Escape The Cold

Although I’d already signed up for the 12 Hours of Santos well in advance, it quickly turned into an escape from the lovely weather we’ve had here in Charlotte. 

Lots of other folks had the same idea, so when I finally got down near Ocala, FL I ran into some of the Charlotte FasterMustache crew, Dicky, Jordan from The Hub, Niner Mike, and a whole bunch of other familiar faces.  I got everything setup in a hurry since I was camping out of my truck, and we hung around for a while discussing what we were in for.

It felt good to be back “home” in the place I grew up with people from my current home.  And it was good to be warm too until the next morning.

I can’t recall ever having to scrape ice off of any vehicles I’ve owned, but I do remember it getting cold enough to freeze.  It was 32 when I woke up Saturday morning, but once the sun came up over the trees we started to get warm again.  I was ready to see what I could do this year.

Last year, I came in with a horrible attitude and bailed after three laps (and wondering if I’d ever race again.)  This year, I planned to race, or at least give it everything I had.  After a quick rider meeting, I dropped my bike at the neutral zone and headed down in the Vortex pit to get ready to “run” for the start.  I don’t run anymore, and I thought for sure I would just casually stroll to get my bike.  When the race started though, I took off running just like most everyone else.  I grabbed my bike and ended up somewhere in the middle I guess.  I was supposed to take it easy, but I found myself “racing” and riding hard to pass people.

I felt fine, so why not?

After the “parade” lap (which was quite long and for some reason still didn’t spread everyone out) I started to settle in.  I still passed a few people here and there, and some of the faster riders started passing me.  I found a good pace that wouldn’t kill me and I was feeling mighty fine.  The short, yet technical and steep climbs were hammered, and I sailed through the flat stuff spinning at a comfortable pace.

Photo credit:  GoneRiding.com

There was no quitting this time I figured.  I paid attention to my fluid intake and made sure to eat whenever I could.  After three laps my bottles were empty (as planned), so I stopped for a refill.  Niner Mike was more than helpful, especially since I mentioned to him that my front tire probably had too much air in it.

“This place is beating the shit outta me.”

Mike: “How much air do you normally run in the front?”

“I dunno.  25 p.s.i. I guess?”

You see, I’d refilled my tire sealant a few days before and pumped up my tires ridiculously high to help it seal and forgot to check the pressure before I started the race.  During the first couple of laps I stopped real quick (a few times actually) to let some air out when traffic on the trail caused me to have to dismount.  I thought maybe I was close to the ideal pressure up front after so many attempts.  When Mike checked my tire and told me it had 30 p.s.i. in it I was shocked.

No wonder the rocky stuff hurt so much.  He dropped it down to 25, which I realized later was still too much for running a rigid fork, even at my weight.  It was noticeably better though, so the next two laps were a little more comfortable.  I never did check the rear…

Stupid.

Anyway, five laps in I was out of water again (all according to plan.)  This time, Mike refilled my bottles and I told him that I was gonna take a little bit longer break this time to make sure I could last the entire race.  I texted the little lady really quick to let her know I wasn’t dead, ate some food, and walked back over towards the pit area so I could stretch.  I got a lot of encouragement from the TotalCyclist team, as well as the rest of the crew in our area to keep pushing.  It was definitely appreciated.

I wasn’t about to stop riding, even though I’d already beaten my lap total from last year.  I had a horrible headache, my back and neck were killing me, and my left wrist was in pain (FROM A RIGID FORK AND TOO MUCH STUPID AIR PRESSURE.)  My legs (and my mind) felt good though, so I hopped back on my bike to finish it out. 

More tomorrow…

Enough Is Enough

Today is my Friday, meaning that I’m off tomorrow.  Work has been rough, so any time I get an extra day away is good.  Especially since we’ve had some lovely weather here lately.

That was my commute to work on Tuesday morning.  The roads were pretty empty so taking a photo as I rolled down the interstate at a low rate of speed was not difficult to do.  Yesterday we had still had some wintry slush and ice around the house, slick spots on the roads, and even another (small) snow event in the afternoon.  I can’t take it anymore.  My recent trip to Arizona probably makes this feel a little worse than it is, but I feel pretty smart for scheduling another trip so soon after.

You see, I signed up for this little race a while back…

I’m in for a full twelve hours, just me and my rigid single speed on the (mostly) flat trails of Santos near Ocala, Florida.  This time last year I went down there after a big winter weather event, but that wasn’t enough to keep me going the whole time.  During the race I came to the realization that I may be done racing, and thought that it would be the last time.  Well, a big break from racing gave me some focus, and I’m all in this time.  Plus, the weather looks a helluva lot better than it is here in North Carolina.

Warm to me now, but when I lived down there I would still probably wear a light jacket or sweatshirt.  Things have changed in the last eight years, so I’m looking forward to working up a sweat trying to keep myself going well into Saturday evening.  I know the trails at Santos very well, and word around the campfire is that a whole bunch of Charlotte folks will be there (plus the Jacksonville crew of course.)

Looks like I’m not the only one trying to escape the cold.

But since you asked, it’s extra cold here now.  Like, brutal cold.   I can’t wait to get back to The Sunshine State.

See y’all probably around Tuesday with some kind of report.

From Desert To Snow

I’m not talking about the winter storm that came through here.  Why would I?  I’m still on vacation.

Sunday morning after SSAZ, I woke up tired.  My legs felt fine, so it was more from the fact that I’d had a very long day (and a late night.)  D-Wayne and the ladies wanted to ride, and I just wanted some “me” time.  I sat out in front of the house and just relaxed, eventually hopping on my bike for a spin around the neighborhood.

Our hosts had a plan for the day when everyone got back from riding (and me from staring up at the sky.)  It involved a trip up to Mt. Lemmon, which I thought would be pretty rad.  At over 9000 feet, it would be nice to check out the views.  After lunch, we started driving up the mountain road, stopping along the way at various viewing areas.

This particular mountain is popular amongst the roadie crowd for training, with that brutal climb to the top giving them an awesome workout.  I was impressed that people did that until we saw this dude rolling up the steep road.

A unicycle?  That guy must have some good legs.

We kept going up and the views kept getting better.

And we saw some people riding on two wheels this time.

As we got closer to the top, it started looking less like desert mountains and more like “regular” mountains.

Once we got to the top, we saw some snow.

It was near the 80s down below, and cold enough for snow up top.  I love elevation changes.  It made me think how brutal that climb up to the top must be on a bike.  You start out sweating, then freezing to death at the top (and on the way back down.) 

I didn’t just stare at the views and watch people suffer on bikes though.  I had the most awesome pie.

I didn’t climb up there to earn that.  Who gives a shit.

And yeah, we played in the snow (even though we weren’t supposed to do so.)

It was another long day, capped off by some Arizona brew.

I know I’ve said it before, but I want to give a big thanks to D-Wayne and Meghan for letting us stay with them.  I miss the fact that they aren’t in North Carolina anymore, but it was awesome to be able to go visit them in their new home out west.  Hopefully we didn’t cramp their style too much.

And hopefully we’ll be back real soon.

Now, back to the cold.  Maybe.

I Couldn’t Believe It

About halfway through the ride at SSAZ, I started feeling pretty awesome.  Not because I was riding gnarly terrain like I was skilled at it or something, but because I was riding something different.  

It was so beautiful out there.

I was already taking a lot of pictures, but at this point I was stopping just to take it all in.  I was really happy about this new place that my bike had taken me.

Sure I’d ridden in the desert before (the Mojave near Vegas), but this one was so much more scenic.

I was riding some stuff that I knew I woulnd’t ride again for quite some time.  There was really only one tough hike a bike climb, and even with that I didn’t mind.  The cactus-laden descents were so awesome that it was worth it.

And in proper DrunkCyclist form, there was a rad “aid station” out in the middle of nowhere.

I hung out there for a while with some old friends, and they told me that D-Wayne had only passed through there a short time ago.  I rolled out, climbed one more time, and found the raddest downhill section of the day.

From what I was told, the end was near.  We just had to cross the same creek about a million times.

I finally hit a fire road and starting seeing people.  Like, touristy kind of people.  I knew I was close.  Before long, I found the halfway point/aid station/finish line.

And everyone was happy to see us.

There was more trail to finish, but since this wasn’t a race we decided that we were done for the day.  Our ladies took the car back to town, and D-Wayne and I hopped on our bikes and headed towards the Flat Tire Bike Shop.

I thought it was gonna be a long, lonely ride back to town until we spotted a trail that ran parallel to the road.

It made our ride much better.  Every town should have such a thing.

The ride went by quickly, and before we knew it we were at the shop.  It had cool bike parking out front.

And beer.  Let’s not forget the beer.

We hung out for a while and relaxed.  Eventually D-Wayne and Meghan had to get back to take of their doggies, so Little Miss Sunshine and I stuck around.  The plan was to hang out at the after party for a bit, but first we had to catch a desert sunset.

The after party went on well into the night, but we rolled out (after staying a while) to make the long drive back to Tucson.  It was an awesome day in the desert mountains, and one that I won’t soon forget.  It was great to be a part of the “family reunion” and they put on a good event. 

I can’t wait to go back.

The Family Reunion

Saturday morning started early.  Up around 5 a.m., departing Casa de D-Wu shortly after in two cars due to bike-carrying arrangements.  One quick stop for breakfast and another for gas with shady gas station bathroom action had us getting up towards Cave Creek right on time.

We were still in the desert (duh), and out of nowhere this Wild West sorta town appeared.  We rolled up to the Flat Tire Bike Shop and starting poking around.  I ran into most of the AZ DrunkCyclist crew, Chewie from MN, Dejay,  and even some old friends from here in North Carolina.

Everything was a little behind schedule while they figured out how to shuttle everyone to the start location.  They had luxury limo van service for the people and a U-Haul to take the bikes.  Since we had two cars (which turned out to be pretty smart), we followed the convoy that eventually started heading out of town.

After about a twelve mile drive (including a dirt road) we made it to the Bronco Trailhead in the Tonto National Forest.  The riders gathered around to hear Dirty give his speech…

It included the most important advice for any kind of race or ride…

“Don’t be a dick.”

This was not a race.  It was a family reunion of single speeders from all over with a group ride thrown in for good measure.  We rolled out of the trailhead let out by some kind of enduro dirtbike (not Enduro™) and hit the road to find the singletrack.

Since it was a party pace, I had plenty of time to take photos…

It was a beautiful day in the desert mountains, rolling up and down the hills on a road for quite sometime.  Once we hit the singletrack, it was gridlocked.

And it stayed that way for a while, meaning that even the simple climbs had to be walked.

Once we started to spread out, I dropped back to get some “riding” photos before I caught up with the group.

Then we backed up again because of a really rocky creek crossing.

There was actually water in this one.

With no real steep climbs at first, it was still a challenge due to the gnar of baby heads all over the trail.  We actually rode a lot of it though, and of course I stopped often to take in the views.

And we took a few breaks along the way to practice the DrunkCyclist secret handshake:

Did I mention that the views were awesome?

During one of my shutterbug sessions, I spotted Shanna rolling down the mountain, showing the fellas how you ride the gnar.

Then it got really uh, technical…

It was like the desert was giving us a big F U.

We kept going though.

And of course it opened up again.

And I stopped for moar photos.

And yeah, I’m nowhere near finished.  More to come on Monday from Single Speed Arizona.

I have to go get ready to heckle this weekend at the next short track race.