WTF? Seriously, what the fucking fuck?   3 times I’ve done this race, over 5 years, 2 bikes, 2 kids, 2 houses, 2 jobs…and i still get the same fucking time of 5:04?!?!?!

2006 was a baseline.

2007 was the same time, but a longer course.   fine, i was ok with that.

2010 I climbed nearly everything, shredded the DHs and had lycra-wearing XC weenies jumping off trail at my approach, and I got passed on everything, absolutely everything else.   Because I’m a fat sack of crap.

I’ve got legitimate reasons.   The baby, the move. But numbers don’t lie.   Which is why i like them, you can’t hide from them. I’m not raking myself over the coals, but the negative reinforcement is oddly soothing. An athlete needs challenges, and i don’t want to ever stop thinking of myself as an athlete.   Remaining strong is a good challenge, and fortunately everything in the McDs requires blunt force climbing. Riding G on the 2-bike or the girls in the trailer is work.   I’m happy that i could rely on my gristle for the uphills, and that there is still improvement to be enjoyed rockin the descents.   That’s my story and i’m sticking to it.

Once again up at 4, and once again thanks to Cat for all she does for epicrides.com, and for being out there in the morning. I enjoyed the first of many trips to the port-o-let, which over the course of a long day living out of your car makes it an optimal place to wash, change, smoke, and nap.   I opted for warmers, base layer, and toasty socks. The forecast was 45 at race time…maybe so, but with still air and sunshine and an hour climb to start, it felt warmer.

there was some of this and that – Bob, me, Doug & Eric

From nearly the first moment, I was hurting, much like the Squealer a few weeks ago. Which was good,   i was ready to pain-manage for about the next 5 hrs and confident I could interpret the signals my body was sending. It sucked, cause I knew I’d be hurting for the next 5 hrs. The bitch about races is that to do well, no matter your goal, you push yourself right up until you are hurting the whole time. As I hit the short climb around mile 2 down into Skull Valley, i seriously wondered why the fuck I was doing this to myself, and only knowing I was gonna hang around til 5:30 when the Peacemakers took the stage kept me from turning back.

The pack pulled away instantly, and seemed to go on forever, which based on past years attendance made me pretty sure i was last.   An interesting analysis: in 2006, my 05:03:02.87 put me 40 out of 108.   In ’07 my 05:03:59.04 put me 45 out of 113.   yesterday, my 05:04:23.26 put me 126 out of 202.   The uphills were long, and by long i mean i rode em all and i was slow.   The first road climb was a , the following 30 min of singletrack i couldn’t help but notice i got everything but for the pile-ups in front of me.   I know i pushed in 07, and i kept riding on all the way til the big descent around mile 10, thinking i was way stronger but wondering why i passed no one climbing?   That changed on the descent.   Not a lot of people wooooooohooooooooooooo! during races, but i caught so much air and it pushed me so fast into the tacky trails with snow lingering in some of the shady corners.   Conditions slayed inhibitions.   I didn’t have time to look at the gps, but knew i was smoking.   Nobody passed me on a descent all day, but every single person i slid by in a corner at 20mph sailed right by me on the climb up to the Skull Valley split.   I’m a fat sack of crap.

I’m not going to get into any details about Skull Valley.   I got some heed, a banana, took a crap, and put on my music in 4 very efficient minutes at the bottom aid station.   Then I slid into my pain cave and stayed there for the next 1:15 til the top.   I rode everything but for 1 minute at mile 9 where i needed to stretch out, and had the gps off but for a peek roughly every 12 minutes.   I saw my buddy LiteAndFast Dave, but was so deep in the pain cave i pretty well blew him off — there are no friends in the pain cave. In much the same brutish manner i reached the top, and then more blissful descents where it was now a matter of vengeance to pick off anyone who looked fit.

Great lunch with Bob, Doug, Eric and their posses, then i took a nap right about here

i walked down to Raven Cafe to pick up a couple togo micros – perennial favorite Anderson Valley Oatmeal Stout, and Dogfish Head Raison d’Etre. The Peacemakers were halfway through Mexico when i walked back up the street.   What a great show they put on, connecting with the crowd, working together, going with the flow of the day.

Roger sharing some tequilla before Mekong.   Appropriate, my reflection on this slow but satisfying day best summed up as “here’s to life.”

On Thursday, Yuri picked me up from the office, en route to start an urban ride from his house in Central Phoenix.   It was like The Amazing Race – get dropped miles away in a part of the city I did not know, and try to make it home alive.   We had a blast, good spinning and conversation, traversing large portions of the PEE route that came back to me in memory fragments triggered by notable features.   North and east and skirting parts of T100, ending with another tallboy beneath the underpass of the 51 and the 101. Yuri pointed me towards the east, the Reach 11 Trail,   and Scottsdale. Then we headed off separately into the night.

It should have been easy — a highway behind me, a canal to my right, and somewhere up ahead I looked for lights that may or may not have existed atop Thompson Peak.   But exploratory riding never is smooth, and i left my GPS at home, and there were all those tallboys.

“Well sir, we were going to this bingo parlor at the YMCA, well one thing led to another, and the instructions got all fouled up.” — Dewey Oxburger

definitely fouled up, about 15 miles worth of fouled up.   It was dark, i got confused by the twisty access roads, and there were all those tallboys.   When i found a marked intersection at Cave Creek and Deer Valley roads, I knew it was time to punt and follow the grid home, hardly any street traffic at 11pm.

thats ok i needed to train, though riding into work the next morning to pick up my car stung of dehydration.   At least there was maple walnut shmear and enough bagels to appease me.   The Whiskey 50 is this weekend, and I have done nothing for it beyond feeble attempts to stay on my bike while settling into the house.   I am not out of shape, but I am not in any kind of shape. I’m confident I will finish – how hard can 5 or so hours on the bike be?   I had the hundy a few weeks ago, The Squealer, some commutes, some gym time, and an upcoming Double Bypass up Tom’s Thumb and down Bell.   But first, Beckie’s desktop would die, requiring emergency transplants to try to preserve the best parts and the data.

Some people can take bike parts and cobble together a bike.   I can do that with computers, and was unfazed by the fried PSU and the MOBO.   But damaged sectors on Beckie’s system drive, and Winblows inability to recover had me up all night until finally caving.   I got 45 minutes of sleep before Zort and Yuri arrived for our 8am launch.

This was my second time up Tom’s Thumb, and while I’m still overwhelmed by it, its begun to make sense.   I dabbed maybe once or twice up Windgate to the junction, better than last time, and enjoyed the descent and entrance into the drainage that begins the 2 miles up Tom’s Thumb.   The first third was so steep and the switchbacks so tight I don’t think i got a single one, the second third I strung some switchbacks together, but by the final third I had lost my mojo wishing for the finish, and left a bunch of gettable switchbacks on the table.   I see attainable stepping stones en route to progress, and got some tips on mtbr for improving my tight turns.   Next try is in 2 weeks.

Yuri is somewhere below coming up the drainage

I reached the top in about the same 1.5 hrs as the last time.   I was dizzy, soaked and wheezing on pollen.   My skin was itchy, and streaked with yellow from the last gasps of spring in the desert.   The descent was more exciting than the last time in January, maybe cause i knew of all the puckering that was instore.   I got the hard moves, and dabbed only twice on easier moves where I simply let my concentration go. Next try is in 2 weeks.

The climb up Bell seemed downright easy after Tom’s Thumb, taking only about 20 minutes with 2 short hikeybikeys, and 1 good photo.

Back home I hung shelves, installed insulation, and took G and Kila for a ride on the 2-bike.   With Kila twisting me from the front, G twisting me from the back, no energy from the ride, and no balance due to the beer, i just said that’s ok i need to train.

The Squealer!   4th year in a row.   I was out of shape, and like every year, could not sleep the night before.   At least the lighter and faster Hei Hei would help me.   Bombing down the 2 big tech descents at 20 mph on the Heckler is nice, but that lasts about 12 minutes and gains you very little from going 16 on the leaner, lighter 29er.   Climbing at 7mph instead of 6 is huge when it takes 1.5 hrs.

G is proficient in the art of Stickers, and helped me burn in the first bike stand setup in the new house

From the first moment carrying the Hei Hei up to the start atop the Rigdgeline trail, I knew it was the right decision for speed.   I couldn’t help but notice last year how i kept getting passed on the hike-a-bikes – passed while walking!!!!! – with my giant 6inch travel brick.   This year I knew would be faster.

The guy behind me was named Helm Hanson, or something that similarly reeks of viking brutality.   From the gun all i thought was “Helm Hanson is coming to get me.   the wrathful Helm Hanson, the terrible Helm Hanson, the dread Helm Hanson“. I was on top of Widowmaker at barely 15 minutes, the Hei Hei so fast it pushed me too hard, and from the first few minutes the challenge would be to sustain this pace and keep up with the bike and not go anaerobic.   I did pretty good, if not being able to ride out of the wash the race ended in is indicative of leaving it all on the field.   I reached BV in 40 min (a PR) and Telegraph Pass in 1:02 (a PR).   It would have been faster, but a fellow rider endo’d 4 feet in front of me on the Catwalk on National.   I jumped off to avoid running him over, and congratulated him at the Awards Ceremony when he won for Bloodiest.   Bob   rolled up on me exiting at Telegraph, and i used him to pace me on the hike-a-bike.   Bob bolted out 2/3rds of the way up, but i noticed that i passed 1 person, and dropped all behind me. I no longer feared the dreaded Helm Hanson.

The next 40 minutes is mostly a blur, a countdown between the juice left in my legs vs the remaining steeps vs not wheezing for air on the loose, steep descents.   I could have done better if i was in better shape, but did pretty good nonetheless.   The steep-and-loose exit off West National is just not that bad anymore.   Its fun to go big, but its nice to go fast.   I checked in at 2:01 – a minute off my goal! I finished in about 2:35 my first Squealer 3 yrs ago, and 1:50 is a reasonable goal.   Bob hit 1:45, Doug 1:46, James a very respectable 2:40 after picking up a bike only a year ago.

a great lady named Bev makes these most excellent chocolate chip cookies that are as big as your fist.   I have known of her brilliance since last Squealer, again at the Crazy 88, and finally met her when James and Bob introduced me.   G and Alana say thanks for the cookie and another great Squealer.