Year: 2012

The world is beautiful.  And all elements are firing in order.  The engine of life is tuned and I am ready for my trip. How can being so comfortable be so uncomfortable.  When is a couch a torture device.  The roof over my head a prision.  Comfortable life is not for me.  I think a ride is in order. To go out and suffer.  Get caught up in a mishap … yea … that’s real living.

After my walkabout I stumbled back to my cottage. It is nice to be home and last I was here it was all awhite with winter. Now the wildflowers are reaching towards the spring sun and everything is turing green. I open the windows and the light floods my home. I feel like I have it all. A quiet place to rest and to recharge the batteries.  Soon I will be in the throws of a new training regumine.  But for now … I sleep.

My life may seem like a train wreck.

But when you really look at it I actually have pretty good form.

What does flowers have to do with today’s post. Shit I don’t know. It’s the only photo I have at the moment. I was busy riding my bike all day.  Where did I ride do you ask? ha! The Jumbo Juggernaut.

This year my new bike was the star. It climbed.  And wow did it descend.  For me, fat and old, not so much.  I went slower then ever but in the end felt like I didn’t even ride at all. Yea, it was so easy I went into town later to ride with someone else and go on a date. This years loop (Garmin Connect) was a 13.06 mile loop with 2,011 feet climbing and I wanted it to be a 1 hour loop. Except I was a slow ass.

Last year was a 11.3 mile loop with 1,785 feet of climbing.  To enhance my frustration of getting old I was slower then last year’s disappointments …  “Overall for the 6 hours I did 6 laps in 7:12 while last year it only took me 6:39. That means I lost to last years Bill Martin by 33 minutes. It is what it is. Might as well just keep up with the training, get some rest, and maybe loose a few pounds. I’ll be back” I mentioned in last years blog.

“I am happy to announce that I came in first with a time of 2:30 with Ross in chase at 2:50. It is rumored that Ross took “alternate” routes but the judges determined that since he had worked out so hard and was covered in so much mud that he deserved second place”, I posted in 2010. Everything clicked even my blogging humor.  I do remember heat stroke after though.

2009 I started it all as I prepared for the worlds. “Sunday was a little more serious and I had to practice my solo pace with pit stops.  I made up a course called the Jumbo Juggernaut (http://tiny.cc/bdTsE). A 15.5 mile loop with almost 3,000 feet of climbing.  It was freaking hot as for the first time Missoula got into the 80s.  I definitely mis-judged how much water to carry per lap and by the third lap I was dragging my tongue. Some of the Bozone crew showed up to ride some of it with me and Zephanie came back for more punishment. Ended up finishing the day with 61.5 miles in just over 6 hours and 12,100 feet of climbing. And that ends my account of last weekend.  Oh yea, then there was Happy Hour at the Bridge Pizza after…”

map : http://g.co/maps/mdkak

This morning it started.  A stuffy head from recent pollination with an increasing pressure in the head. All normal stuff.  But when working remote sometimes you drink way to much coffee and eat way too much pastries.  I texted my boss from Break Espresso that I was taking a sick day. An hour later I was mobilized on the bed hanging on for dear life.  I had vertigo … bad.  And that is how I missed todays ride … bummed.

Every morning I get up early to watch the show. I cook up some bacon and whip some cream for a quad espresso. Actually it is mostly decaf but I really like that strong bean taste.  I gather all my gear and go outside on the deck.

And right on time the sun comes up.  Every morning.  Is that a spiritual belief?  That the sum will always come up?  I sure wish “situations” in life were more reliable.  But then it would be boring … right?  Oh well, I will always have the morning show. And a belief that everything always works out.

Jay Petervary won the Stagecoach 400 by riding without any sleep whatsoever for just under 50 hours. Wow! That is so amazing! His post alone made something click in my head. And then bouncing my feelings off of someone last night solidified my understanding of what I am as a multi day adventurer on a mountain bike. I don’t think I will be a good multi day racer.

I know a lot of my friends have been waiting for the day that I sign up for the Tour Divide.  And so this thought may be hard to digest but I think I know myself better then anyone.  And I know I like to live and experience. I love to travel and experience all kinds of stimulus.  But how much can you enjoy a ride if you are in a sleep deprived coma? I know, one will find a new meaning to life and understand themselves better when faced with great diversity.  But after suffering many hours then passing out and crashing to mother earth in the wee hours of the morning I have come to an understanding of my own.

I think I would make a terrible multi-day mountain bike racer. I think my limit for pure output is 24 hours and then my talents drop off dramatically.  Case in point was this last weekend. It took me two days to cover a measly 100 miles and at the 90 mark I blew up in dramatic fashion.  I have spent the last two days walking around like I just played in my first tackle football game.

Now that I am rested and going through some photographs I am realizing that I almost missed the most important part of last weekend. The beauty and diversity of mother earth. Another day on the bike and I would have been in so much delirium that I probably wouldn’t even noticed the earths greatest gifts.  When I was sitting in my truck-shelter-bivy waiting out a snow storm I asked myself why I have to make things so miserable.  Cant I just mosey down the path? Why do I have to attack it?

“What if you stopped suffering and just went at a sustainable pace? I think you would go even farther … and faster. Why suffer and slow down when you can go steady and eventually catch and beat everyone … if that is what you want. You would of not HAD to come back at Frog Hollow. You would have been way out there … given you just had started and stayed in your fun zone…”, the voice said to me on my cell phone last night.  A voice from someone that is new to big bike efforts. And it made a lot of sense.

Now that I am dabbling and wanting to enter a new genera of mountain bike efforts I have the opportunity to enjoy myself.  After all the reason I suffer so  much in my current racing world is because I have so much expectation and feel pressure to bury myself … the madness of Bill Martin … right? Why?

The weekend and the work week. Blizzard and sunshine. Snowy peaks and tilled bare earth. Sitting on your ass and getting outside.  All a part of life.

I am leaning up against a tree and as I start to become conscious I notice that the sun is no longer in the sky.  Replaced by a sad sliver of moon.  But the sky is full of color and really quite beautiful. I wondered off after work on my bike. Remarkably I made it across town without doing much but thinking of someone. Cars zipping by a ghost shell rider. Someone will be leaving the state tomorrow morning.  Like the sun. Who has already left the scene.  I will miss her. And now the moon replaces the sun and resembles my sliver of hope. Hope that I can move forward. Perhaps through the night. The beauty of the colors draw me up and back onto the bike.  I will ride until I feel better. I cant not wait for this weekend. I will dissapear chasing the sun to see where it is that it goes to every night.

Another drive to Missoula … strike that … Bozeman. Wow! I am so disoriented right now. And ah … where was I? I can see a fence high on a ridge stretching and waking to the mornings fiery light. I think I am somewhere between spending some good times with friends and my new job in Bozeman.

I nearly went unconscious more times this trip then ever. I can’t help but to tell myself this is how people die. It’s their last trip, last day on the job, and something happens. A mountain passes by the passenger side window of the car.  The passenger side is empty. Not the way I want it.  I fight my desire to go back. To ask someone to come with me.  I have to be brave and leave it all behind now.

I get out the camera to pass time and still find myself drifting.  The last trip to Missoula now becomming a memory.  Suddenly the Bridgers break out in my front window and just like that; I made it. And I survived. Another trip. The last one. I am home.

The first world high atop the mountains have unpredictable weather and lofty views.  I like this world the best. I am away from this world right now and think that when I return I will return for good.  No more traveling for a while.

I spend a lot of time in that world … in fact I made it my home. Or will make it my home. And now I must return to that land.  But on the way I shall stop at another world.

Ahhh … the other world. A world of dirt and predictable weather.  I travel to this world often to ride my bike … when the other is re-arranging house.

My first boat wreck was intense. The river was higher than last year, making me nervous, like cycling on ice. Yet, we were told the higher volume would smooth the ride. It didn’t feel smooth; the power of the water was overwhelming, with swells hiding the shores, reminiscent of a “World’s Deadliest Catch” episode.

Before the wreck, during the 2012 Grizzlyman Adventure Race, things were different. Dave was bummed it wasn’t a 24-hour race. I was barely trained but ready. Our strategy was unconventional, aiming for checkpoints in the dark.

The race began, and soon we were navigating through swamps to checkpoints, turning it into an adventure tour with cycling and walking. Easy and fun.

Approaching the river, I panicked, remembering my fear of water. Despite Dave’s reassurances, the rapids were terrifying. Yet, we managed without capsizing until something flipped us near the end. The river fought hard, but we fought back, re-entered our boat, and finished the race, merely washing off the day’s sweat.

Post-race, the organization felt haphazard, as if we were randomly choosing our next moves. Surprisingly, we hit new records and found new trails, finishing strong and already planning for the next year’s 24-hour challenge.

Since I travel a lot I get to see sunrises and sunsets.  Someone once told me they look exactly the same.  That may very well be true.