Albuquerque Rising

I'm back.

The fate of most blogs is a sort of heat death, wherein the energy that initially fueled a whole series of wanton diatribes finally runs its coarse and the owner fails to hit 'delete'. Thereafter it drifts -- dark matter of the literary universe, filling the void and reducing relevance metrics on search engines everywhere. So it goes. But not for this guy. Yes, I've been absent for a while, not racing and therefore without a whole hell of a lot to write about here. But there was never any question of not continuing on the mission. The mission is intact. The cause has a new bike. The season starts in a month or so. Training started today...

The Foothills

Tried and succeeded in finding a new section of trail that I'd never ridden before. So, new bike -- meaning a major upgrade in several areas, such as: disc brakes, 2 x 10 setup, full suspension, air shock in the front and the latent satisfaction of having turned the wrench on almost every bolt on it. New everything, everywhere. The only old bits were the pedals, shoes and the rider. The new trail went up, which I thought was a sensible way to test drive a new bike. But it didn't last. In short order I found myself ripping downhill totally unsure of everything, except that I was having fun. The descent was fast and rocky and I was grooving on the fact that simply going over stuff was now a viable option. I do have a habit of threading the needle so my back tire won't hit a rock and buck me off though. This alone almost landed me off trail a few times, or maybe that was the slightly sensitive (ok, downright twitchy) steering. A few words about that are in order...

Spending a miniscule portion of the federal budget on a front fork is a way of looking at it that should take the sting out of it -- somewhat at least. But the reality is that the chump change that I spent (roughly the equivalent to the cost of my current hardtail) makes it hard for me to take a hacksaw to the steering tube. Consequently, I have about 70 mm in spacers raising up my 700 mm handlebars and the net result is that I feel a little far from the action. That, and the width of the handlebars seem to make the bike one of the most reactive I've ridden. First I have to figure out if I want to lower the bars at all. What the hell, maybe I can use the extra space to bolt on a beer holder.

In any case, my jubilation was tempered by two oncoming riders, so I pulled over and waited for them to pass. We exchanged a few words about my new toy. I showed off my new (used) frame, the new components and the fact that I was out for a first ride. Probably they saved my life by slowing me down. Exuberance is always seems like a good thing. Tempered, it becomes survivable even.

I rode on, didn't wreck, got lost, found the very southern end of the trail and got set to ascend on a more familiar and challenging part of the trail. I climbed in the saddle just to see if I could. And I could. And in a sad but really happy way, I find I have some room to grow in my riding -- a.k.a. my equipment exceeds my skills.  Hey, it's state of the art... for 2007. But that doesn't change the fact that there are now things I can probably do that I couldn't before. But this rider is going to have to play catch up and learn to take advantage.

Ran into the same two ladies once again after coming out of the first valley headed back north. I stayed ahead of them for a while, but switched to the lower elevation trail before long. I got to the turn-around point and by this time it was starting to snow, but I was feeling better and was looking forward to a bit of downhill on the way back.  Nothing like wearing shorts and watching it snow. Feels like... defiance. Shortly thereafter, I passed the two ladies for the final time, once again going in the opposite direction. The thing is, I intentionally avoided ascending the steeper trail because I'm lazy and out of shape.  But they hadn't flinched and did it in about the same amount of time despite the harder climb. Had I kept going they way they had, I would have eventually had to let them pass.  And I hate being passed -- by anyone.

The snow imparted a magical feel to the ride, ultimately. I left on a spring day and found, up in the foothills, a winter still wanting to play. Can't say I blame it -- everybody loves spring, even the cold-hearted...

 

Net result

My serious look

I had a good ride and snapped a couple photos of my new toy. Pretty good result for a hard day's work. Happily, the bike seems to have survived the shakedown cruise. A little tuning and it should be ready for 12 Hours in the Wild West in Ruidoso in April -- the start of my racing season and the atonement for my sins in missing all of the 2013. First order of business is to work out the training regimen. Let's take this 12 oz at a time, shall we?

On the Wild Side

Zia Rides Race Series #2: 12-Hours in the Wild West 

(May 12, 2012) Ft. Stanton, NM – The day began with the strains of Willie Nelson drifting across the venue reminding everyone not to let their babies grow up to be cowboys. This was as appropriate an opener as one could get, because the cowboys and cowgirls showed up in force in Ft. Stanton, NM near the beautiful mountain resort town of Ruidoso. And as the song states, "He ain't wrong, he's just different” – a line that would apply to just about anyone, male or female, that considers participating in an endurance mountain biking event.

They traveled from as far as Austin, TX and Boulder, CO for a chance to see who could ride the most laps withing a 12 hour period on some of the most beautiful trails to be found in New Mexico. But the opportunity to do so would be contested by Mother Nature herself as an unseasonable downpour brought much needed rain to the Ruidoso area on the evening before the race.

That did not deter the solo, duo and riders of teams of three and four persons from dropping by in a steady stream at The Bike Shop in downtown Ruidoso for packet pickup. Spirits were high and camaraderie apparent as racers met and chatted about plans for tomorrow. Many stayed in hotels nearby, while others camped at the venue about forty minutes away on highway 220, just off the Capitan Highway near historic Ft. Stanton. The Bike Shop was one of the major sponsors of the race, who also fielded several riders.

Zia Rides, the promoter of this the second of their Zia Rides Series, were wary of weather that might thwart their plans after a freak snowstorm brought the Dawn 'Till Dusk season opener to an early ending. Safety being an overriding concern, they were hoping for a break in the weather that would allow the race to proceed. After off and on rain through the night, and an hour's delay to the start of the race, they got their wish.

The morning of the race brought the clear skies that everyone was hoping for. The Sheriff's Posse were on hand to help along with Search and Rescue, who patrolled the course on horseback during the race. The Old West aura they lent was fully appropriate given the title of the event, but more importantly, their services helped ensure the safety of everyone participating. Teams lined up for a riding start at 9 AM and began competition for category wins as well as such honors as “best team name” and “fastest lap”, among others. The course proved to be one of the fastest ever as the parched earth drank up the welcome rain and the warm sun did the rest. Some of the course was on jeep trails, but much of it was on single track where the fresh tread marks formed a perfect ribbon that defined the line of choice amongst riders that day.

The course features some beautiful views and amazing vistas, but to get there, riders had to climb. At the top of one of the steepest hills sat “Whiskey Station,” sponsored by Therapy Associates, which offered beleaguered riders a bit of wild-west hospitality in the form of a shot of whiskey.

Several riders commented that the hill seemed to get steeper and steeper with every lap. But if a stiff drink wasn't the reward one was looking for, the second pass by Whiskey Station also brought the beginning of the amazing downhill section. The hard-packed mountain dirt made conditions near ideal for allowing riders to go as fast as they dared from that point on.

 As testament to the quality of the conditions over the ten-plus mile loop, the honor of fastest lap went to Tim Bolton of Klimit Coaching at a smoking 43 minutes and 11 seconds. A member of a duo team rounded out by Alex Christenson, they battled closely with the ultimate victors in the duo male category, Daniel King and Rob Shaver, who rode an amazing 13 laps with an average time of 49:36 as team Mid-Life Crisis.

Interesting names appear to be a hallmark of these races. Riders voted for the best out of all entrants and locals Paul Regalado and Cody Thurston took that honor with Hold My Beer and Watch This. Those participating in their first 12-hour event received a treat in the form of a confection known as “The Big Cherry”, which added a bit of fun to the awards ceremony.

Continuing with race results, however, the solo single-speed category was taken over by Bradley Berger of Bach Builders, who rode 11 laps total (yes, that's right: one gear, eleven laps). The female solo category went to Ligia Ford (Wheelin' and Dealin') with seven laps to her credit. Matt Barkley, sponsored by Orange Seal Cycling and Texas Cycle Werks, along with Greg Leschisin both rode eleven laps in the solo male category, with Matt pulling off the win with a lead of just over four minutes.

The duo women's category was taken by Helen Morell and Angie Cline – team Dirtgirlz – with seven laps total. Finally, the co-ed team winners were Jill Hueckman and Leslie Handy (Trek Store/Bandwagon) who pulled off 11 laps with almost 40 minutes to spare. Several other teams also managed to crank out 11 laps before the the sun set on the end of the race at the appointed 8 PM official finish time.

 But before that occurred, teams and individuals watched the encroaching weather and had to decide when to call it a day. Around 7 PM, hard rain was just over a mile away as it seemed to magically skirt the course itself as it soaked nearby territories. And though the rain was encroaching, the sun shone brightly underneath the cloud cover, forming a spectacular double rainbow that was breathtaking to behold.

Ultimately though, the race did not end early and the awards ceremony began promptly at 8:01 PM. Maybe a little luck was due to the hard-working crew of staff and volunteers that compose Zia Rides, led by Lindsay Mapes, who's organization has secured the location of the 2013 and 2014 USA Cycling Mountain Bike 24-Hour National Championships to be held in Gallup, NM. Poised at the cusp of what may be a meteoric rise to fame as one of the greatest venues in endurance mountain biking in the United States, those registered for this years “24-Hours in the Enchanted Forest” will have it to themselves for one more year before about 300 or so of the nation's best mountain bike riders meet there in 2013. Unless, of course, “the best” have been riding there all along... Only time will tell. See you there!

La Tierra de Santa Fe

I had the pleasure of spending part of a weekend in Santa Fe recently and was originally going to do two separate posts, but as I sit down to write this, I think one would be better as it would better highlight the contrast between the two places in which I had time to ride.
Taking the advice of a friend, I'd decided on riding in one place: La Tierra trails northwest of the city. His suggestion for figuring out where to ride in an unfamiliar region was to "ride where the races are". Makes sense to me, especially in retrospect. Just next weekend, the 2012 La Tierra Torture takes place and I had the good fortue of giving some of the trails a pre-ride. I didn't inspect the actual course map or try to follow the beginner's or pro's course in any way -- I just went out and did it.

Someone had told me that I would love Santa Fe trails because they weren't dirt and rock, but more like the crusher-fines you find in people's driveways. That was certainly the case, and I couldn't ask for a better surface. The terrain was much like the surrounding neighborhoods -- low to medium sized hills with some evergreenish vegetation (somewhere between a tree and a bush) along with the occasional cactus. But the trails! It was like one long, continuous twisty-curvy roller-coaster ride. I kept it slow, worrying about an imminent washout or some other hazard, but it never did materialize. Other than the lingering sun occasionally getting in my eyes or the couple of oncoming riders I had to keep and eye out for, it was like the dessert cart at a buffet: nothing but sweets!

I didn't take my camera with me on the ride itself, so the cell-phone pics will have to do. As far as racing there goes: well, that could be interesting depending on the course. The single track is very single, but there are sections that open up and allow for two or even three riders to ride abreast. Choosing when and where to pass could be dictated mostly by where one is able to pass. Make the wrong decision and blow a lung while climbing a steep hill and the rider behind d you may not be very happy with your decision... I'll have to remember to read the race reports.
Moving on then, to the second of my rides: the Chamisa Trail in the Santa Fe National Forest. Again with an element of randomness, I struck out east and hoped to find a place to ride. I found this trail just before Hyde State Park of NM 475. The trail offered easy access with plenty of parking and a couple of smiling, happy mountain bikers loading up their gear after a ride. I didn't see easy again while out on the trail. Apparently 'easy' decided to hang at the car while I went out and learned my lesson.
Here is a picture of me, the intrepid explorer, and the innocuous map-o-doom shown behind me, but in a close-up.

One of the returning riders pointed me in the direction of the trailhead. It looked more like what I liked to ride on, so I ignored the wide gravel path also leading away from the parking lot that people walking their dogs seemed to prefer. There were some rocks at the start, but nothing someone from southern New Mexico would even stop to sneeze at, so I plowed on up the hill. I eventually began to question the wisdom of my decision as the trail just seemd to climb forever. And it was narrow. And it was on a 45-degree slope. The voices in my head won and told me life would be much better on the gravel path. After all, I couldn't actually see any mountain-bike tracks on this trail. Surely I misunderstood the guy at the trailhead. Mountain bikes were obviously meant for the improved gravel path, to be shared with dogs, people walking their dogs and old ladies with walkers. I reversed direction and made my way back down.
Now back in my comfort zone, apparently (whether I was willing to admit it or not), I headed up the path and figured I would at least see some nice scenery and not end up becoming a training exercise for the local search-and-rescue group. The trail I was on though didn't really seem to behave either. Soon, it turned to single track rolling dirt and I was bouncing between my best granny gear and maybe one or two above that as I climbed. And climbed. And climbed.
Soon the trail began to get really difficult and I began to listen to the little voices in my head telling me about the string cheese waiting in the cooler back at the car. I ignored them. I hadn't really gone but a mile. Ok, maybe a half-mile. I wasn't done yet. So while waiting for a couple of hikers to slip and slide their way down the trail ahead of me, I told myself that this section was probably not representative of what lie ahead. Shouldering my bike, I made my way up and saw the trail did indeed look sort-of rideable. I kept on till the next series of tree roots and washout ruts in the trail that made me hop off and push my bike for a hundred yards or so.
Making light conversation with a woman and her husky, and trying to appear as if I weren't dying, I learned that the pass that led down to the next valley was indeed not too far ahead, and that it would be worth it to continue on. The dog had nothing to say to me at all. I learned that from the lady, who also assured me that she'd seen several mountain-bikers out that day. I wonder where she got ahold of my disbelief? Surely nothing I said...
Just up the path, under the guise of stopping to take a picture, I rested a bit more. Really, was this all that bad? That was probably the precursors of HACE talking. By the way, did I mention all this was happening in between 8000 and 9000 feet of elevation? Thought I'd throw that in.

I stopped at the top just ahead and found a contour map on a sign and tried to calculate how many feet I'd climbed in the last mile and a quarter. I finally narrowed it down to somewhere between 400 and a million. I decided against any descent other than back to the car. I couldn't fathom continuing on, down the other side of the hill, knowing I'd eventually have to make my way back. However, the original trail I'd set out on did meet up at this point also, so I took that option and made my way back, brakes imploring me all the way, "why are you making us do all the work!". Shut up brakes. Do your job and we all get string cheese and the privilege of living another day.
So, to wrap this up, what can I say? Is it all about my lameness and inability come to haunt me? Of course not. I would never draw such conclusions on scant data. Obviously, there is but one thing to assume: Santa Fe mountain bikers are all completely insane, steroid-humping masochists. It was pretty though. One last photo to show, hopefully, that I wasn't suffering from oxygen deprivation when enjoying the view. Now please excuse me, I need to see about revising my training plan...

Baby Heads and Galoshes

You never hear the word 'galoshes' any more. At least not out here in New Mexico. Yet sensible people might have wanted them if they were attending this years Signal Peak Challenge. For the record, I didn't see any. I did, however, see a bunch of fun-loving people getting out for a good old-fashioned mud-fest on their mountain bikes.


What in blue blazes?!

Another phrase you don't hear very often. And I didn't this weekend either. But what made me think of it was what they told us during the racer's meeting before hand: Follow the blue blaze markers and you'll have no problem staying on route. They also told us not to pay any attention to those other blue blazes. You know, the ones the loggers use to mark trees to be cut. Yeah. Ok...

Oh, and "there is water on the course". Both to drink and to ride through, apparently. I don't know why I race with my camelbak. Security I guess. That and safety (I keep one of those Mylar space blankets in there along with my "first aid" kit -- what's that? You broke your leg? Well I have some band aids and an antiseptic wipe here. Will that help?).

Undaunted by reports of the rain-soaked course, I patiently waited for the call for cat-3'ers to line up. And when the call came, I immediately executed the plan-of-the-day: easy rider mode. That's right -- aiming to avoid an early blow-out similar to last year's race, I was gonna take it easy and keep my motor running steady for all three laps. I love it when a plan comes together.

Sadly, it didn't. Planning some things well and others poorly is sufficient cause to cancel out all those good intentions. Ask any pilot.

So what happened? Low air pressure. Double pinch flat on the first major downhill. No serviceable spare. Four (count them: four!) holes to seal or I would be walking the last 2.5 miles of my first lap. I got it fixed. Which is to say, I got it to where it leaked slowly enough so that I didn't have to walk back. Yay.

Baby What?

But was that it? Not exactly. There were still Baby Heads to crush yet. I put that in capital letters so that people don't think I'm into infanticide.



These are not real baby heads, but rather Gila Baby Heads. And yes, I had to have someone explain that to me. Am I really a mountain biker at all if I don't know this? They are, apparently, the semi-large rocks that one tends to try to avoid when going uphill and especially when one is going downhill. Hence the subtitle of this year's race.

Fun for riders and the kiddies alike, as racers were invited to crush some Baby Heads when coming round to the start/finish line. Yay, right? Aw, come on now -- it's all in good fun. And the level of realism was way up there too! I leave you with this... This event is a classic and I'm looking forward to next year already.

Winning the High Desert way...

Alright, so what is this? A shameless appeal to the makers of Santa Fe Pale Ale for sponsorship money for a fledgling race team? Damn... caught out. Gotta stop being so transparent. But hey, if it works, it works.

Actually, the reason I'm posting this is because I shamefully haven't done a bit of riding at all lately and therefore have nothing to talk about. But I did find the time to make this little mandala showing my fervent devotion to the brand -- the beer that started it all. "What?" you say, a mountain biker inspired by a beer? As shocking as this is for some of you, I must report it happens more often than you think.

I remember it like yesterday... winding through the pine trees on my mountain bike in the Enchanted Forest of north-western New Mexico. And when the riding was done, there was beer, and it flowed freely for 24 hours (more or less). No really -- I finished my single-lap, 16-mile ride and had a free beer provided by Santa Fe Brewing Company. And it was during that weekend that the very seed of the kernel that later became the idea for High Desert Race Team began to form.

Well anyway, with any luck, SFBC will be at 24HITEF this year again and I'll ride many more laps than just one. Ok, maybe three. Alright, seven tops. I really don't think I could do more than that. But that's the plan.

Meanwhile, I'd like to report that no beers were harmed by being wasted (not properly consumed) in the making of this High Art. It was an idea born in the long cold winter down here in the south, where we think winter means "less than 50 degrees" and "art" is something you do with beer bottle caps. Meh... what are ya gonna do? If I get so much as one free beer for posting that photo, then I'll be a "professional artist". Imagine that...

And if I don't, then I enjoyed a nice afternoon down at the river, a beautiful sunset and time spent watching my two dogs act like lunatics running all over the place. I'm a winner either way as they say.

Southeast Mesa Long Loop

Conditions proved pretty ideal for a 32 mile ride on Saturday. So while others were preparing for 24 Hours in the Old Pueblo (one state away), myself and a friend decided to tackle a route we'd talked about doing for a while now. Well, I talked. He'd done it a time or four already. His comment, about two thirds of the way through, was "I always forget how rough that part is."

'That part' == the Sierra Vista Trail that runs up along the southern part of the Organ Mountains. If you're talking highway exits, it connects University Ave in Las Cruces with the Mesquite exit via one nicely paved road and one horribly wash-boarded dirt road. So add in a bit of frontage road and there's the loop. But the fun part is of course the single-track.

This trail has obviously seen a lot of use in the past few years since I first road it. What were sections of trail covered with small loose rocks have become either gravel pits or sections covered with large loose rocks. Sometimes both.

The essential fun of the trail is still there. How fast can I go and not take a spill when I miss a turn? Or, how slow can I go to avoid the cactus, but still have momentum to ascend the other side after crossing a major arroyo?

It is also the trail where I learned about 'tenting' -- something for which I mercifully have no pictures of. Please put your minds at ease, this is not what you might be thinking... It is what happens when you crash into a cactus and thorns break off underneath the skin. I'll say only that extraction involves lining up the holes with the thorns underneath, pushing and then using a pair of needle-nose to remove it. (If a thorn offend thee... pluck it out.) Enough said. Now you know why pliers are considered Essential Equipment in the High Desert.

No catastrophes this day however. Just one long steady fun ride where your eyes are glued to the trail and each time you stop, you notice just how much the scenery has changed. It doesn't pay to be a sightseer while riding this trail, but you're welcome to ride it and give it a shot. It is very scenic. Let me know how it goes.

Side note: Been messin' the MyTracks app on the 'droid phone. Here's a couple of GE views created from the GPS data. Enjoy.

West Mesa Long Loop training run

Woke up barely in time to have a couple lattes to go with my breakfast enchiladas. Mmmm... Now that's eating for the road! I threw a pear and some cereal bars in my pack and headed out.

The Goal: 40 miles
The Plan: West Mesa Long Loop
Mental State: Ready to roll and overconfident

We're in a buildup phase here at High Desert Racing, meaning I'm in a buildup phase, being the sole member of the team. But I managed to talk a friend into this little venture. It was as easy as saying "Hey, it'll be fun..."

Most folly starts that way, I'm sure.

So we begin executing The Plan. It's five miles to the river and then there's a long one and a half, maybe two mile climb up 300-400 feet up to the mesa top overlooking the Mesilla Valley. From there the plan is simple: ride, turn left, ride, turn left, ride, turn left, ride some more.

Couldn't get any simpler, could it? Up on the mesa there is generally nothing but long straight roads. Only problem was the particular directions they go, after doubling back on ourselves with the first two left turns. We end up getting dumped back into the valley about 15-20 miles from town. My compadre, being smarter than me, announces at our last rest break before descending back into the valley that he is calling for a pick up. At this point, I'm still thinking "I can make it". Yeah. Uh huh.

Rides between 15-20, maybe even 25 have become somewhat of a staple. I've even done another nice long loop that ended up being 35 miles. Rock and roll. I'm thinking "50 can't be so bad... I can do this". We ride on to the pick up point and we're early. I decide to press on. After all, I haven't even done my 40. My friend has, but I lacked the few miles he got a head-start with, so I felt like I needed to prove something.

I'm sure most folly continues that way.

So I ride on, and the miles don't seem to be clicking by so fast. There are several little towns that need to be ridden through. In between, it's cars and trucks passing at 50 mph with no bike lane on a two-lane road. Not my favorite riding conditions. Finally, the aching in my legs and a certain desire to stand in the saddle caught up with my foolish ambition. Hoping my friends weren't far off yet, I texted my friends and asked for a ride. One minute later they pulled up. Nice service!

I hit stop on the GPS and read the mileage -- just over 40. Though I will admit they offered to drive home at 10 mph just to make it look good. But no, I could never do that. Well, unless I was so exhausted I just forgot to turn it off... But then I'd edit out the in-vehicle miles later if that happened. Hey, so far this race team has perfect continuity in terms of ethics. Whatever I do, no matter how bad it sucks, I'll stick to what happened, not what I wish had happened.

So I got dropped at home, legs really screaming at this point. Check the photo below for a candid look at how I felt. Yes, that is my own dog laughing at me.



On the bright side though, I was given leftovers from a pancake breakfast. And a bit later another friend came by with a growler of Stout from High Desert Brewing Company. The day was just getting better and better. At least the pain had stopped anyway.

I'll take the 40. I'm happy. I met my personal goal for the day, but WTF? How am I going to pull 50, much less the 82 miles of a one-loop pass at the San Ysidro Dirty Century? How do people do the full 123-mile full two loops? I'm fricken delusional if I think I can do this.

¡Ay, caramba! This is a team in crisis.

The plan may need modification. Alternatives may have to be explored. Passive voice may have to be used in the writing of this blog.

The bottom line is that I'm not going to get a 2X performance increase over the span of the next 5-6 weeks. That's ok though. I'm an engineer. Time to set the mind to work and find a set of problems and start solving them. I might even use science. Perhaps even logic and reason... But I don't want to overdo it. There's room for much foolish thinking yet. Plus I should never underestimate the motivational power of a beer after a long day's ride.

Clearly though, the road to success is going to involve lots of riding.