CTR ITT 2012

I don't remember exactly what my bail out text to Les said from the junction of the West Jefferson Creek trail and the Colorado Trail, but when I close my eyes and relive the fifteen minutes I sat with my head in my hands before pushing 'send' I vividly see every letter of the last two words that ended the message:

Heartsick.

Hurting.

Heartsick and hurting as I watched precious time slip away limping up Georgia Pass. In my most convincing inner voice, I was trying to tell myself to keep pushing, the pain will subside, keep going, it will be nothing in a few minutes.

"Keep moving. Walk it off. This does not hurt!" I yelled to the trees.

My voice cracked, "C'mon, Jill. C'mon!"

I threw my bike down in frustration and fury because, deep down, I knew this was not a pain that I could embrace and ignore for 400 more miles. This was equivalent to the pain of someone hitting the ball of my left foot with a ball-ping hammer while my toes were flexed. About two and a half hours earlier (I think) on the descent from Kenosha, I stuffed my front tire between two rocks with a small root bisecting them. The bike stopped and, subsequently, I did not. I caught myself in midflight over the bars with my right knee and managed to unclip my left foot and slam my first metatarsal into the sharpest, hardest rock on the entire Colorado Trail. I have an uncanny, natural talent for finding such stones it seems. Pain instantly shot through my foot and a loud stream of unmentionable adjectives followed.

My first counterattack on severe pain is to ignore it, bounce back up and get moving again. Adrenaline is normally my ally, but this was excruciating. I could barely touch it and could count my heartrate as it throbbed. I hoisted myself up, grabbed my bike, untwisted the cables and slowly moved forward. I lowered my head in stubbornness, and with the first few steps, I knew this one was going to be a bitch to ignore. I gingerly clipped back in.

Aaaaaurgh!!! Nope. I unclipped and used my arch and heel to descend the rest of the way to a creek. I really wanted to cry but I was too pissed off so I took my shoe off and wrapped my foot from the top of my arch to my toes with Coflex (a staple of any trip I go on).

"Now GO, Hueckman!" I yelled to any tree above me who would listen.

I began pushing up the rooted, rocky switchbacks. Any weight on the ball of my left foot each time I pronated hurt like a mother.....But I had a record to break....Ignore.....Push....Just....Keep pushing.....Try some Skrillex, some Disturbed, some Rhianna. Keep going. Get to treeline and see how it feels.

Tears came to my eyes more than once when I tried to move faster than the crippled turtle's pace I was rocking. Then the garbage thoughts came into my head as I looked down and saw I had lost more time than I thought. Hello self-doubt, hello "what are you doing out here?", hello "it didn't work for you last time", hello "you have no shot at the record anymore"......hello "you are letting everyone who believes in you and has helped you down" ......UGH! STOP.

So I did. I had just broken treeline and I set my bike down by the trail and walked a couple yards away and took off my pack. The wind was picking up and I put my baselayer and light down coat on. I ate a few Swedish fish and drank about half of my full water bottle. The garbage thoughts were quiet for a moment and I logically contemplated my options:

1) Camp right here and see how my foot felt after a few hours of being elevated. (I don't do painkillers, NSAIDS, etc of any sort (ever) so this was the best medicine it was getting since the trailside ice machine was not in service today) Problem: I am gunning for the record and making up 11+ hours by the time I got going was not possible. This was based on the assumption that the magical foot fairies were going to come and make my foot "all better." Um.....yeah right.

2) Push on in severe pain and legitimately risk doing further damage. Problem: Slooooooow pace and the fact that I need a healthy foot. Darn details.

3) Call it and bail down West Jefferson Creek trail (which I knew was all downhill) and wait for Les to get my sorry carcass. Problem: Facing the reality that I was not going to own the women's record this year.

This reality is what brought my hands to my chinstrap. I unbuckled it, a bit shaky and chucked my helmet as far up the trail as I could. I lowered my head into my hands and closed my eyes. The disappointment, letdown and sadness I felt at this moment was too deep for anger, tears or really any emotion and I just sat in complete silence and numbness. I prayed for some comfort and then, like a zombie, stood up, put on my pack and began pushing my bike toward my helmet and the West Jefferson Creek intersection. This is really the only time I could not feel my foot. Honestly, I couldn't feel anything. My experience was akin to someone hitting the pause button on all temporal and spatial sensations as I slowly moved closer to the intersection. I robotically picked up my helmet when I passed it with no reaction and continued on. I knew I was done, but I still had a few dozen more steps to the border of this vast land of complete numbness.

Then the text. Then the technical singletrack descent and the dirt road ride to the Jefferson Market to be picked up by Les. I chose this way because it was much closer to Aurora than Frisco.

CTR ITT 2012:  Done. 17-somethingish hours. Didn't even make Georgia Pass. Unable to push through the pain of a completely unexpected crash. Welcome, Young Jedi, to bike racing. Some you win, some you lose. The unexpected can make you or break you.

MJ's words help me put it all in perspective over the last week of  licking my wounds and getting ready to jump back in the ring:

I’ve failed over and over and over again in my life and that is why I succeed. ~ Michael Jordan

Once in a Blue Moon

Things just fell together for this in the last few days.

http://trackleaders.com/ctri.php?name=Jill_Hueckman_2

Work schedule was the essential key that put this all into motion. I have some awesome people who went above and beyond that I am so thankful to know. Thank you so much! You really should check out this awesome place that constantly and fully supports the two-wheeled lifestyle which allows us all to thrive.

I have said it all in previous posts. Not much more to say.

Starting, Monday, September 3rd at 2am at Waterton Canyon in Denver, I am going to turn myself inside out and make a push for the women's record. Sub 5 would be awesome (excruciating), sure, but all I need to be is faster than 5 days and 4 hours. I have a different rig, daily goals, a better sleep plan, but most importantly, an unrelenting fire in my soul that has burned since the first week I started riding fat tires..

And its a blue moon.

So as the song lyrics go:

Once in a blue moon, I'll do something right.

2:45AM....Again.

August 2011

It just keeps haunting me. Calling to me. Keeping me from precious, beautiful sleep of which work already robs me...

My mind thinks of nothing but the trail, the record and the possibility.....and here I am at 2:45AM..Wide awake.

Because I just read this:

http://www.mountainflyermagazine.com/view.php/jefe-branham-blog-sleepless-nights-on-the-ctr.html


And see that I am not scheduled to work for 5 days in early September.....

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.

.