02.19.2013 | 12:58 pm
It started with a little bit of shame. And some contrition.
No, wait. It actually started with thirteen hours of driving. The shame and contrition would follow shortly.
The Hammer and I had been invited — thanks to a generous hook-up by Rebecca Rusch — to join an IMBA team for the 24 Hours in the Old Pueblo, which is at least semi-near Tucson, AZ.
Which is around a thirteen-hour drive from Alpine, UT.
During this drive, The Hammer and I had plenty of time to talk about our major concerns for this race:
- We weren’t in any kind of shape for an endurance race.
- As members of a five-person team, we weren’t likely to get enough riding in to justify the enormous amount of driving we were doing.
- What would we eat?
- How would I avoid gaining weight during this weekend?
Add to this our concern about the fact that concerns 1 and 2 (see above) directly contradict one another, and you have a very concerned couple.
The “what to eat” question was mostly solved by buying four Subway Club sandwiches, each cut into four sections. That’s our standard operating procedure for big, long races. It ain’t gourmet, but it’s carbs, protein, and easy.
As for how to avoid gaining weight, I just did my best to eat very little of anything in general. Like if we ate at Wendy’s, I’d order the grilled chicken sandwich but wouldn’t eat the top half of the bun. If we ate at Denny’s, I’d order from the build your own Grand Slam menu, and would get six egg whites and a bowl of fresh fruit.
Even if I really wanted this:
Shame and Contrition
The Hammer and I set up our giant tent in the very last large, flat area available for miles around. And by “large and flat area” I mean an area large enough for a 10-person tent, which would include our giant queen-size self-inflating bed. We also brought our own table, stove, heater, and pretty much everything else one can bring and still not say one has simply brought over an RV.
Hey, we’re in our forties. Roughing it is not even remotely interesting to either of us.
We had hoped to arrive early enough to get in a quick pre-ride of the course (which we had not, to that point, ever seen before) with Paul Guyot’s brother, Jay. But by the time we were set up, the sun had gone down and it was time to go to a celebratory dinner for IMBA.
As soon as we got there, I ran into Jack Black — I was really impressed with how he’s slimmed down — and had to get a picture with him.
He told me loved my portrayal of Dill, the wacky dad in Easy A.
You can tell I’m stalling, trying to put off the moment I tell about my moment of shame, can’t you?
OK, here it goes.
After the dinner (a delicious taco bar where I pretty much ignored my diet and ate everything in sight), Rebecca got up and told a terrific story about how when she found her beloved hometown trail network was threatened because no MTBers were making their voice heard (they were too busy out riding and having fun), she made a difference by starting a local IMBA chapter herself.
Rebecca is awesome.
Next, Bob Winston — a honcho at IMBA and my team captain — got up to give his speech. He began with, “Who here is an IMBA member?”
Practically every hand in the room went up. Except mine.
Yep, I was there to race with Team IMBA and I wasn’t even a member of the organization that works tirelessly to construct great trails and advocate for keeping them open — basically, I wasn’t a member of the organization that does me and people like me a huge amount of good.
What a dork.
So, by way of a first step toward correcting what has been egregious neglect on my part for the past plenty-six years, I’d like to show proof here that I am now an IMBA member in good standing:
The fact is, while I do a lot of fundraising for causes against things I hate (cancer, poverty), I haven’t done much at all for the thing that occupies about two-thirds of my waking thoughts: biking for fun.
So this trip, more than anything else, served as a good wake-up call. What can I do to actually advance the cause of cycling? There are some easy answers — like fundraising — but I don’t think that in this case just going out and finding a few more dollars is where I can be most useful.
Which is not to say that I do have a great answer yet. Just that I’m (finally!) thinking about it.
3AM Visitor
After the meeting, we went to bed, using an Ambien to help us get a solid night’s sleep; we knew we wouldn’t get much (any?) sleep the next night.
Then, around 3:00AM, I heard someone shouting. “Hello? Anyone? Help! Hello? Hello?!”
Concerned, I climbed out of my sleeping bag, put on some shoes, a headlamp and a coat, and went outside.
And there was an extremely drunk man, completely lost, unable to find his friends, and very (very) loud.
He asked where the main tent is; I pointed it out to him. He asked me if he could buy my flashlight and offered me all his money for it (he said he was carrying around $1000). I told him he could just have the light and to bring it back the next day (he didn’t).
He told me he hated Hollywood and was never going back. I was wiser than to ask him what had gone wrong, because I’m pretty sure he would have told me — at great length.
He told me other things, too, but I admit my interest waned and I was focusing on how to extricate myself from this conversation and get back to bed. As I was thus pondering — and this man was thus talking — a guy who had probably once been sleeping in his camper van opened a window and said, “Hey, could you guys take that conversation elsewhere?”
I have never ever been so happy to have had a conversation interrupted.
“Good luck,” I told the man, and went back to bed.
Foreshadowing
The next morning, The Hammer and I got some great advice on the course from Jay, and then went out and pre-rode the course. We figured this was a good idea for a couple reasons. First, because we were the last two people of our five-person team and so we had plenty of time to recover afterward — and this would at least partially alleviate the anticipated not-enough-ride-time problem we foresaw.
“What do you think?” I asked afterward.
“It’s a pretty easy course,” replied The Hammer. “Not very technical. Lots and lots of cactus, though.”
Which was an understatement.
“Did you see that tree about halfway through the course?” I asked. “The one where people have hung mini liquor bottles and hair picks like Christmas ornaments?”
“Yeah,” The Hammer replied. “Strange.”
I offer the preceding snippet of conversation by way of foreshadowing of an event that will take place in tomorrow’s installment of this story.
Strange Coincidence
The order of racers in our team — Team IMBA Featuring the Fat Tire 5 — was as follows:
- Austin
- Stan
- Bob
- The Hammer
- Fatty
You know how you can tell — just by looking at them — that certain people are going to be really fast? Austin is one of those guys, and hence our first guy — someone who could get to his bike fast (after the longish Lemans-style running start) and get in front of the pack.
Which he did. Admirably.
But when Austin threw a leg over his bike, he discovered something horrible: that someone in the RV he was sharing wore the same kind of bike shoes, in the same size, as he did.
But with different kinds of cleats. SPDs instead of Eggbeaters.
Which meant that Austin had a choice: come back and get his own shoes, or pedal the course with his feet precariously perched — but never clipped in — on his tiny little pedals.
He went with the second option. Which — to Austin’s great credit — he made work fine, for almost the entire lap.
The key word here is “almost.”
With only a few hundred yards to go, Austin hit a rock, his feet flew off the pedals, and Austin crashed hard, injuring his knee. Somehow, he made it to the finish line, but that was the end for him. He could hardly walk, much less ride.
Suddenly, we were a team of four. And our concern about not getting enough riding in during this race evaporated.
Which is where I’ll pick up in my next post.
Comments (21)
02.4.2013 | 12:55 pm
I want to make a couple of things perfectly clear before getting into this post. Full disclosure kinds of things.
- Rockwell Relay isn’t paying me anything to promote their Moab to Saint George race.
- They are, however, giving my team free entry into their race, as well as FatCyclist / Rockwell limited-edition jerseys for every member in my team.
(There, I think we all feel better now, what with the total transparency and everything.)
As far as bribery and the selling of one’s blogging soul goes, that’s not much. Indeed, it’s not enough for me to go on and spend a whole blog post trying to sell you on coming out to Utah and doing the Rockwell Relay: Moab to Saint George.
So the question is, why am I doing this?
Well, I’ve got a few reasons. Partially because I admire what local promoters do. Putting on a race of this enormous scope is an even more enormous task; these guys deserve our support.
Partially it’s because I like the design of the free jersey they’re giving to team captains who sign up for the relay via this site (and other members of the team can get it too for $50, which is the cost of the jersey for the Rockwell guys). It’s got a cool split-personality thing I personally identify with quite nicely.
Check it out:
But the real reason — the really-for-real real reason I’m going to try to sell you on getting a group of friends together and doing this race is a lot more simple:
I just really like it.
And I think you would too.
So here’s my pitch.
Reason 1: I’ll Grill Brats For You The Night Before
Last year, just for fun, I proposed to the Rockwell guys that I should grill bratwurst for everyone at a night-before-the-race picnic. Here I am, cooking and eating at the same time, which is probably a violation of some FDA code or another:
And here’s my work, which I frankly (ha!) think is too beautiful for words:
I loved doing this, because it gave me an opportunity to hang out and talk with pretty much every racer doing the event, and also because it gave me an opportunity to show off my bratwurst superpower.
The fact is, if you read this blog and are not a vegetarian (or vegan or whatever), you know that you would like to find out whether my brats are all they’re cooked (ha!) up to be (they are).
This is a perfect opportunity.
Reason 2: The Race Course Is Beautiful
The real star of the Rockwell Relay: Moab to St. George is the route. It’s awe-inspiringly beautiful. You will see gorgeous desert, red rock vistas, and alpine mountains.
And since you’re only riding 1/4 of the course, you’ll have plenty of time to take in that beauty.
Bring a camera. You’re going to take a lot of pictures.
Reason 3: The Format Is Fantastic
Anytime I’ve ever raced, I’ve wondered what it’s like to be a spectator in that race, and whether they’re having more fun than the racers.
Likewise, anytime I’ve watched a race, I’ve wondered what it’s like to be a racer on the course.
With the Rockwell Relay, you get to do both. Plus you get to be a crew chief. And once in a while, you get to just sit back and be a passenger.
You will never feel as much a part of a race — getting to experience it from every point of view — as doing a relay like this.
Reason 4: You’ll Make Friends (And Maybe More?)
When you start this race, you’ll be all bunched up with the other teams. That doesn’t last long. Within a few legs of the race, your team will have settled into a groove close to a few other teams, and you’ll start to get to know each other as your support vehicles leapfrog each other and support each other’s racers.
After working together over a hard, hot, windy stage, The Hammer had gone from stranger to best friends forever with Ryan, a racer on another team:
Oh, here’s another example. Here’s my nice and me, right before the race last year:
She met a nice guy during this race last year.
Now they’re engaged.
Reason 5: It Just Feels Epic
Go back and read my 2011 and 2012 race reports for the Rockwell Relay. Note that they’re big ol’ long multi-parters. You know why?
Because there’s a lot of story to tell.
And it’s not like my team’s experience was any more dramatic or special than any other teams’. Every team comes away from a big event like this with incredible stories and amazing memories. It’s a race and a road trip, rolled up together.
Reason 6: It’s Only As Competitive As You Want It To Be
I’ve mentioned before that when I’m not racing, I’m a pretty easy-going guy. When I am racing, however, I am not your friend. At all. I become this weirdly angry, focused, hyper-competitive animal who would like nothing so much as to tear your legs off.
Thankfully, not everyone is like me.
So — new for this year — The Rockwell Relay: Moab to St. George has a “non-competitive” division, where, if you like — your team can skip a leg or switch riders in the middle of a leg or otherwise do whatever you need to do in order to get a lot of riding in without hating what you’re doing.
Which means that folks who just want to cruise it can just cruise it and make game-time adjustments to race order and so forth, without worrying about people like me flipping out over what they’re doing is fair.
How’d I Do?
Okay, that’s my pitch. Let me know if you’re going to sign up. And if you do, be sure to sign up at the special Friends of Fatty sign up page, by clicking here. And make sure you do it by the end of February, cuz that’s when the special free FatCyclist / Rockwell jersey promotion ends.
See you there. I hope.
Comments (22)
01.14.2013 | 4:54 pm
Last year was extraordinary. Starting about the time the snow melted, if I wasn’t training for an event, I was racing (or riding) in an event.
I’m not complaining, mind you, at least no more than I usually complain. Which may seem like a lot to you, but I assure you: I could complain much more than I do. In other words: my complaining, with regards to the amount of racing I did last year, is relatively little, to the point of being hardly any at all.
By the way, you can skip the above paragraph without losing any meaning from this post whatsoever. This one, too. Sorry I waited ’til now to reveal that.
Where was I?
Still, at the end of the year, The Hammer and I wryly commented to one another, “One of these years, we should try to not do so many events.” (Except neither of us really knows what “wry” means, and we didn’t really say this to each other, because it would be pretty weird for two people to make the same comment to each other.
Here’s my point, though, which I probably should have simply led with: Last year, I rode and raced a lot.
And my follow-up point — which, mercifully, I’m going to arrive at much more quickly — is that 2013 is looking pretty busy too.
And by “pretty busy” I of course mean that about 50% of all of my weekends, starting in March, are already spoken for. This should (once again) not be confused with complaining, because the fact is, I am totally excited to do every single ride I’ve got on the plan.
Check them out, in glorious chronological order.
24 Hours in the Old Pueblo: February 15 – 17
About a week ago, The Hammer and I got an invitation to race as part of Team IMBA at the 24 Hours in the Old Pueblo relay MTB race. We’ve never done this course before, but I hear it’s an incredibly beautiful course.
As part of a five-person team, I normally wouldn’t be too terribly worried about the difficulty of this race. With four people racing laps in between each of my laps, I’ll have plenty of recovery time. That said, I have never raced in February before. And as I’ve mentioned recently, I kinda let myself go during the past few months, to the extent that — even though I’m trying really hard to put myself back together as quickly as possible — I’m going to be riding a little bit slow, with my knees smooshing into my stomach a lot more than I’d like.
It should be a good wake-up call.
Even more of a wake-up call, though, will be the fact that the person who pointed IMBA toward The Hammer and me as candidates for their team was none other than The Queen of Pain herself, Rebecca Rusch. And she’ll be there, racing in a Duo Pro Team. This, she says, will be a good opportunity for her and SS-racing hardman Yuri Hauswald to give me some training advice (specifically, they will poke me in the stomach and tell me exactly how serious of a problem I’m going to have if I don’t get rid of some of this weight before the season really soon).
I’m also looking forward to talking with the folks at IMBA about what they do and how I can help. For all the time I spend riding and racing on trails, I have given remarkably little back. It’s time for me to fix that.
The Moab Half Marathon: March 16
I have to be honest here: I’m not going to run the half marathon here. The Hammer is.
However.
That was a dramatic “however,” wasn’t it?
“However,” I shall now go on to say, “I will be running the five-mile version of the course.”
And now I’m pausing again, dramatically, because I have something to add.
“And,” I conclude, “I will be running it with my 17-year old son.”
Those of you who have been following my life closely for the past little while will understand how big of a deal that is.
Leadman Tri, Tempe AZ: April 14
Last September, The Hammer, The Swimmer, and I participated in the Leadman Tri 250 as a relay. It was an incredible experience, and left me with a hunger to do more racing on my Specialized Shiv.
And I wanted The Hammer to play, too. So we got her a Shiv, too. And now The Hammer and I will look even more adorable as we train together.
We’re both going to do the Leadman Tri in Tempe, Arizona. We won’t be doing it as a relay team, though; we’re both going to do the whole thing (luckily for us, this race is only half the distance of the Bend event).
And like the last time I did a Leadman Tri, there will be a “Faster than Fatty” challenge. Unlike last time, however, a lot of people are going to destroy me, because I’m going to have to do the swim (which I’m very bad at) and the run (which I’m incredibly bad at).
In other words, this may be a good event for you to score a “Faster than Fatty” t-shirt at.
Oh, and by the way, we’re in negotiations on whether there will be a “Drop The Hammer” competition. (I’m in favor of such a competition; The Hammer has reservations on the idea.)
Africa in Moab:
Maybe the most extraordinary event of the year will be the Africa in Moab event I’ll be participating in with three lucky winners in the Grand Slam for Zambia contest. I’d detail it here for you, but it would just make you feel bad that you didn’t win the prize (except for the three of you who did).
The 100 Miles of Nowhere: June 1
The sixth annual 100 Miles of Nowhere (click here for last year’s description) will be on June 1. Or as close to that day as you can manage. Frankly, it’s a pretty amazing, bizarre event and I highly recommend you mark your calendar. It sells out in less than one day every year.
The Twin Six guys are already hard at work on a new design for the event shirt. I’ll show it to you when there’s something awesome to show.
The Rockwell Relay: Moab to Saint George: June 7 – 8
For the past two years, Team Fatty has utterly dominated the Coed division, in large part because of the following:
- Kenny’s on the team
- The division is quite small.
We are going to race it again. And this year, I’d really really like to see some of you come race it with us. I think you’ll find it is a strange mix of fun, intense, and — in the honest sense of the word — epic. Read my report from 2011 or 2012 to see what I mean.
And this year, if you sign up because you found out about the race from me, you’re going to get a very cool jersey. I’ll have details on this soon, but for right now, start trying to find a way to make it to this event, and build yourself a team.
And don’t worry about whether you’ll beat us. At least not yet.
LiveStrong Davis Challenge: June 23
It’s not an easy time to be a LiveStrong supporter. But yes, Team Fatty will be in Davis, CA, once again, for the LiveStrong Davis Challenge.
Here’s the thing, though. I’ve got something in the works that will — even if you’re kind of soured on LiveStrong thanks to Lance right now — maybe make you want to support this event and even join Team Fatty and do some fundraising.
It’s a big deal, and it’s kind of amazing, and once I tell you what it is you’ll smack your forehead and say, “Oh of course.” But I can’t reveal what it is quite yet, ’til I have the details nailed down.
So do what you can to keep this date open in your calendar, OK?
The Crusher in the Tushar: July 13
This race — a mix of lots of dirt and paved road, with tons of climbing — utterly destroyed me last year. And I really want to do it again this year, partially to redeem myself, and partially to redeem myself some more.
But there’s a problem. Which is that it’s the same day as . . .
The Tour de Donut: July 13
I’ve done the Tour de Donut every year for the past three years (read my reports from 2010 and 2011). I love this crazy race, and love the way it inspired me to come up with the GranDonut race. I don’t want to miss it.
Choosing between these two is going to be an agonizing decision, made even more difficult by the fact that this weekend is also pretty much the best opportunity we have to go on a regular ol’ family vacation. Which means that instead of choosing one or the other of these fantastic events, I’ll have to choose . . . neither.
Life’s full of tough choices.
The Leadville 100: August 10
OK, I probably don’t really need to go on about this race (since I have already written about it a near-infinite number of times. But I’m doing it again, going for my 16th finish. More importantly, The Hammer will also be racing it, going for her 8th finish, and putting her in spitting distance of getting her 1000-mile buckle.
By which time, of course, I’ll be close to getting my 2000-mile buckle, and the cycle goes on and on and on.
Rebecca’s Private Idaho: September 1
For this first year, Rebecca’s Private Idaho — a dirt-road Fondo in Sun Valley, ID — is an actual private event this year. The Hammer won’t be joining me for this event — I’ll be soloing it.
And I intend to do all 100 miles on a World Bicycle Relief bike, to show exactly how impressively tough these $134 bikes are. Anyone wanna ride on the rear rack?
Salt to Saint: September 20
This is a relay from Salt Lake City to St. George. But there’s a solo option available and I want to try it. I’ve never ridden 430 miles at a stretch before. In fact, my longest road ride is 200-ish miles (I did the STP back when I lived in Seattle). So this intrigues me.
Later, I suspect that “intrigue” will migrate to “terrifies.”
Levi’s Gran Fondo: October 5
This is, bar none, my favorite annual event. The course is amazing. The people are great. The post-ride festival is wonderful. And we do some ridiculous fundraising that does a lot of good for both kids and animals. Check out the video below:
Registration’s open as of today, by the way, so you might want to get yourself registered pronto. Otherwise, count on not being able to get in.
25 Hours in Frog Hollow: November
For years, I’ve wanted to see if I could do a 24 hour race solo. This year, I’m going to try it. My sole criterion for claiming a victory is completing it, without ever taking a break of longer than ten minutes between laps.
I believe this will make for an interesting story.
2013 is looking to be a pretty ride-ful year. Hey, if you’re not busy, maybe you should join me for one or two or half a dozen of these rides.
Comments (42)
05.2.2012 | 7:58 am
A Note from Fatty: Part I of this story is here. Part II is here.
I’ve been riding a long time. Close to twenty years now, I think. I’ve gotten to the point where — if I’m not racing, and the heat doesn’t sap me — long rides like The White Rim don’t crush me. I rode the whole day on my rigid singlespeed feeling just fine. Not tired, not beat. At the end of the day, my legs weren’t particularly cooked, and my butt was not even remotely chafed (and I don’t use any kind of chamois cream).
I carried the right amount of food and was never hungry. I was never thirsty. I was never cold, nor was I ever hot. I put sunscreen on at the right times and never got sunburned, in spite of the fact that I was out in the direct sunlight for more than ten hours.
Yep, I guess you could say that I’m an extremely experienced cyclist.
And yet, I am often a complete bonehead.
I have an example to illustrate this point.
Nobody Saw That, Right?
A good-sized group of us was riding together. The Hammer, The IT Guy, Paul, Kenny, Heather, and some others. It was a good section of the trail to talk, because it was a wide, flat, straight, and in general unremarkable stretch of red sand, which had been packed down by trucks and jeeps rolling over it.
I was on the leftmost side of the road, a foot or so to the right of the edge of the road, which ended in a lip up to the sand and cacti beyond.
Naturally, I was talking. I’m pretty sure I was being very funny, because as I was riding I looked over to The Hammer and lifted an eyebrow after saying something, which is our special signal that “Fatty just said something he thinks is funny, so you should humor him and laugh.”
And then I found myself nose-wheelie-ing. I had veered left and had plowed my front wheel into the sand on the side of the road.
After which, I found myself flying over the front of my bike. Even as I flew, I thought to myself, “Well, this is the dumbest wreck, ever.”
After which I found myself lying on my chest in the sand. Totally unhurt. I had just experienced the least painful endo in the history of the universe.
And also, now that I think about it, probably the least necessary endo.
I sat up, laughing at how ridiculous I am and how foolish I looked, got back on my bike, and got going again.
It was then that The Hammer said, “Well, that was strange.”
“You mean the way I just did an endo in a place nobody should ever endo?” I asked.
“No, it’s what you were doing while you were mid-endo,” she replied. “You were laughing. The whole time you were crashing. Just laughing out loud.”
So. While I may be a clumsy buffoon, I’m at least a clumsy buffoon with a sense of self-deprecating humor.
Horse Thief
The last mile of this 100 mile (I often consider how strange it is that this ride works out to be pretty much exactly 100 miles, but it does) ride is the climb up Horse Thief Trail. Switchback after switchback. Hard climbing for right around a mile.
I love that climb. I can’t think of a more perfect way to cap off a hard day of riding than to take whatever you’ve got and leave it all out there by climbing your heart out.
And then, right at the top, you’re back where you started.
A perfect ride. A perfect day.
Clean Up
I, of course, had gotten myself pretty thoroughly dirty by doing a belly-flop into the sand. But everyone was dirty — there’s no getting around it.
But — being brilliant and stuff — I had brought something along to make the long drive home we had ahead of us a lot less grimy: a big ActionWipes Multipack. One or two of these is enough to pretty much de-grossify you after even a big ol’ all-day ride.
And it feels so good to get the grit and sunscreen and salt crust off you before you head home. Not to mention the way you’re kinda saving your butt from future sores. Which is a good thing.
[Full Disclosure: I got this pack of ActionWipes for free. But I'm totally hooked. If you ride and then won't be near a shower for a while, ActionWipes are the best thing ever.
I Am A Hero
[Full Disclosure: I learned the following trick from Kenny].
My second favorite tradition (first favorite: brats the night before the ride) of RAWROD is what comes after the ride itself: on the way home, we stop by Ray’s Tavern in Green River.
Ray’s has great burgers and fries. And really, that’s pretty much the only food they serve.
There’s something about that place. People who have been there know what I mean.
The thing is, it’s always busy in the evenings, especially at the end of weekends as lots of people coming home from Moab stop by there to reward themselves for an incredible day / weekend of riding, climbing, rafting, or whatever else it was they did in Moab over the weekend.
The wait for your burger can be substantial.
So, as soon as I got phone service, as we were driving toward Green River, I called our order ahead. Told them we’d be there in 45 minutes.
Our food was served as we arrived. Hot cheeseburgers and fries waiting for us at our table.
Never before have I been so admired.
Comments (9)
05.1.2012 | 7:53 am
A Note from Fatty: Part I of this story is here.
I always look forward to getting to Musselman’s Arch when we ride around the White Rim. For one thing, it means that, distance-wise, we’ve completed a pretty significant portion of the ride — 30 miles. For another thing, it’s usually around then that the day has warmed up enough that you can get rid of armwarmers, kneewarmers, and whatnot.
And for yet a third thing, it’s the first place where the riders regroup to talk and get something to eat. Everyone’s still excited for the ride (as opposed to exhausted and wanting to get it done).
And then there’s the big reason: actually looking at — and if you’re brave, walking out onto — the arch itself:
This year, I didn’t walk out onto the arch.
Beyond The Arch
Kenny — who is the organizer and undisputed boss of this ride — told us we’d be stopping at Vertigo Void (the location of my most criminal moment ever, a few years ago) for lunch. Which comes after another 25 – 30 miles of riding.
This is, I’m pretty sure, the best part of the ride for talking, due to the fact that it’s not particularly technical, and it’s more-or-less flat. Not to mention incredibly scenic.
And on this day, it was even more perfect for riding and talking than usual, due to the weather. For the first time I can remember, the weather on the White Rim was absolutely perfect. Warm, but not hot — maybe 71 degrees (not Celsius).
Even more importantly, there was exactly the perfect amount of wind: enough to cool you and feel good against you, but not enough to kick up the sand or slow you down.
It was wonderful.
I got to catch up with my friend Paul, who was riding his first 100 mile mountain bike ride. In fact, it was his first 100 mile bike ride, period. Or maybe I should make that period a comma, because he was doing the ride on a single speed. Impressive!
It was fun talking with him in no small part because he and I each have a kid — with similar personalities — who just finished (or is finishing) his first year of college. Which seems so odd to say.
The Hammer, meanwhile, did not get to talk much at all, because she was discovering that a singlespeed gear set up for climbing (32 x 22) is not a singlespeed gear set up for rolling on the flats. Astonishingly, though, she kept up, turning an incredibly fast cadence the whole way.
Distance?
As we rode along, looking at the immense, beautiful landscape, I occasionally wondered how many miles we had gone.
But not often.
See, I had forgotten to bring a mount for my bike computer, and so was riding without tracking any of those things I usually am pretty obsessive about (how far, how much vertical, how much time).
And I really, really liked it. It was nice, not knowing — or caring — how far along the ride was. In fact, I’d say that the ride went quicker because I didn’t know.
Lunchtime at Vertigo Void
One of the oddities of riding around the White Rim is that the average cyclist can travel faster than the average sag wagon driver.
What this means is that after all the cyclists got to Vertigo Void and had taken the requisite scary look down from the overhang, there was still about half an hour of nothing to do ’til the truck caught up to us, bringing us more water to drink and our lunches to eat.
We used this time extremely productively.
Sometimes having nothing to do for half an hour or so can feel pretty darned awesome.
Still, after a while, you kind of start hoping the truck will get there soon. You know, because you’re getting pretty hungry.
And then a joyous cry went up: the truck had been spotted! For The Hammer and me, this meant:
- Subway Sandwiches: We had bought these at the Wellington Subway (the one inside the Chevron gas station) on the way to Moab the day before. I find a Subway Club to be the perfect mid-big ride food. The trick is, when you have the sandwich made, to not have them put mayo or mustard on it, but instead to give you packets to put them on yourself when you eat.
- Macadamia Nut / White Chocolate Chip Cookies: I can’t place the exact moment these replaced the chocolate chip cookie as my favorite, but I think it was sometime in my mid-thirties. Anyway, The Hammer had brought along about thirty of them, of which I believe I ate my fair share. Approximately.
- Diet Coke: Why a no-calorie cola in the middle of a big ride? Because I was getting calories elsewhere. I wanted a Diet Coke because I really like Diet Coke. The Hammer had Mountain Dew.
I ate just enough that I felt moderately gross getting back onto the bike. As if my legs were squooshing into my belly just a bit more than they usually do.
Red-Letter Day for The IT Guy
I don’t think I’ve ever charted the elevation profile for the White Rim. This is due to the fact that the elevation profile would look a little bit ridiculous: A gradual up, a big drop, a long flat, two blips up and down, and then one big climb.
But those two blips and the big climb are pretty big deals. There’s a lot of chest-thumping rights for cleaning (i.e., riding all the way up without stopping or putting a foot down) those pitches.
And The IT Guy cleaned all of them. All three. Boom. Boom. Boom.
This is awesome on its own merits, but is especially interesting because The IT Guy has been complaining a lot that since his crash last August, he just hasn’t been able to get back into shape and didn’t think he could do the whole White Rim.
And then he cleans the big three of White Rim: Murphy’s Hogback, Hardscrabble, and Horse Thief.
Pretty impressive, but I’m going to give him only partial credit since he wussed out and started the ride at mile 30 (i.e., he skipped the easy part of the ride).
And also, I’m going to post this picture of him I took as he was complaining the night before that he just didn’t feel very strong:
PS: Tomorrow, I shall post part 3 — the conclusion — of this story. It will contain an anecdote that features me endo-ing, as well as a moment where I was a hero.
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