Dawn to Dusk

Over the weekend I had my first long(er) endurance mountain bike race, the 10 Hour Dawn to Dusk ride... solo. Up until then, my greatest one-day mileage on a mountain bike was about 60 miles, and somehow by February I have to train for my first 24 Hour solo. It's a daunting, exciting task, but considering what I was doing this time last year, it sort of suits me.

I woke well before the sun on Saturday, packed The Fish and some warm clothes, and headed out to my current mountain biking mecca, McDowell Mountain Park. The sun hadn't even began graying the horizon when I walked into the check-in tent and picked up my race number - Number 1. Usually the lower numbers are reserved for the best riders, but in this race, they gave the lowest numbers to the women solo riders, alphabetically. I have to say that it felt both really cool and very intimidating having the number. I made my camp in one of the solo tents and talked to my competition before warming up at 7. By then, the eastern horizon was glowing bright orange and my heart was pumping hard in the cold morning. I was definitely nervous to see how I would fare on the 15.6 mile loop.

We started en masse at 7:15 a.m. just as the sun was peaking over the Supes. We spread out a little bit on the paved dogleg that led to Pemberton Trail before hitting the sandy singletrack. As per usual, we got bunched up again pretty quickly as there is only one good (ie, not a sand pit) line to take for the first few miles of the trail. It was a bit frustrating, especially as the first five miles or so are on an incline and if you lost your momentum (as you do when you are spinning in sand behind a line of 30 other riders), you were toast. Eventually I just bit the bullet and toughed it out in the sand pits, grinding ahead of the line of riders until I came to a spot where we were more spread out. My adrenaline had gotten me past the first five miles of incline, and I reached the first landmark turn to the west before I knew it. The next stretch of five miles is both a blessing and a curse. It has gently rolling hills that are a great respite from the inccesant incline, but also some rocky sections and large uphill waterbars. They didn't bother me at all on the first lap, though, and soon I was on what would become my favorite stretch of moutain biking trail in Maricopa County. It's a tough call, as I absolutely love the 4 mile Sport Loop as well, but this is just pure fun. It's about 3 miles of SUPER fast, winding, gently downhill, smooth singletrack - with waterbars thrown in every 50 meters or so. Wicked, wicked fun. My smile stretched from ear to ear as cranked it in my highest gear and jumped even the smallest of the waterbars. I couldn't help myself. That section flew by, and let back towards the campgrounds through Pemberton Wash, where it looped around the team camping area at Pemberton Trailhead, and finished the last few miles in the sand back to the staging area.

I felt pumped after finishing the first loop in 1:24, and since it was cold I had hardly drank anything, so I had my card punched at the exchange tent, sucked down some Hammer Gel, and headed back out for number #2. Without the distraction of hundreds of other bikers, the first section seemed to take a lot longer, but again, most of the lap felt incredible (the rocky sections were just ok). I finished the second lap in 1:30 (taking into account the brief stops at the exchange tent), loaded up on some more quick carbs, and headed out again. More than 30 miles into the race, I started feeling the incline a little more and was very glad when the trail turned to the west, but still felt pretty good. The rocky sections and tougher waterbars started to show themselves, but the fast descent still made me feel on top of the world, and I still ended the lap with a dust-covered grin. After 45 miles, I knew I had to refuel, so I stopped for a bit longer (10 minutes or so) to cram some ramen and tortillas in my face, refill my Camelback bladder with Heed, and empty my other bladder. The rest may or may not have helped. My butt had actually become numb while riding, but when I got back on the saddle after the rest, it started complaining, and five miles of sitting down on the incline didn't help. Fortunately I have had lots of training with dealing with butt pain, and I just sucked it up until it became numb again. Lap 4 was as much mentally draining as it was physically... I had challenged myself to complete 5 laps, but when I did the calculations after the second lap, I realized that 6 was possible time-wise - if I could hold out for that long. When you realized you are only half-way and have another 45 miles to go... your mind starts to want to quit. But, I enjoy the mental toughness game, and slogged on until I reached the rolling hills. At that point, the rocky sections were really starting to test my mental game, but I dug deep and rolled over every one with flying colors. I was really starting to get tired after the fun section, but the crowds of people at the campground yelling, "Go #1!" boosted my spirits enough to get me through the lap. When I got to the exchange tent, they had set up a good spread of food, so I sucked down a fruit smoothie, some popcorn, and the ever present Hammer Gel before taking a quick break to slather on some much needed chamois butter (no details there!) and hop on for Lap #5.

#5 was definitely the worst. I was at my lowest mentally with two more laps to go, and I developed a cramp in my right hamstring during the incline. I worked it out a bit on the rolling hills, but it certainly didn't like the rocky sections. By this time, the fast section became the section where I barely bunny hopped the waterbars and pedaled only enough to get me to the next stretch of trail. It seemed to take forever to get back to the exchange tent, but I finally did 1:48 later.

Although I was exhausted after biking 15 miles more than I ever had before, #6 was much easier than the previous one. The uphill section still felt endless, but once I reached the end of that, I was stoked. Even the rocky part didn't slow me down, as I knew that as soon as I was finished with that, I was home free. With renewed energy, I flew once more down to the camping area. The enthusiasm at the campground was infectious, and with less than two miles to go, I kicked it back up into my highest gear and pounded out the last miles. I crossed the finish line right at 5... having rode my mountain bike for 93.6 miles in 9 hours and 51 minutes. As soon as I passed through the exchange tent, all my adrenaline faded and I realized how tired I really was. I rolled back to the solo tent as the rest of the solo crowd slowly filed in. I scarfed every bit of food that I had brought, downed about a liter of Heed, and sat down and let it sink in... I had just successfully finished my first long solo gig, and I couldn't have been happier.

After I recovered and packed up a bit, I made my way over to the team camping area and hung out with Mike, Todd, and a few of our Tuesday night riding buddies before awards. I ended up taking 5th of 8 solo geared women, and felt pretty good about it considering the experience level of those ahead of me.

After awards, I tried to stay awake/social for a few hours at the Wild West Rugby Fest social, but I was down for the count by 10 p.m. Surprisingly, though, after a full night of sleep, I didn't even feel sore or tired, so I headed up with Jack and Fuji to watch the rugby matches at CAP Basin. The rest of the day was spent recarbing with Miller Lite, hanging out with the ruggers, trying to convince them that it wouldn't be a good idea for me to play considering the facts that I haven't played in ages and had just finished the longest mountain bike race of my life, and laughing at the drunken fun that is Sunday rugby.

Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving has always been one of my favorite holidays, and this one was no exception. I got a bit shorted on the holiday last year, as I was busy preparing for rowing across the Atlantic, so I was very excited when I boarded the plane in Sky Harbor for a full long weekend with the family on my grandma's farm.

From the moment that I touched down in the brand new terminal in Indianapolis (which is gorgeous by the way), I became a kid again. Since we were really little, Thanksgiving has always been a holiday of food, family, and lots of adventure (real and imaginary) for me, my sister, and all of my cousins. We spent Thanksgiving Day at my Aunt Carol's house. After an incredible meal of turkey, homemade noodles, and all the fixings that could fit in the kitchen, all of us "kids" headed out to the woods where we spent the rest of the day jumping the creek, climbing deer stands, chucking hedgeapples out of trees (actually a really addictive game that we made up... you kind of have to be a rural, Midwestern kid to understand), and just generally exploring.

On Friday, it was back to Grandma's to begin the yearly tradition of making forts. We've done this since we were old enough to walk out to the pastures by ourselves, and I think we'll probably keep doing it until we have kids of our own. As we've gotten older, we've stopped battling aliens and other enemies, but there is just something timeless about designing and building things that I don't think will ever lose its fun. Since the farm was recently timbered, there were several tree tops out in the woods behind the house where we normally build our bonfire, so it was a perfect place to set up this year. We usually all get together and build one huge awesome fort, but since there was so much to work with this year, we all decided to build our own and be creative. Scott and Mitch went underground and built theirs into a pit left from the roots of a fallen tree, Emi got really artsy and wove a circular fort, Devin built a multiroomed mansion, and I opted to build an elevated fort in the cut top of an old hickory tree - which was a lot more difficult that I had first imagined, as it's kind of our unspoken rule that you can only use naturally occurring building materials. By the end of the day, I barely had my floor finished, but it was still a good time.

After supper, we all loaded up to go watch (a.k.a., embarrass) Devin in his final Brazil Christmas Parade as a Northview Marching Knight. We had a great time watching the band and all the cool floats, and fighting little kids for the candy that was thrown from them. We then spent the rest of the night tending to the bonfire out by our forts and enjoying each other's company in the frosty fall air.

Saturday was spent in much the same manner as Friday, with all of us trying to finish our forts. I think we may have to go back to the one fort idea, as none of us were very close to finishing by the end of the day, but we had some pretty cool frameworks built that just might withstand a year of the elements... only time will tell. That evening we took a trip to the Coxville Tavern for dinner, as Emi and I had wanted to go there for a long time. It turned out to be a pretty cool little place full of history there in covered bridge country. After visiting with some of our other family near Rock Run, we headed back to Grandma's and Emi and I curled up in the bunk room one more time.

Sunday morning dawned to about two inches of freshly fallen snow, which was absolutely gorgeous. I really miss the changing seasons, so it was truly refreshing. Emi, Devin, and I spent the morning checking out our forts (not weatherproof) and talking a walk in the lower pasture before heading out. Although the snow was beautiful, it didn't help matters much for getting back to Phoenix, and after several hours of delays, gate changes, and an hour sitting on the runway at O'Hare (I have yet to get an on-time departure from there September-April), I was headed back to the Valley of the Sun.