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Every great cycling story starts with a bit of nonsense. This one began with championship wiener dogs.
Yes, before there were watts and gradients, before lungs were burned and Strava was conquered, we found ourselves talking about a man at a Rancho Santa Fe coffee shop and his 12 prized dachshunds. “Championship Weenies,” bred at a mythical place known as Weenie Wonderland.
Fast forward through the sausage-scented detour and we land here: on the steep, cracked pavement of the infamous Strava segment known as Concrete King Kong—a third of a mile of pure, unapologetic vertical. 24% average gradient. Concrete surface. No switchbacks. No forgiveness.
Laurel Rathbun and Lance Haidet weren’t exactly planning on adding royalty to their resumes that day. But when you’re staying at someone’s house, and they say, “Hey, want to go ruin your legs in pursuit of internet glory?”—you say yes. Or at least you text back yes. Then you pretend to hesitate in front of the camera for dramatic effect.
There’s a kind of weird energy before you go attempt something awful on a bike. A blend of pre-race superstition, trash talk, and oddly specific soundtrack choices (Lance was on a Chevelle kick, Laurel went full 2008 club banger remix). There were black socks to stay clean, debates about water crossings, and lots of talk about lines. Not in a strategic racing way—more like “if I mess this up I’ll topple backwards and die” kind of way.
When the tires hit the climb, all jokes stopped. GoPros started to whimper. Breathing turned into something between a gasp and a prayer. Laurel had tried this before and stopped halfway. To get the QOM, she’d have to take an entire minute off her previous best. Lance had done it once too—and hated every second. To win the KOM, he needed to be a full minute faster. No pressure, right?
Midway through, Laurel had to dismount and run. Ever tried sprinting up a vertical wall on fire with 130 bpm still in your ears and your calves screaming “abandon ship”? Yeah. But she still made it—barely. By 7 seconds. Running and all.
Lance? 473 watts. 5.6 mph. 8 seconds faster than the standing KOM, previously held by the mighty Phil. As in, “Phil’s-a-stud” Phil.
They did it. Both of them. Concrete royalty.
What’s a kingdom without a crown? Or in this case—a cracked slab of concrete with the ghost of a dog’s paw print in it. The first-ever Concrete Kong Trophy was born from this chaos: a literal hunk of cement. It now lives as both a monument and a threat.
Here’s how it works: If you and a partner dethrone Laurel and Lance—both of you must get the KOM and QOM—you get to take the trophy. But not forever. Like all good cursed relics, it’s passed on. You’ll need to mark it, decorate it, and be ready to lose it again. Maybe in chalk. Maybe with a Sharpie. But the legacy lives in the hands (and legs) of the bold.
Good question. Maybe we’ll go back to Weenie Wonderland. Maybe we’ll find the next absurdly steep Strava segment and crown new legends. Or maybe we’ll just sit around talking about it until someone gets peer-pressured into greatness.
But for now, the Concrete Queen Kong and King Kong reign supreme.
Long live the climb.
Get you some.
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Cadence Cyclery Encinitas recently had the privilege of hosting PAS Normal Studios for their Mid Summer 200K ride. Regardless of your opinion of the PAS brand, there is no denying one thing. Between their US-based youth cycling program and now this group ride, they are here to impact the cycling community for the better. And they have some deeply passionate people working hard to make it happen. We are looking forward to more of this and hope to aid in their efforts however we can.
I’ve always believed that having a plan is good, but being flexible is even better. Our recent trip to Montana proved that point in the best way possible.
The inaugural Belgian Waffle Ride Montana didn’t just arrive in Bozeman—it kicked the door down, left tire tracks through the living room, and poured a cold recovery beer on the way out. Set against the breathtaking backdrop of Montana’s vast gravel playgrounds, the first-ever BWR MT delivered a day that tested the sadists of the saddle and gave us the “Hell of the Bozone” in all its glory.
