Born to spin

At night I dream of epic rides on a suicide machine

Knobby tired, full-suspended and pedaling like a fool

Gary, this race rips the bones from my back

I gotta ride it if I get in

Even if it means cramps and blurred vision

Let me swing my leg over the top tube

I know Martel's Pothole's a trap

I'll ride till I drop, I'm dying for singletrack

I pray that I don't flat a tire

`cause Gary, I'm not the strongest rider

But I gotta find out how it feels

I know the race is wild, I need a chance to turn my wheels

Beyond Rosie' Field, Hemi-powered drones scream up the Birkie Trail

The leaders pick spots to drop the pack

And I'm just hoping that I don't bail

The Firetower Hill gives me a chill

I push my bike; quads burning all the way

I wanna party with my friends in Hayward's streets tonight

maybe even Sunday

One-Two-Three-Forty!

Firetower Hill's jammed with broken riders on a last chance power climb

Everybody's out on the town tonight 'cause it's too damn dark to ride

The lottery caused me sadness

There's muddy madness in Martel's Pothole

Sometime today, I don't know when I'm gonna get to the finish line

I'll sit in the tent with a beer and a grin

But till the cramps set in, Gary, I was born to spin

Mark Ollinger's application for an entry into this month's Chequamegon 40 was not selected through the lottery process. He was among some 600 disappointed would-be riders. However, Ollinger did secure one of 50 spots set aside for winners of the annual "50 Ways to Ride the Chequamegon" essay contest. The above poem, appealing directly to Chequamegon Fat Tire Fest Director Gary Crandall, did the trick.