2014 Arizona Trail Race--750 Miles of Lessons Learned, 90% of Them On Day 1

Come on, Jill! 
What is wrong with you? 
Get up and move!

My brain and body were at war. My system was completely rejecting any food or water and to stand completely upright and grasp my handlebars was only possible if I braced myself against the bike and then immediately dropped my head almost to my knees. To maintain my balance, stop the tingling and burning in my legs and arms and catch my breath, I repeated this little ritual over and over, stopping three and four times on the hills I was barely capable of summiting. The southern Arizona sun was getting higher in the sky and the morning was beginning to heat up. I responded by sweating then shivering.

Huh? Why am I shivering and shaking? Why does my body hate me right now? 
Didn't you promise yourself in 2012 to never set rubber in the Canelo Hills again?

I drank water and immediately became nauseous. Racer after racer passed me. I struggled to find encouraging words and a smile amidst my fear of losing the contents of my guts along the trail in front of their tires. I finally stopped and laid out flat on my back and closed my eyes. My stomach continued to turn and I had goosebumps covering my arms and legs.

I laid here, completely still, for about 15 minutes:

I am now at the back of the pack, behind everyone. Way behind. I have just watched everyone pedal away from me like I was standing still. I started out slow and barely put any effort into the 14 mile section from the border to Parker Canyon. I felt fine for about 30 minutes after that. Now I don't even know if I can make it to Patagonia. I want to just lie here and go to sleep and hope that when I wake up, my body is back on board with the plan and this is all a bad dream. I wonder if anyone has ever had to push the SOS button on their SPOT? I don't want to do that. I HAVE to push through this. 

Stand up. Move, Jill. Now!

I pushed for a little while longer and finally got on and started riding. I crossed the road between East and West Canelo Hills and found a shade tree. I sat and thought long and hard about what bailing out down that road would do to me mentally. It would crush me to give up now. I would be throwing away my entire goal of the Triple Crown. My stomach turned and I lost what little water still remained.

I want to ride down that road into Patagonia and call this whole damn thing off. 

I gave a quick look down the bailout road and put my helmet and gloves on, picked up my bike and continued on the trail. No way was my brain letting me quit. Not a chance. When I had to hit the SOS button is when I would quit. I slowly crept along, walking some, pedaling some and my brain and body continued to battle until I finally got to Cott Tank. I opened up the spigot, filled my empty Camelbak and soaked my head with the cold water. At this point, I was sweating rather than shivering, so it felt refreshing to have the water run over my head and my core temperature drop.

I found a soft patch of grass near the tank and just laid down for about a half an hour. I think I dozed in and out of dreamland because I remember dreaming of snowy mountains or something like that and I remember being vividly aware of my brain first nagging at, and then outright yelling at my body to get moving. Somewhere in the area between dream and reality, I saw myself getting up and starting to ride, but when I opened my eyes I found myself still looking at Cott Tank.

Get to Patagonia. You can make it that far. Get there, get in your bivvy and sleep. You can push through this. How bad do you want this? Bad enough to dig deep? This will eventually pass. How bad, Jill? How bad? 

Finally, at 7:30pm, I rolled into Patagonia and just made it before the store closed. I bought a Gatorade and a cup of ice and made the attempt to drink. It was initially successful and I sat down by my bike in front of the store. I saw Mark Caminiti who basically had the same awful day I had. I got an offer to bivvy up in   a nice lady's backyard. My nausea seemed a bit better, but I was roasting in my skin. I crashed out and slept for a few hours.

My brain, in its characteristic battle with my body, was still urging me on, reminding me how far behind I was and pushing me to go to Sonoita. In response, I set my alarm for 1 am and reasoned that the 13 easy road miles into Sonoita would be better done in the cool temperatures and I would make an attempt at real food from the store in the morning. I struggled all the way to Sonoita. My stomach was queasy, I felt like I could vomit at anytime and I generally felt dizzy and shaky the entire way. I must have been still asleep or a little loopy, because first I made a circle or two around town, really having no idea which road was going to take me north.

Rolling into Sonoita, I found a grassy field behind the store and collapsed into my bivvy. Sunlight and the sound of the footsteps of a border patrol agent woke me.

"Just a mountain biker!" I smiled.

"Ah, no worries, just checking things out....hey, you ok? You look pretty pale. If you need anything we are just down the road."

I thought about what I really needed.

Um, a new body that worked would be great. 

I gathered my stuff and pedaled around to the front of the store. I ate some fruit and a small nutrition bar and looked up to see Chrissy and Matt roll in. They had gotten a room the previous night and were having hell with the heat and a sinus infection. I also saw Aaron Denberg who mentioned his planned restart on Monday. I was shocked that I was anywhere close to anyone in the race and also at the fact Aaron was going to ride the Canelo Hills again. Later I realized how fast he is and that he was now blazing through the state giving the record a run. I soon understood his madness and was humbled by and in awe of his strength and determination after struggling so badly the prior day. Damn, Aaron, you are amazing.

I decided to follow Chrissy and Matt out towards Kentucky Camp, but didn't even make it to turn left at Santa Rita Road before losing my breakfast.

AAAAAAUUUURRRRGGHH!!!!! COME ON! This is supposed to go away. I need to ride. I want to ride. I hate not being in control of my guts.

I had a big decision to make. I either push on, completely dehydrated, hungry but not able to eat and weak or I stop, go down, rest and make rehydration and nutrition the focus of the next 12 hours. Not surprisingly, my brain chastised me for stopping and pushed me to go on nonstop to make up time, but something inside told me this was not that simple and I had best listen to my body for a change and take care of it or the SOS button was going to become a harsh reality.

So I assumed a prone position for the next 10 hours, flat on my face, unable to sleep and my monkey mind raced. It went back to the Tucson airport, meeting Aaron, Mike, Tom and Steve:

It went back to the post office and packing up my bike and mailing everything else home:

  To what I had brought to eat because I was literally starving after the last 24 hours of hell:

 Then to the border a little over 24 hours ago:

The three women who started, Me, Caroline and Chrissy (L toR)

Caroline, Chrissy and Mark (4 time finisher!!!)

One of my favorite mountain bikers and friend, Arno!

And JayP...I remember taking this picture wondering if he would smash the current record and knowing this would be the last time I saw him on course.

Over the next period of long and seemingly endless hours, I oscillated from complete despair and loss of desire to ever ride another mile on a bike to hellbent determination that I would not let anything stand in my way of a finish. Back and forth, back and forth. I prayed to just sleep so my mind would stop. Quitting would be the most comfortable thing to do. I arranged a ride to Tucson the next day and even found an internet connection to reserve a rental car. I knew and decided that I hated every mile from Sonoita to Tucson and somewhere around hour three or four of lying flat on my face, I had myself convinced I was a complete joke and a total failure. I wanted nothing to do with bike racing and I was done. I would not even attempt the Tour Divide and here was yet another thing I was at which I was going to fail--my Triple Crown dream. Wow, the demons were swarming me. Kicking me, laughing at me.

I am a piece of shit. I quit.

Finally, I got my mind to stop or it was just so exhausted from running in circles, I fell asleep. Thank God, I did, because when I woke up at around 8pm that evening, I felt like a human being again. I ate a good dinner and soon knew that there was no way in hell I was going to use that rental car reservation. I was headed to Utah, starting in the morning. I fell asleep after getting everything ready for a pre-dawn departure and slept better than I had in months. The green tent in Sonoita was coming down and the pink JH dot was about ready to move.

So......What changed? What picked me up off my face?

I changed my perspective. It was now a "race" against myself. Finish at all costs. Come hell or highwater. A very wise Jedi sent me a message and one word stuck with me "reboot." That is what I decided to do. Reboot after a tough start. For the first time in a long time, I allowed (forgave) myself to (for being) be less than perfect, tossed the all-or-nothing demon out the window, grabbed my shovel and dug deeeeeeeeep into my heart and decided that I really did want to see the red hills of Utah again.

One day at a time. One mile at a time. No racing the clock to Tucson tomorrow, Jill. 

I still felt weak and tired but not sick and nauseous. My plan was to go slow, look at the beauty around and ride. Ride to finish. Listen to my body a little more rather than my overly driven brain.

But first I had to ask myself something. I first asked it at Cott Tank and then again in the bathroom staring in the mirror right before I headed out of Sonoita:

How bad do you want it?

I already knew the answer deep down, I just had to get through a bunch of garbage to believe it again.


*Keep checking back for the rest of the adventure. True to form, this was not the only major challenge in the first part of the race. No way the ol' AZ Trail was going to let me just waltz right through without more struggles. I just felt that Day 1 warranted an entire post.

Don't ever, ever, ever, ever give up.

How to Calm the Nerves As Time Nears for the AZTR 750 In Pictures

Ride bike, make new friends whenever possible while doing so...

Ride bike with old friend whenever possible....

Get my shit tight and right this time.....

Love the pain, embrace it, laugh through it....

Prep food for journey...

Eat well and often...

Make legendary veggie crackers so I don't have to eat garbage the whole way...

Quinoa/every veggie possible homemade bars. There are times on the trail when I am hungry and just can't eat anything sweet and these are fantastic! 450 cal. 10g fat. 40g carbs. 

Test run: vacuum seal or just the good ol' ziploc best? Results coming Monday...

Post-ride amazingness (aka dinner) in a pan, in ten minutes...

SLEEP, JILL, SLEEP! Then sleep more.

I need visual reminders of goals....Humor doesn't hurt either. God, I am weird...

Under a week until I am standing two inches from Mexico bound for Utah. Bike is headed to Tucson today. I am headed there Wednesday night. The details (about 4 million) are all that is left to wrap up. Then ride, eat, sleep, ride, eat, sleep.....repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

Oh, and someone said its good to smile.

Smile big when its good....

And even bigger when you eat it face first....

And BREATHE. Inhale.....exhale.....Inhale....exhale.

Dirtbagonomics: The Costs of Bikepacking

There are no official entry fees for the Arizona Trail Race, The Tour Divide or the Colorado Trail Race. I don't have to pay money to put my front tire on the "start line" of the "race." There are no race plates, no plastic bag full of stickers, coupons, pencils and product samples to clutter up the house, no cheap water bottles or race t-shirts that I won't wear anywhere except to sleep in. There are no overly-caffeinated announcers yapping into a microphone, no bands, no race sponsors or course officials.

I took to this obsession because the somewhat underground, low-key style really appeals to me. The adventure aspect, the miles and miles of unmarked, stunning scenery to navigate and explore, as well as the self-survival piece, trump any marked course, schwag bag, t-shirt or post-race party out there. It is also really nice that I don't have to sit at my computer and "race" to enter. Huh? Yep, there are races that fill so fast, you better be on top of your game and have a lightning fast connection when its time to register, just to even get the chance to pay an arm and a leg to race.

Bikepacking races don't involve many of the normal costs that come to mind, but don't be fooled: it is NOT free (or cheap) by any means. In fact, if one calculated it out, it would probably be far more logical and cost-efficient to pay a formal entry fee and race an official race. Think about it:

Less miles (time) racing=less resources needed=less money out of my pocket

Closer start locations=less gas, time off work, hassle=less money out of my pocket

Fully stocked aid stations every few miles=no extra food I have to buy=less money out of my pocket

New T-shirt=new pajamas or dish rag=hahahahaha! never mind.

Yawning yet? Yeah, I was nearly asleep writing that.Thank GOD none of that enters my mind as I think about the reasons I race ultra long, multiday (AZT and CTR) and multiweek (Tour Divide) races. Seriously, if it did, I would not even consider taking on this dream. It is expensive, exhausting and completely illogical.

It is also exhilarating.

Exhilarating to think of a summer spent on my bike, being fully self-reliant, pushing my perceived mental and physical limits, sleeping in a different bivvy spot  every night, observing the world of nature I love with every fiber of my being and sharing real life with people who understand this obsession.

The hard part, as I mentioned way back in September when I jumped in head first and set this goal, is the journey to the journey. Precisely, the money factor. No one really talks too frankly about the cost of this dream. There is no one set cost, or entry fee, which is part of the beauty of this kind of racing. There is no "correct" way to get to the finish line. There are many unique and different ways, largely dependent on personalities, comfort needs, tolerance levels of discomfort, exhaustion and good ol' pain, speed goals and financial means....just to name a few, really.

The numerous different ways are as unique as the gear set ups I observe. I have seen some guys roll up with so much crap strapped to their bikes that I can not see the actual bike and I have seen some guys that look like they are racing a 30-mile XC race with next to nothing on their bikes and shoes that look like they never intend to step off the bike.

And I love it. I love everything about the fact that everyone has their own way. We spend hundreds of hours planning, researching, testing and refining our bikes into the ultimate machine that hopefully provides survival and forward movement. Want to know more about a person? Check out their bike and gear.

As for me, I am a dirtbag. Tried and true. And most definitely by choice.

I suppose, at this point, a working definition of the word "dirtbag" is needed. Let's roll with this for now:

Frugal and minimalistic, DIRTBAG is my way of unabashedly making fun of myself, while still advocating a lifestyle of simplicity, resourcefulness and minimalism I fully believe in and strive to live. Its hard sometimes, as I am a human, and all humans are selfish and lazy to a certain extent. But when I see the disgusting, excessive overconsumption, overspending and waste every single day and the frenzy among so many just to have the newest, coolest, shiniest thing at any cost.....it sends me running as fast as I can in a direction of less is more. Because in my world, less TRULY IS more. My heart is not content (truth be told it is a jumbled mess) when material things, money and more, more, more things to tend to, to maintain, to fix, to upgrade, to build, to buy get more attention than people. And its too wild and free to be owned by things. Been there. Never ever, ever, ever, ever going back.

Ok, I am getting into another post topic. Back to dirtbags on bikes...

I added a donation button to my blog a few months ago after many, many months of contemplation. I came to the conclusion that reaching out for financial help was my only viable option to make this dream work. The amount of time off work is the killer. Thankfully, I already have the majority of what I need as far as gear from previous years. The huge cost is food, bike maintenance and travel costs to and from the start and finish line. There are a few items I need such as a GPS (just was able to purchase one) to replace the one that I lost somewhere in the desert two years ago, shoes (found a fantastic deal on some Northwaves!) and some new kits (mine have thousands upon thousands of miles on them, are threadbare and look like old, ratty bath towels).

The donations that have come in have been from a few absolutely amazing human beings. I am so full of gratitude for this support. Some have blown me away completely with their generosity and kindness and provided a lot of encouragement with positive and uplifting words that are needed in this. Other racers who have gone this same route of fundraising have contributed and reached out to me. Thank you. People who I have never met who have found inspiration to do things they never would have through following this blog have contributed. Thank you. I know (all to well) that money is tight and we are all trying to stay above water sometimes and to those who have contributed what they can out of the good that lives in their hearts--Thank you. Every one of you are helping me make my dream into a reality that I am about to embark upon in three weeks in Arizona.

I am close to making this all come together and you can bet this journey will be none of excess. I have a bare bones budget that allows me to eat and ride my bike. I have been working far too much at the expense of sleep (rather than sacrificing training time) to put money away to cover my monthly bills for much of April and all of June while I am out on the bike. The reality is, I make due with what I have been blessed to acquire in relation to this dream. My bike is not new. It is my trusty 2010 Superfly 100. It doesn't have the best components, lightest everything, etc. But its a damn nice bike that I love. My clothes and gear aren't the newest thing out there. They are functional and simple. I buy only what I need to make possible my one goal for each race in the Triple Crown:

FINISH.

Here is the part where finding the right words becomes difficult even after rambling on forever in this post:

Could you contribute a simple, small amount if it is in your heart to help me out? The fact is between 200-600 hits show up each time I post a new blog entry. Let's be conservative and say 300 are real, actual readers. What if those 300 people each gave just $5-10? You crunch the numbers. This would complete the fundraising I need to make it financially possible live my dream....

Can you help?

Red Dirt Weekend

Awakening to an iconic Moab sunrise set the tone for my day. I simply sat up and slowly took in the most air my lungs could hold. I tasted the clear crispness of the breath for as long as I could and exhaled. I exhaled the constant go of the city and work. Without thinking, I reached over to pet my old shadow out of years and years of habit, but instantly remembered that she couldn't make the trip this time. Old dogs don't do so well for ten hours in a car.....

I had already packed everything the night before and laid my clothes out on the dashboard like the first day of first grade, so I was ready in record time and turning the crank just before sunrise. Pedaling back the same way I had driven in, Mineral Bottom Road was feeling much better than the last time I was here in subzero temperatures. I quickly came to Hwy 313, turned right and spun all the way to the park entrance. I watched a sunrise and thought about my goals for the ride:

1) Ride smoothly and consistently
2) Be EFFICIENT

I paid my entrance fee of five bucks and tore down the Schafer Switchbacks. In my mind I was this guy:

Can't remember where I saw this first, but I think we all have something that takes us here....

                                 
The trail undulated along and I felt like a ten year old getting let out to recess. I looked down at my Garmin and was surprised at the pace, so I backed off a bit and focused on smoothness, consistency and form.

For the most part anyway.

The views are classic Moab, so a fair bit of my attention was diverted as I took in the serenity and cherished the peace and solitude given to me on a gorgeous Saturday morning in March. The wind was constantly at my face, but that is usually a given. Wishing for a calm day wasn't going to do me any good, so I rode on in bliss. A handful of people came out and about as the morning wore on, but the total number of jeeps and motorized vehicles I saw all day was four.

NICE.

The wind started to pick up and its power-sucking presence started to nag at me. Heading in a generally southward direction until about mile 50-55 I think made it very tolerable, however, around mile 56-60, the forecast 40 mph gusts made their cameo, and I had finally had to duck behind a rock for some reprieve.

Views of my trusty old horse from rock shelter.....

The climbing and the wind increased substantially from this point to the end. The "noticeable" headwind became a big, ugly bully the rest of the way. I thought how nice it would be to ride this whole thing minus this significant power suck, but just shrugged my shoulders and continued on thinking more and more about riding as smoothly and evenly as possible, rolling with the punches the wind was delivering and being efficient when stopping. Although it seemed I didn't stop much.

There were times when the wind would push my whole bike too close (for even my comfort!) to the rim and times where the sand in the trail was so deep I had trouble even moving. So I decided to duck into the cover of one of the outhouses at the top of Murphy's and take my third and last picture of the ride:

If you want to see the rest of the pretty rocks, get on your bike and do this loop before its too hot. You won't be sorry....

I pushed up Hardscrabble and rode back to the car after climbing the Horsethief Switchbacks at mile 99. It is a good climb that begins as a huge mental challenge when standing at the boat ramp, but as soon as the crank turns, it is much easier than one would think.

I loaded up and was met by this guy on the way out:

I rolled into town. met up with some old friends, met some new friends and enjoyed a chill night of laughs and jokes before falling asleep early. The next morning was not an early start (very foreign but welcomed) and we ended up riding 3ish hours total, at a fun, casual pace on trails I had never ridden. Nothing special, but it felt great to ride strong after a century instead of feeling the exhausted leg burn as I had all last spring.

I leave you with the day in pics and the routes to wrap up a good time in Moab. Having ridden there a million times, each trip holds its own unique memories whether it be the people, the bikes, the trails or the races. What ever it is, life is always damn good in Moab....

Chris and Randy

Drew and Zack

Yep, the sign is correct!

Faster, faster! First one to puke, buys beer!

The routes:

White Rim on Saturday
Bar M Trails
Klonzo Wrap Up

Dirtbagonomics: Moab

I have been stewing for the last couple of weeks over tomorrow. Running a whole bunch of miles to see this:

Do you know where this is?

was one of my ideas. And this:

was the other choice. Hmmmmmm, I am far more intrigued with the Eye of the Sun, but White Rim is an excellent training ride. Honestly, the last time I was here it was 12F and not one bit of interest to me. The slightly crazy, adventurous part of me that has taken a real liking to running trails not accessible by bike said the former. A few words of wisdom from a good source, and my logical side, said ride the latter. As good as I feel, AZT is less than a month away, recovery is key and I haven't run over 15 miles since the 42-mile R2R2R crossing on Thanksgiving. Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know.....

And then there is the financial side of things:

Ultra race-bill and a half to enter

White Rim- Fiver to get into Canyonlands
Lodging-$12

Gas-$50 (paid by work through a crazy coincidence!)

Food-$35

(61 days of NAP....more energy physically and mentally and more money in my pocket by prepping and packing)

I am meeting up with friends to ride Sunday and trip planning has been on the email train for a month. After a hundred or so, the plan came together nicely! Personally, the White Rim makes more sense financially and physically. Traveling, eating and finding a great place to stay can be done so cheaply. An absolute must in light of my big dreams this summer.

Leaving this soul-sucking city in an hour....

SO....Who is in town? Wanna come play on the rocks Sunday or get some miles in Saturday???

70 and Single

It is days like today.

Its days like today that are 70F and your quads want more rocky single track to climb. Yes, I said climb. And want.

Its days like today that bring all the people out of the woodwork to the trails on bikes that haven't been touched since last fall when it was taken home from Walmart. The smile on their faces make me believe a little more in humanity, they make the world a little smaller. They make me aware of the simplicity and the unifying power of the bicycle we often overlook as we obsess over uploading our ride data and racing to enter races.

Its days like today that make the hard work of the everyday 4am torture(trainer) sessions worth it all.

Its days like today, I will continue to wear my shit-eating grin even in my sleep tonight.

Because I got to ride my Superfly100 for the first time on dry single track in 2014!

And now, I feel like this guy:

You know what I mean. Sunshine intoxication makes us all ten feet tall and bulletproof. Get your butt out there!!

2:48 AM

I remember sitting in Durango two years ago, wide awake, thoughts swirling in my head about the upcoming AZ trail. I looked over at the clock that read 2:45am and suddenly a deluge of words came out through my fingers and produced this:

2:45AM

and then, a few months later, this:

2:45AM....again

And here I am, this time its 2:48 AM and the thoughts are not of bikepacking. WHAT? Have I gone mad? Why else would I be awake at this hour and motivated to write if it were not about bikes?

My insomnia comes from a heavy heart. A heart that is confused and hurting to reach a person it knew from three years ago. But my heart hates to acknowledge that pesky devil--reality--and is guilty of being blind to see that three years does a lot to us. It numbs us, exhausts us, beats us down and causes us to quietly acquiesce in many areas. My heart is very guilty of only remembering the good and assuming that everything should resume where the happy, fun, exciting memories left off.

So it hangs on to unhealthy and damaging associations, hoping for the same person and the same situation from the past...

Stupid, stupid, stupid heart.

A parting of ways was inevitable. Rapidly approaching and clear to anyone looking in and clear to my logical brain. But oh, the power of my damn heart. Give, give, give, try, try, try. Again, again, again. Ouch, ouch, ouch.

Stupid, stupid, stupid heart.

But, I think I am going to just let it be stupid for a few hours right now. I am going to allow myself some time here in the silence of the early morning to just walk through and relive the old memories in my mind. I want it to fondly and happily remember a time that was different. I want it to remember the laughter, the exhilaration of shared adventure, the miles, the ideas, the conversations, the innocence of sorts. I want it to remember this in a healthy, loving and motivating way.

But more than anything, an accepting way. To learn to accept the harsh realities of humanity, that no matter how much it opens and gives and tries and loves that it will not always receive the same in return. And that hope for such to be reality must die. That hope must die right this moment. Because this is now and that was then.

Stupid, stupid, stupid heart.

It is time to find gratitude for the things you learned, a way to cherish the good memories of past days, an acceptance for how things are today and a new hope that in parting, this person thrives, lives, laughs. loves, grows for the rest of this life and always listens and follows that

Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful heart.

New energy and life, strength and motivation all arise from pain if one embraces it as it comes....