My first singlespeed ride…

…didn’t go so well.

The route:

The event: Singlespeed Arizona.

I’m not sure which hurt me more: the lack of gears or lack of suspension. The same question, posed a different way: I’m not sure which I was worse at: uphill or downhill. I just knew that whenever I was doing one, I wished I was doing the other.

Was it a good idea to race ~48 miles for my first ever singlespeed ride? Nope. Was it a good time to experiment with riding rigid after 12+ years of riding with a suspension fork? Nope.

But I did it anyway. I could have test ridden my borrowed bike (Redline Monocog), but I didn’t want to spoil the surprise. I knew the trails, sure, all too well, but for the most part I had no idea what I was getting into. Just the way I like it.

The start was pretty mellow, with no one wanting to jump (until Jon finally did). I had the urge to shift a few times, and one caused a near panic as I thought about the trail ahead. What have I gotten myself into?

But the first section of trail is downhill, so no biggie. Actually, there’s a bit of contouring, and the SS’ing was fun – stand up and pedal for all you’re worth. This is pretty cool.

Not so cool on the way down. A few switchbacks in I was already crying for mercy and letting people go by. Control was surprisingly good and technical stuff was no problem, but I could barely hold on to the bars and it was tearing me down.

Up and over Molino – walking as usual – and a good break to allow the feeling to return to my numb feet. I was dreading the descent. With good reason – it nearly destroyed me. I rolled right down the upper techy stuff, pretty happy with myself, but my arms and hands grew fatigued until I couldn’t handle it anymore. I stopped to let air out of my tires and attempt to regain my composure.

Emphasis on attempt. I’m not so sure I ever got my composure back. But I kept rolling, pretty sure I’d be bailing down Redington. I still had power in my legs, so I rolled along, ignoring my hands/arms.

It was when my legs gave out, somewhere around Bellota ranch, that I went into complete and total survival mode. I wouldn’t say my legs were tired, in the normal way, but I had no power. No power on a singlespeed means you can hardly ride. Combine that with a hammered back and weak arms, and you’re looking at a pretty good bodily shutdown.

Luckily the first piece of AZT is pretty darn smooth, meaning I could survive it. By the time I got to the real descending on the AZT I had wished I’d ridden down Redington, for my health’s sake. Ever since the GDR ’05, when I killed my hands (it took 3 months for the feeling to return), they haven’t been the same. They are gradually getting better/stronger each year, but I started to get the feeling that I was undoing that healing, quick.

But, as these things go, I set out to complete this route as my first rigid singlespeed ride, and I could still keep myself upright on a bike. So I rolled with it.

And it hurt. Bad. Good. Ugly. Beautiful.

I was seeing stars at the top of every little rise I struggled up. My kidneys ached at each waterbar I popped over. How in the world do these guys do it (knowing there were at least two guys on rigid SS’s in front of me – and they knew what they were getting into)???

I have to admit that I could see some appeal to it. On the flat and smooth sections. You know, both of them out there on the course. There’s a purity and simplicity that is very attractive, and I had long ago silenced the urge to shift. It was climb or die. Maybe if I wasn’t such a granny gear, sit ‘n spin kinda guy, I’d have some power in my legs. Maybe if I were a smoother rider, and grew accustomed to the rigid fork, I could be riding hard instead of moving in slow motion.

But for now it was all I could do to keep moving. Counting the miles down, I had a few moments of “oh shit, I can’t get myself out of here.” Milagrosa was terrifying in my current state, and I just couldn’t imagine riding down it. I didn’t think I could / should take the abuse it was sure to dole out. Of course it wasn’t as bad as that hysteric thought – I convinced myself I could always walk, and it was true. But it was not a good feeling – one of being trapped, and pretty helpless. Of course this was all self inflicted, but my rigid SS was dishing out suffering and dread the likes of which I had not experienced before, and perhaps was not ready for.

I stopped several times to let more air out of my front tire, and it did make a difference until I started feeling the rim, near pinch flatting. Maybe a little too far! I aired back up, readying myself for more torture.

I ran into Paula and just sat down to talk to her. It was pretty awesome to have her out there, cheering and taking pictures. I’m pretty lucky to have her in my corner.

She put in a ~22 mile run, up the highway, over Molino and down Milagrosa. While waiting for my slow carcass to make it down the trail, she read a book, took a nap and ate all sorts of snacks she had been carrying. Then after seeing me, she continued running down the trail – beating me to the bottom!! I’ve grown accustomed to being smoked by her, on foot, on technical climbs – like going up Milagrosa. But down it?! Good lord. Maybe if I hadn’t stopped three times to ease my bruising kidneys, or regain the ability to pull the brake lever. But maybe not – I was moving at glacial speeds.

But I survived and did what I set out to do. Even if it wasn’t pretty. If nothing else I learned that I don’t have “it” — whatever it takes to ride a rigid SS, strong, through that kind of terrain.

Cokes, pizza and good folks were waiting at the wash. 6:01 was my finish time – almost double my finishing time last year (3:26!). The course was undoubtedly harder/longer, but still….

I’m looking forward to a rigid singlespeed RIDE – not race, once my hands recover. But my next ride is going to be on my FS 29er.

More pics from Paula, and some chatter, here: