Just got back from the big Chequamegon Fat Tire 40 weekend, which was great, and grueling, as always. The Chequamegon 40 is the nation's largest mass-start mountain bike race, attracting 2,600 riders and a whole lot more family, friends and fans to Hayward, Wisconsin. The Saturday race starts with riders lined up like very colorful, lycra-clad sardines over several hundred yards of main street Hayward, and with the starting gun at 10 AM begins to ooze through and out of town and onto Highway 77, where all hell breaks loose. Here, everyone opens up the throttle and tries to establish position before the mess dumps into the famous Rosie's Field, and then onto the narrow 35 mile trail of, quite literally, blood, sweat and tears. The trail is mainly logging roads and cross country ski trails, rugged, rocky and very, very hilly... some of the hills are so steep that you wouldn't think it possible to ride a bike up them, but ride we do, or at least try before getting off and running. And then we scream down the other side, jackhammering over rocks and gravel at 40 MPH, loathe to use the breaks because we worked so hard to store all that potential speed. There are horrific crashes every year; I narrowly avoided one that scared the hell out of me. And then two to five hours later you crest the back of the hill at Telemark Ski Resort in Cable, WI, and fly down a run to the awaiting crowd, cowbells, finish line, beer, brats, band, party, friends, stories, sweet relief.
And Sunday is a day of rest. There are some fun events oriented toward kids and family, which is where I saw this little tike serving up some rad wheelies. He was a local, small-town kid, and his mom was a volunteer for the event. I sent her this picture this morning.