Another “Over the Lemmon” ride happened before I really noticed it.
I wasn’t really planning on doing the ride, but nevertheless found myself climbing the Catalina Highway at a fast clip. 20 pounds of fluid, food and gear on my back, but the pedal strokes were smooth and the morning air fresh. I passed large groups of roadies, smiling at the different riding worlds we live in.
Never once did I think it was foolish to ride so hard at the start of an ‘epic’ ride. Some roadies tried to reel me in…. and some almost succeeded.
I took a gamble on missing my ride through the “No bikes” construction, turning left to ride 2 miles of prime AZ trail. Who can say no to switchbacks, rock ledges and 190 beats per minute in the beating sun? Not I, say I.
I passed the same roadies again after I rejoined the Catalina Highway, riding near as fast as my system would allow. MP 11 was nearing just as Jerry Q and crew drove by. I loaded up my bike in the midst of a crowd of several dozen roadies about to head home.
Cheating? Sure. Legal? Yeah. I’ll ride down through the construction anyday, but up is a bit more of a dicey prospect. Hello, sherriff!
Heart rate slowed to normal, then jacked back up as I hit the road near the Green Mountain trailhead. Ah, now this is some fresh air–and it’s almost cold up here in the Ponderosas.
Now the thought occured that I’m riding really hard and have a long way to get home. But it was just a fleet; gone by the next pedal stroke.
I dove off the mountain on the control road, gliding through the thick forest that is Mount Lemmon. Emerging out of the trees was not the best of feelings–I knew I wouldn’t be cool again for another 60 miles and who knows how many hours.
My legs defied all logic: they were not tired. The mind-bending climbs of the control road were no match for them. Usually these hills make mincemeat out of me, regardless of my state.
With each descent I would scan the corresponding ascent for signs of Jerry and Mark. It wasn’t until I coasted down to Peppersauce that I caught a glimpse of them. They too were flying.
We rode together into Oracle, stopped for drinks and marveled over what great time we had made. My moving time was well under 5 hours, which meant that if I really hammered it home down Oracle RD I could close the loop in under 7 hours.
Another day, perhaps. Instead we pace-lined it a bit down to Oracle Junction, then cooled off in the 97 degree Tucson mid-day. In Catalina the thought occured that this ride didn’t seem very long to me. There’s something seriously wrong with me (or right, depending on your point of view) when Over the Lemmon doesn’t feel very long.
So I decided I’d tack on the suburban assault trail to the end of the ride, just to increase my dirt to pavement ratio as well as to torture myself in the afternoon sun.
First we stopped at Jerry’s place (nice dirt shortcut to it), where I picked up his HID light and neglected to fill up any water.
I made it about 0.5 miles from his house before I took the last sip from my camelbak. Crud. Starbucks was the only thing on my route so I just kept riding, pretending that it wasn’t 100 degrees in full sunlight.
It was only 12 miles to home, so all was well. Very hot, but well. I think this now qualifies as ‘heat training’ for next weekend’s 12 hours of 100 degrees and humidity down in Mexico.
At the rate I’m feeling I may not need it. I felt incredibly well, though the final ride through town, hot and out of water, did take its toll on me.
105 miles, 10,000 feet of climbing and get this–14 mph average
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