Hello, Colorado

start of the Tucson 5000

Tucson is still a great place to be in May. The temperatures are mild, the sky islands are open and there is plenty going on — like the 5k state championships where Paula took 5th overall (you can find her head if you look close in the pic above).

Morning trail runs,

and electric color in the desert. But along with the color and the warm temps comes late spring pollen. Something that grows here in May absolutely does not agree with me, and I can’t believe how many years it has taken me to realize this. It’s a slow deterioration, not really noticeable by the day, but I started feeling worse and worse on the bike, then for a while didn’t feel like riding at all. I spent a lot of time at the computer, coding away on Trackleaders V2 (or V3 depending on how you count it), but after a few days I couldn’t even do that. I couldn’t stay concentrated for more than a few minutes at a time before my fuzzy head would make me want to do nothing but lie down — which doesn’t really help.

So, as much as I “heart” Tucson in the spring, I just can’t live here in May and be poisoned every year. This devil pollen, whatever it is, has already plagued too many ambitious rides and plans over the years, and crippled me for too long. Unless I want to keep running for antibiotics to cure sinus infections, I just can’t do it.

Fortunately, this year I had a plan to escape Tucson’s summer, I just didn’t leave early enough.

Unlike last summer, when I left suddenly for Utah after dribbling along for too many weeks, this time I had a plan, and was able to tie up a lot of loose ends before leaving. Things like riding across town for a Tucson Mountain Park tour, cautiously pedaling through the intersection where I almost got taken out a while back. Or things like heading up to Bug Springs to give ‘the scar’ a good effort.

Despite feeling poorly on the 2000′ self-shuttle up the Catalina Highway, I told myself I was not going to give up, no matter bad I felt or how craptacular my line developed. I stalled out completely between two steps on ‘the scar’ and had I not repeatedly told myself that I wasn’t going to give up, I surely would have unclipped. The fact that both tires were sitting in an inch of pea gravel was another fantastic reason to unclip. Yet others, perhaps, were that that my head was about to explode and my heart rate was 180.

It took a suspension of disbelief, a bit of skill and a little luck, but I made it to the top still on the bike. Then I collapsed in an asthmatic heap over my handlebars.

One little victory and my way of sticking it to Tucson — cleaning the scar despite sinuses full of devil bugs.

The next day I packed my life into my tiny little car, and headed north. A few bikes, a computer and a duffel bag, basically.

That’s the view out the back of Shawn Gillis’s guest house, where I’ll be staying this summer!!! Yep, Salida Colorado. And yep, that’s a pump track (and stunts) in the back yard. And yep, that’s snow in the hills. And, yep, the temperature has barely been over 60 and nothing is growing. Perfect.

No pets, just deer allowed.

Within an hour of arriving in Salida I hopped on the bike to get some fresh air and stretch out my car legs. I followed my trail sniffer towards the “S” mtn, where I had a vague sense that there was a trail system. I ended up climbing singletrack almost to the top, then walked up to the top to observe, and get a sense of the town I was going to call home for the summer.

The clouds swirled and the wind blew as the town quieted down for the evening. I quickly got cold, but I stayed a little longer anyway.

There was a Mountain States Cup race over the weekend. I had originally planned to do the whole stage race, but even after the drive and a day in Colorado I wasn’t feeling myself. Eszter found (through Facebook) that there was an interesting movie in Salida, that I was here, and that trails were dry (not so much in Crested Butte). So she and Chris headed over and she took us for a little ride.

First we went backwards on the weekend’s race course — which was a real eye opener. With trails like these I started talking myself back into racing.

“It’s not going to rain!” she insisted, just like she did at Old Pueblo (many times!). Chris and I had our doubts, but cold moisture actually sounded kind of good to me.

I’m so used to being the one ‘leading’ rides and saying vague things like “after this trail, we’ll climb a road for a while” that it was fun to be on the other side. By climb for a little while, she meant an hour, and before the top it started snowing.

I had no idea we’d climb practically to 10,000′. Awesome.

At least it wasn’t raining, though it did get a little wet for a minute. I had to keep shaking out my hands and I struggled to stay with Chris on the descents, but otherwise I actually felt pretty good, and was so happy at the complete reversal from Tucson’s dry, hot desert. I needed a change, bad, and this was it.

Little did I know that the trail would be so fun, too. Worthy of the ‘big’ bike, though Chris rode it like he was on a big bike. It was really fun to follow his line as he is one of few riders that really moves around on the bike, hops and carves at every opportunity — the best way to make a fun trail even better.

We eventually made it back to the ‘system’ trails, carving around the “S” mountain. After, we watched 23 feet behind Absolute Bikes, a short film about living simply and outdoors. It gave me a few ideas, and also made me very grateful that things are simple enough for me that I can drive a Corsica to Colorado for the summer. New trails, new friends, a new town, and much better weather! Call me restless, but I just can’t stay in one place all the time and do the same things over and over.

“S” mtn is right behind town, across the Arkansas River

There seems to always be something going on in Salida. On Saturday there was a (costumed) cruiser crit downtown that was fun to watch. I pre-rode the XC course, and though I felt stupid tired afterward, I decided the course was way too much fun not to race. Besides, it was rideable from my door. And there was one section that I couldn’t find a rideable/raceable line through — it was just that technical.

I got talked into the “Wildcat” category at registration, by both the gal doing registration and Shawn. I guess it made sense as a “non-committal” Cat 1 race, given how I was feeling and that I didn’t really need to pay $60 for a USACycling license (required to race Cat 1). In Wildcat, I got to race with the Cat 1’s and on the same course.

I knew from my Bug Springs ‘scar’ moment that going to the top end of the heart rate spectrum spelled bad news, so my only strategy for the race was to not start too hard, or attack. Easier said than done, but I actually accomplished it. I sat in at the back of the lead group until the singletrack, and though I could have motored it to reach the singletrack behind less people, I didn’t.

And I got stuck behind people that are shy around rocks. Oh well, at least I am not blowing myself up for once. And most importantly, I was having a hoot rallying through rocks and around narrow corners. I rode pretty much at 90% the whole time, which felt a little wimpy on one hand, but incredibly fun on the other. My back never got tired, my legs always had strength to power up little rises, and despite seeming easier, I rode two minutes faster for the second (of two) laps.

UofA wildcat in the Wildcat class, photo by Annette Hayden

I walked some of the rocks, and weaved my way beautifully through others. I think I was smiling most of the time.

I took the Wildcat Category, which only had five people in it (so it’s kind of a joke) but I would have been second in my Cat 1 age group had I paid the $60. It’s good to know I can hang with Colorado Cat 1’s. Hopefully I can find some other races with courses as rocky and fun as this one was.

It’s been a bit of a whirlwind since I got here, so now I think it’s time to chill out and just enjoy some fresh Colorado air, hopefully enough to clear out the rest of this ridiculous sinus infection.