Clock Out, Click In

100 Miles of Nowhere

Another epic ride, this time on a road bike and this time, with the fine company of my CarboRocket teammate. No snow, but hot and windy.  You can read my story on the Team CarboRocket blog and read about the same ride from the perspective of my teammate Lisa. Sammy the snake, pictured below, did not post to the blog. Because he's dead.

AZ Trail 300 Race--Day 3

 
Trail heading toward Rincon Mountains. 

Pre-dawn light comes too soon after the full moon light faded, so I’m awake at 4:50 am. I linger in the warmth of my sleeping bag for a little while, mentally planning exactly how I will pack everything quickly and get on the trail. My cold hands fumble with various stuff sacks and straps; so it still takes me 40 minutes to get going.

Before 6 am, I’m riding on beautiful singletrack through rolling hills, headed toward Rosemont Junction. Again, I’m walking too early in the day over stuff I should be able to ride. Coordination skills and quads take awhile to warm up. I switchback down to washes and switchback out of them.  I follow cattle running down the trail in front of me and dodge their fresh deposits.

I wish good morning to Ian, cocooned in his sleeping bag on the side of the trail. I stop for breakfast as the rising sun warms my soul, what a great day to be on the trail! Chocolate covered espresso beans make me happy. Enjoying the view of snow-capped Mt. Wrightson behind me, I realize that I’ve ridden all the way around the Santa Ritas!

I roll on, feeling better and stronger until I reach the bottom of a wash and a near vertical trail up the other side. I take half steps up the trail, dragging the heaviest bike in the world behind me. Take half step, lurch bike up next to me, bring other foot up, suck wind, repeat. “This is my Everest,” I think, as my inner drama queen takes over. When what I really need is my inner Wonder Woman.  Fortunately, the cliff trail is not very long and I'm at the top, still walking because the trail is thick with yuccas and prickly pear cacti—can’t someone cut this back?

At last I come to the jeep road descent and bomb down past The Lake with the beautiful wind in my face. I turn north, returning to singletrack toward Twin Tanks. I reach the tanks just as a huge bird of prey (Golden Eagle?) takes off from the water. The trail meanders pleasantly over more small hills toward Sahaurita Road. The day is heating up and I take refuge in the shade of a palo verde tree for snack time.

I reach Sahuarita Road, my first milestone of the day and aim for the next one: the I-10 culvert. Many flowers line the trail, including bright fuchsia hedgehog cactus blooms. I reach the culvert and love it’s cool shade.

 
Another milestone: the I-10 culvert. 

On to La Cienega! I ride along the top of Davidson Canyon, and soon reach La Cienega, an oasis of cottonwoods in the small canyon below Three Bridges.  A train runs over the bridge above me as I aim for Colossal Cave and La Posta Quemada Ranch.  I’m loving this trail, but feel really exhausted. I have to push over small inclines, and when I ‘m done walking, it’s a big effort to swing my leg back over and remount.

 
Trail view of the Rincon Mountains. 

Trail magic! My friend Tom appears on the trail, he’s ridden out to cheer me on. But I tell him this is my last day on the trail because I’m cooked. He starts to encourage me to keep going, but realizes from my face that I am really really done. So we ride together to La Posta Quemada Ranch where we inhale  giant burritos and cokes.  Ok, I inhale, Tom eats like a normal person. I wish I could bathe in coke, I’m so desperate for caffeine and sugar.

 
AZ Trail and Pistol Hill, near La Posta Quemada. 

We continue riding on the trail, through beautiful wildflowers and reddish hills. We head toward the Rincon Mountains on singletrack that flows like a dream. I’m still tired, but we seem to be going downhill, and the sugar and caffeine help a lot.

 
Trailside saguaro and hill of saguaros. 

I bid farewell to Tom at X-9 road, he’s continuing on the AZ Trail; I’m following the course along Old Spanish Trail to Saguaro National Park. I plan to just ride back to my house in Tucson from there.

Except it’s a million degrees and there’s a headwind. I call Tom’s cell phone and request a ride from Saguaro National Park.  At the park, he reads my mind and buys me a coke, I can’t get enough of the stuff.

My legs are thrashed, my mind is mush, I can barely put two words together. I’m beyond exhaustion.  I have absolutely no regrets about leaving the race early. It’s 2:30 pm on Sunday, and I’ve ridden 135 miles in about 3 days. Of course, I’ll be back!

Special thank you to: Team CarboRocket, Craig the Bike Monk, Lee Blackwell, JP & friends, Meg & Julie, Mark, Tom, Ryan & Nate at Arizona Cyclist for my awesome Niner bike. You've all been an inspiration to me--thanks so much for your support!

Arizona Trail Shakedown Ride

Because I made the CarboRocket team, I better get started training for the AZ Trail 300, which is only 8 weeks away. On Saturday morning, I drive to Molino Basin, park, and hit the AZ Trail up over Molino pass.  I immediately have to cross a stream, so I pick up my bike and hopscotch on the stones across.

I ride a few yards, then walk over the rocks and water bars that make up this steep section of trail. I ride a little bit, and walk a lot. I ride, then fall onto my right elbow resulting in some excellent rock bruises and a bit of blood. I walk some more.  At last, I’m at the top of the pass, and enjoy the view of snow-covered Rincon Mountains. My destination of Reddington Road lies over the hills, but before the mountains.

 

 I’m wearing my new backpack with 100 oz water bladder, tools, and sleeping bag stuffed inside. I’m practicing the pack-mule life for the big event. It is not balanced quite right and seems rather heavy. I’m still a little nervous on the rockier sections of the descent, which I sometimes walk. I really don’t want to fall onto more rocks or a cactus. When I ride, it’s a stomach-in-the-throat exhilaration of an almost endo at every water bar.

Another woman skillfully descends from Molino Pass.

I ride through some streams an my feet get nice and wet. Which is fine on this 65 degree day. I pass a trio of hikers and their dogs at the bottom of the valley. Manage not to crash into the steep-sided stream in front of them, but it’s close.

Now I’m onto an old jeep road for a little while and really enjoy the views and the ride. Next up is another single track trail descent into a wide stream that I can ride across. Up and down some small hills until I reach the trail that is the stream.

Trail/stream

This is a relatively short stream trail, and someone has helpfully tied yellow caution tape to a tree indicating that I am on the right path.  I come to a small pond known as “the lake,” because it’s Arizona.

Saguaro guards "the lake." 

Then I ride through something that is almost, but not quite, quicksand to Bellota Ranch road.  There, I see a cyclist who directs me to the AZ Trail, as if I couldn’t see it across the road. Then displays his burleyness by stating: “I’m on a singlespeed,” and “ I love the Milagrosa Trail, it’s the most technical ride in Tucson.” He tells me it is mostly uphill to Reddington Road, which is demoralizing because I’m sort of tired after only two and a half hours of riding.

I pass two senior citizen backpackers on the AZ Trail. I ride on and meet up with a posse of Southern Arizona Mountain Bike Association riders. They started at Reddington Road, and are headed for Bellota Ranch Road, which they will ride back to Reddington. One of them tells me, “You’re going the wrong way.” And I want to say, “Yeah, I’m going the hard way, unlike you.”  I think briefly of joining them, the easy way out, but bravely ride away from their snack stop by the stream.

SAMBA rider descends over water bars.

I continue riding toward Reddington Road.  I have to move aside for a few more of the SAMBA group, and associated dogs, and it is a lovely trail. Lovely, because it is mostly devoid of rocks.  I note the sky is quite dark over the Rincon Mountains, the direction I am riding.  It is not supposed to rain at all today according to the Weather Channel. Right.  I stop to eat lunch before it rains.

Halfway through my PB&J, I note a couple wet spots on my backpack and think “can this be stream splatter?” I soon realize the wet spots are from giant rain drops that are now also falling on me. I put on my plastic rain jacket, inhale my apple, and attempt to ride and simultaneously eat the rest of the PB&J in the rain. The sun shines, but it is still raining.  I get to a place where I can see Reddington Road. I’ve been out for three hours and fifteen minutes and I’m fairly cooked.  So rather cruising on downhill to Reddington in the rain, I turn around.

As I ride, the plastic jacket, rain, and warm temperatures create a Florida-like atmosphere in my jersey. I am hot and sweaty. Fortunately, the rain stops and I can remove the plastic ickyness.  I reach Bellota Road, “the lake,”  and continue to re-trace my path. By one stream, I snack and contemplate a nap. But I carry on. I pass the senior citizen backpackers again.

 
AZ Trail somewhere between Molino and Reddington. 

I see Molino Pass before me, rocky switchbacks uphill. I try to ride, but my legs are exhausted. I fall near a dead prickly pear cactus. I’m glad there are no thorns in my pack. I’m not glad to see thorns in my elbow, the same bruised and bloodied one from earlier in the ride.

I push my bike a lot. A hiking family is gaining ground from behind me on the switchbacks. Why am I so slow? Oh, because I’ve already ridden about five and a half hours the wrong way, the hard way. Finally, I reach the top of the pass and hike/ride down the steep trail back to Molino Basin.

At the campground, I eat a sandwich and drink some chocolate milk hoping for miraculous recovery. It doesn’t happen. I can barely function to get my tent up and cook a box of mac and cheese. I wolf down all 2.5 servings. I am in my sleeping bag at 7 pm which is quite cozy. I drift off to sleep to the forest sounds of the stream and people across the way chopping wood. Tomorrow, I will ride the AZ Trail up to Prison Camp, then Mt. Lemmon Highway to the top!

I Made the CarboRocket Team!

A group of companies (and one famous cycling blogger) requested stories of cycling ambition, and my story made the final cut. I am one of ten people selected to be on a bike team sponsored by CarboRocket, Ibis Cycles, Fatcyclist, Ritchey and Bingham Cyclery.

I found out this morning when I read my email, and my stomach is still turning somersaults. I was so excited, I could barely get the words out to tell my co-workers. My next thought was, "I have to leave the office and get on my bike right now!" But riding will have to wait until later in the day. I'm so pumped, psyched, stoked, and feeling all those other words overused by Olympic snowboard medalists. I'm also feeling like I need to carboload. Good thing I'm having pasta for dinner.

In case you are wondering what "sponsorship" means, so do I.  CarboRocket's Brad Keyes will send details later this week and of course, I will share them. Meanwhile, here's a link to the Official Team Announcement.

Here is my winning story (with thanks to James S. for inspired editing):

Who: I bike often but not epically. Sometimes I carry my bike when it can’t carry me. And my black and blue hips mark me as “needs improvement.” I’m an outdoor enthusiast and advocate and, even though I almost came in last in a recent ride, I still generated publicity (slide 6).

What: I will be the first woman to complete the Arizona Trail 300 this April.

Why: Physically and mentally, my desire will force me out of my comfort zone over uncharted terrain for a sustained period of time. To adequately train for distance and sleep deprivation, I will ride all night on trails marked “warning, smuggling activities in this area,” and work the next day. I’ll dodge dehydration and cacti. Though I’m not handy and don’t cook or sew, I’ll learn to build a penny stove, bake energy cookies, and stitch a tyvek bivvy sack.

The Arizona Trail 300 is an unsanctioned, unsupported mountain bike event that starts on April 23, at 9:00 am, at Parker Canyon Lake, AZ, and finishes when I reach Superior, AZ, after 300 miles and 80 or more hours. Here's the skinny on the Arizona Trail 300. Basically, it's a bunch of endurance cyclists riding to exhaustion, sleeping a couple hours, repeating, until the ride is done.