Crusher Redux.

"Ah, but a man's reach should exceed his grasp, Or what's a heaven for?"
Robert Browning.

I would not have been so excited about heaven if I had known I would need to pedal to get up there.

In 2014 I entered the Crusher in the Tushar race event in Beaver, Utah.  Known as one of the more difficult races of it's kind, it is a 70 mile bike race over a combination of paved and dirt (or gravel) roads and ascends over a total of 10,000' in those 70 miles, much of that at altitude, ending up at around 10,500' feet at the finish line.

It is, to put it mildly, challenging.  It is, to put it succinctly, freaking hard, and the ex-pro road racer that thought up this thing is the race promoter, T. Burke Swindlehurst. 'T-Bird' is a cruel, cruel man to be sure.  That first attempt at the Crusher found me lacking in speed and I missed the time cut off by four minutes.  Four lousy minutes.  And that was the end of my Crusher.  Done.  And to add insult to injury, to rub salt into my lactic acid oozing wounds, I still had to ride another 10 miles and a few million feet of gain (felt like it anyway) to the finish line at the ski resort.  But 2015 would be my revenge.

Rush hour in Beaver, Ut

Beaver, Utah, population 3000 or so, and the birthplace of Butch Cassidy, sits alongside Hwy 15 between St. George and Salt Lake (more or less) and is nestled at the base of the Tushar Mountains which provide an amazingly scenic background for the race course.  It is the kind of place you would come to to ride on vacation, especially for a So Cal guy like me.

Beginning in town, and it's a small town to be sure, the race has a very grassroots feel to it and the community seems to enjoy having it happen. Held on the same weekend as the Butch Cassidy Days festival, the race mixes with pie eating contests and what not.  It is good fun in a way that bigger towns and cities have lost the ability to provide.  The race caps at 600 riders and always fills up fast, so the difficulty of the Crusher is not scaring everyone off.

The race rolls out of town on the paved State Hwy 153 alongside the Beaver River, and while it is not a steep grade, it is still uphill and the packs of riders are out for blood, so it is a fast pace right off the bat. Also, we are beginning at a 5900 feet elevation so flatlanders like me are sucking wind right away.  After 11 miles it hangs a right and the grade immediately ramps up, at first on a chip seal paved surface, then into smooth dirt, and begins to climb and climb and climb, seemingly forever to the first aid station at 18 miles, pitched by a sylvan lake scene. Then it continues to ascend to the 27 mile point where that looming time cut off awaits at check point 2.  You need to be there by 11:00 or you are done racing.

From there, the course drops off the face of the earth and plummets you down the Col 'd Crush, a 4000 foot descent on a gravel covered, washboard infested road, into the Piute valley where you circle around through a couple of towns, ride through the Sarlacc Pit, which can be sandy and hot, before riding back up that steep and ugly descent you barely survived.  That brings you back to the aid station that was the time cut off point before you turn right and climb a good bit more to reach the high point at the finish in the Eagle Point Ski Resort.

But I never experienced most of that as I was out of the race at aid station two.  No Col 'd Crush…no Sarlacc Pit…just what I read about it.  But that was 2014 and 2015 would be different.

Last year I rode a well equipped 29er hard tail.  It was quite good for the day, or I thought so, and it was comfy and had lots of low gears.  The Crusher is a bit of a puzzler as to what bike type is fastest there, and while a cross bike or gravel bike is the prominent choice, there are a lot of riders that race a hard tail 29er or even an FS 29er.  But this year I wanted to try something different.  I had been curious about owning a gravel bike for a while anyway, so I built one up to see if I liked the genre (I do!) and to see if I could improve on my chances at the Crusher.

This is a very fun bike, it just needs a bigger motor.

The 2016 Salsa Warbird (alu model) was built with a SRAM Rival 22 Hydro group running a 36/46 crank and an 11-36 rear cassette.  That 1:1 low gear had shown to be adequate on the steep climbs at home and with the decent DT Swiss wheels and Panaracer 38C Comet tires, the bike weighed in at 21 lbs ready to ride (no bags, etc).  It is a fast bike, and at home I was setting PRs on Strava anywhere I pointed it uphill.  I figured that would transfer over to the Crusher course, but I was to be proved wrong, oh so tragically, dismally, comically wrong.

I had trained hard, or at least as hard as a very early and hot spring-into-summer allowed for and that a working guy could muster.  I had a strong base fitness, and a couple of recent, hard century rides on the road had showed no cracks in my tanned and chiseled facade.  Every ride I did had climbing in it and I was almost always on the Warbird, working out any bugs in set-up, etc.  I felt ready.  I was mistaken.

Race day was going to give us great weather and Ed the Tall, a riding buddy, was there with me to race the event.  My wife had come along too, and her and the dog were going to ride the course a bit ahead of the pack and I would see her along the path somewhere before the cut off.  

Ed the Tall and his Raleigh WIllard

I only needed to be 4 minutes faster than last year.  I was pretty confident that I could do that, but right from the starting gun I was struggling to stay with the pack of riders I began with, the Men's 50+, who are a group of fast, fast, old guys.  Last year the Men's 50+ winner was only an hour and change slower than the overall race winner.  Seriously.

I should have just ignored my heart rate monitor and done whatever it took to stay with the pack for that 11 miles up the highway before the dirt began, but I was afraid of digging a hole so deep that I could never recover so I managed my heart rate and spun along at a good pace.  Still, I was already concerned as to how hard it was for me to recover from any hard effort.  I never felt like I could back off, rest, then jump hard again.  It just was a long, constant feeling of being under water and suffering.  You see I have the body of an antelope; fleet, lean, and fast.  But it is powered by the heart and lungs of a gerbil - soft, round, and furry.  Or so it would seem as altitude really hammers me.  And living at 1200' above sea level (if I am standing on my tip toes) does not help at all.

The dirt began and I was passing some folks who had passed me back, so that was good.  I just had to really minimize any stopped time and go, go, go.  But even with a very short time at aid station one, I was seeing my time slip away.  I was getting concerned.  The clouds rolled in and the wind came up and the temps fell.  I stopped to slip on arm and leg warmers and lost some minutes, but losing critical body heat would be bad too.  Then my cages rattled loose and I did not want to lose my bottles, so I was forced to stop and tighten them.  More time lost.

But what surprised me was how, after attending to the cage deal, my legs were showing signs of early cramping, something that has plagued me for years, but not recently with a well sorted nutrition plan.  That was not good.  And it had me wondering that even if I made the time cut, could I, or should I, press on? 

Miles and minutes went by and the Garmin was not making me feel better. I was running out of time and I simply could not go any faster.  I was just at a loss to do anything about it, and I was struck with this incredulous realization that history was repeating itself. When I came across the wife and dog, maybe 2 miles out from the second aid station, it was 10:56 AM.  I was done and I knew it.  I rode on, preparing to surrender my timing chip, and was in a pretty dark place.  How could I miss this again?  What could I have done differently? Thoughts came to my mind like "You have no business being here."  "Too old and slow."

   

I pedaled on with the consolation that even if I made this by some miracle, it might have been foolish to continue with my legs being the way they were.  That thought was of little help.  On the other hand, I was pretty sure I could have recovered in the descent and the road section to follow and even if I crumbled on the Col 'd Crush, I could walk or surrender the fight with some honor, knowing I made it one step farther than last year.  When I rolled up to the check point I looked at my watch and saw that I was almost precisely four minutes past the time limit, just exactly what I missed by last year.  How comically ironic…better bike (maybe)…better plan (maybe)…same result.  I had to laugh.  Other riders were coming up behind me and finding their race over as well, many of them seemingly stunned by the time cut off. Yep…sucks, huh?  Welcome to my slow, slow, slow world.  And I thought to myself that I will never do this silly thing again.

After a volunteer surgically removed my timing chip from my number plate with a pocket knife, I asked if he could remove my broken heart while he was at it.  Just joking, pal. I already had spit out my lungs along the way, so there would have been plenty of room for him to work. I walked my bike over to the aid table and grabbed some water.  Along the way, well meaning folks were yelling "good job" and "you did awesome".  Well, not really.  Awesome usually gets you past the cut off time in a race.  I was four minutes less than awesome.  I was in no hurry now, so I ate a bit, mixed up some energy drink, and hung out for a few minutes, talking to other shell shocked victims of the sands of time. 

This time I decided not to ride up to the finish line like in 2014, but instead I flipped around and headed back down the course to catch up with the wife and dog so we could hang together and then drive up to the finish area for food and festivities.  I did so with a mixed bag of emotions; relief, angst, frustration, wonderment, resolution, confusion and no little amount of bummed-out-ness.  Along the way I felt the life returning into my legs and looked at the amazing beauty around me, something I had not appreciated on the way up with my tongue stuck to my teeth and my sweat dripping onto my top tube like a melting block of salt.  

My mood brightened as the mountains yielded their elevation to me, and down, down I sped till I met up with the family.  Over a tuna fish and cranberry sandwich, shared three ways of course (the dog), and tasting like the most delicious thing I could ever remember eating, I looked at the lake in these pictures and thought how beautiful this place is.  How terribly, terribly hard and frustrating and difficult and beautiful.

   

And I was already working on a new plan for next year.

Yeah, not bad on the eyes, this Utah.

The registration area blends with the town festivities.

It's a real, honest to goodness pie eating contest.

YESSIR, SERGEANT MAJOR SIR!!!

Cannondale Slate with 45mm-ish 650b slicks

Where it all ended for me.  It was pretty cold too.

The last 1/2 mile of pavement may be the cruelest part of the race.

A rider nears the finish line I have yet to see with a bike under me.  Next year!

Idaho Revisited…The Victory Lap

Life has been quite intense since Mid August, so there has been little energy to blog…still, this demands a conclusion.

All the way to Idaho I was gauging my health and staying decently drugged up.  I had come down with a cold of some kind the week before the event and I was really struggling on whether or not to go. In the end, I figured if nothing else I could cheer on Navy Mike and drink hot teas in a coffee shop while he raced. I was really hoping not to infect Navy Mike along the way, but I figured that it would take longer than 1.5 days to have anything really affect him for the event day.  If he gets sick post-victory, so be it.  We can eat cheeseburgers and take Sudafed together.

Along the way, at gas stop somewhere, I was listening to a group of touristy looking folks with interesting accents while I waited in the world's longest Subway Sandwich line.  It turns out they were a bunch of New Zealanders out on holiday along the old Route 66, all of them in matching Ford Mustangs.  Sweet.

Friday night we rolled into the area and found our hotel…a very nice one, by the way…just downstream a bit from Ketchum.  We unloaded our bikes in a light rain.  Hmmmm.  93 miles of rain riding and a head cold too?  The Sun Valley area had been getting an unseasonable amount of summer rain and while that could make for nearly dust free and fast road conditions, it might be over the top on the day of.  We shall see as the weather was supposed to clear by then.

Saturday we arose and headed over to the town square for the pancake breakfast served to us by bright faced young girls and all of this for charity.  Awesome.  We set up our chairs on main street for the parade later on and did what any high level athlete does the day before the race.  We went shopping.  This is the weekend when the town shuts down summer and flips the winter switch so the deals at the local outdoors shops are really pretty good.  The parade was very cool…that is a really, really big steer.

I went for a walk with Navy Mike to see if we could get to the river we could hear below town.  A wall of fancy condos and driveways with No Trespassing signs kept us from our goal.  Sooo close and yet…  I was just about done-in by my 2 mile walk.  At this point I could not imagine riding tomorrow.  I was a bit concerned.  I waited in a line in the nicest Starbucks I had ever seen, hit the green tea and honey and waited to see what the next day would bring.  We ate at The Powerhouse, a combo bike shop/food place/micro brewery that served a great ahi burger.  I actually was feeling better as well but I was still nervous about the next day.

And then it was here.  Thanks to God and a good night's sleep, I woke up feeling nearly normal. The early morning ritual of up in the dark, figuring out breakfast, final mixing of bottles, then out in the dark to drive to the start in Ketchum had me feeling better and better about this endeavor. The crowds, the bikes, nervous laughter, colorful jerseys and lots of selfies; the starting line poured into the street and out of town to Trail Creek Road with a police escort.

Nissan is a new event sponsor.

Last year I had a lighter bike and a small Camelbak.  I pushed too hard too fast and did not have spinning gears for the first climb.  I never really recovered from that and that was a big factor in my cutting short the ride the first time.  This year I had a much heavier bike and no hydration pack, but I had gears!  Real MTB gears, light wheels, fast tires…mix that with the good pedaling platform that a Specialized Epic is and I was passing groups of people that last year were passing me.  This is a good plan.

The rain was beginning to fall and up ahead, the summit was draped in clouds.  All I could hope for was a clearing or something less than full on rain.  I had dressed a bit conservatively and did not have any real rain gear.  Monsoons would end this day for me.  I was wearing some Specialized bib shorts with knee warmers, a base tank, a race s/s jersey from Endura with a wind proof front, and arm warmers with a Buff head wrap.  Wool socks and a extra set of warmer gloves and a windbreaker was all I had to upgrade to if the weather came in.  Up we went into the mist.

I barely stopped at the SAG stop at the summit and pressed on with the goal of not missing the cut off.  This year would see record setting course times as the dirt was packed down and there was little washboard.  The weather had opened up so it looked like it would not rain anytime soon.  I flew on the Epic and ran right by the second SAG.  Hitting SAG 3, I was almost an hour up on last year's time and I felt pretty darn good too.  The head cold was not affecting me and my legs were still moving well.  I was going to make it.

I took my time at SAG 3, fueled up and headed out into Copper Basin, the best part of the ride.  I was doing the mental calculations on a finishing time.  I had set out to do 8 hrs start to finish.  Navy Mike had set a 6.5 hour goal.  I was thinking I might be under 7 hours myself.  Wow.  I pedaled with renewed focus and the miles and hours clicked by.  Back at SAG 3 and 4, I stocked up on food and water and hit the fast return to Trail Creek road.  I was thinking I would be close to 6.5 hours!  But I knew that last year, as soon as I turned onto Trail Creek Rd, the headwinds hit me full on.  That could be a kill joy for a record time.

Meanwhile, cranks were turned and gravel sped by under my tires.

Room to spread out.

Sure enough, as soon as I swung left onto Trail Creek Rd, I not only started a slight uphill grade, it was into a constant wind.  Later on, Navy Mike would call this section out as "riding in a very dark place".  I watched my speed drop from 20+ to 15 to 10 to 8 mph.  Meanwhile I was conserving some legs as I knew in about 10 miles that the grade would increase for a good mile or two.  The math was not working in my favor and 6.5 hours would be impossible.  Maybe 7 though, so I kept at it, stopping to stretch a bit and pee, but mostly making circles with my pedals over and over.  As I neared the summit, the wind abated and I knew that at 80 miles I had it made because then it was 12 miles or so downhill into town.  7 hrs had slipped away from my grasp in that purgatory of windy road, but not to be daunted, I set 7.5 hours as the new goal.  Down I flew on a section that just drops and drops and drops on a washboard dirt road with no guardrail.  Last year, on the Crux cross bike, I had to manage my speed and nearly ran out of hand strength to hang on, brake, and steer.  It was not that much fun.  This year, with 2.1 tires and 100mms of travel…shoot…it was a brake free 25mph plunge feeling totally relaxed.  But that darn wind.  I was still having to pedal hard to keep my speed up and that was going to make 7.5 hours very close.

The organizers had wisely set the timing line just outside of town so no one would be racing in urban traffic areas.  But it still meant that I had a few miles of paved road rollers to make the finish and I just pinned it, watching my Garmin click off the elapsed time.  I could see the finish line but it was going to be very close.

Over the line at 7 hrs and 32 minutes.  Close enough.

I sat up, breathed a deep, deep breath of satisfaction and put it in cruise mode.   Done and done.

Back in town the party was in full force.  I did not realize how spent I was till I got off the bike and walked around.  I think the cold had caught up to me and it took a Coke and a hand made pizza to get me right.  Navy Mike had finished in 6 and 20, so he was under his goal as well.  I was actually very happy to be only an hour and change off his pace over 90 miles as he is a strong rider.  The Scott Spark that he rode was very similar in set-up to my Epic and he had 'roadie' types drafting him over the rougher sections of the course where he could stay seated and pedal hard.  For shame…wheel suckers. :)

That night was a well deserved bacon burger back at The Powerhouse and then the long drive home the next day.  It was a good trip back to Idaho.  Next year?  We shall see.

The 'after glow' courtesy of Patron.

Recovery food for the soul.

For my official write up of RPI 2014, clicky here for the gravelgrindernews.com site

Idaho Revisited: Rebecca's Private Idaho 2014

I was not going to do it, you know.  Too far to drive.  Costs money.  Takes time.  Takes training.  Meh!

But then Navy Mike said he was looking to do something semi-epic this year and did I have any plans?  Not really.  Past the Crusher in the Tushar, I had nothing but a bunch of road centuries and they do not really require training, just lots of riding to be ready for them.  But after a few minutes of texting and emailing, it was settled.  I was going to Idaho.  Again.

My time there was bittersweet in 2013.

Part One.

Part Two.

Part Three.

I was slower than I wanted to be, but not by much, yet I barely made the cutoff.  Feeling the strain, I flipped early and only rode 72 of the 93 miles for the full course.  So if I was going to go back, I was going to keep my fitness a bit higher and ride it more like a race and less like a tour.  Less pic taking, Posie sniffing, and casual pedaling might get me an hour faster than last year overall.  Maybe.

I also had to decide what bike to ride.  Last year I reserved a Specialized Crux and that was really fun to ride, never having been on a cross bike before.  I had just built up a hard tail 29er for The Crusher race but I did not really like the way that 29er HT worked for me so it caws stripped.  That left me with two choices…reserve a bike again or race whatever I had left that was kinda fast.  The Crux was light and all, but the gearing was higher than I have on my new road bike.  And that 36T/28T low combo was not enough to let me spin up the first long climb out of town.  Being able to spin really helps me stay fresh for the next few hours of riding and so deeper gears would offset the lighter bike IMO.

So I have one other bike that seemed reasonable to ride.  The Specialized Epic is a fast feeling FS 29er and this one has quite a nice build on it…carbon wheels, etc.  Probably 5 pounds heavier than the Crux, it is comfy for all those washboard roads and is a great pedaling bike all around.  Decision made.  Use what you know.

So I set out to work on my fitness by laying out a plan that would see me building all the way till late August.  It was going well and it involved a lot of road riding in the Summer heat.  Then I got sick, some kind of a weird intestinal thing.  That cost me a week.  Then I worked 30 hours of overtime the next week.  Then my house flooded and we had to move out while that was dealt with.  And then I had another bout of illness that took me out for another week.  Although I never stopped riding, it took one month of quality training out of my life.  That sucked.  But it is what it is and at least I am typically fit, but not where I wanted to be.

So I had the bike - The Epic with the XX drivetrain and Carbon Roval wheels shod with fast rolling but plumpish Race King and X King tires.

I had the fitness to survive, I think, but not excel.

I had a plan to tweak a few things too.  First, I knew the route and what to expect.  Barring things like weather and wind, that would allow me to better gauge the effort I could afford to put out.  Of course, the extra 25 miles of the course I never rode is a wild card.  I wanted to get the weight off my back, so no hydration pack.  That meant a frame bag to carry essentials like extra tube, pump, windbreaker, and drink mix packets/supplements.  A bar mounted bag (Revelate Mountain Feedbag) will keep a bottle at hand and I will alternate between Fluid Performance drink mixed up double strong (@200 cals per bottle) and Camelbak fizzy lifting drink tablets.  If the weather is hotter, I will mix in Elete tablytes.

I will treat it more like a very fast ride, maybe even a race.  That goes against my grain as I love a challenge, but the pressure of a race pace does not appeal to me.  But I need to step up and change that a bit.  I made a real error at the Crusher in the Tushar and it was bitter lesson.  If I miss the cut off this time, it will not be due to a tourist mindset.

Ed the Tall is not my travel buddy, but Navy Mike is actually race ready I think and is a very strong rider.  He even has been working with a coach and had a drink mix custom blended just for him.  Sheesh!  I just recently got on Strava and bought a Garmin.  Old mountain bikers never die, they just begrudgingly take on new technology every ten years.  I predict to see Navy Mike at the beginning of the race and at the end and never more than that.  I will be alone again to face my own demons of doubt and suffering but I am used to that.

So off the Idaho I go.  Ready or not.  But don't expect a bunch of pics.  I'm racing this time.

Go-'Fish

Road to WRIAD 2

FFW, the myth, the man, the legend.

The second training ride this last Sat was just FFW Dave and I.  FFW is the only guy so far to wave at me and say "Aye" to the plan in March, so we got together to spin around the country a bit, talk and plan.  FFW is a darn strong rider and very accomplished, so there is no question as to whether he is a worthy companion.  I am stoked to have him along.

I have done this loop about 4 times or so and it is always hard.  This time I was very pleased at how I felt.  The first 8 mile climb was into a headwind.  Ugh.  I was concerned what that would do to me over the rest of the day.  But the second climb went by without even any pain...we talked all the way up.  The third climb was not even hard and normally that is a sufferfest.  The next 10 miles of dirt intervals hurt a bit, but nothing more than it always does, even if I have not ridden 4 hours beforehand.  Interesting.  We even added in some extra credit climbing and singletrack at the end.

I took the time to regularly stretch the legs, focusing on keeping the hamstrings, inner groin/thighs, and quads from pulling up tight on me.  One bottle of Fluid Performance drink, two bottles of Clif Shot drink mix, 3 Endurolytes, 100oz of water, 6 oatmeal cookies, one oatmeal bar, and some trail mix.

I think I am on a good path here, but could I have done this ride twice?  No, not likely.  That concerns me, but I have some time yet to train further.  I was also trying to test the pace of the ride.  I think we need to be on a 10mph average for WRIAD.  So, this ride was in that zone and it felt good.  We could talk, take short breaks, but still move efficiently. 

Sat's tale of the tape:  42.8 miles  5,526' of elevation gain, 4.35 riding time, 5.26 total time.  9.3mph average.

FFW in The Narrows

Going Fishing.

Blowin' In The Wind

I stuck my head out of the outer door of my hilltop work building and nearly lost what hair I have left.  Oh great...windy, eh?  The timing on this wind surfer's dream state was not in my favor as I had a reprieve from my normal Thursday night schedule that allowed me to get in a longer ride.  And I sure needed a longer ride. WRIAD, something I have on the calendar for the end of March, was looking like a bust as I had no partner in crime to do it with me.  Not a solo ride IMO, not for this guy anyway, I was thinking it would fall away to the end of the year but recently FFW, a local endurance rider, stuck his little hand in the air and volunteered his body for science.  WRIAD is back on.  In the words of that sage doggie Scooby Doo, "Ruh Roh!"  Time to get some miles in!

I know that FFW is stronger than I anyway and he has been logging some 60 miles loops lately.  Dang!  I am slacking.  So when I got home the winds were still jammin' right from the direction I would be pedaling for at least an hour...uphill.  Sigh.  Sure would have been easy to write it off, but I suited up, put my light onto the Carve Pro SS, packed some extra layers and clear glasses for post sundown work, and pedaled out.

The 20 Mile Loop is a great training ride and especially so on an SS as it is one big set of intervals from start to near finish.  Climb, drop, climb, drop, rinse, repeat.  This ride used to be my litmus test for fitness.  If I could ride it (geared) with out feeling like my legs were gone, I was doing OK and a 2 hour and 30 minute time was about right.  Phah!  Now I do it on the SS in two hours door to door.  Time marches on but sometimes the beat (or beat-down) changes.

The wind was pretty bad and set me back a full ten minutes at the 10 mile point.  It did make for a better workout though.  I was the only one out there on an SS.  Shoot, I was the only one out there at all on ANYTHING without a motor and climate control.  Cold wind, too.  What to do?  Pull the Buff headwrap down over the ears and turn up the iPod shuffle a notch or two.  Pedal.  Pedal.  Pedal.

Hitting the dirt I was still well ahead of sundown so I stopped to stretch the hamstrings and quads.  I have been adding some body weight squats of different kinds, including one legged versions, and following with targeted stretching of those areas.  I have some thoughts as to my issues with leg cramping and tight muscles.  Will being more limber help there?  Not sure, but being well stretched is good for all living things so it can't hurt.

The first dirt climb is a real booger.  Steep, loose and steep, it is a real bummer on an SS.  However, a recent ride on Gridley Trail, a 90 minute granny ring climb, seemed to show that the leg squats have been building some leg power.  I felt this way again on this dirt climb.  Legs good.  Lungs/heart less so.  I recover very fast as far as cardio goes, but I just cannot hold those high heart rates like I used to in my younger years.  Oh well.  The Carve with the American Classic SS wheels and the Protection X Kings from Conti are a pretty awesome combo for getting up a steep rise in the trail.  Push hard, go up.  I am getting spoiled here with a lighter, faster SS ride.  Makes even old guys look good.

The wind had dropped off and the next 5 miles were bliss....tricky carving corners full of loose rock and ruts, fast drops that require a dropped outside pedal and a Clint Eastwood squint to commit to the line without flinching, then drawing the six shooter on the next rise in the trail, never sitting down, just shooting from the hip like Clint would.  Good, bad, ugly as applied to 29" wheels and one gear.

As the sun hung on by the fingernails on the horizon's edge, I turned right and dropped into Foreplay to G-Out.  This added some miles and more cimbing, something I typically do not do at this point, but FFW is taunting me with his thrown gauntlet to go bigger.  Ok then.  Hero dirt on a roller coaster of a trail was the reward.  No one else, just me.  I am really getting dialed into the Carve and it just ripped it up down there...flow happened.

Turn left and up...up...up...and just as the sun went to bed I topped out at The Towers.  No wind...huh...it was actually warmer now then when I began.  Nice.  Layered up, light on, dropping in.  Fast is as fast does and I can coast with the best of them....zoom zoom.  The new home made light is so darn good.  Bright enough to scare the zombies away and very rideable in beam pattern.  Total success so far.  I barely even need a headlamp now, but that is coming too...headlamp V 2.0.

Rolling home I passed a pizza place and the aromas coming from there were stunning.  I thought of how cool it would be to stop in, get a pizza, warm up my toes, and head out for another loop.  But family called and someone was waiting at home for me.

FFW, I am the guy behind you in the sarape, standing in the middle of the street next to the saloon.  See the squint?  The guns are next.

Dancing with Cacti

It began with an email from KT the Man.  He was headed to Arizona for an endurance race and wanted to know if was interested.  I had followed some of the Arizona Endurance Series on the net for some time and I was eager to come down and do some grass roots racing through the prickly pear.  The Antelope Peak Challenge was a 115 or 65 mile loop on some new sections of the Arizona Trail.  I was not up to the long one, but I figured I could stretch and make the 65 mile version.  So, we were on!

The last two weeks leading up to the event were not friendly to me work schedule and weather wise.  Two straight weeks on call for work and the first rain of the season kept me to local loops, no long rides.  Still, it would have to do and I counted on all those recent hard SS rides to get me by.

I had to decide what bike to ride.  It was between the Epic 29er with the carbon wheels or the Carve SS I have been riding for a while now.  I was really liking the SS and since I was thinking about doing the WRIAD on an SS, I figured it would be good to see how this bike treated me over a longer, harder day.  So, the SS it was.  I had just received some new wheels that would have been sweet to roll on, but I did not have enough time to burn them in after installing them.  I have one rule above all when it comes to new gear/bike changes before a critical ride:  Never go into battle with an unproven weapon.  So I changed only one thing...the grips, stealing the most excellent Ergon GA-1 grips off the Blackbuck.  Those are the best I have found for SS work on long days.  I considered changing tires from the Geax TNT AKAs to some TNT Saguaros for extra grip in the desert conditions, but the pics I had seen of the trail made it look pretty smooth.  The AKAs are fast, good sized, and they were already on there.  SO, I went with the AKAs, something I regretted a bit later.

I also had a new hydration pack to try out.  It was much too big for the day's requirements, but it was light for its size and comfy to wear, so I figured I would give it a shot.  Osprey makes great stuff and I have loved owning the tried and true Talon 22.  This Escapist 30 was a bit bigger than the already big Talon 22 and was more suited for bike use, having tool organization features.

The morning came and we loaded the camping gear into KT the Man's adventure van and hit the road toward Tucson.  The drive is about 9 hours and we talked about bikes, clean diet changes, bikes, riding, job stuff, life issues, and bikes.  Soon enough we were across the border into AZ.

Rolling in to the camp area, we set up and prepped for the next day.  The trick was finding a cactus free zone to set up a tent.  Man, this is an unfriendly country.  Wearing sandals would be crazy around here.  I had a new GPS that I was breaking in, although I had tested it a bit before I left.  I would have liked to have proven it further, but it was either go with it or not go at all.  So I played with that a bit, checked over my pack set-up, and then hung around a communal fire pit, talking with some of the racers that were camping here.  Friendly banter and talk of the route and past rides ran their course and then it was time to hit the tent, enjoying the new inflatable camping pad I had bought last year.  Super comfy and packs small too.

I was awoken by the noise of the 115 miler folks leaving at 05:00 in the cold and dark.  Brrrrr.  It was cold enough at 06:30 when I rose to meet the morning.  KT the Man fired up his antique Coleman stove, the kind you have to fill with Coleman fuel and prime before you light it...have not seen one of those since I was a kid...and tea with some trail mix got me ready to roll.

GPS on...check...pack ready....check...last minute clothing decisions and we were off on the 'neutral start'.  However, the neutral start was decidedly un-neutral to SS riders.  Too fast for me right off and I dropped off the back into the stragglers.  The 6.5 miles of dirt road led us to a highway and then about 10 miles of pavement, uphill into a cold wind.  I pulled a lone lady along for a while till she dropped out of the draft and I ended up riding with 2 other guys on SS bikes all the way to the next turn onto the dirt.

Clothing layers were adjusted as the sun was making the 40-ish degree temps fade away.  It felt good to be on dirt again and the Arizona Trail began here.  I posed for a pic in front of the sign and did not realize until later that Antelope Peak, the distant point on the horizon, was our 'maypole' that meant the turnaround point of the race.  If I had seen that at this stage of the race I would have been...oh what is the word...oh yeah, 'dismayed'.

Dropping onto the trail I was reminded of that tire choice again, and I was already wishing I had opted to swap for the more aggressive Geax Saguaros.  The trail was off camber, loose, and covered with small broken rocks and cactus pieces.  Tons of switchbacks required a bit of tip-toeing to stay rubber up, but I was still catching and passing folks on geared FS bikes.  It was warming up and the miles crept by.  It was slow going but I was happy to have chosen the SS.  I was riding a lot more than I would have expected, pushing on the steeper, loose hill sections.  The Carve SS Pro was treating me well so far and I just dig the way it turns pedal input into rolling up the trail.  Singlespeeds are so cool and great singlespeeds are even cooler.

The sweeping vistas were tough to appreciate unless you stopped.  The trail was lined with more kinds of cactus then I had ever seen and it took all your concentration just to color between the lines.  Going off trail would have been very bad.

I was in the back of the pack and alone most of the time, but I would leap frog with a few guys over the course of the day.  I was feeling really strong and riding a lot of the winding trail-ups.  I also noted a bit of pre-cramping feeling in my quads and that worried me, so I began to push a bit more, leaving some money in the leg-bank.  Unfortunately, before the day was over I would end up overdrawn.  This section of the trail was pretty new and anything but buff and I was not always clear on the route, getting off course twice until the GPS and a bit of poking around and backtracking got me back on trail.  At one point I was at a cattle gate crossing and met up with two riders.  I had been looking at a distant peak, thinking that it could not be Antelope Peak as it was very far away and it was already 01:00.  Just then one of the riders pointed to the peak in question and told his buddy, "That is where we are going".  REALLY?  Oh jeepers!!!!

The backside of Antelope Peak...finally.

About, oh, 40 miles into the ride the leg cramps began to hit me.  I could not push hard, so I would dance on the pedals until I felt the legs going south, then I would push for a while...pedal...push, etc.  The sucky part was I was feeling really strong other than that.  My energy was great, my back felt great, the SS was working sweet, but I could not hit the GO button.  Sucks to be me.  Leg cramps are my Waterloo...always have been.

At about 50 miles it was 5:00 and I had about 45 minutes of daylight.  I had a head light with me, but the last section of trail was described as very hard to follow and that was in the daylight.  By now there were times I was having issues even walking.  I never absolutely locked up solid, but the threat was always just under the surface.  I was also pretty much out of water, having about three good swallows left.  I had gone through 100oz in the Osprey pack plus 5 small water bottles.

That was enough to sway me into taking the bail-out option at mile 60 or so.  The trail turned right and I stayed straight ahead on the dirt road to camp.  I was very grateful for that smooth piece of road...not flat, but if I died there at least I would be found before the buzzards got me.

I rolled in to camp just at dusk, signed in, and headed for dinner.  What a day.  The rest of the night we hung around the fire in our camp, sharing time with the locals and the event organizers as they waited for all the riders to come in.  The last 115 milers, two guys on singlespeeds, one nursing knee issues, came in at 10:30 at night having left at 05:00 that morning.  Oh man...that is a long day. 

The next morning we set out to ride the 24 Hours of the Old Pueblo course as KT the Man and Nicette, our lady of the group, were set to race the team 24 hour in a few weeks.  We rode about 12 miles of some of the flowiest, funnest singletrack in the desert.  SO THIS is where they hide the fun trail out here...right next to our camp site!  What a contrast to the previous day's trail!  Still, it is all good.  The trip was great, the company sweet, the ride was hard, and the deed was done. 

The Carve had been a perfect companion.  The tough Geax TNT casings never flinched on the rocks and the Geax sealant inside kept me flat free...I KNOW I ran over cactus many times.  The new Osprey pack was too big for this trip, but was never uncomfortable and had a pocket for everything.  The GPS was awesome to have and the new eTrex series from Garmin looks ready made for endurance nuts with the AA batts and easy to use features.  The Fluid endurance drink mix in the bottles kept me very well energized but even with Elete in the water reservoir, I still battled cramps.  Bummer.  One of these days I will figure that out.  In the meantime, thanks to the organizers and to the hard working folks who cut that Arizona Trail out of the desert.

I will be back.