#hell of hunterdon

Given the creakybottombracket.com’s proximity to Pennsylvania Dutch country, it is no surprise one of the favorite treats in the freezer dons the phrase ‘Nix Besser.’ From the not too distant part of the commonwealth Nelson’s ice cream can be found in the most unexpected places. When our eyes are laid on the quintessential packaging of a white tub with a gold cardboard lid, it gets snatched up. Only after checking out is the flavor regarded. The phrase ‘Nix Besser’ as old as the commonwealth, means ‘None Better.’

 It was by no surprise when a bottle of Nix Frix Shun ultimate chain lube rolled onto our desk that we knew what was being said. Along the same lines of tradition, the company features a catchy little slogan, ‘The Last Chain Lube You Will Ever Need.’ Based in Rockville, MD, the company is not too far from the land of the Pennsylvania Dutch. Would the ‘No Friction’ status live up to its label? We had the perfect conditions to find out.

 Before we get too far into the experiment, it must be pointed out your muse has come quite the distance from the childhood days of using Husqvarna chainsaw grease for chain lube. My dad had a jug of it in our ‘smokehouse’ (we had an old farmhouse), and I crammed a stick into the jug. I would remove the stick every once in a while and lather up the pivots to keep the bike rolling. As I moved onto road I chased the eternal favored lube. Some stuff seemed to evaporate moments after I applied a healthy dosage of lube. Other brands bragged to last 1,000 miles or more. But that means 1,000 miles of grit and gunk build up, even when wiped down.

 Immediately after a wet Sourland Semi-Classic at the end of February I found myself needing to hose of the bike in cyclocross fashion with a bike stand, a bucket of suds, and a power washer. New Jersey gravel roads carry an extra ingredient. Sand never makes a drivetrain sound healthy. The chain sucked up its fair share of road grit and sand on the metric century opening spring classic. I gave special attention to the chain to relieve it of its grinding sound. After a once-over with a rag to absorb residual moisture, I pulled out the Nixfrixshun Ultimate Chain Lube and applied it nearly every other pivot. In some places it was begging for it, but for the most part I followed the direction on the label stating ‘A little goes a long way.’

 The next day was an unscheduled recovery ride; no doubt I would be listening for any difficulty with the chain. All I heard was the wind as I covered the first few miles in happiness. Moving further the bike stayed quiet past the moments when other chain lubes would have burned off. I thought perhaps it was beginners luck and after returning I again followed the directions of wiping the outsides of the chain of any buildup.

 Throughout the week I found myself on the trainer and heard everything except a noisy chain. The gunk and grit I expected to appear long after the ride never did. I thought wiping off excess lube after rides would cause it to disappear over the weeks. It did not. Perhaps it would struggle to stand up to the melting snow puddles. Weeks later and the drivetrain is still peaceful and grit-free. Furthermore, the chain stays are clear of excessive lube, a personal pet peeve.

Lessons on riding for yourself - Hell of Hunterdon 2016

It was Wednesday when a teammate offered me his spot to ride the upcoming Hell of Hunderton on Saturday. I had no real weekend racing commitments to consider and knew nothing about the course other than it being toted as a “tune up” for Battenkill (RIP). The route seemed pretty interesting, with 19 dirt sections and around 6000 feet of climbing over 80 miles on country roads, so after confirming a ride in a teammate’s car, a group of four of us made the drive into Jersey from Brooklyn at 6am Saturday morning.

There were a lot of people in the parking lot getting ready when we rolled in, and some interesting gear choices. We took our time making #coffeeoutside and kitting up and then rolled down to registration to get jersey numbers for this ride that supposedly isn’t a race. After assessing the long line of participants who had likely been standing in the cold for 20 or 30 minutes for a coveted front starting spot, we decided to slow roll from the side of the parking lot as the whistle blew and made it into the first 50 or so wheels as we rolled down the road.

The only real thought in my head as we started the ride was having a fun day riding some challenging mixed terrain with my teammates. Or at least that was my initial intention. The pace was casual for a few miles as we climbed a bit on the road, and while I could tell we were riding at the front of a large group, I had no idea that this would quickly transform into a race-pace “breakaway”. People started having mechanicals as we hit the first gravel descent, and at this point the pace picked up significantly as riders who were comfortable on the dirt began pushing it. I don’t think I looked behind us once until we rolled straight past the first feed zone around mile 35, and unbeknownst to me I had already lost two teammates to a flat on an earlier dirt sector at around mile 15, and my other teammate was having front derailleur issues and couldn’t catch back on during the longer descents.

At this point we had been riding hard for about two hours, and there had been a bit of separation in our group on the steepest gravel climb of the day (which unfortunately arrived after I had taken an extended pull on the front). I hadn’t eaten anything, had barely touched my water and the feeling in my legs hinted of problems to come later down the road. I was barely noticing the scenery around me as we hammered through mile after mile, and I hadn’t shot a single photograph. A mutual friend and fellow cyclocross racer Trevor was riding in our group and looked to be in about the same condition as myself – hanging on but tired from the effort being put out thus far. We managed to chase back on to the group in front of us – only about 10 or 12 people at this point – and our energy proceeded to fade little by little everytime the road pointed uphill. After bridging back on for the 3rd or 4th time and seeing the front group dangling in front of us in the wind again, I mentioned that I desperately needed to pee at the next rest stop and that sort of set the tone for the rest of our ride – time to chill. Our pace became conversational as we discussed the surrounding area, close to where Trevor grew up and currently lives.

After a very brief and much needed nature break at the very well stocked rest stop (maybe around mile 50ish) and having been joined by another dropped rider and fellow cyclocrosser, the three of us set off to finish the ride at our own pace – somewhere close to tempo, but conversational on the extended climbs as we were all experiencing the beginnings of cramping. Right after leaving the rest stop, joking about bridging up the lead group again, I realized I had almost wasted the day trying to prove something to myself that didn’t really matter. So what if I was riding in the lead group of a hard ride for a couple hours – I inevitably had been dropped and I had abandoned my friends and teammates in the process. The rest of our ride was spent trading pulls in the wind, riding just fast enough to not blow up and I was finally able to appreciate the beauty of the landscape we were riding through – farmlands in New Jersey on the brink of early spring. Every hill we encountered was hurting us pretty bad at this point, and the gels I had consumed were only seeming to make my stomach hurt.

Around mile 75 we encountered some of the last of the longer rollers, and after spinning up the first Ryan and I pushed it up the 2nd bump and I looked back to see Trevor had been gapped. After the next descent Ryan had gotten a bit of a gap on me and he rode away to finish a strong effort solo as I spun my legs just to maintain not blowing up. Unfortunately I later found out that Trevor had gone down on the last descent, bad enough to require a hospital visit. I didn’t see him pedal through the finish so I had just assumed he had pedaled straight to his car – which is luckily what he was able to do and I’m glad he was alright. My teammate Mark pedaled in solo about 15 minutes after me, and Keith and Tim about 15 minutes afterwards.