Old Pueblo 2011

I’m still a little surprised how fun this race is. Even on the first lap, amidst the chaos of a thousand racers, I could not help but think “I like riding my bike”, over and over. Vying for position, following close–but not too close, carving corners… feeling fast. Oh yes, I like riding my bike.

I took our first lap and ran slow, so I got caught in more than a few singletrack conga lines. I’d watch my heart rate drop to recovery pace, but I didn’t care. My legs were not torn to pieces, like last year when I ran too fast. I got to attack at every opening, and it felt good. I never fought the wind since there was always a long group of riders in front of me.

I finished lap 1, and headed to our tent. Everything inside was covered in a layer of dust! How did that happen? Is it really that windy? As my down time went on I seriously questioned whether the tent was going to stay standing. The wind was out of control… poor Eszter, my teammate who was out there battling it.

My replay videos had taught me that there wouldn’t be anyone to draft off for my next lap. Anyone nearby was likely to be either too fast or too slow at this point. I headed out and prepared for a slow lap. But on the second gasline hill a rider tore around me. He was riding too fast for my Duo pace. I saw him throw out a tube at one of the trucks on course. Ah ha! He had flatted and was making up time (he was a 2 man duo rider), a temporary surge in pace. I pinned it to catch him and proceeded to suck his wheel all through the gasline and Corral Trail. At the first dirt road (now with a ripping tail wind) I thanked him for the pull and dropped him, somewhat sheepishly.

photos by Paula Morrison

Throughout the afternoon I was incredulous that it was not raining. There always seemed to be a wall of moisture to our west, but it never arrived… until my sunset lap. I quickly learned that one pair of gloves was terrible in the rain, acting like sponges and freezing my hands. But the rain and wind were never so bad. My only fear was that the rain would continue all night — I did not think I had enough clothes/gloves/shoes to stay dry and warm in an all night downpour.

In fact, some of my favorite moments in the race were during the storm. I remember flying down the gasline hills and having to look sideways because the rain was driving right in my face. I remember seeing blankets of moisture shifting across the landscape, curling over ridges and dipping into washes. I remember swirling fog illuminated by far off racers, later to grow dark as they got swallowed whole into it. No doubt about it, if this were a normal day, I would not be out here riding, not in the rain and not in the dark. Sometimes you need a little nudge in the right direction, and I was thankful for ‘the race’ for getting me out there to experience this.

There’s always a certain smug feeling when you are staying warm and comfortable despite your fears and anxiety that you might not. A certain pride when rain is bouncing off you like bullets, yet you are happy and you can even see — your glasses stay clear. Humans are such fragile creatures when it comes to the weather and the cold, that whenever you can stay comfortable and strong in adverse conditions, it is a small victory.

I gradually noticed that the world was becoming just a little brighter. The moon was fighting its way through thinning clouds. “Is it not raining anymore?” I asked my fellow racers. No response. Tires were still spitting up so much water that it was hard to tell where it was coming from. Later, “I think I can see the lights of Oracle! It’s clearing up!”. But some people could not be cheered up, some were absolutely hating life out there. Couldn’t blame them, I guess, so I left them alone with their suffering.

I switched to Radical Lights, which Krista had kindly loaned me for the race, and the extra illumination and rapidly drying course gave me the perfect excuse to bust out a fast night lap–2 minutes faster than any of my night laps last year! These are some seriously bright lights, unlike anything I have ever ridden with. They are so bright that people kept pulling off the trail early for me, thinking that I was right behind them!

Through the rest of night I held a steady pace and fueled with carborocket, powerbar crack nuggets, snickers, smart food popcorn and sun chips. I successfully avoided the temptation to over-fuel, which was my nighttime downfall last year. I erred on the side of too little, riding the edge of bonk at times, but never getting a sour or burpy stomach.

On a few night laps I caught myself wishing I didn’t have to stop. I had such rhythm, and really, dealing with the transitions of changing clothes and eating seemed like more work than staying on the bike. It was an interesting observation, though I still did not envy the solo riders.

Then our propane heater ran out of juice (dropping the temp in our tent from 68 to 43), so instead Paula made a Scott burrito! She piled on sleeping bags and every blanket she could find. It worked.

Why not an Eszter burrito too! I was continually impressed by how little variation Eszter had in her lap times. Nothing seemed to slow her down — not wind, not rain, not middle-of-the-night gremlins. It sure made my transitions easy — knowing how long each lap was going to take. She was there with high fives and lots of energy inbetween every lap.

I struggled a bit on the sunrise lap. My legs had plenty of power, but my internal clock did not want me to access it. I was also kicking myself for not having a camera. The moisture saturated sky led to an incredible sunrise, and I was heading east for most of it. I couldn’t keep my eyes off the columns of deep clouds, stacked upon each other, highlighted in red, filled with gradients of gray and white. It was something else. Gradually seeing that there is indeed a “World” out there, that we’ve been riding through all night, is always an amazing experience. Sunrise on the bike. Hope.

When bikepacking things always get easier at the first hint of light. Both years at Old Pueblo I’ve noticed a much more delayed return to energy. Not until the sun actually rises do I seem to return to full power. Meanwhile my mind was deteriorating. I started getting frustrated by things that made no sense. Like guys with red jackets and black pants. Whenever I came on someone dressed like that it would make me angry. Didn’t I pass you ten times already?! How many people can have the same red jacket and reflective pants?

My mind was looping, everything was looping. I laid down in the chair and hit the reset button by closing my eyes and drifting off to sleep for 2 minutes. It was enough to completely clear my mind. The next lap went a lot faster and was much easier.

oh yeah, another fun lap, and screaming good fun on the rock drop + jump after it – photo from marathonfoto.com

Having other riders out on the course is both a blessing and curse. For the most part everyone is nice — be nice and expect it in return. It does slow you down on occasion, but it also makes you feel fast, and smooth. A large part of being fast and smooth is believing you are fast and smooth, and the mind can never have too much repeated evidence with which to bolster such beliefs.

I calculated that I passed 512 riders during my 8 laps on the course (not counting the first lap which I cannot reliably say anything about). I was only passed by 10 riders (*). Knowing that there are some very fast cats out there led me to believe I am a lot faster than I am. It was a fun belief to run with, and provided a lot of motivation.

(*) (And those riders were: Jens Nielsen,Dejay Birtch,Brian Meyers,Anthony Thornton,Jay English,Eric Waleki,Tom Ober,Matthew Battin,Zach Heim,Lirain Urreiztieta. By contrast, Ben Sonntag, owner of the fastest lap, was passed by one rider (Damian Calvert!) and passed 297 riders on his four laps, not counting lap 1). I’m such a geek sometimes, but I couldn’t help but compute these numbers, since I had the capability.

But it didn’t last forever. Passing people constantly does get tiring, and having proven to myself that my legs were not blown, I didn’t see much point in going out for a 10th lap. We had lapped 2nd place, so we did not need our 19th lap for the win.

Eszter was funny when we talked about it for a second in the transition tent. “See you back here in the tent, right?” “The only way we can skip the last lap is if Lynda OK’s it!”

Eszter finishing up yet another solid lap, her 9th and final

That’s me assuring Eszter that I had received special dispensation from the queen of all things Old Pueblo and enduro-coaching. Lynda agreed that if I didn’t want to ride a 10th lap, I shouldn’t. It would only hurt my recovery time, and recovery time is the only downside to long races like this one. Secretly I really just didn’t want to have to pass another guy with a red jacket and black pants. 🙂

So yeah, I wimped out on the last lap and more miles. We kicked back on the lounge chairs and watched everyone roll in. Paula fell asleep, first in a chair, then in the car. Eszter signed us in after noon and it was done.

Duo’s are such fun. There’s a great rhythm to ride/prep and there is never a dull moment. I was lucky to again have an amazing teammate, and also to have Paula on support. Paula really helped me at all the critical transitions, and fell asleep during the few where I needed to focus and internalize (she was so tired going into it that she was out during my 8pm transition!). It worked out perfectly. The circus tent and propane heater that we shared with DaveB was also key, especially this year. I was really bummed to see him have to pull the plug. We missed him.

I love it when I can measure improvement and show that I learn from my mistakes. I was successful in correcting my biggest errors from last year, and as a result was able to ride faster (one minute per lap faster than last year, despite the rain/wind). I avoided sore legs from the run, rode faster, ate smarter and kept my feet (and self) warm. Super happy.