Saturday, April 18, 2015

Josiah's Arizona Trail Journey

Disclaimer: This blog is very long winded and will likely be very boring and/or irrelevant to anyone not involved with bikepacking racing.

After 2 years of having an Arizona Trail Race 300 DNF weighing on my shoulders, I decided it was time to KO this route so I could put it behind me.  I have really wanted to see all the sections of the trail north of the desert, so I figured if I was going to ride all the hot desert sections of the AZT 300, I might as well ride the 750 route so I could ride the higher elevation pine forests as well... little did I know the amount of suffering I was signing myself up for.
Being that this race is so early in the year, there wasn't a lot of time for any long rides, so I mostly trained at very high intensity of computrainer for 30 minute and 1 hour sessions.  It was a big question in my mind if this would be sufficient for training to do a ride that was so long.  Nevertheless, I was going to give this thing a try and find out.
My flight into Phoenix got in on Wednesday night.  This allowed me just enough time to get the bike all set up on Thursday morning for a shakedown ride in Phoenix before heading down to the Mexican border with my friends Mark and Mike.
I must say that the drive down to the border was much longer than I had imagined.  This is the first time it hit me just how far I had to ride my bike: and on hiking trails, at that.
When we arrived at the start line, we decided that we would camp 1/4 mile up the road from where all the other racers were going to be camping, since Mark had brought a grill and he and Mike were going to be cooking up a pre-race feast of burgers for me and we did not want to make all the other racers jealous.
At 10 till 7, I headed down the hill to meet the other racers for the 7:00 AM departures.  I had just enough time for a quick photo next to our pathetic border fence before heading up the road back towards Montezuma pass road.
Ready to take on this trail? not really!

The lead group of us made it to Parker Canyon Lake(300 start) around 8:20.  I made a mental note to the fact this gave us a 40 minute head start on the faster azt 300 riders, since they start at 9:00 am.
It was around 10:30 am when Jay Petervary and I were HABing up the big push before Canelo pass road when we heard someone coming up behind us.  I could barely believe me eyes when I turned around to see Kurt Refsnider pushing his bike up behind us.  I was running the numbers in my head and figured that Kurt had closed a 40 minute gap on us in just 90 minutes.  How is this possible?  It helps being super human I guess.  It also helped that his bike had so little weight on it that it was practically pushing itself up the hill as Kurt was walking.  He was not bikepacking at all.  If he was carrying anything, it was food, not camping gear.  Nonetheless, that was still extremely impressive for anyone to be moving so swiftly through the Canelos as he was.
By the time I rolled into Patagonia, the heat was beginning to get to me and the road grind from Patagonia to Sonoita that I was looking forward to hammering out was now looking like it was going to be a slog, a crawl in which I would struggle to keep my stomach in check and my head from over heating.  I did not help that I ignored my senses that were telling me that I needed to stop and eat something in Patagonia to avoid a blood sugar bonk in addition to the heat bonk.
Leaving Sonoita was difficult.  I was already in a bonk and going back out into the heat was not appealing to me at all.  I was almost convinced that I needed to sleep in Sonoita and try again tomorrow.  Still, I convinced myself that I can't let the trail get to me this early in the game and that I needed to get out there and start putting miles behind me if I was ever going to make it to Utah.
Luckily the miles from Sonoita to Kentucky Camp were easy and allowed me to keep my effort level low enough to narrowly remain below my threshold for overheating.  Shortly before Kentucky Camp, Kaitlyn Boyle came flying past me.  Since the sun was now on the horrizon and the approaching sunset was offering some reprieve from the days heat that had oppressed my energy all afternoon, I decided to try to keep up with Kaitlyn, as I seemed to be able to ride faster on downhill segments when there was someone in front of me, as I was not brave enough to ride blind corners at high speed without having someone in front of me so I could see where it went.
Leaving Kentucky Camp, I decided to roll out ahead of Kaitlyn, assuming she would probably catch me on the first downhill.  By the time I hit that first trail out of KCamp, I was finally getting back into my groove and feeling good, as the cool nighttime temperatures were finally dropping in.  The trail from K-Camp all the way to Tucson is pretty much all fast and fun, less a few areas (namely Colossal Cave).  It did not take long before I caught up Rich Otten and Robert Orr.  It just seemed natural for us to all ride together.  I took the lead as my eyes seemed to be more suited for trail navigation at night.  Gate after gate, I would get to the gates first and open them, then I would take a short water sip break while I waited for the other guys to come through the gates and close them behind us.  It wasn't long before Kaitlyn caught up with the group of us and before we knew it, we were a full fledged posse of 4 of us taking on the desert of southern Arizona through the night.  Leading out the group, I was constantly coming face to face with these little suicidal red-eyed birds who would sit in the trail and play 'chicken' with me as I came barreling through on my bike.  They would not move off the trail until I nearly hit them.  Many times, I would slam my brakes last second to avoid running them over because they wouldn't move.
One of the neat sightings of that evening was a javelina that was running down the trail to get away from us.  This was the first time I've seen a javelina in person, so that was pretty neat.
The posse of 3 of use that was still pushing (Rich decided to stop and camp a few miles back) rolled into La Sevilla campground just before 2:00 am.  Robert and I began getting our camping gear out and preparing to grab a couple hours of sleep before the push to Tucson and up mt Lemmon.  After about 3 minutes of sitting at a picnic table reading a set of note cards she wrote for herself, Kaitlyn got up and let us know that she was off to do some more riding.  That girl was on a mission.  It takes a very driven person to get up and charge forward at 2:00 am when you are already at the perfect location to sleep.  I would never see her again, but she would later win the Women's 300 race and even came within hours of clinching the Women's record for the route, so Great Job, Kaitlyn. (plus she beat Ray Hemmele, which is all that really matters)
(don't worry readers.  As the ride goes on, my memory fades and the stories will get shorter and far less detailed)
The morning of day 2 came around far too soon.  That first sleepless night, filled with tossing and turning and far too much noise coming from the tent campers across the camp, did little to replenish my body or refresh my legs from the 120ish mile push the previous day.  Still, Robert Orr and I began to get up and pack our things to head down into Tucson for some breakfast/lunch at the safeway deli.  About the time we started getting ready to leave camp, Dillon Taylor came rolling up.  He had spent the night camping on one of the switchbacks on the downhill into colossal cave, nearly getting run over by all of us who passed by him that night!
The 3 of us rolled into Tucson, where we have determined that all there drivers are jackasses who seem to have no regard for human life (you know the kind... the ones who will pass another car in a 2 lane road coming the opposite direction straight towards bikes who are in that lane)
In Tucson, we headed off route to hit up the safeway for resupply.  This is where I discovered how bad of a mistake I made the previous day by not putting sun block on.. oops.  We ran into my Buddies Mark Allen, Mike Speer and AZT connoisseur John Schilling at the safeway on their way out to section hike one of the wilderness areas:  all of whom were quick to point out how much I had gotten sun burned the day before.
Leaving Tucson, the route heads up Redington road to Redington pass.  This road seems to be angled just perfectly to rob you of all cooling effects of the wind while allowing the sun to focus all of its strength directly on you while you climb into the world of ATVs and jeep motor heads.  I purposely took my time on the climb up Redington Road because of my experience in 2013 of having food poisoning that began boiling in my stomach on the hot climb up Redington.  I was determined to get to the top without having my stomach flip on me.  When I made it to the top of the climb, Dillon and Robert were sitting on the side of the road taking a quick break while they waited on me.  We all headed out to begin riding the insane ATV trails that eventually led us back to the arizona trail.  These ATV trails were nothing less than punishing and steep, constantly climbing, but never gaining any elevation.
We made our way to the Molino hike a bike(HAB).  I had a faint memory of the molino HAB as being not that bad.  I had made the push once before while I was sick with food poisoning and I had somehow reasoned that if I could have made the climb when I was that sick, then it must not have been that bad.  That was a very bad assumption.  That hike a bike was nothing less than terrible.  To make matters worse, I was beginning to have to ration water to make sure I could get to the solar fed water supply in the molino campground before running out.  Another surprise that I did not remember from 2013 was having to walk down half the downhill into molino basin.  There's nothing more annoying that pushing your bike up a boulder filled climb only to have to push your bike back down the other side because it is not ride-able either.
Once we got to Molino Basin, Dillon and I began our search for the solar fed water tank we had heard so much about.  When we finally found the tank, we discovered that it was locked inside a fence.  I was really starting to get mad at Arizona and the fact that they seem to try to make it impossible to get water in that state.  Not knowing if there were legal repercussions to jumping the fence to get water, we decided to proceed to attempt the Lemmon climb with what water we had left and stop on the side of the road to filter any water we would find on the way (which we never found since it was dark)
I had to slow up and let Robert and Dillon leave me behind on the road climb, since I didn't have the water required to process any calories.  Slow and steady was my plan to get me to Palasades where I had planned to get some water and continue riding into the night.  Once I got to Palasades, I was so parched from rationing my water, that I decided I needed to camp out there and get some sleep and hydration before continuing.
After 8 hours of down time, I was feeling like a new man when I woke up at Palasades.  This seemed like a popular stopping point for a lot of racers, so that made me feel slightly better about my decision to stop.
First order of business for day 3 was get get to and take down the Oracle Ridge trail.  This is the point where my experience from 2013 would end and I was somewhat looking forward to seeing new trail, but nervous about what lies ahead, given all the horror stories that are told of Oracle Ridge.
When I first started riding Oracle Ridge, my first thought was "this isn't so bad".  Shortly followed by "wow, that's a lot of exposure".  Then after about a half hour of riding sketchy, exposed trail, it seems like the trail just disappears into the bushes.  It was time to let the trail draw blood, as the only way to proceed was to push the bike straight through the brush and cacti.  Luckily, there were a couple of hikers who were taking a break up on the ridge that I could stop and have a few good laughs with, or my sanity might have been in real jeopardy.  About 15 minutes after passing the hikers, my sanity took another significant blow when one of those hikers was passing me!  how does this happen????  I felt like the trail was just wide enough for me to push my bike down the trail while I walked through the thorn bushes beside the trail.
Luckily, the Oracle Ridge Trail itself was fairly short.  Unlucky is the fact that the doubletrack that followed wasn't really any easier.  The road was chunky enough that I was walking downhill to avoid crashing... and then there's the 45 degree uphill double track.  I fear the truck that made those tracks!
There's just nothing fast about that trail as it pointlessly takes you the long way around Oracle and to the highway, which I hopped on to head back to Oracle and get some lunch.
The Oracle Patio Cafe seemed like the place to be if you are an AZT racer, so that's where I went too.  It was a great opportunity to relax in the shade and visit with other racers.  After lunch, we all headed over to the circle K before heading back to the trail.
Thankfully, a few clouds had made their way into the sky while I was in Oracle to offer me some relief from the afternoon heat.  I ended up catching up with Rick Miller and was riding with him when we saw our first gila monster of the ride.  Naturally, we took a break to take a picture, but my phone was on it's last leg, so I didn't get any pictures of my own.
Gili Monster - Photo Courtesy of Rick Miller

As with every evening out there on the 300 route, as the sun got lower and the temperatures got lower, my mood and energy seemed to improve.  Night time seems to bring me new life where I can once again mash on the pedals without the heat making my stomach boil.  The trail seemed to get faster and faster the closer I got to freeman road, and the cooler the temperatures dropped.  I came up on a gate a few miles before freeman that I thought I had to go through.  When I dismounted the bike, I swung my ankle straight into the cholla.  My achilles tendon instantly locked up.  Other than pulling what needles I could out of my leg, I wasn't sure what to do, so I figured I should just press forward and hope that it would work itself out.
The trail after freeman road seemed to be even faster than the trail leading up to it and my legs seemed to be getting stronger after stopping at freeman road to eat a Reuben sandwich that I had carried from the Patio Cafe in Oracle.  I would really like to see a picture of what this area looks like during the day time, because my mind could not quite grasp at night what this area must be like (I'm thinking flat power line trail).
The trail was fun and the miles were melting by until all the sudden, started dropping into one sandy wash after another.  The fun was instantly sucked out of my ride and the energy was sucked out of my legs.  One drop into deep sand even caused me fall off the bike and tweak my wrist (luckily only a minor sprain that would go away by morning).  Feeling zapped from pedaling in and out of the washes, I decided to call it a night right before what I presume was the Ripsey climb?
A common theme when doing these multi-day events is that every day, it seems to get more and more difficult to get up in the morning.  Day 4 was no exception to this.  I woke up feeling defeated and had developed a cough every time I tried to breathe in the dry desert air.  There's no better motivation for a bikepacking racer than to have another racer ride by your campsite as you are getting up in the morning.  The motivation that morning came in the form of Rich Otten (tupperware bikepacker).  I chased rich up the climb but I had no chance of keeping up as the trail dropped down towards the Gila river and I had to constantly dismount my bike for all the sketchy downhill and switchbacks.
Having just filled with water at the cache just before the river, I didn't feel a need to go to the trailer park and pressed onward, deeper into the Gila canyon.  I didn't make it 10 miles from Kelvin before the desert sun had me moving at a crawl and desperately searching for any shade to hide under.  I felt like I could hardly move without getting over-heated and it was forcing me to drink way more water than I had planned on.  I started looking for ways to get down to the Gila river so I could get some reprieve from the heat, and filter some additional water into my pack.  Everywhere I looked, there was a fence keeping me from getting to the river.  I started getting angry with Arizona again.  This seemed like it was yet another example of where there was water sitting right in front of me but I wasn't allowed to get to it.  Was I truly not allowed to go down to the river?  I'm not sure.  Maybe the fence was just to keep cattle out of the river? either way, I did not have a good feeling about going down there not knowing for sure if I was allowed.  So I pressed on away from the river.  Even as the evening began to fall, I was still over-heated and still hiding under thorny bushes to escape the sun.  I had convinced myself that I could nap in the afternoon heat and just ride later into the night to make up for lost time.  What this theory didn't account for is the amount of water I was consuming just laying out there in the heat.  I had somehow used up all but about a liter of the 7 liters I was carrying before I had even gotten to the climb out of the canyon.  I think I was consuming so much water because the dry air had caused my nose to become a blood clotted mess that meant every bit of dry air was coming through my mouth and drying out my throat.  By this point, both Alice Drobna and Rick Miller had passed me.  I had briefly mentioned to Alice as she was passing me that I was going to be running pretty low on water.  I didn't mention just how low I was going to be running, because I did not want her to be tempted to give up any of hers.
After making the big climb out of the canyon, I started seeing some promising waypoints coming up on my garmin.  Anything with the words "tank" or "springs" would get my hopes up.  However, the 'tank's were just dried up mud ponds.  Therefore, my next point of interest became 'Trough Springs'.  This sounds promising, right? well, when I got to the point on the garmin, it turned out to be off route.  Was it worth going off route to get water? yes.  But was it worth going off route for a water source that I wan unsure about? not it my mind.  I knew I could make it to superior without water from where I was at since the sun was down and the temperatures had dropped, so I wasn't willing to risk wasting time without water to chase something that might not even have water.  About 6 miles from picketpost, I was just cresting a climb when I hear a voice coming from ahead of me "Do you need some water?".  I was in amazement.  There was no sweater sound to my ears in that moment than those words.  It turns out, that voice was from a girl named Chance, who was thru-hiking the grand enchantment trail and had ran into Alice earlier in the evening and Alice had told her that I was running low on water.  Thanks Chance and Thanks Alice!
After drinking a bottle of Chance's water, I was revitalized and ready to knock out that next 6 miles of trail to finish up the 300 mile route and start heading out on the roads towards Phoenix so I could start climbing out of the desert and into the pines the next day!  As I promised myself, I gave it a good push that night and was able to make it to the other side of Apache Junction before camping on the side of the road.
Day 5, I packed up and headed out to goldfield ghost town in hopes that I might find someplace to grab some water and breakfast, as I had ridden right past all my resupply options the night before.  I was able to find a spigot for water, but nothing was open there till 9:00 am, so I hit the road to keep with the notion of 'relentless forward progress'.  I was not really expecting to be blown away by any of the sights on the Apache trail, or any of the road detour for that matter, so I was completely surprised by the scenery at canyon lake as well as all the lake views on the way up the Apache Trail.


Canyon Lake

A short climb and a quick downhill after passing Canyon Lake let me to an old western town called the Tortilla Flats.  There was a line forming at the door of the local restaurant, as they were 15 minutes from opening.  This gave me just enough time to apply some much needed sun screen before going in to devour an omelet filled with chili (so good) and getting a cinnamon roll to go.
It was amazing how easy all the proceeding climbs leading up to Roosevelt dam seemed after actually having a real meal in my stomach to give me energy.  I highly recommend everyone who lives in the phoenix area should ride the Apache Trail section at some point.  Even though it is dirt roads instead of trail, it has some of the best scenery of the entire route and the traffic was virtually non existent, which made for a great ride.
Roosevelt Bridge

Pedaling on the shoulder of the highway made for some fast/easy miles, which were very welcomed after the past 4 days of pedaling/pushing on brutal trails.  Great progress and positive thoughts... until POP, HISS.  It took me a moment of disbelief to realize that after pedaling hundreds of miles for days through trail that is littered with sharp, jagged rocks and cacti that I had just somehow sliced my tire riding along an asphalt shoulder.  After inspecting the damage, something had sliced the tire straight across the entire tread face.  The only fix was to throw a tube in, then gorilla tape the tire back together with the tube inside.  Realizing that there was a bike shop in Payson, I called them to see how late they were open.  They close in 1.5 hours at 5:30... I think I can make it.  Little did I know, just how much work I had left to do before reaching Payson.  I was digging deep and pushing hard to hammer out that road section and get to that bike shop before they close.  Then all the sudden, the route crosses over to the west side of hwy 87 and I look up and realize just how much jeep road climbing I had to do to get there.  At this point, I was running out of steam and had to accept the fact that I wasn't making it to Payson in time.  I climbed from desert to pines and arrived in Payson just as the sun was going down.  I turned on my phone to make sure no major events were taking place back at home and the first thing I see on my phone is a text from Jeremy at 87 Cycles in Payson saying that he will be there to fix my tire!  After a mexican dinner and a visit to the bike shop to get my rig back into working order, I was off in hopes of making it to Pine, az.
it's only 20 miles of mostly dirt roads that separates Payson from Pine.  How long could it possibly take?
Well, the answer to that question shocked me.
This section of the route was, without a doubt, the biggest physical and emotional blow of the entire ride.  I suspect it is because these were 'detour' miles so I was anticipating these to be somewhat easy miles.  Well, there's no easy miles to be had in this section.  It was dark and cold and I was exhausted from a hard day's effort, but from what I remember, these dirt roads are all fall line roads, many of which were too steep to ride up.  I even walked down a couple of the downhills because they seemed too sketchy to ride in my current mindset (which now I learned that Tanner Morgan went down on one of these descents!).  When I dropped into the valley where the tonto natural bridge is at, it was SOOOOO cold down there.  I was cold and tired and needed a place to sleep, but all I saw everywhere I looked was private property signs so I wasn't feeling very welcomed anywhere.  Then I saw a trail magic cooler next to a driveway.  I decided to sleep at this driveway since I didn't feel like the owners of a trail magic cooler would pose any threat to a bikepacker.  I woke up the next morning to the home owners offering me some coffee and offering to let me use their bathroom.  They are great people who I hope other future racers get the chance to meet when they roll through there.  They are actually the people who have the trail log book that Scott Morris talks about in his blog about their 750 tour last year, so their house is right before you get to the log book.
Camping spot (photo courtesy of Rick (trail steward)

Right after their house, the trail turns from dirt roads to bushwhacking trail for the next 3 miles or so.  These were some of the most difficult miles of the whole trail. My legs were already so cut up from cacti and brush on the 300, that this extra bushwhacking was just adding insult to injury on my lower legs.
I was dreading the Highline trail after all the horror I have heard about, but I was surprised to find that it was actually 90% rideable.  The miles were not easy by any means, but if your head is in the right place, you could actually have a lot of fun riding that section.  There are some sedona like burms and evens some amazing views once you do those couple HAB pushes from the bottom to get you up onto the Highline itself.
Once I exited off of Highline and start climbing the rim on the powerline trail and got near the top, the garmin track crosses into the woods to the right of the powerline.  I could not find where that trail was over there, so I went back and made that evil push straight up the powerline trail.  When I finally got to the top, I saw the trail that the garmin was leading to and this trail would have been SO much easier to get to the top.  Perhaps it might have been handy to have a higher res gps track in this section so I could find this trail.
I was so beat from the final push to the top of the rim up that near vertical powerline trail that I bivy'd up before the sun even went down that day.  I awoke that next morning to the sound of wild turkeys.  The condensation from my breath was completely frozen inside my bivy.... This was awesome for me.  It meant I had finally escaped the heat that has oppressed me for the past 5 days of my life!
Although I was on the top of the rim, where everyone had promised me that the trail would get easy, it was still quite difficult with a lot of pushing up until I reached hwy 87.  I took a slight detour on hwy 87 to go to the spigot at the ranger station, since my water filter was frozen and unable to process water from the stream that morning.
When I returned to ride the trail to the north of 87, I was pleased to find that it was finally fast and easy.  This was the beginning of the Arizona Trail becoming a fast and constant mix of double track starts (this will be common all the way to the south rim with a few exceptions)
I was in disbelief of how many elk herds I ran into that day between blue ridge and flagstaff (simply amazing display of wildlife)
I rolled into double springs campground to find Robert Orr frantically looking at cue sheets to try to figure out where he was in respect to Flagstaff and if he should go back to Mormon Lake or push forward to Flagstaff.  The Spigot was off, as expected, but the trail crosses a stream right before you roll into the campground, so filtering water without having to detour into town is super easy.
I ended up making use of the dumpster at the double springs campground to dump about 15 lbs worth of food that I had carried from the border and could not see myself eating (now I'm kicking myself, wondering how fast I could have gone if I wasn't carrying pointless weight)
I left double springs feeling like I had a supercharged engine after dropping all that extra weight.  To add to that, I was feeding off the adrenaline of knowing I had just passed one of the riders who I had let slip away 3 days prior!
This momentum only lasted me about 10 minutes before I tore out a sidewall on my rear tire and had to stop to sew it back together.  When Robert Orr passed me, he was kind enough to lend me some of his gorilla tape to aide in my repair since I had used all mine on my highway repair and to repair my shoes which I tore the treads off of on the Highline trail. Luckily, I was able to keep the tire tubeless: and it held all the way to utah!
Flagstaff was a great place to get a room and get one last sleep recharge before the final push to the finish.
Flagstaff was also a great place to restart on my food supply since I had literally just thrown everything away at double springs campground.  I decided that a flat of cinnamon rolls and case of apple fritters was just what the dr ordered to get me to utah.
That trail out of flagstaff the next morning was great.  It was so fun and so flowy: even though it was a 2000' climb.
Trail leaving flagstaff climbing towards the snow bowl.

There was actually quite a bit of snow and mud up on the north side of the snow bowl, so the downhill free-ride was severely hampered by sessions of walking around muddy trails or tires getting buried up in snow.
Near the high point of the trail.  Arizona Snow Bowl

Looking back towards the San Francisco Peaks after descending.

Once the trail turned to double track, I was completely in my element.  It was full on road biker in aero bars mode.  I was going so fast through some of those sections that I knew that I had to be putting huge gaps on racers behind me and eating up huge gaps on racers in front of me.  I knew I was making great time, but didn't realize how good of time I was making until I caught up with Aaron Denberg and he told me how much gap I closed on him that morning.  Finally! Trail where I wouldn't get left behind on some technical/sketchy downhill!
One mental mistake I had made was to let myself believe that the "grand view trailhead" must be close to where I am going in Tusayan.  This didn't really hurt me other than the emotional let down when I got there and figured out how much further I had left to go before I was going go get dinner at a mexican restaurant.
The trail out of Tusayan towards the rim was much slower than I had expect and was making me mad because the trail is hard to follow and seems to disappear and reappear without notice.
Once I dropped into the south rim of the Grand Canyon, I put my headphones in and tuned out the world.  I just wanted to stay awake till the sun got up and cover as much ground as possible while the temperature was down for the night.
Dropping into the Grand Canton.  Just after midnight.

By the time I got to the cottonwood campground, it was already light out and my pack seemed to be getting exponentially heavier by the minute.  When I started climbing, I started questioning if my legs had the strength to make the climb with all that weight and my sleepless brain didn't seem to have the ability to balance myself with that weight.  I started wondering if I was going to have to figure out a way to lighten my load.  I had planned on getting shoes and trekking poles from the post office and shipping all my camping gear back home so I didn't have to carry it: but since I did not want to wait on the post office to open, I was hiking in cycling shoes and carrying all the weight I planned to send home.  About 4 miles from the top, I started wondering if any backpackers would be interested in a free sleep system.  I was asking myself if a lighter load was worth giving away $350 worth of camping gear and had convinced myself that it was more than worth it if that's what it would take for me to be able to finish this race.  However, I didn't seem to ever get passed by any backpackers coming by, only trail runners.  And I figured a trail runner wouldn't want to carry my sleeping system any more than I did, so I just suffered through it and kept pushing on.  I wanted to take breaks so bad, but the breaks were never worth the effort of taking the bike off and getting it back on my back, as well as the time I knew I was losing by taking those breaks.
Death march to the North Rim.

When I finally reached the north rim, a group of trail runners was happy to help me get the bike off my back as well as share a few good laughs with me about all the suffering that had taken place in that canyon that night.
My legs were trashed at the top (I never hike) and I wondered if I was even going to be able to pedal my bike.  To my amazement, after taking an hour or so to collect myself, I could still pedal my bike, even though I was unable to walk "I hope there isn't much HAB on that last segment" I told myself.
Eventually I made my way down to Jacob Lake Inn for dinner, after which, I set out to KO the last segment of trail.  I was so mad at this last segment of trail because I thought it was supposed to be downhill but it didn't seem to want to make this easy for me.  The trail seemed to want to break down what was left of my soul and leave me empty and without the will to finish the ride.  There was something about the soil, small rock mixed with fine sand, that just seemed to suck every ounce of energy out of my canyon fried legs with every uphill.  I kept remembering how Ray Hemmele told me that John Schilling said that the trail was all downhill.  But yet, everytime I hit a downhill, it seemed to be succeeded by an uphill that would take me right back to the elevation I was at before the downhill. "downhill my ass" I kept saying to myself.  To make matters worse, the trail kept disappearing and leaving me to consult my garmin to figure out where it went.
After a couple hours of this emotional abuse, the trail finally crested the hill that overlooks the finish.  Then, after way too many switchbacks, it finally led me to the finish line where my buddies Mark and Mike were anxiously awaiting me (actually, they were fast asleep in their tent).

I remember telling myself at least 1000 times during that ride that I never want to do that ride again in my life because it sucked and was so hard in so many ways.  But by the time I got to the end, I started wondering how well I could have done had packed lighter and planned a few things a little differently.  I feel like I wasted so much time and left so much time out on the course.  And it doesn't help knowing that my setup weighed SO much more than the rest of the front runners.
Will I be back?  I'm not sure.  But there is something inside that really wants to know how fast I could do it.  Does it want it bad enough to come back and do all that suffering again?  Only time will tell, I guess.

Wednesday, August 7, 2013

Colorado Trail Journey - 2013

The Colorado Trail Race  -  A 550+ mile mountain bike ride from Durango to Denver on the Colorado Trail (hiking Trail)


The weekend of june 8th was one that would alter my training season for the CTR.  During a road biking event that weekend, I injured my right quad muscle, making it swell up like a balloon.  It was difficult to even walk for the next week.
My parents were planning to spend a week in colorado in mid june, so I decided to meet them up there for a couple days and rent a bike to ride some trails with fellow future CTR racer Scott Shirey.  After about an hour of riding, we started up a long climb(maybe 1000 feet).  About 2/3 of the way up that climb, my quad began hurting more and more with every pedal stroke.  Before I knew it, the quad was swelling up over the knee again and I was having to pedal up the hill with one leg as the injured leg became stiff and swollen.  This became a common occurrence every time I attempted to ride my bike in the days and weeks to come.
This is when my friend Mark Allen proposed the idea to me to start our ride a week later than the mass start: What a great idea.  I knew that more time was the only thing that would heal the injury.  The following days and weeks were extremely frustrating.  I'm sure everyone who does endurance related activities can understand the feeling of how frustrating it is to have an injury where the only thing you can do is to wait.  Waiting for something to heal goes against how I am programmed.  When I have an injury, I want to work it to death to force it to get better.  I knew I needed to be on the bike getting in shape and getting ready for the ride.  Yet, I was unable still to ride the bike without causing more pain and discomfort to the quad so I had to stay off of it.  About a week away from my colorado trail start, I trail one more time to get on the bike and see how it felt.  It still didn't feel right.  There was an awkward feeling in the leg indicating that something still wasn't right.  After only a few minutes on the bike, I could feel the pain starting again.
I thought about not going to colorado to save myself the embarrassment of starting the ride only to have to scratch on hour into the race due to an old injury that won't go away.  Instead, I decided to at least go give it a try.  I had a local sports therapist show me how to tape the quad muscle to help take some of the stress off of it during the ride.
After work on friday, I met my parents at my house in Owasso, ok and we began the 13 hour drive to durango (oh joy).  By the time we got to Albuquerque, I knew it was going to be dicey weather to be trying to start the ride the next day, since we could barely drive through Albuquerque with the monsoon coming down on us.  To top it off, I had a horribly deep cough that felt like it was tearing my lungs in half.
The next day as I prepared myself for the ride, I sent my parents to the store to get some mucinex to help me fight off the chest cough then to go to the airport pick Mark up.  Out of the blue I get a phone call.  It's Mark.  Somehow he missed his flight.  Confused, frustrated and relieved all at once.  Confused by how you miss a flight when you are sitting in the airport waiting on it.  Frustrated by the fact that the time window for completing the ride just got a day shorter.  Relieved by the fact that I won't have to bike up to kennebek in the storms that are supposed to be bad that evening and the next morning.
The following day, Mark finally arrived and we headed out towards Velorution Cycles to start our journey.  The air was humid.  The sky was gloomy.  Neither of us were in that great of a mood to start this ride.  It is hard to be in too good of a mood knowing you are voluntarily headed up to no-mans land to face an evil storm head on.
I believe we pedaled away from the shop at 2:43 pm sunday the 28th of july.  As we were pedaling up the road towards the trail, my quad still didn't feel quite right.  My thoughts became more and more negative as I started losing all faith in my injured quad being able to hold up to the challenge.
The climb out of Durango up to kennebec was fairly miserable.  It was so hot and humid one minute, then cold and wet the next: A vicious cycle that would continue for the next couple days.  By the time we had broken through tree line, the storm had opened up on us.  There was no immediate lightning threat, but it was the most freezing cold wind you could imagine with a bitterly cold headwind blowing it right in our faces.  Once we reached the parking lot on kennebec, we retreated to the shelter of a couple trees.  Even though it goes against everything we all know about lightning safety, we felt like the cold and the wet were our immediate threat for the night and not lightning.  I laid awake till maybe 2 hours before sunrise completely unable to fall asleep in the cold, wet and at that altitude.
The following morning, we tried our best to dry out all our things that got soaked in the storm the night before then headed up towards indian ridge.  Indian ridge is evil.  Indian Ridge is even more evil with a 30mph headwind.  It felt like the trail was doing everything it could to keep us from passing.  Mark seemed to be riding and pushing faster than I was on indian ridge.  However, once we were passed Indian Ridge, I noticed he had no motivation to want to push on and get to the next point any faster.  His feet were getting destroyed by the new pair of shoes he was wearing and his grimace towards this ride seemed to be growing more and more negative with every push.
We decided to stop for the night above tree line just below some pass (I forget the name).  Again, it was a cold, wet and very high altitude night.  For some reason, I was unable to sleep yet again.  I just lay there awake thinking about how I really need to be sleeping right now.  I kept thinking Mark was getting up and eating over and over cause I kept hearing his cheese-its wrapper shuffling around.  I realized it wasn't him when he woke and asked if I heard anything getting into his stuff.  We spent the next 15 minutes trying to find the critter.  It was chip monks.  The little thieves were running around our camp site like crazy looking for something to steal.
When the sun arose, I attempted to wake Mark up so we could head up to the top of the pass where the sun was shining so we could get warm.  I eventually left him to pack his stuff while I hurried to the top of the mountain to thaw my hands in the sun.  As I sat there on top of the pass enjoying the warm sun (which had been in hiding the last couple days) and attempting to enjoy an apple cinnamon power bar which was hard as a rock due to the freezing temperatures, I was swarmed by chip monks who were smelling my breakfast.  I thought to myself "the chip monks in this area must all be starved or something".  Just for the sake of my own entertainment after my jaw popped really loud and painfully while trying to chew the rock hard powerbar, I decided to break off a chunk and see if the chip monks would actually eat it.  I was much entertained by the fact that he grabbed the chunk I threw on the ground and sat up on his hind legs holding the piece in his front paws and nibbled on it at an incredibly high rate of speed until it was gone....
After a couple more hours of pushing that morning, we were finally down into silverton for a resupply and a meal.  We stocked up on everything our bikes could hold then headed over to the mexican restaurant to attempt to fill our bellies.  After filling our bellies, we headed up the road towards stoney pass.  Being a road biker/triathlete, these little road stretches were my forte because I could really hammer them out fast.  By the time I got to the hike a bike section, Mark was nowhere to be found.  I expected that due to my background on a tri bike.  What I didn't expect was for him to catch me so fast on the hike a bike: especially knowing his feet were hurting him.  He caught me about halfway up the push but then had to stop to dr his feet.  By the time I reached the top, my stomach had turned upside down.  Guess it was time for more food already.  I had a snickers bar and a gel while I waited on Mark to catch back up.  Pushing his bike up Stoney Pass in those new shoes has destroyed his feet.  I can't believe he kept going with as bad as they looked.
The start of section 23 was rough for both of us.  It seemed like there was no air to breathe.  After maybe a half hour of suffering, we decided to stop and have a snack.  This was the turning point in the whole ride.  All the sudden we could breathe.  The sky was no longer trying to downpour on us.  We were able to get on our bikes and actually ride them.  Even the HAB pushes went much smoother after that.  We arrived at Carson saddle far faster than I ever imagined we would.  We decided to stop and sleep at Carson Saddle.  This meant another great night of no sleep for me at altitude.
The following morning, I tried to wake Mark but he wanted to sleep.  I was freezing cold yet again so I began packing my stuff and heading up the road towards the coney summit to get some sun.  I started to wonder why we kept deciding to sleep on the west size of these ridges instead of the east side where the sun would hit us in the mornings.
As I'm pushing up this evil steep road, I notice the gps track is doing a lot more side to side motion than the road I am on.  It doesn't make sense, cause I'm almost right on top of the track still (within a few hundred feet).  I continue to push to the top.  It took everything I have to push my bike up this hill.  It is so steep that I had to take one step then anchor both feet into the ground in order to have traction to push the bike forward another foot.  By the time I nearly reached the top, I looked back and saw Mark actually riding his bike instead of pushing.  I was like "how the heck is that possible?".  That's when I noticed the trail that switchbacks to the top instead of going straight up like the road.  Oh well... there was no way in hell I was going back down that evil road to go up the trail.  I thought I was going to die the first time I went up it.
Oddly enough, the high point on the trail (Coney Summit) is not only rideable, but it isn't really a summit either.  It would have felt a lot more rewarding to reach the summit of the trail if the summit of the trail had actually been the summit of a mountain.  Instead, the summit is a fairly flat stretch of grass maybe a couple hundred feet below the summit of the mountain that it is on.  Either way, I had reached it and was ready to start going down because my chest cough was doing nothing but getting worse.
I couldn't believe how rideable the whole stretch was all the way to spring creek (with exception to jarosa mesa.... I don't mind steep up hill HAB, but I hate having to push my bike through sections with almost no elevation gain just cause it's too rocky to ride)  it seems like I did sections 22 and 23 in a total of like 8.5 hours of go time.  I remember those sections being horrible in the past.  But this year, they seemed like the most redeable major sections of the whole route.
I arrived at Spring Creek very hungry and very motivated after actually getting to do so much riding in the previous sections.  I sat and ate a snickers bar and frozen burito and chatted with a guy on a motorcycle while waiting on Mark, who I left on top of Coney doctoring his feet wounds yet again.
When Mark made it to Spring Creek, we filled up with water and I expressed to him how I really needed to ride faster and longer in order to make it back to work in time.  I think in the back of his mind, he knew he wasn't going to be able to go on much longer with all the hike a bike to come and his feet getting worse and worse every step... yet, I don't think he quite knew how to pull the plug either.
We left Spring Creek together headed towards Apple's camp.  It didn't take long on the asphalt for me to lose him behind me since my legs come to life as soon as I hit a road section.  That climb up to Slumgullian pass was fast and fun, and the screaming downhill after that was even more fast and fun.  I met my old nemesis on my way up los pinos pass: HEAT.  "DANG IT!! NOT AGAIN!"  I thought to myself as the heat made my stomach boil on the climb up to los pinos pass.  I did everything I could think of to keep myself cool.  I stopped in the shade, I poured the bottle of water on my neck and stomach, I ate extra salt pills.  Still, the heat continued to effect me in a big way.  I had one of those tail winds that only happens on a really hot day: that kind of tail wind that is going the exact same speed as you are going up a hot climb so you get zero convective cooling effects from air movement.
I finally reached the top of los pinos and saw a couple sets of riders that were going the opposite direction.  I told one of the groups of riders to inform Mark that I was going to push as hard as I can to get to apple's camp then take a nap while I wait on him.
I saw another group of riders about 15 miles from apple's camp.. they informed me that apple had root beer floats but that he takes the ice cream home at the end of the day.  That lit a fire under my rear and made me push hard to get to apple.  I could just taste that ice cream on my tongue as I was pushing as hard as I could to get to apple's camp which I was really unsure how far away it was.  I had eaten nothing since leaving spring creek because I knew everything apple had would taste so much better if I was that much more hungry.  I started to bonk hard a couple miles from apple's camp.  I did not know if it was just around the corner or if it was 10 miles away, but I was sticking with my plan to eat nothing till I got there.  Finally I made that turn off the road and saw that glorious sight: the white pop up tent.  But was Apple there? I started frantically looking for a vehicle.  As I approached the tent, there was no vehicle in sight and no Apple in sight.  My heart quickly sank as I realized that even though I had pushed from spring creek to apple's camp in under 4.5 hours in hopes of finding that root beer float, I would not be rewarded with a root beer float for my efforts.  I was rewarded with the most delicious bowl of instant soup, however.
I sat around for a couple hours waiting on Mark before a hiker came walking up to the tent.  He seemed very grateful for finding apple's camp as he had been trying to find decent water for hours only to find cow crap filled puddles instead.  He was planning to stay the night at apple's camp, so I told him that if Mark came through to tell him that I waited on him and could no longer wait not knowing if he had to drop or not.
As I left Apple's camp, I felt a new sense of freedom and liberation that I was no longer going to be touring this ride with a buddy who had his own idea of what pace he wanted to ride at.  I could now ride as hard as I wanted for as long as I wanted and take as few or many breaks as I pleased.  As night fell, I pushed passed where Apple was camped at last year.  This was no longer a warm and inviting place as it was last year.  It was a dark and creepy entrance to what was sure to be a defining night in my ride.  This would be the first time for me to ever be in the middle of the forest by myself at night, and I just so happened to be headed to a place that has been noted as being haunted... great.  As I pushed towards Sargents Mesa, I noticed a freedom in the way I was riding.  I was riding strong and pushing strong and no worrying about what anyone else around me was doing because there was no one else around me.  I was riding more uphills than I thought I could and riding more downhills than I knew I should.  But I was doing it and still kind of having fun doing so just because I thought it was fun to be able to knock out so many miles in one day.  I knew where I wanted to stop for the night and I wasn't going to stop till I got there.  I didn't even know how far I was to the place I wanted to stop since I forgot my trail databook.  Every mile that passed, I was glad I wasn't at my stopping place still because I wanted to take down more and more miles before the night was over.  Finally I was up and over sargents and down to the creek and the other side, which is the place I had in mind to stop for the night.  It was around 3:00 am.  I awoke the next morning to the sunlight.  Not having an alarm, I wondered to myself what time it was.  I started to freak out cause I knew it had to be 8:00? 10:00? how long had I slept?  to my surprise, it was only 6:40.  I was excited to be awake already and ready to knock out some more miles.  As I started the climb from the creek up towards marshalls pass, the fatigue from the night before began to set in.  My eyes were blurry and my mind was completely gone.  I was unable to concentrate on the trail I was riding, yet my body was able to push onwards towards my destination.  Eventually, my mind was able to come back to life and join my body on the trail just in time for me to meet the most evil stretch of hike a bike I've ever seen on my way to marshalls pass.  It may not have been as steep or edgy as the indian ridge HAB, but after the beating that sargents mesa had incurred on my the night before, my body was barely able to come up with the strength to push my bike up every step of this painful stretch.
At marshalls pass road, I met a day biker who was interested in my ride.  He had just come down from riding the next segment.  I think this was the point I became obsessed with stopping day bikers to ask them how hard the next segment was going to be or what I should expect.  Really, the most important thing to me is "when I reach a peak and start going downhill, is that the top or is it just a teaser hill trying to screw me out of all that climbing I just did?"
After this day biker went on his way, I started scattering all my food out as I decided it was time to leave some behind.  I was hardly eating anything but was carrying an astronomical amount of food for no good reason.  While I was doing this, I was having another one of my coughing episodes where I would hack up green junk from my lungs.  A couple guys came up to me on offroad motorcycles and one of them told me he was a medic and that I needed to get medical attention cause my lungs sounded bad.  I told him I would be done in a couple days anyway so I would be good.  Lucky for me, they gladly offered to take all my extra food and trash off my hands when I was unable to find a trash can (thank you guys).
The whole way up the climb to Fooses creek, I couldn't help but to think about Matt Schiff's "no hesitation night descent off the top of Fooses Creek".  I couldn't wait to get to the top and see how bad it really would be to descend that thing on a bike.  As I reached the ridge and peaked over to the other side, I dismounted my bike and walked it down like any sane person would do.... you are INSANE.  The whole way down, I tried to wrap me head around how anyone could ride down that without crashing.
Once I was at the bottom of the steep part, I got back on the bike and started riding down but had to dismount like 10 times over the next mile to walk down unrideable/too dangerous spots.  I kept getting more and more mad at the trail for not letting me ride my bike down the hill.
At the bottom of fooses creek, it felt like emerging into the desert from the mountain forests (I think this is the mount shavano trailhead area?).  I did not like the next segment at all.  It was just steep uphills followed by steep downhills and no place in the middle to gain easy miles.  Almost every up was too steep and loose to ride and every downhill was too steep to gain any speed and get the average mph up.  That section felt like a losing battle because I was constantly pushing my bike up these steep hills only to immediately drop right back down and have all that elevation I just worked so hard for stolen right out from underneath me.
To top it off, this section was not only the first place for me to crash, but it was where my first 3 crashes happened.  The first crash happened on one of those steep loose downhills coming around a corner.  The second crash happened less than a quarter mile from the first crash when I looked down and realized my gps was gone and came to a stop: unable to unclip my feet, I went tumbling down the cliff into a tree.  I left the bike behind to go back to the first crash site and find the gps.... it was nice to get away from the bike for a little bit.  The third crash was on those fast downhill rutted trails in open prairie.  I hit the side of the rut in the trail and sent the bike into a death wobble.  I was able to jump over the handle bars and land on my feet while letting the bike crash by itself on that one.
I made my way down to mt princeton hot springs, getting mad at the trail once again as I had to get off and walk down that last hill on the trail before town because it was too steep to control my bike on.  I made my way over to the restaurant for a very disappointing plate of nachos (don't get the nachos).  After dinner, I headed back up to the trail.  The road grime was a nice little warm up to burn off those extra carbs sitting in the belly after a big meal.  It seemed like everytime I hit a road section, I would start to think about my injured quad and let my mind start playing tricks with me thinking it just didn't feel right.... but it never really hurt the whole ride.
That section of trail between hot springs and buena vista was really fast, fun and flowey.  I couldn't believe how much fun I was having out there riding that stuff.  That is until the last couple miles.  at some point the trail became overgrown, horse tramped and just miserable.  It was a maze of overgrown trails that you couldn't see if something was right in front of you to be able to ride due to the overgrowth.  I ended up getting off course and meandering down some other random trail a time or 2 and losing a good deal of time on that stretch.
I finally broke free of the jungle and headed down the pavement into Buena vista.  I thought city market was open 24/7 till I got there and it was closed.  "Oh well, guess I just need to push to get lunch in leadville tomorrow", so I pushed up the road to clear water reservoir to sleep for the night around 2:30 am.
By the next morning, my cough was really getting bad.  I could push for hours without coughing, but when I had to start coughing, it was completely debilitating and would leave me on my knees unable to move for half hours at a time.  Some of the trails right before twin lakes were pretty fun.  I noticed how anytime you see locals out there riding the trails, they are usually rideable trails.
When I was going through leadville, there was a carnival going on and it was very hard to pass up all the carnival food, but I had a taco truck in mind that I went to last year and I wasn't going to be happy unless I went there.  I arrived at where I thought the taco truck was at last year and it was no longer there..... where is it? anyone know?  I had to settle for pizza hut buffet since there was no way I was going to back track to go to get carnival food.
The heat started to get to me again as I was going over the tennessee pass area, so I was very glad to find a trail magic box which had sun screen in it (I had sun screen, but the stuff I had didn't seem to be helping keep me from cooking).
The start of the climb from camp hale was miserable.  It was so hot and humid.  It felt like I was riding through a swamp.  I had another other of those 'only on a hot day' tail winds and the flies were starting to attack me like I was dinner.  Stopping at a creek to filter some water nearly caused me to lose my sanity as I was swarmed with flies and mosquitoes to the point where I lost my mind and had to jump into the water to escape them.  Oops.. I just soaked my feet and shoes right before a massive hike a bike.  I don't know what other option I had at that point.  I was burning alive and being eaten alive all at one time and had to do something.
As it goes on the colorado trail whenever you are hot, sweaty and soaking wet, the sun decides to retreat faster than expected and leave you soaking wet and freezing cold (thank you sun).  My debilitating cough took control of my body several times on the climb to kokomo pass and between kokoma and searle pass.  That section seemed extremely difficult for me.  Night was falling, I was transitioning from being hot all day to all the sudden freezing and I was having to stop every half mile to sit there and hack up my lungs.  A few hours earlier I was planning to push tenmile that night and now I wasn't sure I could make it down to copper in one piece.  Once I finally crossed the creek that you seem to follow for the longest time, I had to stop and have one more extended coughing session... I guess it was a bad one cause I had a hiker come over who was apparently camping a ways up the trail from me to make sure I was ok and to tell me to go see the dr's in copper the next day.
I finally made it down to copper just before midnight and was relieved to find the registration desk still open and a room still available.  After a long overdue shower, I intended to head to the bar to get some food but passed out on the couch instead.  I woke up just before 11:00 am and headed down to get some breakfast.  On my way out of town I hit the store and this other place I randomly saw honey stingers products at just across from the store... BTW, for anyone who hasn't tried them, the honeystinger chews are amazing (at least the orange and fruit smoothie).
I was finally crossing the tenmile range.  I've waited for this for a while since I had to skip it last year.  This is my favorite kind of climb: There's no flats, No downhills in the middle of the climb to steal all the gains you worked so hard for.  it's just a good ol' fashioned get up and over climb.  The kind you can just watch the elevation on your gps going up fast and you can count down the feet till you reach the top... I like that.
On the way down the other side of tenmile, I was greeted with a familiar face.  It was Scott Shirey who had finished the mass start.  He was out camping along the route with his dog(guess he didn't get enough of it the week before).  Being on an ITT by myself and not having interractions with anyone else who knew what I was going through for days was wearing on me, so it was nice just to share a few laughs with someone who can relate (thanks Scott).
Once I got over gold hill, I hit some trails that were actually fun again.  Crossing hwy 9 was almost impossible till I decided to just go out and force traffic to stop for me.  The trails after hwy 9 I imagine would have been fun on most any day except one where my brooks saddle lost off its tension. My agenda quickly changed to stopping every single biker I saw to try to find anyone who would have something I could retension my saddle with.  There was no way I was going to be able to ride tarryall without crushing my balls if I didn't get the saddle retensioned.  Luckily I ran into someone on my way up Georgia pass who had the right tool and I was able to get that thing to actually support my rear end again instead of just resting all my weight on the boys up front.
That stretch from Georgia pass to kenosha seemed like eternity as I was still recovering from riding with a non tensioned saddle.  Because of this, I decided not to make the push to the finish like I thought I was.  I headed down to the camp ground.  I was more or less disoriented never having been there before and didn't know what was and wasn't a camp ground.  I think I stopped at a picnic area between 2 camp spots and started getting my camping gear out when my old friend the unstoppable cough showed up again.  "I can sit around here and cough in these people's camp site" I told myself.  So I put all my stuff back on my bike and hit the trail.... guess I was destined to make that push afterall.  I'm not sure I like tarryall.  I have no idea what the scenery is like that.  I was glad to be going through it at night after being effected by heat the last couple days though.  It just seemed to last forever.  The worst part is just knowing you are going the opposite direction as you are headed just to make a big loop.  I was so ready to have this ride overwith.  Sometime in the morning, I arrived at the trailhead before the last 40 miles of trail and stopped to lay down for a second at a familliar parking lot.  Luckily, this is a heavy traffic area so I didn't sleep but a few minutes before I was awaken by some cars.
It felt so good to hit the last 40 miles of trail.  I couldn't believe I was finally there.  Almost immediately, it became fast and flowey and in my head I was thinking "Oh my God, this trail is finally loostening its grips on me".  It started to make me emotional, but I had to get a grip on myself and remind myself that this isn't the end any minute now it is going to get hard an uphill again and the trail will once again try to crush my soul.
I kept thinking to how much I like finishing in this direction better because the trails at the end are so much less abusive than the ones in durango.  I thought that until I had to do the one thing that is completely unthinkable to do on the last stretch of trail: Hike a Bike... Down.  What a horrible thing to have to do at the end of a ride like this.  It was really typical for this trail to force me to push my bike up a grueling climb only to have to walk it back down because the terrain was not suited for biking.  I just didn't imagine having to do it within only a couple miles of the finish line.
When I was within a couple miles of waterton canyon, I ran into another mountain biker who told me there was one tiny little hill then it was all downhill from there.  What he forgot to mention is that that 'tiny little' hill was like 500 vertical feet.  Where I come from, that's bigger than any of the biggest hills within hundreds of miles.  And at this point in the race, 500 feet was nearly enough for the trail to crush my soul yet again.


There were herds of mountain bikers on the trails between wellington lake road and platt canyon.  Several of them stopped me to offer congratulations on completing the trail that day.  It was good to have recognition, but it my mind I was almost a little disappointed that I only saw other people on the easy sections.  There were no day bikers out there suffering it out on Sargents mesa or on the brutal hike a bike up to marshalls pass.  There simply aren't people out there who understand (or care for that matter) just how hard this ride is.  I'm sure they look at the fast flowey sections where I ran into other bikers and assume that it must be like riding 500 miles of that.  However that isn't the case.  The thing about the CTR is we ride(and push our bikes through) all the stuff that no day biker in their right mind would even bother bringing their bike for.  This ride is probably the hardest thing I've ever had to do.  It forces you to dig down to the deepest depths to find strength within yourself to keep pushing.  There are moments where it feels the trail has taken all you have and left you an empty shell, yet you must continue to push to meet your goal.  The trail can feel like a prison as halts your progress and will not free you but at the same time, it has the power to liberate you from the life you leave behind in the real world.  It gives you the freedom to challenge yourself and see what you are made of.

Many people wonder why I would do something so difficult.  Simply the answer is because never in my life has any task easier than this been anywhere near as rewarding to complete.

There were moments out there where I felt like I truly could have been a lot faster out there if that was my goal from the start, if I had not had the lung infection or if I had been able to ride my bike to train for the race in the months leading up to the race.  I am extremely grateful for the fact that my quad muscle held up through the whole race.
Who knows.  I may be back next year to really test myself from the start to see how fast I can do it.

My final finish was at 4:50 pm on sunday the 4th of August.  Total time of 7 days 2 hours and 7 minutes.