Uhhhhhh......Really?

From my house near Ball Lane I can be climbing on single track in exactly 3 minutes. Techy, twisty, fun single track that climbs up to Raider's Ridge or Powerline, then to the top of Telegraph, Cowboy, South Rim, Big Canyon, Sale Barn, back to Horse Gulch to Powerline and descend to Ball Lane and I am at my front door again.

Tuesday evening, I grabbed the Minifly 100, left so graciously behind by Les for me to ride over the next few weeks while mine awaits a rebuild upon the arrival of box of expensive parts in the mail, and rode this trail system until after dark. I thought of really nothing but riding in and getting to Canmore and 24 Hour Worlds. My legs had all kinds of climbing in them as they were fresh, strong and quick. I flew effortlessly to the top of Telegraph, tore downhill like I was being chased and found myself praying the sun would get stuck just above the horizon, time would stop and the lingering glow of the Durango sunset would give me a few more hours with my pedal-induced thoughts.

My thoughts ranged from trip planning to race strategy, to ideas for an upcoming fundraiser proposed by Carver's Brewery which was looking like a local group ride on a September Sunday and then beer on the patio with partial proceeds to help offset trip expenses. Wow. I really do work for and with amazing and supportive people. As everyone who plays this bike racer game knows, a thriving money tree in the backyard would sure make many things easier and more races possible. I chose not to race any of the paid entry races this year except for two and focused on the dirt bag bikepacker thing (which is so me anyway)  in order to work, save and train for Worlds. I poured beer and packed plates full of food to tourists, sometimes for 16 hours a day, all summer.

Save every dime... Save. Save.....and save more.

The fundraiser offer was a huge boost and I was excited at the fact I could return to Durango and be ok, not starving like when I came back from Arizona this spring.....

And then I got the text when I turned on my phone after I got back from riding.

WHAT? 24 Hour Worlds are cancelled? Seriously? Why? What?

I read the letter posted on the website. Words like "not economically or administratively feasible" "cannot do without proper funding" and "lack of sponsorship support" made my stomach tighten and my heart drop to my toes. My initial reaction was complete disbelief. Really? Now what? The first thing that came to mind was a CTR ITT in early September, then the Coconino 250 and then some CX racing....

For the last couple of days, the words in the letter have been swirling around in my mind. Frustration, sadness and general letdown are the emotions I have when I think that in one month from today I won't be racing around in circles in Canmore. But that's life and that's bike racing. Somedays when my legs and my body feel like complete and total shit, I wonder if I will ever be any good. Somedays when I watch people racing the races that cost an entire month's mortgage to enter, I have to force myself to ignore the intense longing in my heart to be out there so I don't break into tears in front of everyone. Somedays I wonder how the hell I am going to afford the sweet little hardtail I dream of buying...... But everyday I come back to the fact that I am doing something---pursuing a dream---that is far from "economically or administratively feasible" is not "properly funded" and is severely "lacking sponsorship support."

But I find a way. Because I want it. The setbacks, the mechanicals, the mistakes, the cancellations just fuel the fire to push on, live hard, go big, cherish the moment and embrace the challenges.

And, as always. do what I know so well:

All Things Broken: CTR FAIL

Dear Jill,

Don't change things the day before a race. Maintain your drivetrain properly.  Take note or one day it will come back and bite you in the ass....

Sincerely,

Knowledge and Experience

I didn't make it much past the pre-race powwow for the Colorado Trail Race this year. Instead I found myself fighting chain suck, a skipping chain and the resulting inability to climb even before mile six. So there are no stories from the trail, no forum posts about my swollen feet and soaring spirit, no pictures at Junction Creek on Saturday morning.

So maybe my temporary blog title is now "All Things Broken." Things like my bike which is awaiting a completely new Shimano drivetrain. Things like my heart which will have to wait another year to accomplish its goal. No ITT at the end of the month. Life, work, logic and logistics are pointing me north. North next month to the Canadian Rockies instead.

But bikes can be fixed and hearts mend.

My heart is vibrant, young, strong, hopeful, alive and passionate. It dreams big and goes bigger--in life and on a bike--and fears little. Inevitably it breaks. And fails. And falls. And screws up.

But each time it learns. And grows. And, like a broken bone after healing, becomes stronger.

And wiser.

How Bad Do You Want It?

I debated for a few days on whether to post my gear list for the CTR this year. I am going light--uberlight--this year. I didn't go buy a bunch of expensive stuff, just a killer new raincoat I found on sale. In fact, there are some notable things that are staying home this year--my shitshow red Sea Line dry bag stays and so does my Montbell sleeping bag. My trusty old 2010 Superfly 100 gets the nod eventhough it  is on its third frame, original drivetrain and has gone far more miles than I drove a car this year. I will post more after the race because I really just want to ride my bike right now far more than I want to talk about riding my bike.


This year CTR is about one thing for me--breaking the women's record. The current record is highly respectable and set by one tough lady. We all just watched her crush the Tour Divide record. She is faster, way more experienced, better coached and most likely tougher than I am. I have never met her and I don't know her personally, but from reading her blog, I can closely identify with her writing and give her my utmost respect.


So I am throwing my guts on the line and going big. I am not giving any thought or energy to failing. I believe in only a few things in life with everything I have and this is one of them. Sure something huge could go wrong, break, etc. And to use a worn out cliche--that's life--the uncontrollable variable.


But the tired legs, the tired mind, the pounding hail, awesome lightning storms, the mud, the rocks, the hungry stomach, the grinding dirt road miles or the next hill to climb--those represent my weaknesses and are what I am out there to overcome. 


Next year, I am going to tour the Colorado Trail from south to north. Yeah, like a real tour where you ride during the daylight hours and then set up camp and build a fire and sleep all night and eat hot food. And have time to gaze into and savor the views of the mountains that own my heart and soul.


But this year you won't see any pictures of my bike at every sign post or see me lingering at laudramats in Buena Vista waiting out the black clouds. It's not going to be a comfortable 5 days and 3 hours.


But as I lie in my bed drifting off to sleep, I constantly remind myself that not one mile or one thing on the Colorado Trail holds a candle (sorry, I am just full of old, overused cliches tonight) to the miles I overcame on the Arizona Trail between Payson and the Mogollon Rim. And I think of the lyrics to a song I heard at a concert last Saturday in Denver that brought tears to my eyes (which I successfully hid) in the middle of thousands of screaming people:


Are you hungry?
Are you thirsty?
Is it a fire that burns you up inside?
How bad do you want it?
How bad do you need it?
Are you eating, sleeping, dreaming
With that one thing on your mind?
How bad do you want it?
How bad do you need it?
Cause if you want it all
You've got to lay it all out on the line




 And so I fight off the demons of insecurity again.


And I believe. 


I just fucking believe. 

Skinny tires took me here last Saturday....

Thoughts From the Bottom of the Demotivation Hole

Rain in Colorado.


 At last.

This was my 4th of July celebration near Westcliffe, CO. Traditional fireworks were replaced by precious rain and a trip to 14000 feet. Crestone Peak was checked off the summit list and later in the day we bailed off the Needle as quickly as possible when Mother Nature pulled out her big guns about halfway up the east gully. Lightning, spine-tingling thunder and hail around 4 pm ended a long, but gorgeous hike in the Sangre de Cristos.

Getting a later than desired start, Les and I left South Colony TH at 8:20am. We summited Crestone Peak at 12:30. The approach is longer now that the road to the old South Colony TH was closed in 2009. Broken Hand Pass is a long slog up, but the reward is Cottonwood Lake and some fun Class 3 climbing up Crestone's red gully.

Peak summit looking at Kit Carson and Challenger with fond memories

At the top of the red gully

The Peak was my ninth summit in the last thirty days. For the first time in the two years since I started mountain biking, I have been taking some non-pedal time. About mid-May, just after 12 Hours in the Wild West, the Superfly 100 finally got some rest. His overzealous jockey spent most of the month of June shackled at work for 12-16 hours a day and seriously deprived of precious sleep. Serving beer to tourists all day and night becomes utterly exhausting after (I lost count of how many) days in a row. As a result, my motivation to ride has been pretty low. So low, in fact, I did not even start the Durango Dirty Century last Saturday, but chose to sleep for almost 14 hours instead.

Thus, big mountains are my refuge, my sanctuary. my corner of the planet where life makes sense, no Texans ask me if  "y'all serve shiner-bock" and I do not lose the "now" to technology. Usually I prefer to pedal to this place, but for the last month, my hiking muscles have been called upon a bit more frequently. 

Starting with Little Bear the day after my birthday, I have tagged Ellingwood, Blanca, Eolus, Wilson Peak and Crestone Peak and repeated Sunlight, Windom and North Eolus. All but Wilson involved nights in my sleeping bag before and after. Sleep is easy, deep and rejuvenating between two layers of down above 10,000 feet and my mind and body thrive. I found and drank from the fountain of youth many times:

Do not try this at home. You do not see me drinking unfiltered glacier melt at 12K'...it is only your mind playing tricks on you. 

I did lots of yoga above 14000 ft:

. 

I made new friends:

Climbed with old friends:

Laughed with old friends:

Ascended thousands of feet:

And descended thousands of feet:

Stared into the perfect Colorado sky a lot:

Laughed:

Celebrated:

Built fires:

Ate snow cones:

Slept in the middle of dirt roads:

Helped old friends whose legs aren't as young as they used to be:

Got caught in a blizzard of goats:

Hey goat!

SLEPT some more:

Averted the campfire ban at the time and still had marshmallows for breakfast:

Rode trains:

Stayed in luxurious hotels:

Ok. Enough with the pictures. Well, one more:

HAHA!! I was called: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lara_Croft.
Sans really cool weapons...

In my non-pedal time, I began to find my desire to pedal big miles again. These summits refreshed my mind, body and soul. I shared them with friends and every second I was out there I existed in the "now", the moment, the present. 

What if I strove to live like this all the time--savoring conversations, events or just everyday life as something meaningful? Why do I always have to run or pedal to the mountains to feel present? Could I increase the quality of my relationships, my efficiency in accomplishing my goals and my motivation by being more engaging and aware? By actually, really, truly listening to others when they speak? By living life and not feeling the need to constantly be connected, distracted or productive?

Could I reduce this?

Notice how the background is blurred and the person is isolated as life continues and moments are lost to a phone.....Hmmmmmm, pretty symbolic to me.

Can I stop doing this everyday? 

Stop needlessly documenting my life? Stop letting it suck my time away? 

I quit for 30 days after I found myself logging onto Facebook for absolutely no reason but boredom.. (Disclaimer: Facebook is not all evil. I fully agree that it is a great tool when used appropriately, thus, not the point I am trying to make)

What did I find after 30 days? I logged back on and saw the same people saying the same things, posting the same pictures. Being FB-free wasn't hard at all. Sure, I wondered what people were up to and missed some pictures here and there. But it really helped me see the extent that technology is robbing society of the now.....Isolating us as we let more and more of life happen while we are updating our status and uploading a thousand pictures of our bike (ha, so guilty!). It is lessening interpersonal relationship and communication quality. When did it become mandatory to be constantly connected? (not talking about work requirements here) Or if there is no 3G or 4G or whatever why do we feel we need to update our status to reflect this? 

Can't see it or don't believe me? Hide someone's iphone from them and observe what happens....

Just my two cents as it applies to my climb out of the demotivation hole.

. 

Return to Innocence

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d5WMQZNOfqM

"There is an intense but simple thrill in setting off in the morning on a mountain trail, knowing that everything you need is on your back. It is a confidence in having left the inessentials behind and of entering a world of natural beauty that has not been violated, where money has no value, and possessions are a dead weight. The person with the fewest possessions is the freest."


Thoreau was right.

24 Hours in the Enchanted Forest: 2012 Race Report

Unlike last year's 24HITEF, I did not ride well in the Zuni mountains of New Mexico for this year's edition. I showed up tired and rode that way. I had no legs and was highly sleep deprived from 77 hours of work in the 7 days prior. I would love to say the previous sentence is a joke but sadly, its very accurate. Two jobs have been robbing far too much of my training and sleep time since mid-May. Money is a necessary tool in this little bike racing game I have chosen to play and I have a lot of catching back up to do after all my training for, traveling to and racing the Arizona Trail. One day of work in the entire month of April left me with not much more than a 20-spot in my pocket upon returning to Durango. Hence the ultra-marathon work schedule...


So I really shouldn't have been surprised when I just didn't feel like myself at all on the Saturday morning before the start. I felt a bit demotivated due to lack of sleep and every movement felt like a giant effort. Yet I expected to hop on the bike and pedal my my way to a top podium spot. Too bad it doesn't work that way....


Thus,  here is my account of a lackluster 3rd place coed duo finish:


Les, Kevin and I rolled into Gallup at 2AM on Saturday morning due to all of our work schedules preventing a Friday arrival. We checked in when the sun came up, unloaded bikes and gear and set up camp next to Tim Lutz,  (Les's current) and my former Trek teammate. 

Camp Superfly 100

Chillin with the camp mascot, Wheels

Prerace Les

Prerace Kevin

Prerace Tim (Men's 1st Place Solo--YAY!!!)

I ignored my exhaustion as I was waiting for the race start and Les to complete the first lap of our coed duo effort....

A new staging area and race start for this year...

I was excited for 24 hours of hard racing against two very competitive coed duo teams--Karen and Allen Rischel of Stan's No Tubes and Nick and Tracy Thelen from Ascent Cycling--but I harbored a great deal of uncertainty and self-doubt stemming from 1) my exhaustion and 2) the way I felt on my bike--sluggish and weak. Not just physically, but mentally as well. 


Simpy put: my internal fire wasn't burning hot because I had given it no fuel to burn. A fire without fuel just sputters and smokes. And looking at my lap times, that's all I did for 24 hours---sputter and smoke. I was trying to fan the flames with an outer appearance of pseudo-excitement that I had talked myself into and truly believed. I was genuinely happy to be racing and excited at the level of competition, but all the while there was a nagging voice in my head telling me to stop bullshitting myself--I was tired, underprepared for this race and weak on my bike. I felt like a joke beneath my kit and helmet. My inner confidence was in the toilet. 


Ugh. And all this before I even rode my first lap. 

Les waiting for the start...

And GO!

Les came in strong off his first lap and I took off out of our camp up the double track that lead to the beginning of the singletrack course. We were in fourth place when I left for my first lap. Our neighbors were a husband/wife team and she left a good ten minutes ahead of me. I was able to catch and pass her at about mile 5, but it was much harder work than it should have been. I fought all kinds of self-doubting demons on lap 1. And 2 and 3 and 4 and so on. Nothing felt right. The familiar leg burn refused to subside like it normally does. I began comparing this year to last. I fought the "What the F am I doing out here, I will never be any good" demons and I ran through the entire spectrum of emotions from frustration to elation (yes, the riding during mile 11-14 will temporarily bring any racer out of any low).


Lap 2 was even worse. My legs quit and I felt like I could crawl on my hands and knees faster than I was riding. A guy from the second place male duo team sucked my wheel for about 6 or 7 miles and was actually quite the entertaining conversationalist, so it made the SUCK go by faster. He passed me on the downhill and assured me my pace was impressive. Um, yeah right....


The last mile of Lap 2 felt like an eternity and I rolled into camp with minor cramping and major fatigue. And this was only Lap 2? Sweet Jesus, it was going to be a long race.


Les took off on his third lap with a vengeance and I just sprawled out on the mattress in the back of the truck and didn't move for a good 20 minutes.  After an immature and emotional self-flogging session, I managed to eat some food, take off my shoes, helmet and jersey and just sat in the chair staring blankly into the trees. Les came in with his usual smile and said he would be happy to ride another lap after I asked him.


Wow. I think I may have hit my all time mental low in mountain bike racing at that moment. I really just asked someone to ride a lap for me? I laid back on the mattress again as he took off and knew I had about an hour and a half to stop beating myself up, crush the demons of self-doubt and fatigue, HTFU a bunch,,,,but mostly just ride my bike!!


I put 2600 lumens on my helmet and handlebars (Thanks, Trek Store boys!!!!) and was ready as Les came in. I stuck my ipod in my ears and got lost in music and singletrack. I owed Les 32 miles (2 laps), the coolness of the night was approaching and I found a touch of renewed energy and motivation.


We continued to ride double laps throughout the night and I felt better in the saddle but not great by any means. Just as the sun was starting to come up on Sunday morning, I was puttering along about mile 8 when I saw a flash of light and knew there was a racer behind me who wanted to pass. I veered off the trail slightly to the right and was overtaken by a red NoTubes kit.


Shit.


 It was Karen.


I grabbed a couple of gears, awoke from my slow trance of pedaling and stayed on her up the climbs and down the small hills. Figuring I was probably getting quite annoying on her wheel for the last couple miles, I passed her about a mile or so before the big downhill. She stayed right on me  and I couldn't help but chuckle at the scenario that was unfolding for the second year in a row. We tore downhill and I could hear her behind me for most of the way. I led all the way to mile 14 which dumped us out on about 1/8 of a mile of gravel two track. I couldn't hear her behind me so I slowed way up and she went around. I kind of wanted to see what she had left, so I jumped on her back wheel and let her pull me for about a mile. Surprisingly, it was hardly an effort to stay on her and I almost bumped her tire a couple times. A fast guy came up and went around both of us and I saw my opportunity to go, so I passed her and took off. The next time I saw her, she passed our camp after I had been done for about 5-7 minutes.


The scene was a bit different from last year, but read this excerpt from my 2011 24HITEF race report:

"I was able to catch two of the women to put us into second after my first lap. We steadily gained time over the team in third place and chased the Stan’s No Tubes team all night long. I remember hoping that each person I came up upon in the dark was wearing the white No Tubes jersey, because we were so close. On my 5^th or 6^th lap at about mile 10, I finally saw Karen. She had about 7 or 8 minutes on me at the beginning of the lap, but was on her second lap in a row. I stood in camp, watching her head out, waiting for Erick to finish his lap and I knew this would be my only chance to take the lead. Once I finally caught her, it was a race. One of those moments I crave. And, one of those moments in which I grew as a cyclist. It was dark and we were on the loose, rocky downhill. Just ride, Jill, don’t think, don’t analyze, get off the brakes, lean back, push the comfort edge, come fully alive, stay with the bike….GO!

We both missed a weird turn in the dark and were seconds apart for a couple miles. I found another gear or two and managed to pull away in the last three miles and finish a couple minutes ahead, but was very impressed with her strength after pulling double laps."


It a nutshell, it was basically a repeat of last year. Racing head to head with someone I really respect served as the highpoint in an otherwise unimpressive race for me. I found my fire again for a while and was able to fuel it on demand. It temporarily gave me some confidence back--genuine confidence and faith in myself that I couldn't seem to muster up at any point prior in the race.

The last lap complete...

We ended up 3rd as mentioned earlier:

But the look on my face sums up how I felt the whole time:

I felt like an alien on the podium just like I had on my bike during the race. Les was an absolute rock throughout, however. The fact that his years of racing experience equal the number of years I have been alive showed in his race. He was consistent, positive, encouraging and fun no matter what happened. He always rolled in with a smile and helpful words. One helluva person, racer and partner you are, Les Handy! Thank you for everything.


I also have a deep respect for Karen Rischel.. She has always been very encouraging and positive and eager to talk to a nobody like myself. There is no smug arrogance or standoffishness in her. She is a very friendly, kind and real person that I looking forward to racing with next season. I feel I can learn a great deal from her and thrive with those of similar ambitions.


So.......Bottom line, moral of the story, lesson learned:


Believe despite the fatigue and pain.Despite the work schedule. Despite any stupid excuse.


Believe. 


Believe in who you are and what you are doing. 


No matter what.


I let the worms of self-doubt permeate my thoughts and began to question myself  on nearly every mile. My mental toughness was all jacked up, my physical performance was embarrassing and I really didn't have that much fun on my bike.


Everyone from the newbies to the washed up has-beens of this sport know exactly what I am saying. Why? Because were are all human. In one form or another we all have struggled with this in our own way. If you cannot relate, then I maintain you are a robot being programmed from a remote location.


Sef-doubt was completely absent (not joking one bit) on the AZT 750 because I chose at every tough moment to just believe, dammit. But, for some reason, I chose to let it come with me to 24 HITEF this year.  


And.....ultimately, it destroyed me


In some very tricky, wormlike ways.....

It's Been A While....

I have been intentionally off the radar for a while. I quit TimeSuck Book for 30 days a little over a week ago. I cannot deny there are many good things it brings and many doors it has opened but I am just completely bored with it. So why was I still logging in on a daily basis and wasting time? A habit? Hmmmmmm.....not sure.

I also found myself increasingly disturbed by the observation that society now feels the need to document their lives on a daily (if not hourly) basis. And I began thinking about how I was slowly falling into that trend, so I had my roommate change my password to something I do not know to give me a reminder what life was like without Facebook.

The next day, I saw this in a weekly publication here in Durango:

"This Week's Sign of the Apocalypse: The latest affliction to hit medical journals and the shrink's couch: Facebook Addiction, complete with symptoms of high tolerance and withdrawal..."

Ha! Priceless.

Honestly, I guess the only thing I really miss is the ability to steal pictures for this blog. I have been spending some time at 14K' lately and my list of 14ers left to summit has dwindled to 12. Trip reports and pictures on the way as well as AZT and CTR thoughts that I have finally began to organize and analyze. The work shackles have been tight on my wrists for the last month, but I do have a lot to say (and now more time that isn't being wasted) so I will return to my incessant rambling after racing this weekend near Gallup, NM at 24 Hours in the Enchanted Forest....

Picture taken at 24HITEF 2011: I really do miss my old frame....