Sorry, for those of you who were rabidly waiting for an update.
Fact of the matter is, not a whole lot has happened lately. Nothing really blog worthy. Actually that's not true, nothing significant enough for me to simply take the time to sit and write.
This time next week, I'll be in Crested Butte, Colorado. My annual dirt worship trip with EOB finds us revisiting the place where the tradition started back in 2003.
I've been looking forward to this trip for months now. Over the last few years I've found that taking a road trip every few months helps keep me fresh on my vampire-like schedule. Having something planned gives me something to look forward to, and the time away and unplugged keeps me buoyant for weeks afterward.
My dad thinks that I'm nuts for taking a vacation to go do something strenuous and then sleep on the ground in a tent. I like to get away and stay in hotels and eat out the whole time too, but being outside in a basic camp recharges me more than the course sheets of a motel. While I like riding tour trams and taking pics at all the pretty stops, I value the views far more when I've worked to get there. One of the most exhilarating feelings I can think of is that moment when you finally reach the crest of a climb...and you stop and just look around you, gulping water in between gasps for air. Have a little snack, get your legs back, all the while seeing the landscape in a way that only a handful do; a landscape that most will never see in person. Then comes your reward...the ride down.
Everything from wide, swooping trails to tight singletrack with blind hairpin turns. I love negotiating my way through rock gardens and over fallen logs. My strengths in mountain biking have always been descents and obstacles. Its like a puzzle to me, finding the best line through rough patches. There's a finite time to find the line you want to take, and you have to simultaneously gauge the right speed to take to safely clean a technical part of the trail.
The last time I rode Lebanon Hills, I reached a few milestones in my technical riding. First, I successfully navigated my way through the big rock garden on the XX Expert Loop. Here, your line is important, but not nearly as important as speed. There's a hairpin right turn on the other side of this section, and if you aren't going fast enough coming out of the rock garden you'll never keep your balance through the turn and up a ten inch stone stair.
Next was one of the man made obstacles, expertly constructed by people at IMBA and a volunteer team of riders who maintain the trail. There's lots of little bridges sprinkled throughout the course, some made of composite decking but most are just good, thick slabs of pine. Here's the camelback obstacle, about twelve inches wide, that goes up and over a large fallen log. The top is about three feet off the ground. Here you have to hold a steady line, and straight. At the same time, you have to make sure you've got enough inertia to start up the side so you have enough time to gear down and spin hard to get up over the top. On top of that, your cadence has to be constant because hesitation will cause your balance to shift and you'll go off to one side and slip off. Three feet looks a lot higher when you're in motion on top of a bike.
Lastly, and the one I'm probably most proud of, is the log stair section. There's 7 or 8 of these bad boys; they're placed about eight feet apart and each is about twelve inches high. The top logs on each of these stairs are pocked with tiny impressions that look a golfing green after a foursome has just each three-putted then drug their feet as they left for the beer cart. Hundreds of riders use this trail every week, and I'll bet each one of them (myself included) has at one time or another rammed their big chain ring directly into these logs. The effect of ramming your big chain ring into a log like this is a sudden, jarring halt. Thing is, on quick stops at times like these, your bike stops...but your body observes Newton's law of motion. There are also some rocks that have been strategically built in to the stairs, so if you hit there it'll sheer the teeth right off your chain ring.
Here's the ultimate combination of technical skills. I jumped into a nice middle gearing and built a bit of speed approaching the first stair. I leaned back a little and jerked on the handlebars just enough to allow the top third of the log to catch my front tire. This kills most of your speed, but I needed the tire to be on firm ground as soon as possible. As soon as that tire hit the top I leaned on the handlebars and pulled up on the pedals so my chain ring would clear the log. That way, the little bit of speed I have left will allow my back tire catch the top log just as I'm starting to pedal again to approach the next step.
Repeat.
These stairs also go around a gradual corner, so you have to change your line as you go. If you stop on the second or third step, you'll be hike-a-biking the rest of the way...you'll never get the right speed going in concert with timing each of the little ballet steps you need to reach the top.
On average I've been able to get about half way up pretty consistently. Every once in awhile I'd make it 75% of the way. This time I found just the right rhythm; pedal, jerk, feet, pedal, jerk, feet, pedal, and so on.
Even with these little victories, I'm nervous about the trip. I'm a bit spooked about the prospect of hard riding in high altitude. Not to mention the fact that Eric is now a collegiate bike racing champion, where I am...not. But I have to remember that I'm in a better place this trip, physically speaking. I've come a long way since we successfully made our way through several trails at Crested Butte unharmed. This is encouraging because I've not been able to adhere to a regular training schedule. Chalk it all up to my back-assward schedule, the duties of home ownership, and trying to build something that resembles a social life.
Plus, I've been training on a road bike. I think my endurance has benefited. I'm not a big smoker like I was then, so my lung capacity should be better. Everyone said the road bike would help, and I believe it has. I can see a difference in my legs, they're definitely bigger. I think my ass is higher up, but I can't be sure. Also, my bike was new at the time, that was the first trip. There is a bond there now, an understanding.
Most of all, I'm looking forward to unplugging. Unplugging from my phone. From email and Facebook. From work. For a little more than a week, my only cares will be to climb steady, find the right line, and attack the downhill
As good as all that sounds, I'm most looking forward to a long drive, endless playlists, and conversation with one of my closest friends.
If my lung capacity turns out to be a problem, I will propel myself to the top through sheer will, grit, and enthusiasm.
