop.

Bar. Bowling alley. Cars-R-Coffins. Check. Check. Check. Next stop, southernmost CP. I remember this place last year because my toes were about to fall off and it was a rather long ride. Josh and Mike hung with us until Andrew and I started to trade pulls eastward. We had, from my estimate at LEAST 40 or so blocks to go until the next stop.

As we cut east I would improvise directions and Andrew would always question them. I was pretty certain on where we were going but we couldn’t be bothered with stopping. This one was easy enough to find, our concern was finding a way to St. Paul.

I guess I wasn't really helping out Mike nor Josh after a few blocks of waving them through intersections. Turns out they were a block back and not right on my wheel. Some screeches and horns indicated perhaps it was time to stop waving them on. They told me later they were a little pissed about it but finally just stopped heeding my advice. Wise choice.

South side Bar. Check. Next stop was, surprise, another Bar. This was a place I remember Trips saying would be a good push off for St. Paul. We still were deciding on running a gamble on getting lost or just mashing up to University Avenue and figuring it out from there.

As luck would have it, my obnoxious toss of my bike blocked someone from getting through cleanly and his pedal scraped my Brooks saddle. Dude apologized and said he’d rub it out (focus people) but I was stuck in a 'should I be a prick?' split decision.

"Do you still have to go to St. Paul?"

"Yeah," he said.

"Cool. You can make it up then. Can we ride with you?"

"Sure, where you guys from?" He asked. The two of us rolled off while Andrew was still getting on his bike.

"Chicago! The two of us are on a team. My name is Jeff, he's Andrew. Andrew? Andrew! Hurry up!"

"Cool man, my name is Andy. Welcome to Minneapolis. Oh, yeah. Turn left here."

SCREEEECH!

"Sorry. I’ll give you more heads up next time."

"Haha, thanks," I replied as I waved a thanks to the van that yielded to us.

We started just chatting and he was explaining the route as I kept looking over my shoulder for Andrew. Andrew wasn't talking. It looked like he wasn’t even seeing. His eyes were sunken in and he wasn’t looking directly at anything. I’m thinking the overnight bus ride with no sleep is starting to get to him.

I drop back a bit from Andy’s pace to try to help Candles but, try as he could, he just couldn’t find the right gear to settle on my wheel. I felt a need to help my teammate yet also get up and move. I decide to leave him and reel Andy back in.

"This next intersection is kind of dicey. The Checkpoint is that bar with the white sign," was Andy’s update.

We cut through cleanly, in and out and we’ve got four more stamps to get.

On the way back west there was some headwind that reminded me of home. I offered to pull for Andy and eventually he just wanted to ride side by side. Everyone going the other direction shouted out to him and I gave a holler back even though it wasn’t intended for me.

We arrived at Witch’s tower and it was a steep hill of packed snow that turned to ice. I was pathetically bear crawling up the side of it hoping not to break a hip. I’m irony’s number one target so I was going to be damaged if after all I’ve been through I was going to be done in by walking up some icy hill.

Andy and I rolled off together and I was getting a good second wind. I was thinking about how shitty it would be if I just bailed on him after he showed us the way to St. Paul when he started to take a wrong turn. I stopped him and we looked at the map and it turned out I had my Magellan on right. He apologized and we rolled back on path.

Karma served. We both helped each other so it’s time for me to take it up a notch. Only problem is, I noticed too late that I had overshot the next stop. I was still in line for it but I went four blocks too many north and had to cut back. I stayed calm and found my way to the sign-your-name-with-opposite-hand CP.

I turned onto the street I was supposed to take, Como, and started with the map. I knew Andy must have nailed it because I couldn’t see him anymore. I started improvising and hoped to cut the river so I could get my two last CPs on Cedar.

I'm looking at streets and making up turns here and there when I recognize a street name, "Hennepin." Fuck. I have no fucking clue where I am but I know Hennepin is definitely NOT where I want to be.

I ask two pedestrians how to get to Cedar and then ask them to point out to me where I was on the map. Turns out they were from Chicago and started talking about it all. "Rogers Park? Great! I used to live in Uptown! Good ol' hood at Wilson/Sheridan! Thanks and all. Gotta run!" was the extent of my exchange. Kind of dick move but I didn't want to be DNF again because of faulty directions.

I was pissed. I crossed the river and found Washington. I hammered down Washington and passed the finish to see Pablo's bike outside of the finishing bar. Damn, that must have been 1st out of town. Fuck it. I start mashing at the pedals and grabbed a cargo truck and start spinning out until my turn onto Cedar.

Nomad. Stamp. Triple Rock. Stamp.

"YEAAAH PERKINS!!!!!!!"

I glanced up and it’s a table of Chicagoans holding up they’re drinks at a booth in Triple Rock. I remember Ben’s big-ass grin as I shout "LAST CHECKPOINT AND THEN I'M DONE!"

I jump back on the bike to ride pissed off again. This time I get hold of a pick-up truck and he spins me out after a block. Given the seams in the concrete and not wanting to overshoot my stop I let go and roll up onto the sidewalk in front of Bolt.

I grabbed my manifest and wrote my name and Chicago on it. Then I grabbed it back and wrote "Cuttin' Crew" after Chicago.

I asked if anyone else from out of town finished yet.

"Nope. I don't think so," said Nick, one of the two main organizers.

Kickass. All I have to do now is worry about whether I missed a checkpoint. Whatever. What’s done is done and I was fucking starving.

Nate from Chicago and myself grabbed some grub and made it back to the bar to wait for people. I remember walking into Bolt and seeing huge screens playing music videos with half naked men dancing to some sort of house music.

Um. Interesting. I think I need a drink. Nate and I grab a beer and wait for everyone else to join when I see Austin and Pablo of NYC.

"How'd you guys do?" I asked.

The tights were a hit

"I think we could have won it all but we missed a checkpoint that was really simple and I had to go back for it," answered Austin. Pablo looked bummed. I know that 'could have done much better but fucked up' feeling and I felt for him. This time it actually wasn't me feeling it and it worked in my favor.

Had I stayed with Andy, however, I would have found myself in top 3. I found my guide and discovered he got 2nd.

Damn. I got 8th and was still wondering if I fucked the manifest at all. I went over to organizer Andy as he was tallying final results. There was a mountain of manifests that were apparently incomplete around his feet. He would glance them over for every stamp and if they had them all he would stack them in on pile and as soon as he saw one missing he just chucked it. I was really hoping mine wasn't on the floor.

"Hey dude. Sorry to bother you but do you have top out of town figured out yet?"

"No," said Andy.

Bummer. I'm pretty antsy to see if I got it.

"Oh wait," he corrected. "Yeah. It was some guy from Chicago."

Fuckin' A. Chicago got it. Cuttin' Crew got it. I got it. It was time to enjoy the stupor part.

AFTERPARTY -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Race organizers: Andy and Nick

KC Rob and XGo

Grant from KC (far right)

The basement area of Bolt was surprisingly large and actually perfect for hosting all of the participants. It really worked in well the scenery of burly, shirtless bartenders.

"Jameson on the rocks." It's always gotta be Jameson on the rocks.

"Four dollars"

Uh oh. That was my perfect price for a full glass of Jameson. It must be done. I was looking left and right for people to buy some drinks for, knowing this crew, whiskey would be in high demand. We were relatively in control until this girl Kelly (AKA Minx) decided to become all intimidator and get the ball rolling on shots. Jaeger was her call. Downed that and then it was my turn to buy. Back to Jameson. What the hell, get Augie a shot and a glass!

Augie had been drinking since about 10 this morning and he had his huge smile and glazed over look. Come to think of it, Augie always has a smile and glazed over look, judging by the size of it you can tell how drunk he is.

"This is Augie, he’s original Cuttin‘ Crew," was my introduction. "If you know of anyone still doing anything worth a damn in this whole scene, they are probably close friends with Augie."

We went on to talk about what it was like in Chicago and inquiring about biking in Minneapolis and whatnot when the organizers were all ready on the stage announcing results.

Andrew missed his call to come up and receive his goodies for 3rd out of towner. Austin was up and ready for 2nd prize. 3rd place overall was called for Super-Rookie. 2nd went to my man Andy. They retracted back to 8th place to call top out of town.

I got up on stage to Augie’s drunken shout for "ROOSTER! ROOSTER! ROOSTER!" the team’s drunken shouts for "CUTTIN CREW! CUTTIN CREW!" and some "NACCCs!" were shouted as I grabbed the mic to say something.

I don’t remember exactly what sort of crap I babbled on about but I was glad I got the chance to plug the NACCC. A lot of people seem to be in the dark about what is going on here and it was a proud moment to be able to put some spotlight on Chicago. I snagged some nice swag: a new Chrome bag, Surly chain tensioner and t-shirt, Peace Coffee, Twin Six socks, and a water bottle.

Then they announced male Stupor champ. Top drinker went to Zito. Female Stupor champ went to this other girl named Kelly. Then the moment came that blew everyone's world. Numero Uno, grand champion of Stupor Bowl XI was a WOMAN! SUSAN LEE! If you’ve ever heard a record skip in your head you know exactly what happened when I saw Miss Lee jump up onto the stage for top prize.

It was an awesome sight to behold. She had the biggest, proudest smile you could ever see and she deserved it. While it was humbling I could not have been happier for a stranger. It was a rather significant moment we all witnessed and she deserves every bit of credit. Turns out she could drink and was really cool too.

Montage made by nanobiker. (L to R) Champ: Susan, Stupor Male: Zito, Stupor Female: Kelly

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After everyone got to know each other, we decided to move around and drink more. In the midst of making plugs for the Stairmaster, talks on the industry and slapping the shit out of each other, I’m pretty sure we found our way to Triple Rock. There is where we met our hostesses, had more whiskey and horrible mixed shots. I'm pretty sure we ended the night with Augie flicking off cars in the middle of the street at 4:00 in the morning because Trips tacoed his wheel when he fell onto his bike.

Whatever the case may be, Augie said it best. "Guess what happened at Stuporbowl…I got really drunk and I’m pretty sure I had fun…"

Thank you so much Minneapolis, Rachel, Nikki, MBMA, and their sponsors for making this all happen.

Stuporbowl results are in!

Official results page is available on the myspace page, here. Official copy of the official results page is available here...

------------------------------

Stupor Bowl XI Results

STUPOR BOWL XI RESULTS (winning time, 4:31pm)

1. Susan Lee 2. Andy Lambert 3. Tim "Superrookie" Hayes (ex MPLS messenger) 4. Matt "Little Guy" Allen (top working MPLS Messenger) 5. Jeff Frane (Bike Jerk) 6. Spencer (ex MPLS messenger) 7. Matt Swanson 8. Jeff Perkins (Chicago Messenger, 1st out of town) 9. Joe Goemaat 10. Mat West 11. Carrie (St. Paul Messenger) 12.Andy Mortenson (MPLS Messenger) 13. Sam Hulin 14. Austin (NYC Messenger, 2nd out of town, Reigning CMWC Champ) 15. Ben Lagerquist 16. Sean O (ex MPLS messenger) 17. Trevor 18. Katie (ex Philadelphia Messenger) 19. Chops 20. Steph Sibet (MPLS Messenger) 21. Andrew Nordyke (3rd out of town, Chicago Messenger) 22. Mark E. 23. Marie Snyder 24. Alicia Dvorak 25. Jerry Jerome Jeremy Fuchs (MPLS messenger)

STUPOR CHAMPS: Zito & Kelly Mack

Track Stand: Noah

Congrats to Susan! First Female overall champion in Stupor Bowl history! it was about time that happened! Congrats to all the champs! Thanks for coming out-- we had close to 360 registered. Hope y'all had a blast. Cheers!

Andy & Nick / Stupor Bowl XI

------------------------------ Congratulations go out to Andy and Nick for organizing and pulling off yet another incredible event. Props to the hundreds of people who went and hugs for the elite few that volunteered. A special thanks for making a map that is readable on the back of the manifest!

Stuporbowl XI saw two of the top three out of town spots get snatched up by the Cuttin' Crew. 1st place outta towner went to Jeff and 3rd place was taken by Andrew. Expect a 74 page race report from Jeff on this one but please have patience. MPLS showed out and he's still hungover.

How was your week?

"I'm sick of this whole messengers think they have it so tough, blah, blah, blah facade!" Heh...

These are the days people tend to forget about when they say ignorant stuff like that...

Thanks Julio for putting those photos up. Seriously, a year in Chicago is worth 3 most elsewhere. Hope everyone else got a good workout on their rollers today!

Okay. Sorry. No need to hate. It's just that gloating makes everyone feel better for going through stuff like this. Admit it, you would/do brag about it too...

It's Official

Our friends at Punk Rock Cycling are the inspiration for acting like little kids on Christmas. It is refreshing to know we not only exist in spirit but also on paper. It's cool to see this crew become an officially recognized body in the world of sanctioned racing. All we gots to say now is, it's ON people.

How fitting is it that we are number 13 on the list?

Return of the Max!

Maxwell has been missing his bike for quite some time now. He won't whine about it but it's killing him that he can't join us in the races. This weekend he won't be in attendance for the Stuporbowl because he will be getting his cast removed. Piece of hubcap: 1. Max's collarbone: 0.

Jokes on debris because Mr. Riordan is about to bounce back in a blaze of glory!

We might be looking to add BMX to our repertoire if Max has to go one more day on Ben's GT...