465 Miles & a Borrowed Lockring

From a pure riding-difficulty standpoint, I think it was the hundred miles or so between Rowlesburg, at about mile 270, and Kingwood, at about mile 370. It was just really challenging, technical, chunky riding.

The section from Rowlesburg to Bruceton Mills, which is about 60 miles, actually had the most climbing. I think it was maybe 8,000 feet of climbing in 50 miles or something, but I thought it was really rideable climbing, and honestly it felt like it went pretty quick.

But the 40-mile stretch after that, between Bruceton Mills and Kingwood, was super, super chunky, super loose, super steep. It was hard to climb on the bike with the gearing I had, and the descents were slow with drop bars, even though I had some suspension. It felt like slow, plodding, trench-warfare kind of riding, just chugging along. But I did that section in the middle of the night, so speed wasn't a big deal to me. It was just making sure I was moving forward, keeping going, trying to get to morning. It was slow and it was super hard, but I'm kind of glad I did it at night, because I don't think it would have been much faster during the day.

The first day, I rode for the most part with this guy I met on course named Ben. We rode about 175 miles of the route, and we also accidentally took a wrong turn and did an extra six-mile loop, so I think we ended up riding about 180 miles. Then we camped at a little state park campground and slept for four and a half hours that night.

The next night, I didn't make a plan for if I was going to sleep, or where, or for how long. In my head I was like, I'll just see how I go, how I feel, how far I get. One of the other riders doing the 465 was kind enough to offer up a hotel room he had reserved at about mile 330. So in my head I was like, “okay, I'm going to push to try and get there.” I got there around 2 a.m., went into the hotel room, and laid down thinking I'd sleep for maybe two hours, but I couldn't really fall asleep. So I ended up warming up in there, made myself a cup of coffee, brushed my teeth, washed my face, lubed my chain. Kind of just reset a little bit. I hung out there for maybe an hour and a half and then got back on the bike and kept going.

Later on that night, around 6 a.m. or so, right before the sun was coming up, I was getting kind of tired, because that pre-dawn time is always pretty tough for me. At the top of a climb I just set my bike down, leaned up against a tree, set a timer, and sat there for about twenty minutes to give myself a little break and reset.

So in total I slept about four and a half hours, plus a couple of longer stops where I didn't sleep but just took some time to rest.

During the days it was super nice: clear skies, sunny, low to mid seventies. Genuinely perfect riding temps. It stayed pretty warm for most of the night too, dipping into the low to mid forties. Of course, when you descended into valleys the temperature would drop, probably into the thirties. Those pre-dawn hours, like 5 to 7 a.m., are definitely the coldest, and at the top of the climbs it was probably in the thirties, and dropping into the little valleys would get even colder. But I was moving, so it was never really too cold.

During the day I just wore a wool riding shirt and shorts. At night I'd put on knee sleeves, and I had a softshell jacket I wore a lot because it would cut the wind but not be too hot on the climbs. During those pre-dawn hours I'd throw my rain pants on just to cut the wind on my legs. I also had a synthetic puffy that I'd put on before going down and then take off and shove under some bungee on my rack when I was climbing. So it was a lot of taking layers off and putting layers on overnight to manage heat and sweat. It was kind of slow, but I'd rather be warm and dry than wet and cold. Especially when it's dark for like 13 hours.

I had gloves too, and hand warmers and toe warmers that I threw in my shoes and gloves overnight. I generally ride with pretty thin gloves and pretty minimal shoes, so that kept the extremities warm. Just from moving, my body stayed a pretty decent temperature.

The first day, I started loaded up with mainly rice crispies and gummies. I'm a vegetarian, so any time I do rides like this I usually pack some Tofurky slices or some plant-based protein, just as something to keep me full. So I had some wraps with Tofurky slices on them. They're super bland, but pretty easy to eat, and I'll just nibble on those throughout the day. The first day I mainly ate a lot of gummies and a lot of rice crispies, super fast-burning stuff.

On days two and three I got really fatigued on eating gummies and sugar, so I switched to more satiating food. I had four or five of the Neve smoothie pouches. I ate four of those on day two and had one at the end. I was buying Uncrustables at any gas station that had them. And then also getting like club crackers with cheese, or whatever other salty snack I was feeling when I resupplied. And I'd get little pickle pouches at the gas stations, which I like to eat just to kind of clean my mouth out from all the sugar.

For drinks, I had some Tailwind drink mix, but mainly I just filled my bottles with Gatorade or Coke at the gas stations instead of mixing drinks every time I stopped. It's just faster to dump stuff in your bottles. Then I keep some plain water in my bladder just in case I get burnt out on the sweet stuff.

Both mornings on course I stopped and got hot breakfast and coffee. I feel like that's always a huge morale boost and just kind of makes you feel human again.

I went to school for industrial design. After college I got a job at Formstudy, a soft goods design and development consultancy in Denver. I worked there for about three years. Then during COVID, my now-wife and I decided we were kind of over being in the city, so we sold our house and moved up to the mountains. At that time I was commuting back to Denver a couple of times a week. Then my wife sent me the job posting for the designer role at Cotopaxi. It was a remote job. I applied and got it, and that allowed me to fully commit to living in the mountains, where my wife and I felt the happiest. I've been there for five years now, and it's been great. It's been a really good way to have good work-life balance and ride my bike a lot.

At a big brand, there are so many stakeholders on every project that there's a lot of give and take in design. You might have to do things you don't necessarily think are the right answer, but they're the answer everyone agrees is the right path forward. Or you might be designing products that aren't exactly what you want them to be. That's not to say it's not still enjoyable, but it's different. You're not making stuff for yourself all the time. You're making stuff for other people.

Honestly, I made Rhythmus as a creative outlet where I can make stuff that I think is cool and that I think will be useful to riders. And I get to work with my friends, doing graphics and shooting photos. So the difference is that Rhythmus is just for fun. It's this thing where I get to do what I want, work with my friends, do stuff we all think is cool, and not really be beholden to anybody else. Obviously I don't think that's great for being a super successful business, but that's not what I ever wanted it to be. I like that it's just this thing I get to have on the side, and it's low pressure and low stakes.

Yeah, I think almost every time. Like I said before, I was testing a new prototype during this race. For the most part I thought it worked super well, and I'm really pleased with the design, but there are little things I noticed throughout the race. Certain stitches were popping and need reinforcement, and there are certain seams I want to reshape a little bit. So as soon as I get home, I'll start picking it apart and addressing those issues.

I feel like every time I ride with a new prototype, or do a big race with a sample, or even with a bag I have available for sale, nothing's ever perfect. It's this constant process of trying new things, finding new problems, addressing those problems, making new problems, fixing them. And I think that's why it's so interesting to me. It's a process that's never done. There's never an objectively right answer. It's always this pursuit of making something one percent better.

When I had the idea to start a project, a business, a creative outlet, whatever you want to call it, I was thinking about how in riding, or skiing, or snowboarding, there's this ebb and flow when you're out there. You climb and then you descend. You breathe hard, you breathe slow. Everything has ups and downs. I wanted a name that captured that feeling.

So I did the classic brain dump of different names. I don't even remember how I came up with Rhythmus, but it ended up on the list, and after a while it just felt like the right one. I like that it evokes this sense of up and down, rhythm, movement, and change, but it's not so type-A cycling. It's not like “cadence” or “hammer” or something aggressive like that. It's a little softer and doesn't feel as alienating as some names you see in cycling.

I don't really think there's such a thing as a normal week for Rhythmus right now. It kind of just gets worked in around my normal schedule. It's a lot of riding and thinking and coming up with ideas most weeks, and then at night or on the weekends I'll really dive in to the real design work.