Tacos and Cactus Ass: El Paso Puzzler

The 92Fifty’ Cyclery squadron took a winter hiatus to enjoy the warmth and sunshine of El Paso, Texas in mid-January.  The idea of actually mountain biking, on real, live mountain biking trails, had been haunting me for months; the thought of which nearly brought tears to my eyes.  Unfortunately, those tears were always dried up by mega wind gusts and cold days as I continued to crank out road miles in Boulder.  The realization that we’d be riding bikes in the desert under warm sunny skies was too good to be true.

Before going to El Paso for the El Paso Puzzler I had asked around about why it’s considered such a hard race.  Looking at the GPS files and finish times doesn’t make much sense.  There isn’t a ton of climbing for a 50-mile race, yet finish times were 4-5 hours for Pro riders.  I had heard that its “tough, raw” terrain, but not overly technical.  Something wasn’t adding up. 

Puzzler course and elevation profile.  Strava file.

  

92Fifty’ Cyclery pros Kyle “Ragamuffin” Taylor, Billy “Tennessee” Wood and myself pre-rode some of the course on Saturday afternoon.  We got a little dose of the pain that would soon be inflicted, all finishing our pre-ride with arms and legs cut up from brushing by any one of the various cactus and desert shrubs that have evolved to hurt/kill you.  What we gathered initially was the trails were rough, rocky, loose, off-camber, rocky, and rockier.  Even the smoother sections of trail were hard to rip through because of the kitty-litter-like nature, and most of the trails were a relentless onslaught of rocks.  That being said, none of us seemed too worried.  We were just happy to be riding our bikes!  And I was super excited to finally rip my new Felt Nine 1 on some trails.

"Puzzler" Mountain from Franklin Peak

Sunday morning was chilly, but once the sun made its way over the horizon the cold air seemed to vanish.  Properly fueled by coffee and my early morning jams (which the others didn't seem to appreciate for some reason), we were ready for the 8am start.  The start went off pretty fast down a ¼-mile long fireroad, with about 10 or 15 riders making a lead group.  Before long Kyle went up to the front.  Billy and I tried to chase, but I decided to conserve energy early and hang back a bit.  Upon hitting the singletrack, in which it would be impossible to pass for the next couple of miles, Kyle was still leading out a 7-man lead group, with me hanging in the rear.  I was content to hang back and gauge how hard the others were working.  The pace up the first climb to the ridge was fast but not painful, and we all crested it together.  On the backside descent Kyle was still out front.  I think this was a good move on his part, and something I was thankful for, as some of the riders with local trail knowledge may have otherwise made some valuable time on this section.  Coming into the Start/Finish after the 9-mile starter loop I was about 20 seconds back of the lead group.  The next loop contained the climb up to Mundy’s Gap, a 1600ft climb up loose rocky fireroad.  It was the biggest climb of the day and a section where the race could break open.  Going into it I was about 2 ½ minutes back of the lead group.  I stayed steady the whole way up, not trying to push too hard.  I passed Kyle a little ways up.  He was trying to conserve energy.  We were both banking on the lead guys to blow up at some point.  By the time I reached the top I had pulled to within 20-30 seconds of the lead group.  Then came the infamous descent of this race that includes the “rock garden”, basically a scree field ¼-mile long of head-sized loose rocks.  I probably didn’t ride it with the speed of others, but had a blast doing it!  The technique was: get behind the seat, let go of the brakes, and let the bike go where it wants; an out-of-control rock-skating session.  I’d climb Mundy’s any day for that descent! 

Rugged Mundy's Gap climb.

  

Billy Wood rock-skating.  Photo Credit: Devon Balet. Mountain Flyer Article

The rest of this 25-mile lap consisted mostly of rocky, slow-going, twisty, up-and-down singletrack that took you to the north end of the mountain, over the top, and back to the start/finish.  The next 2 or so hours felt like they took forever.  After the Mundy’s descent I started dealing with some major cramping, worse than I’ve had in years.  It wasn’t long before every muscle in my legs was seizing up with every climb.  The course was so relentless that eating and drinking was almost impossible.  I had run out of water and wouldn’t get a drink for about 2 hours until I reached the start/finish again.  In this time I took more cactus cuts to the arms and legs than I can remember, had an over-the-bars into a thorn bush, took a header into a cactus, and got thrown off the bike by another cactus that wasn’t moving when I put my shoulder into it.  I’m pretty sure it actually had arms and grabbed me and threw me off the bike.  I also think it kicked me when I was down and spit in my face.  This couple of hours was a game changer.  I was still pushing hard on every climb to make up time, but the cramping never relented, and the trail continued to eat me alive.  I wouldn’t see anyone the rest of the day.  I rolled into the finish in 5:10, 6^th place pro/open.

The Puzzler was just that.  It was puzzling how riding 50 miles with mediocre climbing could take so long, and be so damn hard!  Having not ridden trails for over 2 months was definitely a disadvantage.  My bike handling skills were pretty bad, but I tried to stay strong mentally and physically throughout.  If you get negative on a course as relentless as the Puzzler it will eat you up.  It was a great early season mental and physical test that Kyle, Billy, and I are going to use to become stronger and more resilient for the year to come.   Apart from the race we were still so happy to be riding bikes by the Mexico border in January, camping with friends, and eating REAL Mexican food for days!  There was free beer and a taco truck at the finish line to properly forget the pain just inflicted and wash any sorrows away.  There’s seriously no feeling in the world like sitting around with friends after putting yourselves through such a test, drinking a beer, and talking/laughing about it all. The Puzzler race promoters are some of the coolest people you’ll ever meet, and we hung out by the fire until late in the evening, sharing beers, stories and laughs.  At some point before crawling into my tent someone threw a man-sized cactus into the fire.  Fitting.  I imagined it was the one that threw me to the ground earlier.  Cheers.

Goodnight.

Snake Bites

What the hell happened to me this weekend?  It was all a big blur of nausea, pain, adrenaline and beer.  I’m still trying to process the pain in every appendage, joint, and muscle group in my body and an awesome weekend of high-altitude riding.  I want to go ride again, but can’t; forced recovery.

I headed to the Keystone ski resort Friday afternoon for the Rocky Mountain Endurance Series’ Snake River Mountain Challenge.  I had overheard (or read) that this race was going to be brutal in terms of climbing.  Having never ridden at Keystone before I didn’t really know what to expect, but judging from the elevation profile it was going to be pretty straight forward.  Start at the base (9300ft), climb ¾-of-the-way up the mountain, descend for a couple miles, then climb the rest of the way to the 11,800ft summit before descending back to the base.  Rinse and repeat 2 more times.  That works out to about 10,200ft of climbing in 56 miles.  Ouch!  Checking out the numbers (nerd check) that’s 182ft/mile ascent, compared to the Breckenridge 100 (next race) at ONLY 130ft/mile.  Double ouch!!

I woke up at 5:15am on Saturday morning in my campsite next to the Snake River.  First order of business: coffee, then eggs, toast, oatmeal w/ granola & peanut butter, and homemade beet juice to top it off.  I was flying high and feeling good early in the morn. The race didn’t start until 9am so I had plenty of time to relax and get ready.  The weather felt perfect as the start neared; a mild 65° and sunny. 

At the start line I eyed the singlespeed Series Champion Charlie Hayes.  He and I went back and forth a bit last year and I have not gotten a chance to race against him yet this year.  The start rolled out under a neutral lead until we got dumped off onto the first climb of the day.  It was a steep and loose service road about ¼-mile long that pretty much sent everybody’s heart rate through the roof.  I had seen Charlie off to my left loose traction on some rocks and have to come unclipped. This was the last time I’d see him all day.  As we neared the singletrack entrance I was up in the front inside the top-10.  Let the climbing begin!  We traversed the mountainside via switchback after switchback; an unrelenting and never-ending climb.  By the time we got to the first downhill section I had just passed a couple riders and was approaching another, sitting in 5^th or 6^th overall.  After a sweet fast and flowing ripper of a downhill we were spit out onto service road where we would face another daunting climb to the top of the mountain.  I rode with another guy for the first couple of miles, and then put in a couple of good efforts to get away and catch up to the next.  Nearing the top I was probably 20 seconds back of the next rider.  Then I passed an aid station at the top and continued riding straight up the road when I was supposed to turn onto singletrack.  There were no course markings and the course marshal just watched me ride right on by without saying a thing.  I turned around to see the rider behind me entering the singletrack.  Needless to say, I had a few words for the course marshal.  By the time I came back through they had set up tape and arrows to direct riders.  I was super happy to get to the top and ready to descend 2500ft back to the base.  What I hadn’t considered was how grueling and physically demanding the descent would be.  Damn those trails are rough!  Head bouncing, teeth chattering, eyes popping and jumping out of my skull, seat striking nether regions, triceps cramping, forearms on fire and feet numbed, I finally made it to the bottom.  Not to say it wasn’t fun.  In fact it was a blast.   

 

Photo Credit: Mountain Moon Photography

Photo Credit: Mountain Moon Photography

Lap 2 was more of the same.  I began to tire just a bit, but was feeling really confident with no signs of cramping and only minimal fatigue.  At this point I had the notion that I had built about a 10-minute lead on Charlie Hayes in 2^nd.  The one thing that I did begin to notice was a good dose of nausea and dizziness towards the top of the mountain.  Another brutally fun descent and I was almost down the mountain to start the final lap.  It was then, about ¼-mile from the base, that I took a pretty good digger head first into the gravel road.  It took me about 20 seconds to compose myself and stand up, feeling an immense pain in my right quad and calf.  It felt like Chuck Norris had just round-house kicked my leg.  Upon gathering myself I realized that my bar-end had broken off leaving my grip useless.  Luckily, because I’m running the Ergon GS2 grips (best grips in the world) I was able to put it back together.  In the process, about 3 or 4 minutes, I lost two critical positions.  Okay, time to clear my head and just roll on!  I headed out for the final lap and was almost immediately hit with the nausea bug again, only much sooner this time around.  As the lap wore on it got worse and worse, until even the smallest effort left me on the verge of puking and having to take 30-seconds to regain composure.  The altitude was kicking my ass!  I’ve never had an issue with altitude sickness before, but this was clearly what was slowing me down.  I struggled all the way to the top, barely able to take a sip of water, riding at barely a leisurely pace.  Luckily I maintained a gap on Charlie, and felt confident upon hitting the downhill that I could descend fast enough to keep it.  I rolled into the finish line at 5 hours 49 minutes, 1^st Place Singlespeed, about 4 minutes ahead of Charlie Hayes.  I must have lost a TON of time to him that last lap.

 

Photo Credit: Mountain Moon Photography

Done and done!  This was one of the hardest races I’ve ever done.  I (almost literally) turned myself inside out to keep going while dealing with extreme nausea.  I was happy to get my first win of the year, but still not overly satisfied.  I really wanted to be in the top-5 overall and felt that I had the speed, but that 3^rd lap killed me.  On a positive note, I was finally descending as fast if not faster than my competitors.  I have always had trouble keeping it together on the descents, and usually lose time on the downhill sections.  During this race I was actually catching my competitors on the downhills! One of my focuses coming into this year was to get better and faster at descending, and I have.  Another positive was the fun I was having.  I remember during the first lap, while being followed on a downhill by a guy I had just passed, taking an off-line to hit a jump.  Probably lost a second or two, but damn it felt good!  I did my best to hit all of the features: jumps, berms, tabletops, etc.  That’s what they’re there for, right?

 

Photo Credit: Mountain Moon Photography

Photo Credit: Mountain Moon Photography

Sunday morning I woke up in my tent feeling like a train wreck.  Still nauseas, head ringing, body sore, etc.  What better way to start a day of lift-assisted downhill runs?  I had to take advantage of being at an awesome bike park on a ski hill, so bought a lift ticket and let the games begin!  I had my Norco Shinobi trail bike (29er, 140mm travel, slack geometry) just for this cause!  It certainly wasn’t as adept as the full-on downhill machines that dominate the mountain, but was fine for me.  The first run was rough, literally.  I wasn’t sure how many I had in me.  The second and third each got better, and I was feeling more comfortable on the bike and having more fun.  Then a rainstorm hit, I ducked into the bar at the base of the mountain, had two beers, and was ready to roll again!   

It’s amazing what a little liquid courage can do for ya.  The next couple of runs I was instantly faster and looser on the bike, just floating over rock gardens, down steep sections, tossing the bike this way and that, hitting jumps at speed, and finally getting a huge rush doing all of it!  I can honestly say I’m now fully addicted to this new-to-me discipline!  Damn that was a good day.  And because of it, I am now sore head to toe.  So it goes.

Next up: Breckenridge 100

Lumberjack 100 and Finding My Roots

Here it is, my Lumberjack 100 report, late but better than never!  I made the voyage from Colorado back to the Midwest for the second time in as many weeks for my first attempt at the Lumberjack, and only my second 100-mile race.  What initially drew me to this event, which I registered for back in February, was the majority of singletrack and absence of all else.  What I hadn’t considered was that it was Father’s Day weekend and I would be going up there with my Dad to camp in the forests of Northern Michigan.  Almost too perfect.

On Friday’s short pre-ride, in which I only did a few miles of the 33-mile course, I was feeling tired and unenthused.  The tired feeling could be explained by the 15-hour travel day on Thursday without sleeping the night before, then getting less-than-optimal sleep Thursday night.  The trails were one big bed of leaves, with a lot of sand and sticks strewn about. Not the awesome wet dirt singletrack of Mohican 100 that I enjoyed so much, but you can’t always get what you want!

I was up at 5 a.m. Saturday morning to make coffee and get ready.  I elected not to eat anything but a Honey Stinger waffle about 5 minutes before the start.  The start went off about 2 miles down the road from the Udell Hills Recreation Area.  I was surprised that I was able to keep pace and stay near the front of the 350-rider wave of starters, mostly by drafting off of geared riders.  As soon as entering Udell Hills it almost immediately turns to singletrack, which creates quite the funnel.  I did my best to use the edge of the course and get around 5-10 riders right there as they stayed in the middle and were forced to slow down.   

Dickie makes his move on the outside going into turn 1!

As the opening miles got underway it was simply a matter of getting around as many riders as possible and finding some clear air.  I made fairly quick work of that and within 10 miles found myself in a group of a couple of fast geared riders and three other singlespeeders.  This group of 6 or so would jockey back and forth for much of the first lap, and it was nice to have some geared riders to draft off of on the sections of doubletrack.  At that point, about 10 miles in, I noticed a few things.  Number 1, I was feeling a bit faster on the climbs than the other guys, but thought it beneficial to stick with them and pace myself.  Number 2, my seat had dropped down a bit, making pedaling seated a lot harder than normal.   Because of the fast pace of the race and the constantly twisting singletrack always keeping you on your toes, I neglected to stop and fix the problem.  At the same point, I had also forgotten to eat and hydrate.   

By the end of the first lap my seatpost had completely dropped into the frame, and I had spent the better part of an hour and a half standing up to pedal, completely smoking my legs in trying to keep up with the group, and completely neglecting nutrition.  At the same time, my usual focus on positivity was lost.  I came into the start/finish in a fit of rage.  I fixed the seatpost quickly and went on my way, now with a new aggression and ambition to catch back up to the group that had dropped me by 5 or 6 minutes.  Unknowingly, I was only about 8 minutes back of the leaders at this point!  I crushed the first 10 or so miles of the second lap and had actually been able to close the gap on our group again.  Just as I caught their wheel, we hit a section of fireroad, and my legs and overall energy level went “BOOM!!”  I couldn’t hang on as they drifted into the distance.   

Catching back up.

My energy levels continued to drop and never came back.  It is usual in a race of this distance to have a “bonk” or feel like shit for a time, but you just hope that your body recovers.  For some reason, on this day, mine didn’t.  I struggled mightily for the next two hours, going backwards, staggering around the singletrack like a drunken sailor and just trying to hold on.  Coming into the start/finish after lap 2 I had all but decided to call it quits.  It wasn’t going to be my day and I decided to forego the extra pain and punishment of another lap, when it was the last thing in the world I wanted to be doing.

This was a day of learning lessons in a real way.  It felt horrible to not finish a race; something I never want to do again.  In retrospect, I don’t have any qualms about quitting, as I think it was the best thing to do.  I have so much more racing and riding to look forward to this year that sparring my body the pain and not killing my ambition and enthusiasm to do such things is important.  On a positive note, I was riding really fast early on.  It wasn’t until midway through the second lap, after struggling for hours, that Garth Prosser came to my wheel and eventually passed me.  He finished 7^th overall riding a geared bike!  I was also passed late in the second lap by eventual 3^rd place SS finisher Ernesto Marenchin. 

In the end, it was a bad race day that I learned from.  More importantly though was hanging out with good friends, spending Father’s Day with my Dad and enjoying the beauty of Michigan.  I don’t get as many chances to do that as I do to race.

Lumbercamp

Upon getting back to Colorado my focus has completely changed.  After spending about 2 months extremely focused on training, nutrition, racing, and resting, I really wanted to get back to the roots of the sport.  What better time and place to do that than summer in Colorado!  I have given up specific training and nutrition regimens for a short time and replaced them with awesome rides in the high-country that have me more stoked than ever to get out and shred, and enjoying a post-ride beer when I want.

This weekend I’m super excited to be racing in Keystone at the Rocky Mountain Endurance Series race, and hopefully spending another day or two ripping down the lift-assisted bike park at Keystone and riding some awesome high-country singletrack!  Summer in Colorado is sooooo gooooood!!  Cheers.