True Grit 2011

Before we get to stories of doom and gloom, grey skies and hypothermia, let’s see some Tucson riding shots — with clear skies and perfect temps. You know, the way mountain biking is supposed to be. 🙂

Krista is back and town, after a long series of impressive races, both here and abroad. It was great to hear her stories of racing in Cyprus against some of the world’s best.

She’s also got a new bike, and what better way to break it in than on “Flight Path”, the hardest trail out at Robles?

New bike didn’t stop her from throwing herself at the techy sections, and cleaning most of them too.

Krista gives her opinion on the “scar” hike-a-bike (and on me, for taking her on this trail). The phrase “I’m going home…” was uttered at some point on the climb/hike…

photo by Krista Park

But no! Luckily the rest of Bug Springs trail is more than worth the steep climb / hike-a-bike.

I had a great run on the Behemoth, and Krista was eating up the new (to her) trail. It was almost scary how warm it was when we finished (after sunset of course) and were hanging out at Molino Basin. Felt like summer, which is great with me!

It came time to race bikes again, this time in St. George for the True GRIT 50 miler.

On the way to Utah, we stopped in Kingman for a ride (Scott) and run (Paula) from the Monolith Gardens Trailhead. It was the perfect way to break up the drive and ride some singletrack/rock that is only a 2 minute drive off route. I tried to take photos of Paula but she was running faster than I was riding, and also was out there longer!

Both of my brothers came down from Salt Lake City, to enjoy the balmy St. George weather (!). My dad joined us as well, heading out to pre-ride the first bits of the True Grit course, including this sharp edged canyon.

Caterpillars!

I was getting psyched on the killer trails (racing on Zen Trail!!), but not so psyched on the weather. I got pretty chilled waiting for the boys at one point, then the rain and wind really started rolling in. I was so cold I couldn’t stop to talk to Fixie Dave, out marking the course, for more than a minute. Based on the forecast I figured race day had to be better than today, plus race effort keeps you warm, right?

photo by Paula Morrison

I warmed up with plenty of extra layers, so I think this was the only moment where I, being the lone entrant from AZ, was warmer than everyone else. By the time we wrapped up the pavement prologue and started racing, I was already losing my feet. I’m such a wimp when it comes to the cold.

I grew tired of the group dynamics and chaos on the initial dirt roads. No one was really riding that hard, so I decided to. I took a little flyer and it felt good to be riding by myself. It probably didn’t last more than 60 seconds, and was almost surely a foolhardy move (and I knew it), but it did result in a ramping up of the pace in general. There’s only one direction you can go once you are in the lead — back. And I did fall slowly back over the next series of zigzags through the Green Valley trail system. The guy that ended up in 3rd place said “stay calm” as he passed me, pedaling up the slickrock wash. Staying calm wasn’t my problem, riding with composure was. My back tightened up pretty quickly, and I lost my ability to pedal full tilt.

Went out too hard? Stupid flyer move? Too cold? Out gunned and out classed? Maybe, maybe not. Probably some combination of all three (and more). I didn’t care — I came to race aggressively and hold on as long as I could.

I witnessed the first crash on the Barrels “safety zone” tech section. Not sure who it was, but it didn’t look too bad. I stalled out at the top of the turn, waiting for assurance he was OK and for the line to clear. Seemed like a prudent idea to get off and walk after what just happened… but I was clipped in and though I had no momentum, I knew I could ride it, grit and water on the tires or not. The few technical sections on the route seriously upped the fun/focus factor. There’s nothing quite like racing hard and having to deal with rocks and steeps that could very easily send you to the ground if you don’t hold your line.

photo by Paula Morrison

Still smiling, heading out to Zen. I gained some time on the guys ahead on the smooth part of the climb, grabbing a dollar from Sly “Gilly” monster on the way up. I battled with myself over ‘the reason’ I couldn’t get into high gear. Demoralized by falling behind guys I should be able to race with? Too cold? Bad prep?

photo ripped from crawling spider photography’s gallery

Pedaling hard is one of the best ways to erase doubts and clear the mind. I attacked a few of the most fun pitches of Zen, cleaning a couple moves I had failed on during the 30 mph windy pre-ride. This is fun stuff, no doubt, but I was falling apart. A few guys caught me, “hey Scott, is it weird when people know you you are?” and dropped me like I wasn’t even racing.

But this is exactly what I was looking for — suffering of quality, and being pushed to ride harder than I wanted to. If not, why race? I just was not up to the task today (pushing limits), and I knew it.

Oh, yeah, and things were starting to get wet. I had a pretty warm layer on besides the jersey, so my core stayed warm… until I got out on Stucki Springs. Once that layer, and my sponge-like gloves (why did I race with them?! — oh yeah, because no one was expecting a racelong drizzle) were saturated, it was a pretty quick trip to coldsville. I’m still amazed at how much water those gloves can hold onto. Stopping to wring them out periodically helped, but my hands were still turning into claws.

I started seeing frowny faces instead of smiley. During a brief lull in the rain I tried to rally the troops. I backed off the pace, looked off to the west at the huge view of the Beaver Dam mountains, and the foggy depths of Curly Hollow. This was a cool place to be, and at a cool time. But I was getting dangerously cold, was ill-prepared for it (no rain jacket?!) and was simply done racing.

I put some effort into cleaning the ledges out of Cove Wash, only to be rewarded with sticky clay soil once the rock ended, where walking/carrying the bike made a lot more sense. At the top of the hill I saw a figure with an umbrella that kind of looked like my mom. I dismissed it because I thought there was no way she was out here in this rain and goop. I had expected to get to the Barrel Roll trailhead, tell the folks there I was out, then head back into town on the pavement. But no! A carload of my family was there to cheer me on, regardless of the rain/mud. Awesome! I was sorry to disappoint them, but I’d already made up my mind. Paula tried to convince me I was in 5th, but that wasn’t possible, and it sounded like people had gotten lost or done bonus miles. Even though she had dry clothes for me (but no rain jacket… that had stayed at the house!), which would have been a huge advantage (they were the only spectators/crew at the aid station), I knew it would take me a long time to warm up, and I still had no power. So my dad drove us down the slick-as-snot road (marking the first time his Explorer had done some real off-road driving) and I was soon warm and dry back at their house. My dad even took my bike (and the Explorer) straight to the carwash to knock off all the mud. Thanks for bailing me out guys!

I sat in the house and watched the drizzle continue from the window in my parents house. That window commands a view of most of the GRIT course, and it looked ugly out there.

photo pulled from True Grit’s facebook page

Some people did finish the race, like Alex Grant (above), who killed the course in just over 4 hours. He looks just a little cold, there. He describes sitting in his car with heat on full blast, shivering after the race. Super impressive ride by him, and everyone else that finished. And also those that kept riding until the course was closed and the race called. Surely many of them would have finished it up, and all had more GRIT than me.

The race may have been a bust, but it was still a great trip. I got to hang out with my family, take a nice trip with Paula and see a bunch of friends after the race to swap stories/commiserate. A highlight was when almost everyone in my family (ages 4 to 60’s) were dancing to Wii Just Dance 2 together. I have some video that is priceless, but I’ll spare them from posting it here. 🙂

Just over two weeks to the Arizona Trail Race. Are you ready? I should have the course changes finalized after this weekend’s recon mission.