Google Maps said that Safford, AZ was 308 miles from my door - equivalent to 5 hours and 8 minutes. We left Flagstaff on Saturday in a hurricane. Sheets of rain, hydroplaning, the whole 9 yards. I have to give a big thanks to Subaru for making a pretty solid car in the Forester. We had 4 people, 4 bikes, gear and it was a solid ride. Numerous construction issues brought us to the east side of Phoenix around 6:30pm and we were starving. We fleeced a gas station of napkins, and plasticware and made burritos in the parking lot as we had the ingredients in the parking lot. We had to send Dana in to heat them up, as Gary had already been kicked out of the store once for "you take too much napkin".
Back in the car, and into mining country - Mormon country - Crystal Methe country....Globe/Miami, and finally to Safford around 10:00pm....6 1/2 hours later. We crashed at a little Best Western, to the sweet feeling of stagnant, humid, warm air, and highway noise. Truckers seemed to be playing games as they came through to pick up their methe fixes - laying on their horns HARD all the way down the main drag. I slept for sh*t, and woke up at 5:15am to the sound of Gary's cell phone alarm. Usually I can't sleep before a big race, but believe me - the competition was above my league so I was not stressing about the ride.
We rolled over to the start/staging area in plenty of time, get the numbers, warm up on the rollers, over to the line - National anthem, and then this goofy prayer by the race organizer. There were 150+ racers that I would imagine represented a lot of religions and this guy was spouting off about thanking God and Jesus. Maybe I'm just growing tired of this stuff - but I couldn't wait to race and hear him ZIP his zealous piehole.
The organizer sounded the airhorn - and we were off. Let me tell ya a little bit about this field. It is LOADED with the top road climbers in the state. Who else would show up for a 5,600 foot climb over 20 miles? These people have powertaps, uber-expensive bikes, and a some pretty good fitness Well - I know of two people, me and Dana, who probably didn't train properly for this. I have been riding mountain bikes all summer, so I felt like I could at least compete. Dana rode MAYBE 2x a week for a month prior figuring it would be similar to Mount Lemmon in Tucson. The mood at the line was unlike any MTB race I've been at. Ego-centric, not friendly, and since it was a mass start - everyone was trying to figure out who they were competing against.
Ok, GO!
Instantly, D and I were in the back 3rd of the pack - where we belonged. I was doing the pacemaking for us as we agreed. The Goal was for me to work the pitches of 4% and less, and for her to pace us when it got steep. I had to fight to keep us at the front of the back 1/3, and I was contunially pushing 173 on the ol' heart rate monitor. That's a lof of effort for me, and I was convinced for the first 4 miles that my HR was off by 10 beats per minute. Yeah - right...it was me burying myself to keep us in the race. I kept this up for 4 miles until we hit a 10% pitch.
I gunned it since I could see that it would end in 1/4 mile, and Dana followed. I hit 180 on the HR and had to slow down - but we dropped about 20 people there and never saw them again. We then set a pace that brought me back down a bit and hung on for the next 6 miles to the 1/2 way point. Psychologically I was breaking down, and then the sun broke through the clouds and it got HOT....hot for me at least. I fell about 50 yards behind D and sat there for 3 more miles until I recovered. I paced back up to her and we were at mile 13 - thinking in my head - 'how the f*ck am I gonna make it to mile 20 without slowing down significantly'. Just then, it was as if my body stabilized, and my HR dropped to a very comfortable 168. We rode at this pace for another 2 miles (mile 15) - and hit intense fog, and the top finishers were already riding DOWN. It didn't seem logical - we weren't going that slow. Turns out we see the race director at the next switchback and he screams: "Race ends in 1K! Too much fog and hail!" Well, D is gassed, and she doesn't have a kick. I have some extra, but we couldn't see a soul in front of us, or behind us so I didn't sprint for the line - instead, we upped the tempo a notch and rode across the line together in 1 hour, 51 minutes.
We grapped the gear we sent up with the support vehicle (leg warmers, winter riding jackets, full-fingered gloves, earbands) and took off for the bottom as the snow and hail was coming down. It was a long ride down on wet roads for 12 miles - as the storm had just followed us up the mountain.
At the awards ceremony in Methe-ville, USA - we realized just how average we were compared to the best climbers in the State. The winning Pro 1,2 men were coming in around 1 hour and 15 minutes. Two things were inspiring though:
1.) There were a lot of men riding with us that were in their 50's and even 60's. It's great to know that if I'm dedicated, I can ride well into my geriatric years. And ride well, too.
2.) D. She trained for sh*t, and kept pace with the women in her category - placing 4th and only 3 minutes out of first in the Women's Cat 4. The chick is a solid rider, and I couldn't have felt any better about riding with her the whole way (except for that 3 mile stretch where I was DYING and hanging on 50 yards back). If she trained for this thing, I would not have been riding with her as she would have put 5 minutes into me easily.
For the record, I finished 12th out of 15 Cat 5 men......and that is one reason I'm pumped for the Epic Rides Tour of the White Mountains in 2 weeks. It's on mountain bikes - 51 miles of singletrack, and I know I can hit the top 15 in the Mens division if I come to play. Long Live the Mountain Bike, and screw the skinny tires until maybe next spring.
Modern Day Shakesperian Lyrical Poets
This was probably one of the first weekends where I was actually GLAD to get to Sunday afternoon......wiped out and ready for a beer or two. Saturday morning we were up at the crack of ass to act as roving photographers for the Soulstice Trail Run. D was racing the short course (around 6.5 miles), and Lyza and I decided to hop on our bikes and intercept her at various points for photo ops. Well, as it usually goes with a 6-year old, plans changed.
