Clock Out, Click In

Refreshing rain on morning bike ride in Tucson Mountains

In addition to biking to work, I decide to take a brief tour of the Tucson Mountains foothills this morning. As I leave the house, I think "Do I need a rain jacket?" I instantly determine it will be sunny later in the day, and the door is locked, and I really can't be bothered to get the jacket. I ride downtown in remarkably cool weather (for September in Arizona, about 78) and cloud cover.

Dump my backpack of work clothes and lunch at the office and head for Grande Avenue south to Starr Pass Blvd.  I have a flashing red light clipped to my jersey. I turn west on Starr Pass and face a very dark sky ahead. Hmmmm, what was that about a jacket?

Instead of wondering about rain, I focus on climbing ever upwards on Starr Pass Blvd, through the curves of the resort community, past Genser Trail head and its tempting mountain biking, to Players Club Drive. Turn right and enjoy a lovely descent to Anklam. Turn west and head into the ever darkening sky again, and I see rain falling on the upper peaks of the Tucson Mountains.  I wave to a few cyclists flying down Anklam in the opposite direction--early birds!

Then I  feel rain on my arms and hear the pitter patter of drops on my helmet. It was so peaceful and cool, and not pounding like the usual monsoon rain storms. A lovely morning rain in the desert. I figure that as soon as I head east, back toward downtown, I'll ride  right out of the rain anyway.

Turn downhill and east on Speedway, and the rain continues. This part of Speedway can be amazingly quiet, I can hear  the sound of rain hitting the desert grasses, creosote, hard packed dirt.

Looking north, clouds cover a few peaks of the Catalina Mountains, but the sun illuminatesPusch Ridge. The rest of the Tucson Valley spreads out before me, looking not quite awake and slightly shrouded in misty rain.

Is there such a thing as a dry rain? Because although the rain was light and steady, my body and bike don't seem to be getting that wet. Desert evaporation at its best.

I make my way back to Anklam and tried to take a picture near Pima College West. Cell phone photography doesn't work too well with limited light.

Looking west on Anklam Road toward Tucson Mountains on a rainy morning.

I continue my descent into town, past the joggers and walkers finishing their Tumamoc Hill punishment, through Menlo Park, beneath the freeway to my office. I'm happy my wet tires don't slip on crosswalk bricks.

Great to be on my bike, in the desert, in the rain--perfect start to this beautiful day!

If you want to check out this 15-mile ride, here's the map: http://www.mapmyride.com/routes/view/12965618

Biking Tucson's Sabino Canyon After a Monsoon

Inhaling the creosote in the almost cool desert morning after a monsoon, I'm inspired to bike out to Sabino Canyon. I dodge sand and gravel pushed onto streets in the usual places by torrential rain.

After pleasant desert smells in my neighborhood, I hit the Rillito River Path, aka "The Loop," and the smells of hay and horse manure waft my way. Still a few ranches along the Rillito, with the standard inputs and outputs. The riverbed is damp, but there's no water running. Perhaps the river flowed during yesterday's deluge, but not now.

I expect some dirt and debris on the bike path, and find ponding and mud.

Tire tracks show some cyclists enjoy riding in the mud. I steer my road bike to the dry alternative hard-packed dirt and cement path.

I continue out River Road and Sabino Canyon Road, with the Catalina Mountains looking tantalizing close on this clear and cloudless morning. I reach Sabino and head up the canyon, dodging walkers and runners in the first mile or so.

I hear Sabino Creek before I see it, the sweet sound of water rushing through the desert!  Water flows beneath the first stone bridge, and sweeps over the second bridge. 

A runner high steps her way through the water. "Isn't it awesome to see water here?" I ask her. "Fabulous, it's just fantastic," she replies in a British accent. 

Saguaro cacti abound on the canyon's slopes, above a mesquite tree:

The road follows Sabino Creek, crossing the swollen stream from side to side. The road gets steeper, my speed slows, but I don't care because I'm just enjoying the sound of water running over the rocks and through the cottonwood trees.

The video below is mostly about the sound (so turn up the volume!), but check for the sun reflecting off the brown silty creek:

 

IMG 1168 from Mary Reynolds on Vimeo.

 

 

 The views up the canyon open onto the higher peaks of the Catalina Mountains:

Canyon wall with more saguaros.

Sabino Creek greens the bottom of the canyon.

 

I climb in easy gears above the creek and see waterfalls I haven't seen since early spring:

 

 I reach the end of the road, and turn around to begin a fast descent. I heed the yellow signs that picture bicyclists crashing over handlebars and slow way down for the bridges. A few sand and gravel sections are ripe for wipeouts.

I splash through a few bridges covered in water.

On the way back across town through the foothills, I ride past great flowering bushes including this Texas Ranger that rained purple on the pebbles beneath it:

Here's a map of this Sabino Canyon and Foothills ride: http://www.mapmyride.com/routes/view/114341715

So after the next monsoon storm, get on your bike and explore a fresh new Tucson!

Mt. Lemmon Climb: Bike Ride to Summerhaven

I wake up early, but not early enough to make the 6:30 am start time for the Mt. Lemmon Ride.  Happily, I run into Santa Cruz Valley Cyclists friends and make a 6:45 am departure with Chuck Hill. Almost ready for 6000 feet of climbing in 24 miles! We meander through the neighborhood instead of following route directions and hit a dead end. We soon make our way back to the neighborhood bike route and onto Snyder Road.

We obey the law and stop at the stop sign before turning left onto Catalina Highway. Then Milepost Zero and our climbing begins! As we switchback through Mile One, Chuck looks back down the road, across the drainage for Santa Cruz riders, but we saw none.

Onward and upward! Until Chuck needs to stop to put on sweatband.  I'm already wearing mine, the early morning coolness of the desert doesn't fool me one bit. This gives Tom and Tim a chance to catch and pass us. Ha! I will not be dropped this time, and I soon catch up to them. 

Tim and I talk Upjohn of Kalamazoo because he worked there, and so did my grandpa. But not at the same time.

We stop at the first SAG stop. Tony, Larry, and Chuck soon join us for eating and drinking and the collective "wiping of the brow."  Eleanor, age 76, pedals up. There are a few Green Valley folks who started earlier and are ahead of us like mountain goat Bill Adamson.

I wolf down my hard-boiled egg that I was too nervous to eat for breakfast at home. Chuck cautions: "Are you sure it's hard boiled?" Hardy har har har. Also enjoy salty V8 juice and sweet mystery muffin supplied by El Grupo.

I glimpse my Southwest Hand Cycling teammates ride by the snack area without stopping, and I ride off to join them. Hello to Ron, Tom,  and Jay!

I ride with them from Milepost 3 to Milepost 11 or so and the next snack stop.  This section includes an all too brief descent before Seven Cataracts overlook where I use momentum to slingshot ahead of them and ride alone for a mile or so. Then they catch me. Then they pass me.  Touché.

The V8 juice sloshes in my stomach.

I pass Bill Hill of Santa Cruz Valley Cyclists who was grooving up the mountain on his straight bar bike with Vibram Trex shoes upon his pedals. He eventually made it all the way to the top of the Mt. Lemmon Ski Area!

We all regroup at Middle Bear picnic area where I was happy to see my TriGirls teammates Joanie and Eve.  Yay for watermelon. Tim of Kalamazoo squeezes some energy goo into his mouth saying "I like trying new things on these rides." I tell him, "That's sports frosting!"  And I eat another piece of juicy watermelon.

I tell a rider wearing a Fat Cyclist jersey that I like his kit and I have it in pink. He goes on about how comfortable Twin Six shorts are. This discussion becomes tiresome. Look, bearded wire rimmed glasses man I met one second ago, I don't want to spend a lot of time hearing about the comfortable versus uncomfortable seams in your shorts! This is also not part of my anticipated mountain view.

I ride ahead to take some pictures of satiated cyclists riding away from the snack stop:

Southwest Hand Cycling teammates Ron, Jay (out of uniform), and Tom rolling out of Middle Bear picnic area.

 Other riders enjoy the shade, including members of the best-ever team name for this bike ride up the mountain: OMG!

OMG women riding strong in dotted jerseys.

I remember from my last ride up this mountain that Milepost 12 to 13 is quite steep, and I realize I will not catch my teammates again if I keep taking pictures.

I'm huffing and puffing and unable to control angle of Iphone as Ron, Jay, and Tom ride away.

So I take a couple more pictures of questionable quality to capture the beautiful rock formations and blue sky and cyclists.

Tiny cyclists at about Milepost 13, approaching Windy Point.

I ride through Windy Point and then there is a lovely descent to Hoodoo Vista Point where I take a chance on one-handed riding to shoot a video. At the end, you can see the road below that  we climbed up:

 

 

Right after I turn off the camera, I hear this dialogue from two riders cruising by:

Rider 1:  It's like spiritual, dude.

Rider 2: Dude, this is awesome.

Rider 1: Yeah, pretty spectacular.

One dude's bike had double barreled bottle holsters beneath his saddle, and he wore a TriSports.com jersey. Even triathletes can climb! Just ask Joanie, Eve, and Carolyn!

Possibly the dudes at overlook of Hoodoo Vista Point.

After this lovely coast to Hoodoo, the climbing begins again. I pass a man with a British accent who seems to be wobbling. I ask if he's ok, he asks how far to the next aid station. I guess about one or one and a half miles. A thirteen-year-old rider just ahead concurs.

I reach the next rest stop and various theories about the red-faced Brit are espoused:

13-year-old: He needs more fluids

Tom of Green Valley: He's used to sea level.

Me: It's too hot for him

I take some rest stop photos.

Team OMG fuels up.

Assorted salty and sweet snacks.

Now my legs are tired. I ride with Tim and Tom for awhile, and we climb on past The Palisades.  Tom says he is happy for his granny gears, or something like that. I don't know exactly the cog numbers on my chain rings, but it's something like 39 x 20-something-not-high-enough. We have a lovely, if brief, descent near Spencer Campground for a couple miles, but I lose my concentration, and suddenly I am not riding with them.  The climb to Loma Linda and the final SAG stop seems endless.

I pass the Loma Linda rest stop, wave hello to Ron who is heading down the mountain, and continue to Summerhaven. Is this a fatal error?  My mood sours even has the road steeply descends with a rush of wind into the village of Summerhaven. It's an anti-climatic parking lot. I know I have to make a U-turn and climb out.

I am totally alone and totally tanked. I struggle up and out of Summerhaven. No ski area climb for me today, thank goodness I had already made that wise decision!

At last I return to Loma Linda, and some pie pie pie. Actually, I eat only one piece of pie, apple, and it is THE BEST. I also have some more fruit and sit on a surprisingly comfortable hard plastic chair. People talk in my direction about cycling and triathlons and whatever, I'm not interested and let their words float by.

It is time for the big descent! Yay.  The main attraction. It is a fantastic world of speed! Another climb back up to the Spencer Campground, then a long lovely descent to Middle Bear where a picnic lunch with Lisa awaits me. So great to be going so fast. Wheeeeeeeeeeee!

I have descended from Middle Bear to Milepost Zero before, so I don't feel like I am missing anything by calling it a day here. My shoulders, tired from crouching, thank me profusely.

Bike in car, sandwich in stomach. A brief walk around the picnic area with Lisa to stretch my legs.

A nice long nap when I got home!

 

Morning Bike Ride Around Pusch Ridge

Wednesday night work meeting means I have time to luxuriate in a longer weekday morning ride. I choose my usual route up to the foothills, then west and north to the Rancho Vistoso Loop. Climbing starts early on Via Entrada through desert landscapes under wonderfully overcast skies. (Click on photos below to elarge for full big sky, big mountain view). Or big pricly pear view in the first picture.

Prickly pear fruit getting nice and juicy.

Saguaro cacti frame Finger Rock in the Catalina Mountains.

These phone photos make the desert look darker than it really was at 7 a.m. The rolling road wakes up my legs and I continue to climb up First Ave.  I soak in the Catalinas as I wait at the traffic signal at Ina Road.

 

 First and Ina cloudscape above Pusch Ridge.

I turn north onto busy Oracle Road and come around the west side of Pusch Ridge.

Pusch Ridge with green monsoon desert.

At Oro Valley's First Avenue, I head west then north up more hills to Rancho Vistoso Blvd. The climbing continues through the stucco and Mexican tile roofed houses.  A totally different sky meets me as the road curves east again, toward the Catalinas.

Storm clouds hide the upper ridges.

It's raining in the upper elevations of the Catalinas as I sweat in the valley floor below. Some clouds seep into canyons on the north side of this range.

 Sun tries to break through the mass.

The sunny southern end of Pusch Ridge, with Crestate Saguaro!

More excellent views on the cruise downhill toward Oracle Road. Will rain come to Tucson today?

Catalina Mountains and Palo Verde Tree.

Morning commuter traffic increases south on Oracle Road toward Tucson. I take a final photo at a  shopping center traffic signal.

Pusch Ridge.

The sun bursts through the cloud cover to heat up the rest of my ride. I pass a couple "Team in Training" cyclists who weave and bob uphill and wish them a good morning.  I retrace my path through the foothills, back down Via Entrada and its assorted quail families, and home. Thirty five miles in about 2 hrs and 15 minutes. Endorphin and desert high.

Fantastic ride!

 

Mt. Lemmon Interval Training

Climbing up Catalina Highway to Mt. Lemmon is a perfect springtime training ride. The desert floor warms up, but most of the mountain highway stays cool in the morning. Even chilly in the shade.  My training plan called for 3 x 20 min L4 intervals with 10 minute recovery to L1 in between.  L4 is  a heart rate approaching Lactic Threshold, for me about 159 beats per minute. L1 is a recovery heart rate, below 100. 

My training ride began at home, and my first interval started about 14 miles later at milepost zero of Catalina Highway. After I started my intervals, I didn't see L1 until I was back home sitting on my couch.

My first interval went well, I rode a moderately hard pace and stayed 155-160 bpm. Feeling perky and even fast until a man in a plaid jersey blew past me with not even a hello. Really, who wears plaid? Then I attempted to recover, while still climbing, and my heart rate would not go below 145.

 OK, time for interval number 2--this time, there were some flattish sections and I even passed a couple other riders. My heart rate went into the 160s.  I saw quite a few cyclists descending, most wearing jackets.  On the upside of the highway, sweat dripped down the side of my face.

Recovery in the 140s again.  As I was recovering,  a fellow in a High Road team jersey passed me. It was not Mark Cavendish.  I caught him during interval 3 and we rode together from Seven Cataracts to Middle Bear Canyon. Great to have someone to push me harder!

View up the highway from Seven Cataracts Overlook

 This section I remembered as "flattish" but it wasn't, had to get in my granny gear between Milepost 9 and 11. Oh, I dropped him in the granny gear section, and he couldn't catch me on the flat section! After 11, the road was beautifully flat beneath the ponderosa pines.

Shady pine trees.

Rock formation above Middle Bear Canyon parking area.

I pulled over to the parking area at about Milepost 12 to put on arm warmers and vest for the descent, and my temporary riding companion rode on by, going all the way up perhaps?

Here's a video, start of ride down (Milepost 12 to 11). Beware of wind noise!

MtLemApr 004 from Mary Reynolds on Vimeo.

On the way down, I stopped at Seven Cataracts to take some pictures. Met two U of A students who rode fixed gear bikes up and down the mountain.  They were charming and I was suitably impressed.

Fixed gears skidding into Seven Cataracts Overlook.

Seven Cataracts--not too much water in that gap.

 My fast descent continues with wind making my bike wobbly in certain sections. At about Milepost 6, I started to feel the desert heat again, rising up through Molino Canyon. I took a break to take some pictures of the views toward the Rincon Mountians:

Then I turned the other way and took the obligatory saguaro cactus shot:

 I saw a mountain biker coming up the road, said hi, and he waved back. Then I realized from the Specialized jersey that  it was Todd Wells, U.S. National Mountain Bike Champion! I jumped back on my bike, still in the big gears of descending and rode after him uphill to try to say a real hello.  Unbelievably, I caught him and could gasp/ask where are you headed? And he said "Milagrosa" a technical mountain bike trail. I wished him good luck with the rest of his season and he thanked me for the articles I had written. He was so cordial!

I flew down the mountain, happy to see such a cycling superstar in my hometown. At the bottom of the mountain, the rude headwind impaired my speed. It's not supposed to be hard to go downhill to Tanque Verde Road. But it was hard, and it was hot, and my cross-town journey seemed interminable.

Back on the meandering bike path, trying to spin down, I felt the kiss of a tailwind, enjoyed the blooming yellow palo verde trees and sparkling blue spring sky.

A little more than four hours after I started, I was home with waffles, yogurt, shower.  Sat down on the couch, and finally recovered to my L1 heart rate.

Commuting the De Anza Trail 3

 

  
Sahuarita's Sandy Santa Cruz River. 

This morning, I imagine De Anza travelling on the west side of the Santa Cruz River, not the east side designated "auto route" on Mission Road. That would make my commute to work 6 miles longer with a climb up Helmet Peak. Not up for that today.

My commute begins with a cruise down 6th Avenue through Tucson and South Tucson. Bad Odors! Blech, I smell a ginko biloba tree with smashed stinky ginko pods somewhere along the sidewalk. I'm all for pleasant streetscapes, but please, no stinky ginko! Memo to South Tucson: Remove this offensive tree.

I continue south past assorted used car and used tire retaliers, fighting a slight headwind. I pass the road to the airport and vice corner: Tobacco Barn and Desert Diamond Casino. I'm now riding on Nogales Highway.

The Tohono O'odham Nation is next with Lazy Acres Mobile Home Park, a few horses, a few hay bales, and lots of empty space. In 1774, De Anza hired an O'odham translator to guide him through southern Arizona. He paid the translator as much as his Spanish soldiers. It was worth it:  a native named Luis warned Anza in the O'odham language that he might be in danger from the natives near Yuma.

But Yuma is far from here. I parallel the railroad tracks and enjoy the Santa Rita Mountain view.
 
Union Pacific Railroad spur crosses the Nogales Highway. 

As I approach the Town of Sahuarita, I turn west and ride the northern edge of the pecan groves. I turn south into Rancho Sahuarita, bedroom community of happy young families and assorted trails including one called the De Anza Trail.

I turn onto its broken pavement heading south, with pecan groves on my left and open space, also known as "flood plain" on my right. Beyond the green-from-monsoon-rain flood plain, Mexican tile rooftops sprawl across the former Sonoran desert to the copper mine tailings pile. Little did Conquistador De Anza know what the Sonoran desert would become. Copper, cotton, and cattle--the three Cs of Arizona.

 

Front to back: Open space, stucco, copper mine, mountain, sky.

FICO pecan groves along the De Anza Trail in Sahuarita.

Monsoon rains create mud puddles and muddy cracks that spit out baby toads as I pedal past.  The Colorado River Toad is know for its toxic skin and venom that is poisonous to dogs and people. So don't lick them, even if you have heard about the hallucinegenic properties of toad toxin!

 
Click to enlarge; can you see the Colorado River Toads in this picture?

 
Pecan trees use a lot of water, but not as much as copper mines.

The owners of the pecan groves plan to develop "Sahuarita Farms" which is nothing like a farm and a lot like a housing development, but with pleasant Santa Cruz River walking and biking trails.

I ride near an overflow channel of the Santa Cruz River and admire the flowers and mountain scenery.

I continue south and hear a truck coming from behind me. He and his co-pilot dog drive on the bike path instead of on the dirt road.

 
Looking north on the De Anza Trail; a truck driver who can't read.

 I turn west onto a neigborhood street, then the De Anza Trail abruptly turns north. I realize I have been riding on the IMPOSTER De Anza trail. The trail that is circular. De Anza never rode in circles. Conquistadors just don't do that.

I turn south, because it was the path of De Anza, and more importantly, the direction of my office. I ride through the road construction zone without incident, reach my office, take a quick shower and I'm ready for work.

De Anza is everywhere in Sahuarita.

I've ridden about 20 miles in the Conquistador's route on my morning commute. The Santa Cruz River remains dry, but tall green grasses and blooming creosote mark the middle of the Sonoran monsoon season. I'll retrace my route on a humid ride home on this August afternoon.

Juan Bautista de Anza National Historic Trail runs from Nogales, AZ, to San Francisco, CA.

De Anza Trail miles: 20

Total De Anza Trail miles: 34

Total ride miles: 20

Ride of Silence

Mountains and palm trees framed the cycling crowd at the start of the Santa Cruz Valley Area Ride of Silence on May 19, in honor of cyclists who have been injured or killed while riding.

 
The Ride was part of a nationwide effort to raise awareness about bicyclists on the road and ask that we all SHARE THE ROAD. In our valley, we remembered Jerome Featherman, killed on September 3, 2009, and Fred Hettig, killed on March 22, 2006. About 110 cyclists rode a 7-mile route through Green Valley and Sahuarita. Because I work for the Town of Sahuarita, and fully support the her Healthy Living agenda, I rode with Mayor Lynne Skelton. Before the ride, Green Valley Hike and Bike provided snacks to participants and a chance to say hello to old and new friends.

 
I listen to Kevin McDonald talk with Mayor Lynne Skelton.

 
Bill Adamson, Empty Fruit Bowl, Jim Jordan, Mayor Skelton. 

Then Chuck Hill of the Santa Cruz Valley Bicycle Advocacy Committee thanked participants, the Sheriff's Department for escorts, and a trumpeter played Amazing Grace and Taps.

Chuck Hill leads the Ride of Silence.

We rode in silence to the site of Featherman's death, marked by a white ghost bike. We continued in silence through traffic lights, whatever color, protected by the Sherriff's Department. When the Mayor flew downhill and around the corner on her surprisingly speedy hybrid, it looked for a moment like she would rear-end a slow-moving motorcycle cop. Then the motorcycle cop almost rear-ended a Sheriff's car that wasn't supposed to be there. Fortunately, there were no spills.

 
Mayor Skelton in front of a long line of cyclists. 

Except for a couple desents, we rode at a slow and comfortable pace. It was especially slow into the headwind. We finished the ride in lengthening shadows, with local drivers respecting our group, and hopefully, respecting the rights of all cyclists in the future.

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.

When Work Is Play

 

  
Sahuarita Mayor Lynne Skelton leads the way.

Sahuarita’s Mayor arrived by bicycle to the ribbon-cutting ceremony for new bike lanes on La Canada Drive. OK, it was a ceremony for the whole road, but cyclists made the event better, as they always do. And as Communications Coordinator for the Town, I made sure that cyclists were part of the celebration. Cyclists from the Santa Cruz Valley Bicycle Advocacy Committee escorted the Mayor from her home to the ceremony using the new lanes.

A strong tailwind propelled them north to the corner of La Canada and Sahuarita Road where the high school jazz band played among the creosote bushes and palo verde trees. Assorted residents, contractors, Town staff, and dignitaries enjoyed assorted fruits and savories.

 
Hungry cyclists devour savory snacks.

 
Saxaphone at rest with gold sandal.

About 50 people listened as the Mayor emphasized the Town’s commitment to healthy lifestyles:  all new roads built here require sidewalks and bike lanes. Sahuarita has 20 miles of lanes right now, and by the end of this year, we’ll have 30 miles!

The Mayor and other Council Members cut the ribbon, and the Santa Cruz cyclists started their ceremonial ride in the bike lane, headed south into a massive headwind.

I even managed to get a local TV station to cover the road improvements with a SuperPawn commercial: KVOA.

A blustery good day at work!

Officiating the Green Valley Senior Games Bike Race

Dogs on laps peppered the patio of Fourth Avenue’s Sky Bar on Saturday night, where we enjoyed pizza and pints. I remembered another wimpy dog I saw the day before, in the sling of a spectator at the Green Valley Senior Games Bike Race. 

I officiated at the race held in Quail Creek, Sahuarita, Arizona, USA.  Men and women competed in 9-mile and 16-mile races, over rolling terrain and sweet tarmac in the Quail Creek neighborhood, then onto the cracked and patched pavement of Old Nogales Highway.  Two railroad crossings and a traffic circle added to the course’s challenge, similar to spring classics like Paris-Roubaix.

Warming up for the 16-mile race. 

It was a typical bike race:  racers arriving early and standing around shivering, racers warming up on their trainers, racers riding from home to the start line as a warm-up, racers wearing extremely loud jerseys, jackets, and shorts.  Hybrids, road bikes, mountain bikes, and modified cyclocross bikes pulled up to the start line. Again like a typical race, not everyone could hear the announcer who talked for too long, anyway.

 
Second place finisher in the U of A jersey gets his wheel on the start line.

And they're off! They ignore the white line rule just like racing cyclists everywhere.

 
The back of the pack starts the course.

 The horn sounds, the athletes are on their way starting with a long grind uphill. Because I am wearing a reflective orange vest with “race official” safety-pinned upon it, the sling-dogged spectator asks me a very tough question : “Where is the finish line?” As an official, I should know but I don’t. I ask the neighborhood president, who points vaguely to a nearby intersection and says “over there.”

Spectators and slingdog await the start. 

So the spectators and I walk in that direction, and I see my orange-vested comrades who carry official-type clipboards. They clearly know where to go.  They set up two traffic cones on the edges of the multi-use lane. The entire race is supposed to take place in the 8-foot wide, “multi-use lane,” named for multiple uses of golf carts and bikes.  This way, the racers are somewhat separated from cars, yet have the added challenge of racing around golf carts. I hope there is not a sprint finish through this skinny chute.

There are lead vehicles and follow vehicles, including police and police volunteers. Volunteer course marshals monitor the tricky intersections, and I worry about the lack of hay bales at the traffic circle.

I’m handed a clipboard, with a list of numbers for the 9-milers. A few 16-milers come through first and continue for an extra lap. One official yells out the numbers that have been pinned in all places except where we can see them easily, and another yells out the time. Another official and I dutifully keep track with Sharpies and clipboards.  The 9-milers finish, and we wait for the 16-milers.

The 16-milers finish with a sprint between two racers who wisely ignore the cones, one passes the other in the final 10 meters of the race.  And we can’t see anyone’s number,  so we discuss jersey colors because the racers are long gone. “I think it was blue and yellow,” “No it was mostly black with a little yellow,” “The second guy wore a U of A jersey.” Fortunately, most of the other racers are fairly spread out, with no big bunches crossing the line together.

Like a typical bike race, the people who had finished started bothering officials asking for times and how they placed in their age groups.  And racers were still crossing the finish line. So we had officials yelling out numbers and jersey colors and times of racers still finishing, people asking us for results, and the landscaper’s lawn mower blasting its noise. We had only numbers and times, so that’s what we told one man. “You’ll have to wait until the awards ceremony for the official results,” I said officially. “Well, I’m the only one in my age group, 85 plus,” he bragged.

At the end of the race, the other officials figure out the age group results while I enjoy free smoothies and cookies and encourage racers to do the same. When I introduce the Quail Creek President to my friends from the Santa Cruz Valley Bicycle Advocacy Committee, I also fulfill my work duties of “facilitating communication among stakeholders.” Because of this synergistic meeting, Quail Creek bike lanes will be shown on the next  Santa Cruz Valley bike map even though it is a gated community. Quail Creek already chopped off part of its gate/barrier to accommodate cyclists passing through.

At last, results are official and half the athletes are awarded medals on the podium. The fastest time for 16 miles was Terry Stager, age 60-64, at 42:43. The fastest woman , Joanie Rogucki, age 55-59, clocked in at 55:17.  Below are a few podium pictures from the 9-mile and 16-mile races.
 

  

 

   

“Senior” activities have progressed since the time Green Valley was established back in the 1970s for the retirement set.  Those over age 55 still play golf and tennis,  with numerous other “sports” added to the Games like bowling, archery, volleyball, bocce, Texas Hold ‘Em,  cribbage, and much more.  The Games even advertised a  “Green Valley Style Triathlon.”  Anyone completing the swim, bike and run events (held on different days in different locations), received a commemorative T-shirt.  GV-style triathlete Hank Deutsch explained: “After swim on Saturday in Green Valley, I’m doing the Tucson Triathlon at the U of A on Sunday.”

Back in the days of my youth, the marketing slogan sang from the radio: “That Green Valley grin comes from living good again.” Deutsch and all the other senior cyclists may first grimace in pain in the heat of competition, but they always finish with a smile, and some are even ready to race again the next day!

Green Valley Senior Games Bike Race Results, March 12, 2010:

9-Mile Women

Ages 60-64
1. Judith Mitchell, 45.16

Ages 65-69
1. Kathy Early, 32.40
2. Eileen Mac Laren, 39.24
3. Eddie Jean Kriedeman, 39.39

16-Mile Women

Ages 55-59
1. Joanie Rogucki, 55.17
2. Juanita Razo, 1.21.50

Ages 60-64
1. Carol Crothers, 57.26
2. Jane Bottlinger, 1.00.54
3. Deborah Prosser, 1.06.52

Ages 70-74
1. Susan Bond, 1.11.39
2. Dee Carmichael-Watson, 1.14.00

Ages 75-79
1. Katherine Wong, 1.14.11

9-Mile Men

Ages 55-59
1. Michael Carson, 31.03

Ages 60-64
1. Steven Ball, 27.56
2. Abraham Hernandez, 40.05

Ages 65-69
1. Joel Mitchell, 45.37

Ages 70-74
1. Richard Noyes, 31.30
2. Wallis Watson, 38.10

Ages 80+
1. Eric Jolley, 34.00

16-Mile Men

Ages 50-54
1. Ralph Schnelle, 46.28

Ages 55-59
1. Mike Raikes, 42.43

Ages 60-64
1. Terry Stager, 42.43
2. Jim Gregory, 43.28
3. Larry Coffin, 45.30

Ages 65-69
1. Edward Haugland, 48.31
2. Bill Hill, 51.08
3. Jim Bottlinger, n/a

Ages 70-74
1. Howard Jacob, 45.30
2. Charles Hill, 48.19
3. Royce Hill, 48.20

Ages 75-79
1. Richard Dahnert, 51.39
2. Charles Wood, 53.30
3. Robert Wright, 59.02

Ages 80+

1. William Orr, 1.01.35
2. David Martens, 1.14.37