chollaball.net

That’s a bold statement.

Yes Vincent Vega, and totally accurate.

Out the door, tie the dog along the Westworld Path, through Horizon Park, through the pedestrian tunnels under Thompson Peak and Frank Lloyd Wright, to the front door of Panda Express.

Sure its not the best chinese food, but it filled my backpack for $36, and was well-packed to travel.

Let’s review:

• bikeable
• no cars
• drunk and no driving
• dog gets a run
• copious amounts of chinese food

Case closed.

The big fire in Flagstaff  6 weeks ago wiped out the center of the Crazy 88 route. The Flag folks seem to have rebounded by enjoying many of their other miles of great trails. Nate dusted himself off and put together what promised to be another fun underground race. I wasn’t going to miss it, for all the same reasons I’ve made the last 2 - great people, great event, and inspiration to get me through the dark days of summer.

Unfortunately, rain started before the pre-ride meeting, and didn’t let up til an hour after the last rider bailed. T-roy cracked open the bottle of El Jimedor I brought before we rolled out. It kept me warm for about 27 seconds.

Kila sez “eff this noize, I’ll be waiting right here”, and indeed she was when i returned 7 hours later

The first 5 miles were beautiful flowy downhill through tight singletrack, but the lack of exertion and water running right down the trail had me shivering.  The thought of 6 more hours of borderline hypothermia had me on the verge of bailing after only 40 minutes, but I couldn’t stand the thought of such a piss-poor effort after I hauled all my gear up the rim and already would have to break the whole bike down and clean it. Maad was right behind me,  and he’s basically been living in Flag this summer…i cant deny his disapproving gaze and subtle telepathy of “don’t be a pussy Chollaball!” affected my decision.  A few people bailed down a fireroad, a few opted to follow the original course down a moto singletrack which would likely have even deeper muddier ruts, I slipped on my leg warmers and joined about 10 others for a shortcut that would get us at least 20 miles and close to 2 hours minimum.

Arriving at our next nut-up-or-shut-up point at mile ~13 (mile 21 on the original route), I started to warm up, but my Etrex Vista gps had crapped out.  Now my decision got really hard - bail, or go on not knowing if I could map the route? Fate saved me - I missed the next turn, and ducked into a nice trailhead parking lot where I got out of the rain and sorted out my gear. As I was taking off my camelback, I yanked the strap of the Forerunner 201 off my wrist and the pin holding it to the unit shot away. Fucking great! now I was off course, and neither gps was working! I wanted to cry, I wanted another shot of tequila, I wanted a hit - and here I was dope-free for the past month since I’m on the job market .  I took a deep breath, gave the Etrex new batteries, found the pin for the Forerunner, wiped my glasses with some dry TP from the warm and wind-free baffroom, and doubled back to find the turnoff I’d missed.

I’ve only used the Etrex a few times since i got it at Xmas, and never for tracking a route and waypoints. It worked so well I can’t imagine not having one for an event like this ever again - I was spot-on course for the next 5 hrs and 30 miles.  At one point I came upon 4 other dismal lost riders who were attempting the same variation on the route as I, but somehow going in the exact opposite direction! They too trusted in my gps and eventually finished (and toasted me en masse around the firepit!).  But despite being on course, the next mile was a terrible stretch of death-mud that threatened to kill my new-found optimism.  If it continued at the next turn, I was going to throw in the towel and backtrack home. It stopped, and thankfully wound up being the only such stretch of the race. The rest was just sinking, sucking, splashing, slogging, sloppy going that added who-knows-how-much effort to every pedal turn. There were times when my fingers got too numb and stiff to work the shifters, but mostly i was just chilly and chafing and heavy and uncomfortable for about 7 straight hours.  Its hard to quantify how much it took out of me, its not like a 10-yard penalty, but realizing the lack of efficiency I decided early-on my goal was to simply complete the 50 mile course (42 with the bypass of the moto route) and not even consider the full 65.  I was kinda disappointed that I’d lowered my expectations so early in the day, thinking that all the strongest riders from Flag who’d launched down the moto route would surely pass me at some point, comfortable with the weather and the altitude.  But I knew I was a Desert lad who had not worn socks or underwear in 4 months, was pissing from every sip of gatorade with my body so well-tuned to conserving water, was shivering on every downhill, and was shredding every moving component of my bike. I always have something to prove, but my showing at the 12 Hours at Night allowed me to gracefully accept that today was an act of God and not an act of lack-of preparation.  The 50 course it would be!

I fought my way to the rest stop at mile 33, where Nate’s awesome friends rewarded us with shammy butter and bacon.

There were 2.5 miles of dh after the break, and I kinda hated it my body reacted so violently to the cold.  Then there were 11 miles of jeep-road slogging til I got within sight of the finish 5 miles further on.  A truck which looked vaguely familiar came bouncing down the road after about 7 miles, and lo-and-behold Nate waved from the window! All the Flagstafricans who’d launched down the moto route bailed out after slogging 4 hrs and only a few miles through deep mud.  i wasn’t happy to see my friends suffer, but learning that everyone else’s day and expectations had also gone to shit made my situation suddenly seem pretty hardcore! I pressed on with another little lift in my spirits, and also psyched knowing that (1) I was in first place!, and (2) folks were back at camp seeing to Kila and tapping the keg.

The next 3 miles of jeep road were hardpacked, but super-sloppy with pooled water in every deep rut. It was the first jeep road off highway 180, and was thick with traffic. Getting splashed didn’t bother me, it hardly registered i was so sloppy through-and-through, and i got my vengeance passing the vehicles along the roadside as they crept through the many 20-yard pools of muddy water.  When I crossed 180 and got to the final 5 miles, I suddenly was overcome with weariness. It seemed so far way! I crawled into the Pain Cave and spun so slowly only the sound of the rain reminded me time was passing. Eventually i finished, my mind and body not-quite on the same wavelength as the rest of the world.  Someone handed me a beer in a commemorative pint glass and told me I’d won.

First, and likely last time ever, on the podium

I hung around camp for the first time in my 3 times doing this (Nate’s) races, without the family for a change. It was awesome chillin with some of the riders I’ve briefly greeted in years passed, and have gotten to know a little better this past year through James. I nursed a few beers, engaged in many shenanigans, and watched the El Jimedor become ex-Jimedor. The rain finally passed, and we briefly considered launching back out to fininsh the loop.

driving home I ran over a skunk near Schultz Pass Road, and smelled stank til I got on I-17 and outran the funk, but it was there waiting for me when I pulled into the driveway. The bike needed new brake pads front and back, probably a new headset and bottom bracket cups, and had a scar on the fork stanchion an inch long from something horrible that got caught in the death-mud. i spent 3 hours in the ManCave stripping it down and still have work to do, but am not too upset, as somehow it seems another Phoenix summer has passed me by.

Thanks Nate, Bev for the awesome cookies, and everyone else for the great company.

Maad and I did a day trip up to Prescott to ride The Dells, both of us needing a little reward injected into our worldviews. We were guided by friends Enel, Chris, Helimech and Jayem.  These Ptown locals are pretty much the best riders on this system, and combined with neither James nor I riding a whole lotta tech down here in The ‘Nix in summer, we were thoroughly humbled.  We still had a great time riding just 7 exhausting miles in 2 hrs over terrain that is unique compared to anything else in AZ.  Rolling 100 yards without getting off was a rarity, next time I’m going with the flat pedals.

The ups and downs, steeps and drops, narrows and turns left me flummoxed and struggling to establish rhythm.  But the terrain was an everchanging playground, and my buds were supportive even if constantly waiting for me and Maad to catch up, so I never got down.

Jayem made this look easy

*skeeeeeeeeeeeeetched*

nutting up, albeit an easier line

Eric was the master of track stands

its my O-Face!

Maad stepping up

Helimech on a new stretch by the lake

Eric nailed this on his first try ever on this brand new section

in the bottoms by the damn

Eric cleaning a very hard up-out-down sequence

this pic does not do the exit justice

this one does, even if the exit was all i could manage

excellent times! followed by our new tradition of post-Dells Indian Buffet. woot woot!

Last weekend I did this race.  It was a very fun, very chill, small-scale event in Pioneer Park in Ptown.  Beckie was headed to Nashville that weekend with the girls, and before her plane ticket’s confirmation arrived via email I registered for Solo, in more ways than one.

The race ran from 8pm to 8am, and riding for 9 hrs through the night til daybreak at 5 was weird and wild, but not trippy like some long night rides can get.  Intent on performing, and with little stimuli but the track right under me and my execution on it,  i dialed in tight to my game plan, and was amazed at how well I did.  No beer, no music, 13 laps, 106 miles, 11,500 vf, 10.5 hrs spin time.  I went hard bell-to-bell, every moment not on the course was spent on my gear, my lights, filling my water bottles, scratching Kila, and stuffing my pie-hole.  I was extremely tired and fatigued by the end, but not blown up like at the Crazy88 last August.  It felt really good to have such a solid ride.  Yeah me!!!

Kila and I rolled into Prescott about 5pm and set up just a few yards from the finishing chute, which let me get dog-kisses between every lap. A few times i grabbed overcooked leftover hotdogs off the grill next to the timing station and carried them in my jersey for a lap before rewarding Kila at the end. We were next to friends Walt and Deanna, and hung with many other friends - Nardo, Ry-Daddy, Young Dave, MyBikesBroken, BrianC, Jayem, Enel, Fixedgeardan and the Geoman (who I recommend wholeheartedly if you are looking for a set of MagicShine lights).  Good vibes and kindness were in the air at this low-key race. The only bummer all night was Maadjurguer had to bail at the last minute due to a personal conflict. wah. Was thinking of you bro (thinking of not letting you kick my ass, were you in attendance) when i pushed out on laps 12 and 13!

my pit crew

I strapped a pump to my downtube, a tube to my seatpost, and carried everything else in my jersey pockets, not too worried about disaster on the 8 mile, mostly cactus-and-rock-free course.  I looked downright goofy holding my hands to my back so nothing would bounce out running the 1/4 mile Le Mans start, but setup worked great and kept me as light and fast as possible.  I even skipped the baggies.  The only downside of being so aerated was I got major nipple rash in the chill mountain air, and after lap 2 has to shmear some butt-cream on my teats. No one likes Bloody-Nipple Man.

end of the race, the photo doesn’t properly capture the layer of dirt and stank all over me

The course was not hard, but with 900 vf every 8 miles including a couple short steeps, it took its toll.  I’ve never done a race like this, mile after mile of going in circles.  I had a goal of 10 laps or die trying, 12 if things were going well, and 13 just to break 100 miles and get myself a dirty century.  But thinking and doing are entirely different things when units are marked off in 1 hour intervals of sweat and weariness.  “Pain is temporary. Quitting lasts forever.” I think Nike paid Lance Armstrong to say that; when my body hurts bad my mental fortitude follows it right into the shitter.

I knocked out the first lap in about 40 min, the next few almost as fast.  Then I settled in to 50 minute turns for the rest of the night. My fast start had me completing 5 laps in the first 4 hours, but I was frenetic, uneven, fighting the course and my gear and my nutrition routine. I had no real endurance rhythm, fought off a bonk during lap 5 , and struggled to believe i could climb the course’s 4 hills 8 more times each.  1/3 through the race and i thought i might be bottoming out.  I took 15 minutes off after #5 to inhale as much pasta, scrambled eggs and water as i could, and soberly faced the clock as i pushed out at 12:20am.  I needed to make up 20 minutes to be on schedule for 8 laps in the next 8 hours.  Closing that gap was the first big test of the rest of the night, along with finding a zone that would carry me for 8 more hours.  The challenge was as much mental as physical, cause I knew I wasn’t going to cut that time on the course, nor was i going to lose much time.  Most of the time I was losing was in between laps - once you get off the bike, minutes slip away quickly.   Each lap required some planning and smooth execution of the logistics of riding at night for 100 miles - water bottles, food, batteries, bike - and lap 5 became the resupply & mindset lap.

The next 8 hrs broke down into 8 little races of surprisingly not-monotonous milestones; too much focus on splits and pace and efficient to-do lists kept them from being dull.  6 & 7 were the quick-stop laps - hug the dog, swap bottles, go!  Starting #8 at 2:05am was the 1-past-1-past-halfway lap where I would take stock and decide if I really had 6 more in me.  The problem with such decisions is you are never sure if you actually can reach your goal, but you damn well know if you don’t keep going then you surely won’t make it.  The only choice is to keep going and hope you don’t come up short.  Being a winner in sports is about the courage to expose yourself to failure. It really doesn’t matter what level you are at, just that you are taking a chance on going beyond your comfort zone.

Lap 8 was on pace, but my hips and calves were starting to spasm, and my drivetrain was cacophonous. While i applied fresh chainlube, Deanna hooked me up with 800mg of ibu that muzzled the pain, and #9 became the invigoration lap. 10 was the 1 before sunrise where i started to feel the end, and knew I could make it if i could just hang on.  After the 2nd climb called The Grind, I started counting down the climbs for the rest of the night: 14, 12,10… Lap 11 at 5am was the dawn, where i shed half of my lights, finally saw the course as more than a line in the dirt in the dark, got nice views of the rolling hills backed up against The Dells, and rejoiced in the fields of white, purple and pink flowers that stood in sharp contrast to the months of brown down in Phoenix.  #12 came and went in a blur of numbness and willpower - I was feeling superstitious of disaster and reflection.

I paused briefly before #13 to get one last review of my body and gear, just in case an unforeseen disaster might ruin my night.  I felt very very tired on each of the final climbs, but by now the necessary gears and cautions for each part of the course were rote.  1 mile from the end I got passed by friend and single-speed winner Fixedgeardan and had a few good words with him. I hadn’t really talked to anyone much all night on the course, and hardly any conversation even with my friends during the breaks.  It was nothing special, but for some reason having a little camaraderie with another rider pushing himself just as hard to end the race helped me celebrate the finish.  That and winning a giant tub of HEED during the post-race raffle were my only exaltations.  The rest was solitary and nocturnal, a personal challenge against my own expectations.  I passed.

I cruised up the street to Rage again after work, for my second go on the pump track.  I sure suck compared to the guys in the vid, but still saw some improvements over last week.  What a fun time, with a great group of laid-back and supportive people! The course takes about 10 seconds a lap, but seems longer since you are working and focusing every moment, and brushing right up against (and sometimes, into) the walls.  I resisted pump-tracking for a while, not that it wouldn’t be fun, but i figured it would not be a workout. I simply don’t have the time to be on the bike away from the family and not burn calories.  I could not have been more wrong!  Its not the same workout as pedaling, but you aggressively utilize your whole body to propel the bike via body english and momentum. After 4 or 5 laps i feel an intense anaerobic burn as my arms and hips and calves start to shake.  The crossover skills pay immediate dividends on the mtb. Can’t wait to go again, can’t wait to carve a turn and shoot out of it faster than i entered, can’t wait to to manual jumps one after another and clear a tabletop.

finally put it all together.  Up the 98th St. wash, into the Preserve, Gateway Loop to Paradise to Natural Wash to Taliesen to Westworld, no-name paths along the canal to the Res to Camelback Walk to coyote roads to Westworld, a diversion up to Taliesen, to the unnamed trails along Bell, up to 104th and done.  33 miles, a surprising 2700 vf, 3.25 hrs.

I rode the the first half with my roadie neighbor, and was stoked to find we are very compatible on that type of terrain. Good guy, with a 2 yr old girl who hopefully will hit it off with Alana soon, and wife who is a runner\rider that we’re eager to meet once she rebounds from preggers.

just before crossing the canal

interesting landscaping in a yard near the equestrian park

The path along the res was full of small jumps and skinnies, which kept it fun for flat straight and sandy.  The route had quite a few urban challenges if you kept your eyes open, including a 50 yard wall ride where you first enter the Preserve near DC Ranch.

i hit this big with lots of speed, after eyeing it impotently for months on the cx bike

a more interesting way to get from 92nd to 96th Street, which avoided trespassing. Two baby coyotes jumped in front of me just when i jumped into the wash.  A sign of successful navigation.  The no-name path eastward to Taliesen West had lots of berms, wash drops and long low tunnels to roll through hunched over the handlebars.

i showed my appreciation for fine architecture by soaking my headband in Mr. Wright’s fountain, then wadding up exiting a 3ft wall ride near His front gate. Howard Roark would have shunned my lack of commitment.

3 brand new rides, in the dead of Summer.  Whodathunkit?

thursday night i joined Yuri for a roll in the PMP.  He picked out a route that i had never done, i could not recreate it if I tried. notables were the Wash Trail, Fenceline and 220.  There was just enough gnar to keep it tough along with fast, and we dropped a cool wiggling staircase in the neighborhood on the way home.  I had a bad exit on Fenceline, thinking the Hei Hei could swallow chunk like the Heckler - it wasn’t the suspension, but the head angle. Finger got a little owie, but not real bad owie, but definitely owie enough. 3 days later and I’m just beginning to bend it.

Yuri aptly noted that i have a game face.

This is not the first time i’ve seen my O-face.

so now i must concentrate on smiling when someone is taking a photo, which will likely distract me, make me nervous, make me crash, and end up in the hospital. thanks Yuri!

Friday we were gonna get out of work early, so i figured combine a workout, a casual ride home, and a trip to the pool with The Monsters.  A few pics of some of the scenic parts of my ride to work.

Camelback Walk multi-use trail

crossing under the 101

I left work a 2. it was 112 out.

I tried the Scottsdale Greenbelt all the way north, figuring the grass and water would keep me cool.

I spec’d out a beer stop at 90th and Via Linda - The Tavern - where i could catch some AC and a Moose Drool. A couple cute Scottsdale ladies were day-drinking when i rolled in, flirted and bs’d with me, and sat down 2 seats away at the bar. Then a 6′2″ tranny walked in and sat right between us (not that there is anything wrong with that).  All i saw was shoulders, huge fake cantaloupes, and adam’s apple.

Friday night I replaced both tubeless tires on the Hei Hei.  This explains some of the wonkiness in front.

Saturday morning i met Yuri, his bud Devon, and Doug for a west siiiiiide Somo ride on some more trails I’d never tried. 35 painful, unrelenting minutes up Ranger trail put us on the ridge atop National. The morning breeze blew us dry, then we dropped 620 towards the south.  It was switchback heaven, comparable to Tom’s Thumb. We felt the summer at the bottom, were rocked by the din of cicadas, and slogged our way west around the mountain on Gila, then back east to the cars on San Juan road - the mind was willing, but 2 prior rides in 36 hours deemed the flesh unfit to tackle Bajada.

I stopped at Pro’s Ranch Market on the way home.  There is a dearth of good, affordable vegetables in Scottsdale - apparently everyone thinks we want either hella expensive organic veggies, or hella expensive rabbi-blessed veggies.  I just want a lot; i’m not a vegetarian, but i play one on TV.  The place kicked ass!!!!

Gobs of afforadable fruit and veggies, mexican music, and a bunch of stuff i’d never tried or rarely find in the caucasian supermarkets - brown sugar candy cones, red chili chips, pork chorizo, plantains, and carne adovada.  Dinner on the 4th is gonna crush!!!

I spent all of last weekend working on the house, and had only this to show for it.

and this too

i was in a rut, burning out from the house and the heat.  time for a change of latitude.  My first bike road trip since…*opening vault* *fanning cobwebs**blowing dust*…Sedona in November!

Maad, Helimech, Pwrtrainer and I set to meet for a climb in the pines.  James and I using this as a trainer for the Crazy 88, coming up fast in August.  We would climb much of the 88 route backwards, and generally hurt myself with the big bike at altitude.  The payoff was a new-to-us techy jump run halfway up to Snowbowl called Flying Fish. and then a loop up Little Gnarly to Jedi to make the traverse home worthwhile.

3 hrs sleep and i was in the car at 5:30 for FIP at 8.

a little snow still hiding out in the Inner Basin

We climbed for 2 solid hrs and 10 miles. The roll up Schultz and Onceler was pleasant, Mike and I talking about toddlers and the plagues they carry. The traverse along the Pipeline was the same shitbag crap as every trail I’ve ever done with a name like Pipeline or Gasline or Phoneline — its like Chris Rock’s bit about Martin Luther King Jr. Blvd.  only 20 minutes, to all of our surprise, shitbag crap feels longer. Then we slogged up lower Flying Fish to Gimpy’s Gulley, where the steep baby-headed slogging began in earnest.

the climb tops out in the deep single strack on Viet Springs and Mace’s Revenge, almost as much fun going up north as they are coming down south.  The powder on the trail got thick and after 1.5 hrs climbing things got slow, but the pain largely dissipated amidst the thrill of tight rooty rocky challenges through the aspen and pine, a continent away from 109 and sand and cactus.

Pwrtrainer shooting a dusty slot

James: I’m not feeling this
Me: Its easier than it looks, the powder slows you down
James:umm..ok
James: shit i bent my saddle rail

blowdown was still thick, the season just starting in Flagstafrica

Helimech

full-scale revolt was almost upon us, no one expected the climb to be quite so substantive.  Flying Fish came just in time. it was a playground full of booters, bermed turns, some skinnies and gaps. It all got easier with a little sessioning - James and i made sure it counted, having worked so hard to get up here.

i discovered something about boosting ramp-ups…like bunny-hopping out of it to get the bike back under you, and then you’re dropping to flat. i have no idea if this is right, but after one goofy endo that bent the cage of my *front* deraileur hanger (and James was too distracted to film), the light went on.  great smooth air ensued.

the downside to FF is its short, and in retrospect not worth the ante - next time we’re gonna park a car at Aspen corner and ride it 2x with loops through Viet Springs and Mace’s.

Mike and Mike left after Flying Fish to jet home down Snowbowl Road. James and I headed back down the 88 route. Gimpy’s on the Heckler is supersilkysmooth and almost worth the climb up. then we traversed back across the mountain on Friedlien Prairie Road to Secret, the climb was long and painful after the climbing muscles got cold again and the altitude took its toll.  we briefly thought about turning down Supermoto for 30 minutes of flowy techy ear-to-ear grinning,  but stuck with the plan - making it a genuine big effort, big hit day. 30 minutes of Secret up-down-traversing to a steep grunt up Little Gnarly to the sublime trials of Jedi to the luge down Shultz.

Secret Trail

Dry Lake Hills was not so dry. they were real, and they were spectacular

with about 5000 vf under us and only about 200 to go, we took Jedi slow and played a long time on all its trials, which added another couple hundred vf. Many ego photos were taken but i mostly resisted the urge to make this “Cholla & Maad Make a Bike Porno“.  the pics weren’t all that, but both of us got a notch better on that run. i’m half a pedal stroke from getting the last trial on that trail.

Chance of showers was forecast, and i packed my shower cap and slicker jic, but it was sunny and 60 from our launch at 8:20 til we wrapped up 6 hrs later. I drove home under a raincloud for about 8 minutes, which rinsed most of the dust off my bike. Schultz Creek was running and with nothing to save it for, i blasted through every crossing and got myself as wet as possible. my shoes were still cold arriving back in the Valley that evening.

every biker wants something new. new trail, new route, new trial, new jump, new time of day, new tires. the freshness makes any ride good, blowing into your ride vibe and post ride vibe a mental mint to go with the physical thrill. The cool charge is the only thing left of the ride to float to the top of my brain after a few days and a few more rides and the hum of the wheels and the seasickness in my legs if i’m not spinning.

i almost killed James last weekend, otherwise the ride kicked ass! My first southern double, Sunrise to Bell.  my strongest climb ever up Sunrise, dabbing only twice.  The backside has supposedly been sanitized but with the heat driving away the hikers it seemed more ragged then ever, with drops punctuating the dust on crust.  James started to fatigue, ending in heat exhaustion. Why? neither of us knew.  just a bad day, but a tidy 3.5 hours of climbing and committing to the long way home.

to start our ride we took Westworld up Taliesen, adding pieces to the route for:

The Fast and the Spurious

this little project has been coming together for a couple weeks.  the night before, Kila and i followed a line from Google Earth onto an unmaintained City of Scottsdale path, and dropped into the Gateway area. i’ve heretofore ridden exactly 1 way through here and that’s to Windgate…the rest has been some miserable grouping of dull-ass trails in the way of the real challenge. The only one i know is Levee - cause its an ugly straight scratch covered in rocks that is the most convenient and hapless waste of gravity leading right back to my new microminiMcMansion    i’ve gotten lost several times in this miserable grouping of dull-ass trails, since its all whitenoise and looks the same.  But tonight i committed it to memory.

Little good it did me a week later when i launched out to put together the top part of the F&S figure-8 loop.  I got the blue stretch on the bottom a few days earlier on the way home from work.  Even on the CX bike it was much easier than this segment,which looked at night nothing like it did on the map.  I went up, I went down, forward and back, tracked and consulted and studied,  i crossed and recrossed under Thompson Peak Parkway, getting only the top part of the top loop but memorizing every spur in the process.  Alana could have done my GPS track.

its not hard to get lost without really being lost, and sometimes being found is just one tiny point that re-establishes the pattern, 1 turn at the bottom of a downhill you flew by the first time. my last ride on National was hot and sloshy and sloppy, but on the ride home i boosted a rock over a wheel grabber that has nagged me since i first rode National 10 years ago - it points the wrong way about 2.5 feet from another one that points the wrong way, next to a sandy wash with a boulder on its other side, a bit below the Waterfall.  I first saw this jump done by my friend Landon 2 yrs ago, and thought about it every time since, until i finally just committed, and it washed away every other failure on the ride, and on the subsequent rides, and maybe the rides before it. Clicking in rhythm to the sound of my rear hub. It was The Get, the one to hang your hat on, the New that makes it all electric and alive and in love again.

5 is a lot of dogs, and i got a little sketched when more identical yellowdog heads kept appearing and i was only climbing about 5mph. I stood up on the cranks and growled at them til they left me alone.  i forgot about them on the way down until i was going 25 and they ran in front of me. be sure you have the sound turned up.

this make me laugh at all the crybabies complaining about minor dog issues on the trail, afraid of their own shadows and expecting the entire world to accommodate completely.