MARC in the Park

March 28th was the MARC in the Park relay race.  4 hot laps by the team at McDowell, just under 18 miles per lap.  It was a fun day riding for about 1:11, then chillin' out whilst the team brought it all home.  The course was fast -- 6 mile climb to start, followed by 6 mile descent, then 5 miles of desert rollers just to see if you have any juice left.  I turned in a lap five minutes faster than last year, and so I was happy.  Our team did well, 14/26.  Considering the top team had 3 legit semi-pros, and did not lap us, I say we were going fast.  Also happy that I did not get taken out by a deer on the course.  Because that happened.
More important than the details of my 1:11 pain fest where I managed to drop my water bottle 15 minutes in was the other stuff I learned or was reminded of on Saturday:

• Relay races are awesome, because the post and pre-ride hanging out happens the entire day
• I have some awesome friends.  Randy, Trina, and Pat are great teammates.  We had enough food and "hydration' for a 24 hour race...and we were there for 5 hours.
• Adrienne is a cool chick.  How many people say stuff like "when I was white water kyaking in Bhutan..."  Not many
• I suck at descending
• Girls on singlespeeds who drift the corners at 23mph with cactus on the outside of the turn are not going to let you catch them on the next climb...or the climb after that.  Or in the 100m sprint to the line as you try and make up that last bit on them
• People in Arizona are crazy fast

That is all.  Here are some pictures...mots courstesy of Randy, though I didn't ask him.  Hopefully he's not mad.

Desert mornings -- its a tough life sometimes

Early morning starts in the Sonoran

Race Plate!

Post lap Chillin with Adrienne

Randy, you happy?

Look -- Pat can sit like Adrienne.  I cannot

Iceman Jersey makes me look fat at the dismount line

Barry-Roubaix by Captain Slow

So there's a Bad Dad who has chosen to be named Captain Slow.  I asked him to share this story on the blog because it occurred to me that despite the fact that we are getting older and more decrepit, the gang continues to do some cool stuff on bikes that we might want to remember one day.  And since the internet is forever...

Of course, there's another captain slow, but this ain't him.  I've been running with this guy since we were 12.  Captain Slow has the essence of what it takes to be a great cyclist.  Dude knows how to suffer.  Then, when it seems like there's no more suffering to happen, dude hits the reset button and suffers more.  While I was riding in the desert this weekend enjoying my 80 degrees and clear blue skies, this man was riding a gravel grinder in Michigan where it was just a little colder.  People here in Arizona may be hella fast, but the dudes in Michigan take the cake for crazy.  Two of the biggest off-road events of the year are up there, Iceman and BR.  Both are in shit weather.  Both are sponsored by breweries.  Both are just a little bit of awesome.    

I'll leave the rest to him:

Captain Slow Rides Barry-Roubaix

First off I need to say that I had no plans to do this race.  I don't know shit about gravel riding, those dudes are crazy.  What happened was that in January I started trying to get in shape, promised myself a new bike as a reward for the winter trainer miles, ended up showing up 4 days early for a sale because I am a genius, got the bike on sale anyway, and looking for dirt to ride on (our trails are still in full fat bike mode), decided to go check out a newbies clinic and pre ride for the BR that weekend.  What a great day.  Sun, 50 degrees, new bike, good hills, I kept up.  Way more interesting than my scheduled trainer ride, and a better workout.  I got all psyched and signed up for the race.  

But because I am not a gravel racer, I figured this should just be another training ride, and since it is time to start doing longer rides, I decided to sign up for the 36 mile race, instead of the 24 mile course that I had just ridden and thoroughly enjoyed.  What?  Yeah, that's what I did.  

So I had to get up a little early on race day because the day before, when I saw the forecast low of 9 and high of 32, I got so depressed that I went to bed without getting any of my crap together.  I got up at 7, sorted everything by 7:30, and got to the race and checked in and parked with plenty of time to sit in the car before the start.  It was beautiful and sunny and 10 degrees outside.  Everyone in the parking lot was camped out in their cars and every now and then someone would venture out to use the porta-johns or to put a number on a bike or something and then dash back in.

By the time my race started at 10:12 the temperature had soared to 12 degrees and at the line I was actually pretty comfortable.  That ended about a minute into the ride, because my lungs apparently cannot tolerate 12 degree air in any significant quantity, so I started wheezing, which made it hard to get oxygen, to which my body's response is apparently a feeling of impending projectile vomit.  This is mile 1 as I am trying to stay in the opening surge.  

So I dropped out of the pack, dialed it back, and went into survival mode for a few miles that I don't remember.  But one thing I've learned in years of doing races for which I am ill-prepared is how to do survival mode (the other is how to pack a car quickly).  And, it turns out that I can survive faster than I used to, so by the time conscious thought returned, I realized I was still ahead of pace and feeling really not too bad. 

But kinda cold.  At one point I realized I was in my small ring by accident and went to shift and had trouble, and realized that was because I could neither feel nor move my left thumb.

It turns out that several miles of the added distance for the 36 loop are paved, which helped my speed, but not my temperature.  Halfway into the race when we got back to dirt, and it had finally warmed up a little, I realized that I felt about 10 times better than at the start.  After a long slog up a road that has ruts deep enough to earn it special mention on the map (during which I made a major tactical error in staying right in an attempt to keep out of the way), we got back to the part of the course that I knew, and the rest was no problem.  My legs got a bit sore toward the end, then I got a huge cramp as I was dismounting in the finish chute.  I guess that is a better time for it than most.

Time wise the ride was good.  I averaged faster than on the pre-ride and was hoping for 2:45 and going to be pissed if above 3hrs, ended up at 2:40.  Still only good for 85th of 104 in my age group but I was legitimately with people the whole time, instead of my usual race situation of late, which is off the back and/or walking a broken bike along the trail to the nearest out.  (So much for "training ride".  Already justifying...)

I definitely need to keep working on endurance.  I think I could have pushed harder on hills but may not have made the distance.  I am a lot faster on the flats than I used to be so I was yo-yo-ing back and forth thru the same group for quite a while.

[Captain slow did this race on a Salsa Spearfish.  Most people do it on cross bikes.  I pointed this out to him...]  I was trying not to play up the bike issue but yes I'm sure a couple pounds and a bit more stiffness could have helped, perhaps at the expense of comfort.  And an increased risk for mech failure as I saw a lot of those.  Either way 10-15 mins would move me a long way up the standings and I think that with a less disastrous start I would be part way there.  So we'll see about next year.

There were some nice flat stretches where I was spinning along at 20 mph passing people with no particular hassle. That is road bike speed for me so hopefully I will be even faster on the road - though maybe not so much, this is a good bike.

It was up to 33 degrees (!) when I put the bike back on the car.  That was better but still a bit chilly for hanging out solo at the beer tent, and the crowd/line situation was dense, so after double fisting 2 beers I decided to ditch my 3rd ticket.  (sad)  My body was feeling some effects.  I bought some chili and it was not good so I threw it out.  Should have braved the line for the pulled pork.  Or maybe not.

So the take-away here is that I owe beer to my bike shop guy, because if he had followed the rules, none of this would have happened.

Fat Tire 40 -- 2015

It's March in Arizona.  The 12 and 24 hour events are done for the year, the MBAA series is winding up, and racing is ready to move north to Prescott, Flagstaff, Colorado and Utah.  Nestled between the 24-Hours of the Old Pueblo and the Whiskey Off Road is the Fat Tire 40 (not to be confused with the Chequemegaon Fat Tire 40, or many other 40-mile races in the universe).  Lots of folks treat the race as the last longish ride of the season, perhaps a tune up for the Whiskey in a month.  For me, it's really the start of the season.  A chance to see if I gained any fitness over the winter, or (more likely) if I'm really just a slug mounted on a bicycle.

The Fat Tire 40 is also the first mass start race I did in Arizona.  in 2012, when I lined up for the 40, it was the longest mountain bike race I had ever done, and would be the most miles I rode on one day all year.  fast forward to 2015, and that 40-mile monster of a race is now just a morning ride.  The fact that there's a race plate on the bars and a start/finish just makes it a little more fun.  Here's to a little bit of clean living, and a little bit of being lucky and living in paradise. 

The race is contested on my home trails -- about 6 miles as the crow flies from the house.  Of course, that crow has to fly over some mountains, so it's more like a 25 mile/40-minute drive around the mountains to the start line.  The course is 40 miles of mostly single track -- sometimes true 18-24 inch single-track, sometimes it's more like a fire road.  It's all well ridden, mostly buffed out, and people riding the race knows the trails well - so the pace is super-fast.

New twists for this year included no time trial (yeah!), wave starts by age (yeah!), no reverse short-loop (yeah!) and leg markings (huh?)

The race is pretty casual -- no fancy build ups, just the usual collection of awesome people lining up and seeing how fast they can make their bikes go on a Saturday morning.  (as a total side note, many shop owners were noticeably absent from the race...perhaps they were making some money, perhaps they were sleeping in...those guys work their tails off, so any minute of rest they can get is well deserved).

As the race stated we entered the McDowell competitive tracks -- a race course right here in the desert.  Super tight, fast single track.  Little opportunity to pass or be passed...just put the hammer down, hold the line, and keep the pedals turning.  I mostly held the wheel of the rider in front of me. As expected falling back a bit on the downhills or the twisty sections, and catching up quickly on the climbs.  I felt really good -- never really out of breath, only pushing super hard on the T-bone ridge climb, and not crashing (key...)

About 6 miles in, the race turns off the competitive loops and onto a service road.  First real opportunity to pass, and I followed 2 riders passing about 4 slower folks as we went up the approximately 1-mile climb before getting to the Pemberton trail. We were all riding fast enough to be a little uncomfortable, but no danger of burning any precious matches.  A great Saturday morning in the desert, finding the right cadence, settling in, and getting that awesome feel of flowy desert single track under the wheels.  I happened to be in front of the line, but we were only going 15-17mph, and we had a tail wind, so the lack of a wheel to follow was not too painful.

As always seems to happen at this stage in a race there was "that guy".  "That guy" who even though the pro-ish level racers destined to finish 30 minutes in front of us were way off the front decides to ride the group like he's mounting a charge for the finish line on the Champs Elyse.  So this guy comes up, clips my bars (the trail is like 10 feet wide here) and cuts in front of me making some snorting noise about "holding the pace".  Looking over my shoulder there were like 6 guys on my wheel just hanging out...so I settle in behind Mr. "Hold the Pace", and see where this is all going.

He pulled us along for the next 3-ish miles as the race turned into the wind.  We were happy to let Mr. "Hold the Pace" do just that.

We turned off the Pemberton trail (and out of the headwind) onto some twisty and slippery (aka loose over hard) single track.  It's a ton of fun, mostly downhill 1.8ish miles.  I'm not so fast through the twisty stuff, so Mr Hold The Pace started to gap me in every corner.  I heard the guys behind catching up on every approach and every turn, but I accelerated out of every corner and never got in their way.  

Turning Left onto Escondido, again few opportunities to pass.  Newish singletrack cut into the sides of ridges and traversing (dry) washes for about 4 miles.  I passed a couple more guys here, and got passed by some of the younger racers who had started about 10 minutes behind us.  Soon enough, we started one of the main features of the race, a 7 mile climb at about 2-4%. Not real steep, but enough to let you know it was there.  Up Escondido and Up Pemberton we went.  This is where I put the hammer down.  Long, steady climb without a whole lot of technical moves?  Add two gears, and hang on if you want to draft...this is my section to shine on.  

Having done my research (and this being the 4th year) I knew this 7 miles would help me immensely in driving my time down and my average speed up.  The climb topped out just past 1/2 way in the race, and was followed by a nice long downhill pretty much to the next aid station than enabled recovery.  The climb felt awesome.  I passed 2 more folks, got caught by 1 more guy from a later wave, and hit the top of the climb averaging about 12.9mph, having improved about 1.5 mph from when the climb started...it felt awesome.  

It also felt a little tiring.  I was starting to feel my quads fatiguing... the tiniest of craps beginning to make themselves known as I accelerated out of corners on the downhill.  I slugged some more Carborocket333, and kept the pedals turning confident I would work those kinks out over the next few miles.

Off the Bluff trail climb and back onto Pemberton, we were hammering the downhill again.  Put 2 more guys behind me, and came into he aid station at 30 miles with empty bottles, and feeling pretty good.  2:15 at the aid station.  I was really hoping for a 3:15 race...and the last 12 miles were very do-able in an hour.  One last big climb in the race, then some ripping downhills to the last 5 miles on the "Long Loop".  I loaded the 2 water bottles, left my Carborocket333 single serve in my jersey pocket and headed out.

WHAT?

Go back and read that again.  Yes, 30 miles of riding hard in the desert sun had fried my brain.  I had the ultimate endurance drink in my pocket, in powder form, and somehow my little brain through it was a good idea to leave it there instead of put it in one of the bottles I HAD JUST FILLED WITH WATER!

Well my dear friends, you know EXACTLY what happens next.  I started hammering up the 1.2 mile approximately 5% climb...and about 2/3 of the way up I started to lose power, get some cramping in the right quads, and slowed waaaaay down.  You can see me slow down on Strava actually.  There's a little man with a sign on the segment.  The sign says "ROHIT LOST HIS MIND AND PAID FOR IT HERE X".  OK, I'm lying.  What you can see on Strava is me PRing every segment up until this one, and no-PRs for the last 10 miles of the race.

From that point, the race turned into a bit of a slog for me.  Legs were tiring, so it was hard to stand and absorb the bumpy technical sections.  The last 5 miles on the "Long Loop" are super roller-coaster ups and downs, lots of little drops, and several wash crossings.  Awesome when you're fresh, pure hell when you're tired.  I started hitting big rocks with the rear wheel, further slowing myself.  about 2 miles to go I finally got passed by the lead woman, who had started 30 minutes behind me.  Losing by 30 minutes to Kata Skaggs, is nothing to be ashamed of -- in fact, losing by 30 minutes to women in general is nothing to be ashamed of, but I did have this little sub-goal of somehow staying in front of them.  What I WAS able to to was get the heck out of the way so I did not interfere with the race.  That I took solace in.

I crossed the line in what I thought was 3:25.  Turns out it was 3:26.  that's not too bad.  12.5mph.  I was 13.3 mph at 30 miles when I forgot to add the nutrients and paid the price.  Overall, a great day on the bike,  Randy, Pat, and Trina all rode well.  Trina managed to get herself on the Podium for the 40K race -- and I love having friends on the podium!

It was a short celebration as I had to run for the airport to go help Priya in the LA marathon...she did awesome, and that is a story for another day

Looking forward to the MARC in the Park!  

86 -- hopefully not "done"!

Leg Markings!  Where's the Triathlon?

I should probably buy this one

On the plane to LA....seemed appropriate

Hooray!

I am very excited today.  

This is doubly exciting because I started the day rather sad.  There's an awesome 12-hour race this weekend which I'm not doing because I can't look my family in the eyes and tell them I'll be gone for 15 hours, then be a useless lump on the couch for one more weekend this year.

I am excited because I have a still have a ride planned for Saturday.  And it's not just any ride.  This is the LEGENDARY the ONE AND ONLY Mormon-National loop right here in Phoenix.  

Now I know there are all kinds of people that believe they live in the greatest mountain biking locations in the world.  But here in Valley of the Sun we have amazing trails, that are actually in town.  The advantage is that if you fall and smash you face, shoulder, butt, or other into something hard you can be rescued and treated with only the usual drama.

There's the other advantage of having literally 100s of miles of desert single track that I can ride my bike to pretty much 361 days of the year.  (The other 4 days it's raining)

So this is what's in play for Saturday:

But without the road bit.  Will be riding up the other side.

I get to ride a trail that people specifically travel here to ride from hundreds of miles away...and that makes my life feel just a little better.

This week just got a lot of awesome!

check this space to see if I broke my face later this weekend.  maybe monday

F-YEAH FRIDAY!

Lots of bike blogs and bike internet people post about F-YEAH FRIDAY!

Because it's Friday and if you can get out and ride, your brain goes F-YEAH the entire time.  You're psyched you're riding, there's no guilt because the kids are at school, and you're not working.  What's not to like?  

December in Arizona, so that means it's time for Desert Single Track.  Rode to the trail, drank the Whiskey From the Bottle, passed a roadie in a Rapha Team kit and a bazillion-dollar carbon road bike on the way home.  Love making the Tie-Fighter noise with the tires as you go by very serious looking guys in skinny tires.

That's an awesome time as far as I'm concerned. 

Hope you got a little F-YEAH in your Friday too!

What is this all about?

I started writing this blog in Feb of 2013 when a friend (a real friend) complained that all they saw on Facebook was updates about my rides, my bikes, what I was thinking when I was riding, what I was wearing, what I was eating...you know, stuff I felt was really important and critical to share with all my "friends".

But I got the point.  I'm lucky to have an awesome family and people wanted to see pictures of them.  Pictures of a cake my wife made are far more interesting to the Facebook crew than a picture of an empty GU wrapper next to a summit sign with a bike shadow in the background.

Since I was starting the adventure of training for the Leadville 100, I decided to create an alternative Facebook page.  Then Facebook became a pain in the rear to deal with, I could not put the pictures up in the way I wanted, etc.  So I created this blog, as a place to dump my cycling blather.

I guess I could have started a journal, or kept this all on my PC, or just kept it private.  I made up some reason about wanting this all on the cloud backed up on Google's infinite server capacity, or being able to share my cycling journey(ies) with any friends and family easily.  Really I just want someone else to read this stuff.  I'm as narcicisstic and self absorbed as the next guy.

As I typed away I realized what's most interesting to me to write about, and what I get responses on from the 3-5 people that read the posts are when I write about what's in my head.  Sure, the weather, the quality of the dirt, the incline of the hill, the contents of my bottles and jersey pockets are fascinating...but what I enjoy sharing is what I'm thinking and feeling when I'm out there. 

Besides, I can't continue to bore my wife with these stories.  My S-1 number would go down, and that would be tragic.

So here it is.  The Bad Dads Cycling Blog.  What's in your head?

What's On the Bathroom Mirror

Mid December.  In most parts of the country, cyclists are thinking about their next trainer session, spin class, or perhaps getting their fat bikes or cyclocross rigs out in the mud and snow.

In Arizona, it's time to go racing!  The 12 and 24 hour events are in full swing, and the MBAA series is ready to kickoff. Wrapped around all that you have registrations and lotteries opening for Leadville, The Whiskey and the rest of the Epic Rides events, Gravel Grinders a plenty, and a pile of unofficial official events like SingleSpeed Arizona.  Plus.... Iceman registration is right around the corner! This is a super-motivating time to be a mountain biker in the desert. 

Unless you're me, and you're feeling a little sluggish and dreaming of warm fires and snow covered landscapes of the Midwest, Northeast, and the Rocky Mountains. 

So it's time to look back and look ahead least I sit and drinks pints of Guinness and eat shepherds pie until I'm over the weight limit for the carbon bits on the bikes.

Looking back, this was a pretty ambitious year. I crossed from setting goals like "finish" to goals that had times in them. At the start of the year, these were the results i targeted:

McDowell 40 -- 3:30

Whiskey 50 -- 4:30

Leadville -- 10:00 (though you're always going for 9)

BarnBurner -- 8:30

Iceman -- 2:00

In the middle of the year, also added the Tahoe trail, and I wanted to go 4:30 for the 100K. 

I came into my race season lighter, stronger, and on a faster bike than last year...and yet...I made exactly ZERO of my goals. I came close at BarnBurner, and with the time bonus because of the ambulance delay, I did come in faster than 830.

3 races had weather issues (Whiskey, Barn Burner, and Iceman), 1 had a clothing and tire issues (Tahoe) and I was just an idiot in Leadville not prepping my bike properly and not eating during the first 1/2 of the race. 

Though the results not where I wanted them, looking back, I learned a little something about myself that I had come to doubt over the years.  I am tougher than I give myself credit for.

• At the McDowell 40 I broke 2 ribs 7 miles from the end.  I could have bailed out about 4 miles from the end, but kept it together, even after I crashed for a second time on the same side.  3:48, 18 minutes off my goal
• The Whiskey was some seriously nasty weather.  60mph+ wind, huge amounts of snow, rain...but I held it together, made sure I got numbers instead of DNF, 5:51.  
• Tahoe Trail, I had 2 flats.  Still managed to beat the cut off.  Also wore some really bad socks.  They almost made me DNF.  Socks are important
• Leadville is Leadville.  I came in faster than last year, nowhere near my goal, but still under 12.  I'll take the buckle.
• Barn Burner I actually made my goal...and survived a downpour, thunder, and lightning that sent a lot of riders looking for their cars.
• Then there was Iceman.  I wanted 2:00.  Settled for Sub-3.  

Worse than the results were the lack of motivation that started creeping in mid-way through Tahoe, Leadville, Barnburner, and Iceman.  In all of those races I hit a point where I was wondering what the heck I was doing out there in the crap weather, hundreds or thousands of miles from the family...I was never going to be on a podium...I had done all of these races previously...what the heck was I doing?  Playing at 10,000' is for professional dirtbags, people with huge sums of money....or me?  Is it for me? Am I a total poser?  I found myself at pivotal points during these events doubting why I was riding them at all.  Wanting to be home flipping pancakes or driving kids to swimming...or even possibly riding with them.  But there I was, on a racecourse, with a number strapped to the handlebars and many miles to go before the finish.  

This was a serious problem. 

Winning has never bee the motivation.  In my life I have one exactly 1 sports related "podium". That was senior year of high school at a tennis tournament.  Won the 3rd doubles flight at a little team tournament in northern MI. Even if I was motivated by winning, the reality is I won't be on a podium for several years. My path in life has been different than anyone who considers themselves truly competetive.  Maybe if I keep at it, and keep getting stronger there may be some podiums once I'm 55+. Ok, given the number of 55+ that beat me, it's probably more like 60+. 

Losing motivation in the middle of a race is a bad. I don't want this happening next year. The more I read, the more I realize this is an issue for many of my fellow MAMILs. I believe it's the next part of the test.  Need to keep it up. Keep it going. There are personal achievements out there, and there is no reason not to keep pursuing and achieving them. I may not stand on a podium at a bike race for 15 years, but if I keep moving, keep pushing, stay motivated -- it is possible. Life is a not a sprint, so time to keep at it.

Another pretty interesting and exciting thing happened this year.  I'm starting to have the virtual team come together in a very exciting way. A least one friend here in AZ is committed getting to Leadville in 2015.  I kind of pulled him along this year with advice, encouragement, a few spare parts, a little advice...and I think I have him hooked.   Another friend in Michigan is locking in 2016 for Leadville (he says 2017, but we'll get him there before then), there's my Iceman gang (both the long tenured and the new) that are starting to expand riding beyond northern Michigan.  I am pretty convinced I'll have one of them on the corner of 6th and Harrison one day.  Then there's all the folks at the local shops and clubs that make up my personal extended Leadville family.  I'll draw my inspiration from these folks, and return (hopefully) a little to them. These people provide challenges, and show me that there are many big challenges that can be overcome. Mental toughness and emotional strength matter a lot in endurance events.  Paraphrasing Rebecca Rusch, training gets you the first 4 hours of any event.  The rest is mental.   

Time to recommit. Time to commit to myself, to my family, to my friends.  They are all behind me and I am behind them.  What am I committing to?  Here we go:

McDowell 40ish -- 3:15
McDowell Relay Race -- have a blast.  go fast
Whiskey Off Road --  4:30
Lutsen 99er -- 6:30 (if it happens)
Leadville -- 9:00 (there, I said it)
Barn Burner -- 8:00

Iceman -- 2:00

That's another big year.  I have a plan for fitness, for eating, for sleeping, for life.  I'm a happier person when I'm training hard, and this will be a massively transitional year for me personally, so I'll be training hard.  I'll also need to remind myself what it means to turn myself inside out.  As in, really work to the point of failure...and maybe even fall over doing it.  Last time I did that was 10th grade.  Let's see if I can get it back.

Maybe I'll even learn to do group rides!

What's on my bathroom mirror?  Same thing as last year:

Bathroom Mirror