So much time and effort went into this race. I felt like effort and mental preparation was a winning ticket to a finish. Just a finish, I just want to finish, nothing more, nothing less. As race day approached, butterflies started hatching in my stomach. I was so nervous. I made final tweaks to my gear for cold riding conditions. I had nursed some heel injuries (plantar fasciitis) I sustained from bad shoes just a week before the race. The heel injuries were a pretty big scare, but I knew that all the pedaling and hike a bike (HAB) was actually very gentle to the heels. I had a little bit of hope for my heels after all.
Three months before the race, I attacked every limiter I had. I ate a diet primarily consisting of eggs, fish, veggies, rice, nuts, and jerky. As much as possible, I cut off dairy, alcohol, and caffeine. I tried to cut weight. I did yoga. I started to strengthen my core and upper body. Pedaling wasn’t a limiter, I can pedal forever (at my pace). My upper back is the truly weak area of my body. My rhomboids have had some kind of black poison arrows shot into them. In the end, I made many lifestyle changes that I hope to keep up.
I lay in bed at night thinking about how I could just keep pushing if I had nowhere to be, save for a few steps or pedal strokes further than I was. In my mind I was riding Ripsey Ridge, the Flume Trail, Tiger Mine to Freeman Road, spinning up Mt Lemmon, tearing up the Bellota descents, filtering water from the Bathtub Spring, pushing my bike in the Canelos and the Las Colinas sections. The grip of the race was so strong on my mind, I was useless when it came to anything else.
The day before the race, I took my bike over to Tim’s, got to meet Lee Blackwell and have them critique my setup. A little veteran knowledge goes a long way! They ground on me about my bear bell and said it would get old, but I thought it was a nice way to alert fellow trail users. I figured it would also let some animals know I am coming so that they could get out of the way. Alternatively, it might mask the pawfalls of certain animals and help them track me. I left the bike in their care and went off to say goodbye to my pooch Nana and have a final dinner with friends at Samurai. I didn’t sleep very well that night and kept tossing and turning over my gear and whatever.
Nana thinks she is about to go on a bike ride. Yes, she is in the cone of shame.
The bike is loaded, dialed and ready to head off to Tim's
The morning of the race, I woke at 4:45am and tried to eat a big breakfast. I drove to Tim’s house with my wife. I said a long goodbye to her and then hopped on the shuttle to get to the start. I could barely keep my breakfast down as the anxiety of the race was so strong with me. I had the same sweaty palms I get when I think about some of the techy moves on Scorpion Gulch. On the ride down to Parker Canyon Lake I chatted with some of the folks who were on the shuttle. I was a bit astonished at how little knowledge many had of the trail and the possible water sources and resupply points. Would my obsession with the bits of the trail prove to be an advantage? I got to meet one-gear-Ray/Raybum, as I have read through his blog and his SS adventures. We bounced information back and forth and based upon some of our timing exchanges (think: APC115), I found that Ray is a very strong rider. I realize I am not a very fast rider and have many weaknesses and limiters, but hopefully at least some knowledge of the area would give me a bit of an edge. Although, I emphasize knowledge, not wisdom. I may have good counsel concerning strategies, but actually applying it in the moments of sleep deprivation and searing back pain is a different matter as you shall soon see.
My wife got us these temporary tattoos. The morning before the race, we tattooed each other. I must say it didn't hurt as much as people say, but I can certainly see how it can be addicting!
We finally arrived at the start. I was a mess. I quickly pieced my bike together and was ready to go. I went around and visited the familiar faces, flipped on my SPOT and decided to take it super easy. SO EASY for the start.
Bike ready to go at the start!
John Schilling tries to down some last-minute calories. Props to you sir, as I was ready to lose my breakfast all morning!
Madness of final preparations at the start. Max makes very hasty preparations and his stoke was off the charts. Tim was there to police us all and check out the setups.
Walking my way over to the rider meeting.
Stretch 1: Parker to Patagonia
I dread this section, probably only because my first and only other time doing it was pretty miserable. I remember the hard bonk I had and all the HAB the trail has. Back then, HAB was difficult for me in general and I found it demoralizing and thought it meant I was weak or doing something wrong. I had not come to appreciate HAB as a rest for tired legs, back, and a change in posture. Last time I ran out of water right towards the end. I had no idea about calories, electrolytes, or water consumption. In short, I ended up having an EPIC bonk of EPIC proportions. It ground my soul to dust. I made it out of the Canelos, but in the end, they won.
The start gun went off! We all started the 1/4 mile le man’s style scramble from the lake to get to the bikes! The terrain was loose and chunky and I moved steadily. One person in front of me twisted their ankle and another tumbled on some of the loose rubble. Everyone knows this is where the race is won! I finally got to my bike and sprinted off! Actually, this is not how the AZT300 starts, but just a sick fantasy I had that should not be disclosed to Scott under any circumstances.
Finally rolling down the first stretch. This is a good "Bikepacking: What I think I do" picture.
This time I had a little more confidence in my Canelos effort. I have really upped my HAB game since then and I have a better hold on my calories, electrolytes, and hydration. I remembered that the section had some quick miles and it also had some very, very slow miles too. My goal was to get from the staging area to patagonia in 7 hours. I made it to Patagonia in 6:27 (closest SPOT dot on Harshaw before stopping).
I remember the first few moments of the race. I remember people being behind me and pushing hard. I let anyone behind me pass so I wouldn’t push out of my own limits. I remember having a rider attacking me very early in the race. I moved aside and let him by. Fifteen minutes later I saw him goofing with a tube less than 2 miles into the Canelos. I kept the pace SO EASY and barely pedaled or attacked any of the hills. Rather, I sucked it up and pushed my bike up everything.
Nearing the top of one of the big HABs I saw a horn toad run across the trail. I cannot pass up some good horn toad hunting.
Not amused.
I continued on, trying to get in a rhythm of eating, drinking, pedaling, and walking.
This manzanita was very red. I liked the contrast between the red green and blue so much it was worth stopping on one of the first super-awesome descents I earned.
The vegetation here ebbs and flow between pines, oak, cedar, catclaw, and cactus to mention a few. I think John Schilling took a picture of this same dead tree. I seem to remember it being somewhere where one may tend be quite introspective.
I caught up to some riders and was passed by others. My upper back pain was already starting so I took a few quick lay-down-and-stretch breaks and continued on. I stopped very little and tried to keep moving. I really want to look at what my moving time versus stopped time through this segment was. Eventually I made it to the halfway point which was the division between the Canelo Hills east and west passages. There I ran into Seron and also had Tanner catch up with me. I pushed on knowing the remainder of the ride would go by pretty quick. I tried to pace myself and capture some of the great views the Canelos offer.
You may recognize this from James Foulks' blog on how NOT to roll the Canelo Hills.
The Santa Ritas loom.
Seron grabbed a shot of me at the halfway point.
I'm off!
As I blew through some of the doubletrack leading to Cott tank I was passed by two other riders. I later caught them as I was approaching Red Bank Well. They stayed in tow for the remainder of the ride to Patagonia.
Two riders heading towards Red Bank. Their setups looked like day riders, not bikepackers. Turns out the rider on the left was Utah bound and I ate with him at Velvet Elvis.
I then made good time to the end and overtook a few riders with my persistent HAB skills. I even scored myself some new moves on the final descents out of the Canelos. As soon as I hit asphalt, I greedily jumped on the gas, cranked the tunes and had a hammerfest into town. I was extremely excited to go over 10mph for my efforts!
Party time. This road grind felt great!
First order of business was to get a pizza from Velvet Elvis ordered. I opened the menu and my mind was useless I couldn’t figure out what to order. After a lot of blank stares at the words and jumbling of ingredients making up custom pizzas, I went for the large “Popeye” with roasted chicken added. I then went next door to the Patagonia Market and bought a coke (which I sipped at as I filled at the fountain), 2 bags of FUEGO takis, and 10 saladitos (dried, salted plums). I then went and knocked back coke while I waited for my pizza to show up. I sat down with Tanner and we were trying to hydrate and fill up our packs with water. Chit chat ensued about food, water, gear, plans, etc. The stop in Patagonia took too long. Next year, I want to be in and out and keep moving. I could barely eat any of the pizza that I ordered anyways. I managed to eat two slices. It was very hard to get them down. I packed up the rest in foil and as part of a tradition, I hooked up John and Chris with my remaining two slices.
They had such a serious spread
Stretch 2: Patagonia to Kentucky Camp
In the end, I spent way too much time in Patagonia. The pizza was nice, but not nice enough to lose almost 2 hours when I had such an easy spin ahead of me. Next year, I will be in and out of the market to get some goodies and a big coke. The spin from Patagonia to Sonoita was easy enough. I popped in some music and Tanner was in tow. Eventually, I dropped my pace a bit and let him pass so my stomach could work on the calories I crammed down it in Patagonia. I made it from Patagonia to Sonoita in much faster time than my schedule had allotted. It was quick moving and was a little bit hot since there was a tail wind moving with me and it seemed I was sitting still and all the heat was collecting around me. I soon made it to highway 83 and started the push up Santa Rita Rd.
Shadows lengthened, spinning ensued. Do I still know how to pedal?
Knocking miles out this fast was making me giddy.
The climb started out a little tough, but then it tamed down a lot. I was pushing into a serious headwind that was pretty tough to battle. Eventually I came upon a pond with cattails in it and stopped to put on some cold weather riding gear.
Cold weather riding gear dressing area.
I pushed on the network of forest service roads as the night grew darker. I was guided by my flashlight which proved adequate even for quick moving. I came upon several horses in the dark.
I really liked seeing the horses here. It boosted my morale to keep pushing.
I was eager to hop on the flume trail and make a move for Kentucky camp. I stopped where the course rejoins the AZT and downed some cookies and looked at the stars. Riding out there at night was a real treat like any other backcountry nightriding. The headphones come off and you become one with the darkness. Several times I saw pairs of eyes looking at me from the bushes. I greeted them with much growling and big, scary animal sounds. Sorry to anyone else who heard such primal screams and whose bones were chilled. The whole flume trail was a blur and I remember the little reflections on the ground from the hunting wolf spiders and the bright glow of the eyes of these small birds that sat on the ground. At one point when I was rolling down the flume trail I saw a rider on the adjacent ridge dropping into Hog Canyon. I flashed my light a few times and the signal was returned. Kinda cool. I continued on, seeing a rider working up to the top of the “ascent of death.”
I soon arrived at the Kentucky Camp building. I should’ve kept pushing on to sleep lower altitude-wise, but James was there and I decided I would call it a night. All night I was attacked by a hurricane and I sipped on my carborocket for recovery. I had cautioned many riders to push past Kentucky Camp to at least Oak Tree Canyon that way they would be lower in elevation if a storm were to come and would be able to avoid the mud that the Kentucky Camp area features. I did not heed even my own counsel. There was no reason for me to stop. Ultimately, I would pay for my foolishness.
Stretch 3: Kentucky Camp to Tucson
I slept too long and didn’t want to get up and get in the cold. I just lay there doing nothing. I looked for one of my knee warmers and had a scare. Did it blow away in the wind last night? I really need to work on getting my butt up and getting moving in the cold. That killed my race time-wise. Messing around with an air mattress ain’t worth it. Did I mention I have problems getting going in the morning? I eventually was moving and was cold. I was being attacked by my emergency poncho at all times.
Prepare for the storm. I knew some cold evil was afoot.
Climb up granite mountain looks inviting...
I give you my elite cold and wet weather riding setup! The poncho was blowing so hard in the wind that I could barely hold a straight line on the trail. It even flipped over my head as I was climbing trying to suffocate me. The theme for today was: nature wants to grind you down to nothing and kill you
The cold didn’t let up. The rain stopped and switched to hail. The hail stopped and switched to dense snow. My only thought was to keep descending. My hands, arms, and feet were soaked and being bitten by the wind during the big descents.
The quiet before the blizzard.
I eventually caught John and Chris standing under a cedar for shelter. They followed me and I decided I would descend into Oak Tree Canyon. I had to keep moving. I had to lose elevation to get out of the blizzard. Soon, I was below the snow line and was just getting hailed on. I decided a fire was my only option as I was chilled to the bone. I could barely brake. I could barely even hold onto the bike. The fast descending was upping the windchill factor and things were getting worse. I danced my fingers and toes when I could and had many close calls due to poor brake control. I decided the first wash I hit should have wood and shelter. I made it to the first little climb after the descent into oak tree canyon and immediately scared up some dry tinder, and had a small blaze going in moments. In ten minutes or so, others stopped and I charged them a fee of firewood to join in. They gladly collected wood and that way we were all able to warm up and keep the blaze going. Steam rushed off our clothes and we all shivered violently. We were soon relatively dry and threw some pizza wrapped in foil on the blaze. I quickly downed two slices and sat under the root of the cedar tree for additional shelter. Faint holes of blue were showing up in the sky and John, Chris, and KC decided it was time to press on. Their clothes were a little more serious than mine and I sat there for another 20minutes trying to muster what I could. I soon packed up my gear and decided to keep moving.
Trying to dry out my gloves.
I sat in the roots of that cedar for shelter and pulled bark off to keep the blaze going. All of our clothes steamed.
Finally I pushed off and was once again bitten by the cold. I even stopped at the gate in oak tree canyon and surveyed shelter spots. There was a lot of good firewood and decent shelter to be had. I shook off the idea and pressed ahead. I was eventually passed by Aleck who had tarped a bit before Box Canyon Road. My bike was already so muddy and destroyed I no longer had granny gear as my front derailleur was plugged up. I pretty much had to roll everything from Greaterville Road to Colossal Cave in my middle ring, I kept thinking how I wanted to do this singlespeed and I finally got my wish.
The sun popped out for a moment and I took a short sit down to enjoy the small bit of warmth it offered.
The Las Colinas section was slow and the mud was ridiculous. I’m sure anyone who hit that had drivetrain problems for a while. I came upon Aleck and KC and saw them at the top of a hill. I thought “sweet, I finally closed the gap and caught back up”. Unbeknownst to me even though they were 300ft up the trail, they were still about 20minutes ahead of me. I started the HAB. I pushed and pushed and then WHAT? THE BIKE ISN”T MOVING. The front fork was filled up. The rear stays were filled up with thick, heavy, peanut-buttery, cookie-dough mud.
I tried to carry the bike, but it probably weighed well over 80lbs and I was too fatigued from the cold and the pushing to pick it up and walk in the slick mud.
I could shift my front derailleur all I wanted. It wouldn't budge.
I finally caught John and Chris just after the Las Colinas gate. We chatted again and started to push past the lakes to Sahaurita Rd. All this went by quickly and I found myself hanging out with a thru-hiker from San Francisco at the gate on Sahaurita/83. All the fast moving was making me even colder and I still never warmed up/dried out from earlier. At least the sky was blue and the sun was out. I finally made it under I-10 and was riding under the freeway when my bike caught sand and veered me into the side of the wall which I promptly body slammed with my shoulder. I even had my light on and everything! I made my way out of the box culvert and the sun was shining bright and the passing cars crashed like waves. I lay there in the sun with my toes in the warm sand like I was at the beach with the waves of traffic crashing. A red glow was in my eyes and I fell asleep for a moment. I was awakened when John and Chris caught back up and pressed on. I once again got up and kept moving. My rhomboids were searing hot and made me nauseous. I still didn’t have granny gear so I HABed a lot of the Colossal Cave area. This was demoralizing to me as I can pick up the whole trail even on a rigid SS. Progress was slow. The sun beams were shooting through the clouds and looked very beautiful. A bit of inspiration helped me push on.
This helped me press on.
I was passed by Aleck and then caught him on the big saddle before the descent to the horse stables. I pushed ahead with him in tow, we eventually got to Seville Campground where I could consume the carrot I’ve been chasing since Oak Tree Canyon–granny gear was soon reinstated via the spigot and my drivetrain was cleaned and lubed.
Finally I can clean up my drivetrain!
I worked my way out of the campground taking very little water. I now had a new mission: get to a pizza delivery location. I tried calling my wife (who was out of town) in my moment of weakness at Pistol Hill Road. I just wanted to talk, nothing more. The section of trail from Pistol Hill to X9 Ranch Road seemed to go forever. I was extremely cold and still very wet. I was dreading the oncoming road grind which would once again chill me beyond measure. Once a bit up Old Spanish Trail, I called Magpie’s Pizza and figured out the farthest south they would deliver was OST and Escalante. The clock was ticking. I had very little time to get there. I opened up such a fierce can of hammering to meet the pizza boy. I had ordered a chicken, green and black olive, and feta cheese medium pie and a 2 liter of A&W rootbeer. I bivied up on the corner of OST and Escalante chatted with my wife and then the pizza came. The thought of going home passed through my mind as I was a ten minute ride from my house. I was far too cold and wet to keep moving and my bivy and bag were already out. Four slices of pizza and half the root beer vanished immediately. I moved behind a transformer box and then passed out.
Stretch 4: Tucson to Prison Camp
I woke up, covered in frost. Everything was covered in frost. I quickly knocked back a piece of pizza, some root beer, and some nuts. I wrapped the rest of the pizza in foil, packed up and pushed out.
I was soon moving, but once again not quickly enough. I packed my gear and rolled over to Saguaro East to top off my water bladder. If I was smarter I would’ve rinsed it out as it was starting to get real funky from the Ultragen/CR333 I’d been putting in it (I lost my mixing bottle two miles before Patagonia). I topped off and headed toward the end of Broadway. There I had to move over to warmer weather riding attire. I found a trashcan in a neighborhood and emptied trash and the pizza box into it. Just as I started down the road, I saw a familiar car. It was the Evils, they were out and about to go riding up at Redington. They stopped and offered me a ton of things. In the end I only took a Mountain Dew Throwback and kept moving to the Redington climb. At the top of the first asphalt climb I stopped and slathered on the sunblock and then pressed on. I’ve done this climb at least ten times this year so it went by really quick. I was passed by a truck full of downhill bikes and wondered if Scorpion Gulch was back in commission. I hurriedly pushed to maybe catch them at the top of Scorpion to chat with them about the trail conditions. When I hit the top of Scorpion, the truck wasn’t there. After working my way through the war zones, I was passed by the Evils. At the turnoff, the Evils were getting ready to ride and I challenged them to catch me. I pushed on making what progress I could. Soon, I could see Evil Patrick gaining on me. I gassed it a bit to hold him back. Finally, I hit the turnoff point with the Evils breathing down my neck. I sat there and chatted with them and two other bikepackers who showed up. The bikepackers (a woman and a man) pushed on and the Evils went their separate way.
Then the group of SICK GNAR GNAR downhillers came slowly plodding down the hills. They were overtaken on the downhills by the bikepackers. When the road turned slightly uphill, they all got off and started some HAB on a perfectly ridable (even by bikepacking standards) hill. I thought about how well they would do on the AZT300 with all that HAB training they were racking up.
I then started riding towards the north to take the jeep roads to rejoin the AZT.
Next thing I knew, my right knee starting popping while I was pedaling up a hill. I shifted my position in the saddle and continued pedaling. It hurt, a little bit. I tried walking a bit and then riding some more. Nope. Still there. I stretched, stopped and elevated the knee. I started riding again, nope still there. I could walk just fine. I tried pedaling with my heel. I stopped for a half hour and chipped mud away and slid my cleats back 1cm. I popped some ibuprofin, ate pizza, drank root beer and elevated the knee. I laid down and stared at the sky, for a moment there I thought I could see the wind, the swirling black shapes. I bet it is there if you look hard enough and really focus. Soon, I started riding again. Still there, except it is worse. What if I stand while pedaling? Still there. What if I spin an easy gear? Still there. What if I pull a hard gear? Still there. There was nothing I could do for the knee, it hurt and only seemed to be getting worse. On the bright side, I could still walk. I was going to get to Prison Camp I told myself. I would try stints of riding and things would be fine then they would get bad.
This bird did not help morale and only reminded me of my own fragility. I was breaking, how long could I endure? How long was it going to be sustainable?
I saw a nest up in a tall dead tree. Was that the bird's nest? So close to home and so broken the bird was.
I made my way down to the corrals with the intent of getting some water as I was running low and my water was REAL FUNKY by now. Someone (I think Jill), left a message for me scribbled in the dirt as she posted the same thing up on my blog a week ago or so.
I was given a renewed spirit. At this point it was cheating as this almost could've been considered support, but we will call it trail magic. It was enough to shake the existential funk I had arrived at.
The new plan: Get to prison camp, sleep, elevate, rest and hope the knee is happy in the morning. Ride as much as possible, walk the rest. I filtered some water from the huge metal tank into my A&W bottle and dropped in a chlorine tablet. I then pushed off. I rode quite a bit of trail up to Redington road. Past the waterbars north of Redington road, the knee lit up. Pedaling was no longer an option and it was already fairly sparse. I walked everything flat or uphill from there to Prison Camp. I love the terrain on that section and was tearing up the descents with great speed. I was descending so hard I had to stop in a wash to let my upper back cool down in the sand as it was getting worked. I would occasionally throw in some pedal strokes to keep up momentum or make it over an obstacle, but other than that I did very little pedaling from that point on. I stopped several times to cool down the back as it was starting to feel rather black and sickly. I pedaled a few of the flats one-legged just to give myself a break from all the walking.
I can't get over how much I like approaching the mighty Catalinas! I have to do a loop with AZT and Millie! Think: SSAZ.
I made my way up the Molino HAB which is quite the brain bender. Molino is hard strenuous work. When hiking up I was marveling at the fact that I can tear up the whole descent. Scary stuff.
This plant was blowing my mind. For some reason I have tons of pictures of it.
At the top of Molino I tried to call my wife, but there was no service to be had or her phone was off or something. Tanner eventually caught up with me and I told him we had probably the most technical AZT300 descent in front of us. I cleaned a bit more than I was shooting for and just tried to have a bit of fun. I told him some of the legends of what has been cleaned on the climb up the Molino descent (to us). Finally we crossed into Molino Basin and started up towards Prison Camp. We talked about some of our lessons learned, strategies for the next day, what we were doing wrong, etc. We reached Prison Camp in the dark, gathered wood and started a small fire at camp spot #1.
We chatted about plans for the next day and I gave Tanner some water and he gave me some Aleve and summer sausage. For dinner I had my last slice of pizza and poured ultragen powder in my mouth and washed it down with the water I filtered from the tank. I warned Tanner of the importance of water after Oracle. By the time I rolled into my bag, the knee was pretty bad and would lock up if I kept it bent. I hoped a night of compression, pills, and rest would clean it up.
Stretch 5: Prison Camp to DNF
I woke up gathered my gear and tried to make a breakfast of the lousy pop tart, honey stinger, beat up trail mix and little water I had. The knee did not seem like it was ready to go. I was ready to go. I wanted to get to Summerhaven. I had plans of “icing” my knee as soon as I hit the snow line. Just as I was making final preparations to head out a rider came barreling down the stairs. It was Scott! He’d been riding since yesterday morning at 9:00am, he was almost 24 hours in. He stopped and rested a few minutes and we chatted about plans and Oracle Ridge and such. Scott showed me his stitching job on the tire and I was excited to see it in his arsenal of trail repair. He pushed off trying to keep his awesome time moving forward. He wished me luck on the knee. I then pushed off myself to the asphalt and started the road grind. I had to stop and change clothes/music/sunscreen at the bug spring crossing. That was enough for Aleck and KC to catch up with me. We then chatted about what to do with a knee and KC asked me if I had any peanuts. By peanuts, he meant ibuprofin. Yes, I was popping pills like a rockstar and nothing was working. I then pushed on against the pain of the knee and got in a nice rhythm. I felt strong despite the knee and dropped KC and Aleck very soon. Even sooner the knee flared up and the pain was wild. I tried walking, pedaling one-legged, pulling on my leg against the guard rail. Each pedal stroke was searing hot pain in the knee. I thought about how if I kept going it would dump me out eventually. I laid on the side of the road with my legs elevated pondering my fate. Aleck and KC caught back up and Aleck told me to wrap it. So I got out my coban and made some wrappings based upon Aleck’s directions and I tried to keep riding. Aleck and KC said they wished their knees hurt that bad, because they said I was hammering. The pain was still there, I thought maybe it will go away in with more riding time. Nope. I lay down once again. I figured there was no way I could make the remaining 120-something miles in a timely manner via only coasting and HAB. A car stopped. It was Aleck’s wife to cheer him on. I told her about my knee and she gave me some water and asked if I was going to bag it. I said “I don’t have any ice.”
“No, are you going to quit?” she replied.
“Not sure yet, I am going to wait here and see if it gets better.”
“I can give you a ride on my way back down if you’d like”
“No, I am fine. Thanks”
She left and I thank her for working a little trail magic on my water supply.
I was not done. I wanted to go so bad. I was still very strong in body and even stronger in my mind. All I wanted was a finish.
I tried pedaling another hundred feet until the pain was dizzying. I stood up and hammered and coasted down to a stop and then I did it. I turned around and coasted down. I had a lump in my throat the whole way down. Was this real? Am I going to wake up and have to get ready for the race? I can’t forget my camelbak! Accepting where I was, I decided there was a Walgreens by Le Buzz. I could grab lunch and a knee brace and put it on and climb back up the mountain. It wasn’t that much more time I’d lose, plus I could have tons of calories and get some supplies and stuff and maybe push past Summerhaven and past Oracle. I rang my bell at the roadies (like I always do) as I descended. I had to HAB the one grade reversal as the knee was DONE. I made it to mile marker 0 and pulled over to call my wife. I told her the problem and she said she was coming home. I pushed to Le Buzz with a little bit of one-legged pedaling, trying to minimize moving my knee. The times I did try to pedal were met with such a venomous response I opted for the good burn in one leg.
I made it to Le Buzz.
Order #1: Chocolate milk, Raspberry Italian Soda, Quesadilla plate. No picture, as you would’ve needed a high speed camera to take the shot.
Order #2: Turkey/bacon/roasted red pepper sandwich plate, chips, salsa, and guacamole, fries, two cokes, and two waters.
When I was done eating, my knee was done. It had locked up and moving it hurt really bad, even while sitting.
Swollen with nothing left.
My wife made it to Le Buzz very quickly to pick me up.
That night I lay in bed ready to sleep. I fell asleep instantly and was suddenly hike-a-biking down a very steep and loose slope. I lost my footing and started to fall. I immediately jerked in bed and woke up. Things like this keep happening and the grip of the race is still very strong in my mind. It will be very tough for me to shake the thoughts and feelings of the race and I am already thinking of strategies to rehab and strengthen my knees and streamline the kit while the memories are fresh. Hopefully I have documented enough of my experience to help me remember the lessons learned. I am hesitant to unpack as I want to carefully go through all my items to figure out what I can cut out.
I am still rearing to go and looking forward to my next set of goals, but I’ll be taking a bit of time off to pay attention to some things that have received some neglect. I am going to tour the remaining AZT300 in the fall and work on my goal of getting faster. I want to roll a sub-5:30 on the Kentucky Camp Long Course.
In the end, I owe this effort to so many people who made it happen, so I’ll give some shout outs:
The many family and friends who were cheering me on, reading my blog, riding with me, and putting up with my obsession over this race.
Tim, you took me on my first bikepacking trip. I bailed, but was hooked in some really weird way. I bonked so hard I could barely pedal in granny gear on flat ground. It was awesome. I think all are indebted to the knowledge you have of the trail.
Max Morris for letting me hammer on him last year during his AZTR climb up Redington. Also for always keeping a positive attitude with your riding. He helped plant the early AZT and ultra endurance riding stoke seed. I can’t wait to watch you shred the TD!
Lynda Wallenfels for her awesome 2011 AZT300 assault and the training plan that followed. I really shaped up my life and learned a lot when it came to following the plan and learned some valuable time management lessons. She even checked my efforts to deviate from the plan. I was too eager to jump into the world of clarity and pain that the AZT300 offers, but she made me hold back to reach my full potential.
Krista Park for her invaluable training advice and being an amazing example when it comes to sticking with a plan. Much thanks to her for putting up with me being antsy and wanting to deviate from the plan. I tried to take in every bit of wisdom she has. It is clear why she is the champion that she is.
Jill Hueckman, thank you for sharing the almost unhealthy obsession of AZT R/300 with me. As I write this I am hitting F5 and rooting for you. Also a big thanks for penning the “GET IT” on both my blog and out at Redington.
Chad Brown for putting on an amazing host of races and events that will allow you to pre-ride much of the AZT300 course. The Arizona Endurance Series is where I have picked up what endurance I have. Also for putting on amazing Tuesday Techy Taco rides that have got me on the path to learning how to actually ride a mountain bike. You took me on my first drinking-from-the-firehose mountain bike ride (up lemmon, up prison, down prison thru millie) and ripped the veil of only fantasy and sweetwater off my face.
Scott Morris for putting on the race and serving as my informal bikepacking mentor. Also for Topofusion, bikepacking.net, trackleaders.com, the SPOT, the amazing techy taco pictures, and AZT stoke in general.
Bailey Swartz, for his knowledge of backpacking gear and backcountry living went a long way. Oh, and also for putting up with one topic of conversation for about four months (and maybe more to follow as I reflect). Did I mention that you are solely responsible for getting me into this whole mountain biking mess to begin with?
Finally, my wife Janelle. Without getting too smoochy on here, this thing wouldn’t have happened without you. Your support and understanding were the only driving force I had in the end. I couldn’t quit because of the sacrifices you made for me to chase my dream.
I will be back next year faster and lighter to finish it up.
