Roll Massif - The New American Sportive

Ben Delaney (Roll Massif)

For too long, I’ve driven hours to get to the gravel events that turn me on. But after a sneak peak at what Roll Massif has in the works for the 2019 riding season, I’ll get to stick a bit closer to home this summer. With road events that are icons of Colorado cycling, two endurance mountain bike races, and the addition of two, new gravel events, Wild Horse Gravel and Crooked Gravel, Roll Massif aims to show off the best cycling that Colorado has to offer.

I’m genuinely excited about these rides because of where they are and the people behind them. Many of them are run with timed segments for the feistier crowd. Wanna chill and take in the views? You can go that route too.

I also love that budding cyclists 18 and under ride free at Roll Massif’s road and gravel events. So bring the kids!

Here’s a look at the 2019 Roll Massif schedule:

• Wild Horse Gravel - De Beque, CO, May 11

• Sunrise to Sunset Elephant Rock - Castle Rock, CO, June 1 (12-hour MTB race)

• Elephant Rock - Castle Rock, CO, June 2 (27 and 56-mile gravel options available)

• Copper Triangle - Copper Mountain, CO, August 3

• Crooked Gravel - Winter Park, CO, August 10

• Sunrise to Sunset Winter Park - Winter Park, CO August 10

• Tour de Vineyards - Palisade, CO September 21

• Tour of the Moon - Grand Junction, CO September 28

If you want to learn more head over to Roll Massif. As for me, I plan on wrangling our crew of badasses and hitting Wild Horse Gravel, Crooked Gravel, Tour de Vineyards (I dig wine), and Tour of the Moon.

Gravel Singlespeed Gear Selection

I love a singlespeed bike. A solo chainring connected to a lonely cog via a dead straight chain is a thing of beauty. There’s an elegance to any bicycle, but one rid of derailleurs, cables, wires, and batteries is especially evocative. A singlespeed signals a rider with commitment, one who is willing to eschew the labor-saving devices of the 21st century, and one who certainly rides to the beat of a different drummer.

Because of those feelings and because I just set up a singlespeed for winter training, I wanted to take you through the process of building, or perhaps deconstructing, a single speed gravel bike and how I select a gear. It’s not a complicated affair. With a little attention and some research it can actually be straightforward.

First off is deciding on the bike. In my case, I took one of my geared bikes, my Black Mountain Cycles Monster Cross. Because it has horizontal dropouts it is an obvious candidate. I don’t need a chain tensioner from Surly or Paul Component to get it done, just a good chainline and a secure quick release (go with Shimano or Paul internal cam models), a Paul in this case. I took off the shifters, derailleurs, cables and chain. I then installed a pair of non-brifter brake levers on a pair of wider Salsa Cowchipper handlebars (nice for extra leverage). Then I went about figuring a gear combination to run.

I learned about gear inches in my junior road racing days thanks to gear restrictions and also thanks to my limited time on the track. I know from previous experience that gear ranging from 62.5 to 64.0 gear inches (the distance I’ll travel for a complete revolution of the cranks) works for me when gravel racing on rolling terrain. On the Black Mountain Cycles I can run tires up to 50mm in width with ease but I plan on mostly using 42mm tires. So I set on a 42 x 19 ratio which with 700 x 42mm tires works out to 61.4 gear inches. That’s a little undergeared on purpose. First of all I live at altitude and those race gears were closer to sea level. Secondly, I wanted something a little smaller to work on cadence and open up the possibilities of longer climbs as well.

If you don’t have any frame of reference for gear inches though, a practical way to learn single speed gearing is to examine speed for a given cadence. Both BikeCalc.com and Sheldon Brown’s gear calculator can help. For example, I’m happy riding at or just above 90 rpm on a geared bike. It’s my happy place cadence. Sure I can and do go higher and on steep inclines I certainly go lower, but it’s a typical average cadence for me. On a single speed though, your average cadence will be lower. Knowing that, I’ll have a think about the terrain I’ll be encountering and the average speed I’d like to maintain.

So let’s say that I want to average 15 miles per hour and 80 rpm at Land Run riding 700 x 32mm tires (I use this example because it’s what I did at Land Run this year. For more head here.). I know the terrain is rolling, but without any sustained (by Colorado standards) climbs or descents. (The mud can be an issue though and if it looks like rain, I would opt for an easier gear.) A 40 x 17 with 700 x 33mm tires gives me a 63.5-inch gear and at 80 rpm, that’s 15.11 miles per hour. Presto!

Once you build up or acquire a singlespeed, I encourage you to take notes. Once you have some time on a given gear, be sure you jot down what you’ve used and how it worked for you. For instance, I’ve ridden Dirty Kanza 200 on 42 x 19 with 29 x 2.0” tires. That’s just under 63 gear inches. Because of the extra distance and lower average speeds I geared down a tad. These are useful references for me because I can also recall the conditions (dry at DK that year and at Land Run this year) and even look back to my records of the day and my fitness at the time (I use Training Peaks for my personal training and to coach my gravel athletes).

So while the beauty of singlespeed lies in its simplicity, taking a few extra moments to consider your gearing can help make the experience sublime. That, or at least limit the amount of the time that your one and only gear is the wrong one!

A slow build

Sometimes I can get carried away. When I got back to riding my bike after mostly only working on them for seven years, I was so happy to be pedaling that I often overdid it. I discovered gravel racing and dirt road exploration and dived in whole hog. This led to me attempting the Tour Divide in 2013.

I arrived at the start line in Banff a bit worn out. I had tried to do too much too quickly. In June of that year I had only been back to riding for three years and for two and a half of those, I rode by feel, no really training. I enjoyed long, easy days on the flats but rarely included intensity in my riding routine. While I was far more fit and trim than when I left the pro mechanic gig in 2010, I wasn't physically or mentally ready for a race that big. After 1,200 miles, my knees were giving me serious fits and my mind was a mess. On the drive home from my bailout point of Dubois, Wyoming I nearly swore off the event as "not my thing" and considered touring portions of it. 

Two years later, in July of 2015, I went back to Banff for a solo attempt on the route. I was far more relaxed and I had another two years of riding in my legs, this time with more structure and intensity. Going solo allowed me to stay in my own head instead of focusing on the performance of those around me. And for four days of big riding all went swimmingly. I was in the zone, enjoying the mileage and the solitude. I bumped into fellow travelers along the route and loved the interactions, however brief. Unfortunately an ankle problem surfaced, perhaps as a result of me preventatively taping of my Achilles. As I limped into Butte, Montana (almost literally) I was in good spirits, but knew that the likelihood of completing the route was slim. I sought help, got a massage, soaked, ate, drank and rested for 36 hours. Upon rising at 6am to head south, I almost fell when I put weight on my bad ankle. It was over. But I knew that I would be back. 

After returning home, resting and getting regular therapy on my ankle, my motivation to return to Tour Divide quickly took hold. I decided to build slowly, take a year to race gravel, go on week-long bikepacking trips and spend more time strengthening my core, back, arms, shoulders, legs, wrists and ankles. Yoga has helped. Regular massage and carefully keeping tabs on my bike fit has allowed me to train harder than ever. I ride with less fear than ever before, fear of injury, of a knee or ankle going bad. 

So next year, 2017, I'll be back. This time I'm planning on starting at Antelope Wells, New Mexico and heading north. The change will do me good and it will commit me to an airline ticket at the finish as opposed to a car pick-up in New Mexico. The slow build and the experience from my two previous attempts has me mentally ready. So Banff here I come, next year. 

Gratitude (the first of many posts on the subject)

When I traveled to Emporia, Kansas in May of 2011, I was had no idea the effect it would have on my life. It was my first try at a gravel race. Though I'd ridden the dirt roads and old mining doubletracks of Boulder County and beyond for some time, none of those outings had included a number or timing. It was also my first go at a double century. The Ride Across INdiana (RAIN) had been my previous longest ride at 163 paved miles and that had been several years prior. 

I was in Emporia at the invitation of Salsa Cycles. They provided me with an entry to the race, a frameset to ride and a place to stay. The Salsa crew included sponsored riders and employees. We all stayed at a local's house (thanks Randy!) where we made ourselves at home, crashing on couches and sharing floor space. 

Among the people I met I made friends who inspire me to this day. I discovered a new tribe and a welcoming one at that. Joe Meiser, now the Senior Product Manager at Salsa, later took me on my first multi-day bikepacking trip. He had finished Tour Divide in 2009 and after hearing some of his tales, I was enamored with the idea of tackling the route myself. 

Lelan Dains lived at the house where we were staying. He volunteered to support us at aid stations. He's now a part owner of the Dirty Kanza and someone I hold in the highest regard. I can honestly say that without him I wouldn't have finished that long day of racing. His encouragement and unending enthusiasm pushed me to plumb new depths. 

Tim Ek, a Salsa athlete, helped to allay several of my fears about the distance, the roads and the amount of calories needed. I was certainly packing my fears that first year, with far too many inner tubes and energy gels strapped to my bike. The day before the race we found ourselves relaxing, watching TV when 1984's "Red Dawn" came on. It was exactly what we needed, a cheesy movie to distract us. We joked that  "Avenge me!" would be our call to each other if either of us fell victim to punctures. 

And as much as all the people I've just mentioned mean to me, it was Jason Gaikowski who, over the subsequent years, has become my brother. He worked at Quality Bicycle Products at the time. We ended up sharing floor space in a quiet loft area of the house. Jason can be a reserved guy and I wasn't sure of him at first. But we stayed in touch after the race. We headed to Utah for our first multi-day bikepacking trip with Meiser. We rode the Katy Trail as part of a two-day, 315-mile extravaganza of suffering and started the 2013 Tour Divide together. A couple years later, he acted as officiant for my wedding. He remains one of my closest friends and confidante. 

All this to say that I'm grateful for the experiences in my life and the people that I've met. The Dirty Kanza is just one of those experiences and the four fellows I mentioned here are but a small sampling of the wonderful people that have played a part in my life. I'm glad that my job at the time allowed me to head to Kansas and I'm thankful that I had the guts, or perhaps the ignorance, to attempt the race. So I encourage you reading this to take a chance, test your limits, and be open to the people you meet along the way.