The Second Half

Overheated, Deflated, and Defeated........


Have you ever been set up on a date by a friend, and when you meet your date, you’re not really excited about spending an entire evening with her? However, since you’re committed to several hours you do what you can to find some redeeming qualities. Maybe she has bank, maybe her snorting laugh is followed by a cute smile, or maybe her sense of humor carries the conversation at a really comfortable feeling until your date is ova.

All of this came to mind ½ way through my first lap at the Payson Stampede this past weekend. Me, Ben S, his wife Sarah, and their mutt Shamus arrived at 9:30am and had plenty of time to set up camp and get ready to roll out at 12:00pm. It was warm – 88 degrees, but I had visions of blissful singletrack a la Sedona, AZ on my mind and I was pumped to get out on the trail. Gooooooooo! It was a ¼ mile Le Mans start and we jogged it at a careful pace. Ben is a lot faster than me but he was riding 24 hours so he was content to hang with me for at least the first part. I Grabbed the bike, and my Camelbak which was equipped with enough fluids, food, gels, and tools for a six hour effort. That was the plan – ride six hours – refill – and ride six more.

Back to that ½ way through the first lap part. I found myself looking for any reason to be excited about this “date” I was now committed to. The bitch turned out to be 8 miles of old mining roads, and + or - two miles of pavement. These roads were old, washed out, and laden with some sharp rocks on the downs, and steep and sandy on the ups. There wasn’t a shady spot anywhere, and two of the climbs were so steep that my front tire was bobbing on and off the ground for 100 yards while I was just trying to stay upright in granny gear. A few people who had hiked out to the steeps were cheering – and made them more climbable to me, but I had to walk a few each lap because I just didn’t have the juice to climb them.

4 laps down, only one hamstring cramp, and the early evening temps were taking the sting of the heat away. I was eating enough to feel OK, and the hellacious headache I had for the first three hours was pretty much gone. It was 5:45pm, and an announcement came over the PA that you had to have lights on at 6pm. Ben raced out to beat the deadline. That enticed me to leave quickly without the burden of setting up and riding with lights. I was so juiced to ride into the night, as I was finally feeling cool and comfortable. I chose to only take a single Co2 cartridge, a tire lever, and one spare tube. Pfffffffffffffft. Two miles in and I’m flat on the back tire. Quick hit with Co2, and in another mile it’s flat again. Stan’s won’t seal it because it’s a pretty sizeable hole right in the middle of the tread. Shit. Change it, and put my spare tube in, but I only have enough Co2 for maybe 20 psi. A couple of riders pass and I scam a pump off a nice dude. OK – I’m back, but now I’m trying to make up time and I stupidly fly down a rocky descent with no regard for my brains, much less my collar bones. Flying over a rock garden and ……double flat. No shit. I’ve never managed to do that in 21 years of mountain biking. Double fucking pinch flats with 29” tires and no spare tubes – good luck with that.

So now it’s dusk, I have no tubes or patch kit, and a borrowed pump. It took nearly 20 minutes before I was able to borrow two 26” tubes for my 29” rims. I spent plenty of time fumbling and bumbling in the waning light, finally pumping them up to 15psi since they can’t handle the volume of the larger wheel without exploding. I rode very carefully until sundown avoiding every rock I saw. Soon, it’s pitch black and there aren’t any rocks to see. I have to wait for riders to come up on me and then I ride in front of their lights until they get impatient with my careful pace on two half-inflated tires and blow by me. Thankfully Jen S. picked me up and I rode her light the last mile – and paid her back by pulling her as hard as I could on the pavement to the start/finish line. Two hours and twenty minutes for one lap. Fuck. That really sucked. My average lap time had been around an hour five to ten + breaks, and this put me well out of the second place in my age group I had been maintaining up until 6pm. After evaluating the hole in my rear tire, it was deemed stupid to attempt riding on it. Two semi-cool cans of Tecate, some good conversation with Sarah and Shamus, and a change of clothes sealed the deal - I was in my sleeping bag at 11:00pm.

Ben hit it hard until midnight, wisely slept for 5 hours, and then rode until nearly noon. 13 laps for him and a second place overall brought some cold hard cash. The dude hardened the f*ck up and did great. Sure – pros like Nat Ross ripped off 21 laps and were done by 10am, but Ben battled hard and got second despite the inevitable mechanical lighting failures that come with amateur riding.

As for me, I was not mentally prepared for the heat, or the letdown of the style of the course and I let it take me down a few notches. I was disappointed with myself. Yeah, I recovered well by sundown, and that allowed me to deal with the flat tire issues with nothing but laughter and a sheepish grin as course officials accosted me for riding with no light. Riding in pitch black does heighten your senses, and just a glimmer of light from the next rider was really inspiring. It all just makes everyday life seem so freakin’ easy when I suffer like this from time to time. When’s my next race?

Well, I didn’t bail out on my date, and in spite of the fact that she ain’t pretty, I’m probably going to ask her out again next year about this time because I found one redeeming factor in her – She's pretty fun to hang out with.