Early Season Litmus Test

Left my house on the ol' reliable Rig with the 32x19 gearing 'round 8:30am - and reached the meeting point for the day's ride. No teammate. I knew he'd sleep in. Saturday mornings ain't his thing. The plan was the 45 mile curcumnavigation of the Peaks. Up, down, up, down, and about 100 yards of flat on my street before the turn for the dirt.

The first 12.5 miles of riding was in light rainfall, and 1.5 hours later I took a 2 minute breather at the Inner Basin of the San Francisco Peaks - 9,400 feet up and it was damp and cold. The Oat Bran overdose I had for breakfast was lurking in my esophogus for a while trying to make its way to the light of day, and it took about 45 minutes to burn that gut bomb off.

Inner Basin. Look up - and the aspens are just turning green, and all of the couloirs still have snow. Low lying clouds shrouded the peaks from 11,000 feet on up. Look down into Lockett Meadow and it's a much greener aspen valley and then waayyy down at 5,000 feet is the bone-dry, pinkish, painted desert. I didn't pack the camera because I had rain gear, food, water, gels/bars and tools and a sixer of Tecate. I had to draw the line somewhere because that Camelbak was mo' fo'n heavy. Just kidding on the Tecate...but those little soldiers would have been ice cold if I'd had a few with me.

Time to go down....5 miles down to 7,000 feet on a descent that puts the Bitchin' in Camaro. That was rippin' fast on velcro-like dirt, but over wayyyy too fast because then came the Death March. Forest Road 418 climbs back to 8,500 feet or so and it was soaked. Sucking my tires like quicksand - man, it was taking everything I had physically to keep going. It's just a relentless climb, and I was damn near cooked by the time I got to the top, turning over a very slow cadence standing and sitting when I could for well over an hour. At that point I had to say aloud twice "Man up" to face the next climb towards home. I wasn't cramping or feeling nauseated, but it was going on 4 hours and things were starting to shut down mentally. I wanted to curl up in the fetal position under a down comforter, and have somebody feed me lunch. I was still 19 miles from home, and there was no taco stand in the woods with Salma Hayek waiting tables topless. SO - there was no free lunch today. Just a couple pieces of jerkey, two heinous tasting oversweetened clif bars, and bland-ass water.

So, I manned up and recited the cliche "that which does not kill you makes you stronger", and uttered the former Team CSC motto "Harden the F*ck up" all the while slogging back up - towards home. 5.5 hours on the nose. I'll give myself a B+ on today's litmus test. Still a lot of work to do before July's throwdown in Wisconsin, but I'm feeling a little ahead of schedule right now.

It's rainin' again

Yo - I've lived in Flagstaff/Sedona now going on 14 years. I can count on one finger how many rainy days we had in the month of May over those 14 years. Historically it's been dryer than the bottom of Big Steve's beer glass. We've had dry and windy weather for 45 days straight and the Feds were already talking about trail closures. That translates to night riding under the radar if you want to ride the trails.

Then, out of nowhere, we get a weather pattern that has delivered 3 straight days of rain, with at least another two to come. I've never looked at a Memorial Day Weekend before and said "I'm so glad it's raining". But - "I'm so glad it's raining". Our 30x15 foot patch of grass is looking better, the plants are happy, the trails have gone from 2 inches of dust to mud, and while it doesn't exactly look like a Minnesota landscape - things feel a whole lot greener.

Having put in 12 straight days at the sawmill, I'll be OFF this weekend (not Monday though because in the hospitality biz Memorial Day just means you just don't get any phone calls). Safe fun to everyone this weekend.

CB

Cruisin....

A sweet ride seen in Tucson. Two words - Vi Kings.

A step or two up from a crack addict

I was feeling a little spent last night, and running through one of those 'what am I doing with my life' moments, when I aimlessly drifted to www.hulu.com. After watching a 50 minute HBO documentary about a woman who was battling a crack addiction, I felt great about my life again! As D says - there's nothing like a little downward socialization to make yourself feel good.

Major white guy problem tonight though....I have to get psyched up to ride my trainer for two hours tonight after I get Lyza to bed. I think I'll skip the crack addict doc. this time and watch taped coverage of stage 10 of the Giro d'Italia.

Great friends

If you can't be great, it's nice to be surrounded by greatness. Ellsie ran down the South Kaibab Trail to the bottom of the Grand Canyon, and back up the Bright Angel Trail - 16 miles and a gajillion feet of elevation change - in 4 hours. Trust me....that's damn fast. Local bud Wilkens has found the holy grail of life where he works a bit, takes care of his kids a bit, rides a lot, and still finds a way to pay the Man. Wisco homie Kedisha OWNED the top spot on the podium in a singlespeed race, and Big Steve shows up with little training and hits the top 10 in his Clydesdale category. Then, my pal Sheck singlehandedly finds a secret beach on the Verde River during a potentially life threatening float trip. All the while sipping cold Ska Modus Hoperandi and listening to the Mighty Mighty Bosstones during the covert op. Good on ya, Sheck.

Man....It's almost Monday?!

Worked 8 hours this weekend - 5 on Sat and 3 on Sun. We hosted a pretty sweet little wedding. The Bride said this was the greatest day of her life. Cynical ol' me kept my mouth shut. She'll hate him in 10 years, but it's all good today.

So aside from work, 5.5 hours on the bike with 2.5 at race pace in the dirt and 2.0 being a slow, sweet, Sunday road climb up the mountain at sunset. The Lava Storm soccer team won a nailbiter in game #1, and lost their second game - a close one though. They played great. Hmmmm, I never really did get to the yardwork, but I managed to find the time to clean the ol' singlespeed, and sand the disc brake pads down to kill the squeaking after Saturday's dusty ride. Prioroties, ya know....

Time ain't on nobody's side

This is what a stage racer looks like in 25th place after a week of racing when his hematocrit level is below 50%. Racing ain't the same as it was in the early 2000's. I wish he had never come out of retirement. Dude - let it go.