The DIRTHAMMER! is not for brittle egos. It will, on any given Tuesday evening, with the right mix of riders, peel away the simpering layers of anyone's pride.
Joe L!!!!!!!! is Partly Right? Joe--and we all know which Joe I'm talking about, right?--mentioned, in a recent forum, his interpretation of the DIRTHAMMER! origins. It, from his understanding, was begun by Paul Kundrat, Ric Lung, and Ian Lockley, leaving from Northville and emanating forth along local dirt roads. Joe's from Northville. He has pride in his fair village. My guess is that he goes to sleep at night imagining the Tour de France beginning its two thousand plus mile odyssey from Northville someday soon. I'm right, aren't I Joe? Knowing Joe, it could happen.
Well, Joe found snippets of truth in his overexpanding tube of exploding speculations. And half a fact is better than none. And, let's admit it, the DIRTHAMMER! is part legend, part myth, and part delusion anyway.
The DIRTHAMMER! (all caps--as declared by Paul Kundrat) was, in name, Paul's baby. But, and here's where Joe slips down his greasy off-camber hill of truth, this dirt road ride has been going on in Ann Arbor for a while, even before it received the DIRTHAMMER! moniker. And even as the newly rechristened DIRTHAMMER! it originated out of Ann Arbor, beginning from Barton Dam to be specific. So say both Paul and Ric.
Early Origins
According to veteran roadie, Jim Levinsohn, this dirty experience began as an easygoing ride on mountain bikes in the pre-cellphone days. (At first I read it as pre-cellophane and I thought, wow, that is old.) He, Doug Heady, and a guy who is only mentioned in the history books as Dixon wanted a change of pace after a heavy dose of spring and summer road racing. They called this the Dirt Road Ride. Exciting, huh? The regular route of the ride that we now know evolved over time, mostly through the considered attentions and endless wanderings of Jim and Doug.
It has become a route ingrained in the subconscious of anyone who's ridden it repeatedly. In full hammer mode it takes less than an hour and a half to complete, perfect for a Tuesday evening late summer/early fall CX season prep and workout as light fades from the northern hemisphere. The rolling hills are cruelly ever-present and almost perfectly placed to highlight any weakness in the legs of its miscreant participants.
Even in those early "mellow" rides, Jim notes, strange things happened. Dave Koesel fell so hard in a sprint that he was knocked out. He did regain consciousness and finish the ride, but if anyone's come across Dave since (for instance racing a fixie--and doing well--in the Ann Arbor Runway Spring Training Series), this will explain a lot. Paul McMullen, an Olympic 1500 meter runner, rode with his running shoes (truly clipless) and wailed on everyone. Jim and Doug were even chased by a child's remote control car. This is a ride as much known for its imagination as for its exhilaration.
Rebirth
Time passed. Somewhere along the way it lost its sparkle and languished for a while in obscurity. Then, around 2002 or so, a critical degenerate mass reconvened, only this time with cross bikes. According to Paul K, "it picked up momentum with regulars that included myself, Rich Stark, Ric Lung, Brian Rosewarne, Randy Herman, Tom Archer, and others. Inclement weather and darkness were not inhibitors and if you got shelled it meant a solo ride back to A2." Paul, who eventually became president of the Velo Club, considered it the hardest ride the club had to offer.
I picked up on it a year later and I remember regular and irregular luminaries such as Blair Dudley, Ken O'Day, Nick Durrie, Andy Weir, Jason Lummis, Ben & Wendy Caldwell, Jim James, Julie Bellerose, and I'm pretty sure Joe L!!!!!!! among many others, kicking the hurt in as well.
The beginning of the ride has two iterations leaving from Barton Dam, both heading north along Huron River Drive. The first and most common turns right across the Foster Bridge and up the far too soon hellishly steep Country Club Road. The second goes out to the equally unforgiving Tubbs Road climb. Some riders are mercifully dropped this early in the ride and given the freedom to enjoy themselves at their own measured pace. For those who still hang on it's a leg ripping evening of affliction ferociously rolling northwest all the way out to the incessantly undulating Walsh Road, left on Merkel and up a devious little pitch that's dropped many stout riders, and back southeast on Zeeb, Farrell, Jennings, Stein, and Maple, returning to Barton Dam, often shrouded in darkness at this point.
The point of the DIRTHAMMER! is its relentlessness. It builds momentum, reaching not one crescendo but dozens of them. If the pace slackens, it's immediately reignited by those with the freshest legs going off the front, much to the chagrin of those who feel they've just put in the last their own weary muscles have to offer. Whining and groaning is part of the dialogue. It's one ride that's meant, by definition, to repeatedly grind every last ounce of energy out of the legs and lungs, then require more.
The DIRTHAMMER! by any name is an institution in this area. It's a ride that helps racers prepare and stay in shape for the fall cyclocross season, and many use it to lock in their form for Traverse City's ICEMAN in early November.
Whoa! Wait a minute. Maybe the DIRTHAMMER! started in Traverse City. Hey, I'm originally from Traverse City. Yes, yes, it did start in Traverse City. And soon the Tour de Fra...
If anyone has further truths or fabrications to share about this infamous ride, let us know.
..................................oRo...
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