05.28.2015 | 6:30 am
Hey, I’m taking the time I’d normally use to write this blog post to actually prepare for a live chat I’ll be doing about one of my very favorite annual events, The Rockwell Relay.
You should join us. Just click here to register, and then call in (if you’re just listening) or sign in (if you’re using a computer) at 12noon Mountain Time.
I’ll be deep-diving into
- Who should be riding which leg
- Stuff to bring
- How to stay cool
- How to keep warm
- What to eat
- How to handle team rotation
- Leapfrogging tactics
- Rules you should know
- How to make the race memorable and fun
I’ll be showing pictures and tables, providing lists, telling amusing anecdotes and otherwise going on and on and on.
It should be awesome. No, seriously. This should be a good opportunity for you to see what goes on my head when I get completely nuts about a race.
Please consider the following video as prerequisite homework:
Whether you’re going to be racing this year, next year, or are not sure what all the fuss is about, sign up and plan on joining me.
Hey, what else are you going to do with your lunch hour?
Comments (5)
05.27.2015 | 7:18 am
A “Join Me to Talk About the Rockwell Relay This Thursday at 2pm ET / 1pm CT / 12noon MT / 11am PT” Note from Fatty: As anyone who follows this blog no doubt knows, The Rockwell Relay is one of my two favorite events to do every year. It’s an intense, funny, serious, silly, physically demanding, relaxing, and just plain memorable way to see, ride, and crew your way across some of the most beautiful desert you could ever imagine.
The race is getting close — it’s June 12-13 — so if you’re going to register, you’d better do it soon. Registration closes the 31st.
And whether you’re already registered, are considering registering, or are thinking you might want to start working on having this race as an objective for next year, you ought to attend a live webinar I’ll be hosting this Thursday at 2pm ET / 1pm CT / 12noon MT / 11am PT. I’ll be talking about the race, with an emphasis on what you ought to bring, who you ought to plan on racing which leg of the race, and how to make it both a rewarding race and a fun vacation.
I’ll have a first-time Rockwell racer on the panel to ask first-timer questions. I’ll have another experienced Rockwell racer to ask and answer questions. I’ll have the race director here.
I’ll talk about how I’ll be preparing 600 bratwurst for grilling in the week leading up to the race. I’ll show pictures. I’ll answer any questions you have about the race. I’ll reveal what my team name is going to be this year, and what kit I’ll be wearing at the starting line (hint: it has to do with my having lost a bet).
So, be sure to register for and attend this chat. Whether you’re going to be racing at the Rockwell Relay or are just curious what’s going through my noggin as I prepare for a 500-mile race, it should be entertaining. And possibly even useful.
The Hammer’s 2015 St George Half Ironman Race Report, Part 2
5:30am. Race day. On the bus to Sand Hollow, where the race begins.
Deep breath.
The mood is always a little somber on the bus. I didn’t feel the need to talk. After exiting the bus, I immediately lost my friends. I headed toward my bike and found a pump to use and inflated my tires. I was really glad I had — the pressure had dropped to 80psi overnight.
My body was marked and then I went to stand in line for the bathroom. By the time I finished, the pros were making their way down to the water. I found a nice place on the beach and watched them take off.
They make the swim look easy.
It was cool to see them move farther and farther away. The depression in the water and the wake they produce looks like a monster gliding along under the surface of the water.
The pros started at 6:50, and the age groupers started departing at 0700. I was in the yellow wave and would start at 7:21. Waves of swimmers would depart every 3 minutes with the last wave leaving at 08:00. I thought about the fact that I might be coming out of the water before the last person starts. This was different; I have never been in an early wave at a swim start. They usually start the “old ladies” last. I was a little apprehensive that people would be continually swimming over me. On the other hand, I was really excited that I would be finishing the race 45 minutes sooner than some. The day was supposed to get into the low 90s, so the sooner I was done the better!
As I moved down toward the lake, I saw Lynette and Jessica. They were starting in the 7:18 wave. I gave Lynette a huge hug and wished her luck. I reminded her I would be chasing her — and hopefully catching her by the end of the race!
The Swim
Then it was my turn. They herded us into the water. There would be no time for warming up. The warmup would be swimming the 25 meters from the beach to the actual start line.
I was grateful the water was fairly warm and didn’t produce the same shock that cold water does. I put my head down and headed for the start buoy. I pulled down the goggles and turned on the Iolite. I could see the red turn buoy ahead, about a third of a mile away.
I started fretting as I contemplated where I should lock my GPS on. Should I head for the buoy or the outside kayaker? I didn’t really want to swim in the the mass of swimmers which I would do if I headed for the buoy. So I aimed between the two.
The gun went off and I did a few strokes with my head out of the water so the Iolite would lock on. I was surprised at the chaos of the water. So many people kicking – water and waves were being kicked up. I inhaled a mouth full of water and began choking and sputtering. I wasn’t panicked, but I certainly couldn’t breathe/swim with a mouth full of water!
Eventually I got my bearings, put my head in the water before I could be splashed again and started swimming. All the lights on the Iolite started blinking — that’s a good sign, meaning it’s locking onto a direction — and then I had a single green light: another good sign (that I was headed in the right direction). I peeked my head out…and yes! I was headed in the correct direction.
And that is how the swim went. All 1.2 miles of it: absolutely great. The Iolite guided me flawlessly, never letting me get far off course. I approached the first buoy wide — exactly what I had intended.
I then changed direction toward the next buoy. I, of course, got the red light telling me I was veering off course. I ignored it because I was now turning toward the next buoy. Pretty soon the red light turned to all blinking lights — the Iolite had figured out I wasn’t just drifting in the wrong direction, I had turned. So now it was figuring out my new direction.
Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant!
My green light came on and I continued to swim. Before I knew it I was rounding the second buoy and headed for the beach. I was feeling awesome.
Usually as I head toward the beach, my sense of distance and direction gets messed up, but not with the Iolite. I headed comfortably for the dock and my exit!
In addition to the Iolite, I was wearing the Garmin 920XT Elden had bought me for our anniversary. Which means two things. First, that I was actually wearing two GPSs during my swim, which proves I have married a nerd. Second, it means I got a Strava of my swim and can show a video of the the Flyby of it:
In this video, you can see another racer’s GPS track criscrossing my own. This person swims pretty much how I normally swim, drifting off course and having to make big course corrections all the time. She (or he) is faster than I am, but we wind up finishing about the same time because with the Iolite I swam an amazingly smooth path.
Disappointment in Transition 1
As I clumsily walked up the boat ramp, I excitedly looked down at my Garmin. I was certain I had just rocked my swim – killed it. Forty minutes, tops!
So I was very disappointed and confused when I saw it had taken me fifty minutes.
What in the world?
I had felt great; the swim went perfect!
Well, the Iolite had done its job: I swam straight and had felt — for the first time ever in the swim part of a tri — like I knew where I was going.
But the fact is, no gizmo in the world could make me a faster swimmer. My little skinny arms didn’t have it in them to pull any harder or faster. Not getting in the pool or swimming for more than seven months probably had something to do with it too! How could I expect to improve my swim time with no preparation? If I hadn’t gotten on a bike or run a step in seven months would I expect to improve my times on them? Heck no!
The fact that I was only 5 minutes slower than my best 1.2 mile swim , and that this little device had changed the swim part of a tri from something terrifying to something enjoyable should be celebrated.
But to tell the truth, I wasn’t thinking these thoughts as I hopped on my bike. I was just angry. Angry that I had allowed Lynette an even bigger head start.
“I’ll never catch Lynette now,” I thought. “She had a three minute head start to begin with, plus she probably did the swim fifteen minutes faster than I did. By now she’ll be twenty minutes ahead of me!”
I couldn’t possibly make that up.
But…I guess I could try.
I clipped into my bike and ate a delicious package of Gu’s new Watermelon Energy Chews (seriously, they’re really good), I thought I would give it my best.
Bike
The first significant climb on the bike hits about a mile into the ride. I had joked with Cory that I hoped to pass him during that climb. Since Cory’s swim wave was to start about 15 minutes behind me and I figured I’d be about fifteen minutes slower than him in the water, we’d be exiting the water about the same time.
But that was all based on me being five minutes faster in the water than I had been.
Still — as you might imagine — I felt a huge surge of disappointment as I crested the top of the climb and saw no sign of Cory. This was going to be frustrating race; everyone was ahead of me.
The bike portion of triathlons is always incredibly entertaining (if “entertaining” is the right word): the majority of triathletes have no idea how to ride. There were slow people riding in the middle of the road, there were people drafting, there were crazy people zig zagging between riders. Nobody was calling out passing warnings. It was a giant accident waiting to happen. And…happen it does. It wasn’t long before I passed a poor rider, lying in the middle of the road, covered in blood, being assisted by medical.
Meanwhile, my legs felt fantastic, they responded when I pushed them, I felt like I was going to best my 2013 time by at least five minutes.
Then we started up Snow Canyon — dreaded by many, but not me! I love to climb and Snow canyon has that to give. I knew the race directors had thrown in a re-route somewhere in the canyon, but wasn’t sure what or when it would come. I had just ridden this part of the course and was feeling confident.
So I was quickly thrown off my game when the arrows redirected us on to a bike path. There were several bikers in a group as we entered the bike path. The narrowness of the path made it hard to pass or gain speed. We kind of moved along as a group. The path eventually intersected the main road where we were to descend down the road.
What? A descent in the middle of a four-mile climb? What a way to ruin your upward/climbing momentum!
We (the group of us) descended down the road for about a mile, when we hit the turn-around. As a group we had no warning and we almost had a pile up as we made an abrupt U-turn and headed back up the mile we had just descended and then on up to the top of snow canyon.
That little loss in momentum was going to cost me my PR.
HAMMER MAD.
I summited the canyon, I got down in my tuck and cruised down the freeway toward St George and T2. There was little if any wind, so I felt fantastic as I flew down the last few miles into town. AS we rode down Diagonal street, I could see runners heading out on the run. I frantically scanned the field for lynette all while trying to steer my bike through the group of riders around me.
This was probably not a very good idea — kind of reminded me of texting while driving! In any case, I didn’t see lynette in the flow of runners heading out. Maybe I wouldn’t be seeing Lynette until the finish line.
Transition 2
As I headed into T2, I headed to the general area where I knew my shoes would be. And I got lost! I couldn’t find my shoes!
And since the Garmin on my wrist keeps track of each event — including the transitions — of a triathlon, I can show you exactly what my shoe hunt looked like in Strava:
Someone should totally make a segment out of that.
I kept looking at the number on my arm and then the number on the bike racks. After circling around for what seemed forever-I found my shoes! I changed my shoes and my hat quickly, put my race belt on (didn’t want to forget that again) and headed for a quick bathroom break.
On the way out of transition a wonderful volunteer gave me an Otter Pop. It was icy and cold and tasted wonderful.
The Run
While riding the bike I hadn’t realized how hot it had become. As I started the run, I felt a bit overwhelmed. My leg muscles were desperately trying to decide what the heck they were supposed to do and my lungs were being seared by the heat radiating off the ashphalt.
How could I possibly run thirteen miles? Especially considering that the run course of this Half Ironman is brutal. Check out the elevation profile from my run:
As you can see, the first five miles are almost all uphill. This is made worse because the first three miles out of the aid station are a false flat. You feel like you should be moving a lot faster than you are. It’s a little demoralizing, and then the road turns straight up as you climb up Red Cliffs Drive.
Ugh. I had to walk. I hate having to walk.
And then she passed me. “She” being the sweet girl that had run with me at the Ogden Half Ironman back in October. I yelled out encouragement and reminded her who I was! She was cruising! I felt impressed with myself that I had been in her company back in October; she clearly is the real deal. She had started at least twenty minutes behind me today and was clearly flying on the run. Way to go! I love seeing people have banner days.
It was during these first few miles that I saw Cory. He was coming into T2 on his bike. Somehow I had gotten ahead of him on the bike. I wasn’t sure when. I yelled at him that he was looking strong and was only fifteen minutes behind me (which is how far he started after me!) He was doing fantastic!
Now I needed to find his wife!
My goal with each step was to make it to the next aid station. The temperatures continued to climb. The aid stations and volunteers were great. There was plenty of ice and cold water and coke as well as Otter Pops and popsicles being handed out by spectators.
[Ed Note: I do not think it is possible to overstate The Hammer’s love of Otter Pops. During the Summer she buys them in bulk...and eats them in bulk, too.]
Toward the halfway mark on the run, the route becomes convoluted. You run a loop and an out-and-back section. Where there had been aid stations every mile, now they’re stretched out to every two miles.
I was quickly becoming very demoralized, hot and thirsty.
And then I heard my name: It was Lynette! I had almost caught her. She had just left the halfway / turn-around point. She was headed up the same hill I was heading down!
She was just half a mile ahead of me. Within reach, if I pushed.
I yelled, celebrating in my head, and sped up. I grabbed some ice-cold water and Coke, then had another GU. In the past couple years, I’ve learned to love GU; it’s my secret weapon (even though I don’t keep it very secret). By fueling early and often (every thirty to forty-five minutes in a race, and don’t stop fueling just because you’re getting close to the finish line), I can race my best, staying strong in the second half of the race…when most people start fading.
Okay, back to the story.
I turned it on and within ten minutes had caught and passed Lynette. I really thought we could run together for a while, but I was feeling great and just motored past her. I patted her on the back and wished her well as I ran by.
It’s funny how catching up with someone who is five years older than I am can make me happy. I know that Lynette is an incredible athlete and it makes me proud that I can compete with her!
The last few miles were hot; my feet were burning up. I wasn’t used to the heat and it was really affecting me.
The last few miles I ran pretty consistently with a few ladies. They would surge forward and I would reel them in, then they would catch and pass me again.
I have no idea if they knew I was even there. It was a game I was probably playing by myself. I doubted I was competing against them, so it really didn’t matter.
As we rounded the last corner — there was only about one mile left in the race — I made a stupid decision. I decided to stop and have a drink. Sometimes this can be the right decision…but not today.
As I stopped, I was passed by probably five women and ten men I had never seen before. The few ladies I had been running with disappeared up ahead! I tried to pick up the pace, but I was cooked. The stop had messed with my mojo and now I was sagging. Funny how that can happen.
Still, I did cross the finish line feeling less thirsty then the fifteen that had not stopped with five minutes to go in the race!
Final Times
I ended up being seven minutes slower than my 2013 time. My bike was at least a minute slower and my run was two minutes slower.
Am I disappointed? Maybe a little.
I have put a considerable amount of training into running and biking this year and was hoping for a faster time as a result. It didn’t happen.
Maybe I need to consider that possibly I’m a little overtrained and tired? I guess I can’t expect to improve my times every race.
But: I did have fun!
I love doing races with friends. The finish line was full of stories and adventure as we recounted our adventures to each other!
And now: on to training for the Squaw Peak 50 Mile Trail Run!
Comments (10)
05.6.2015 | 3:46 pm
Every once in a while, I take a few minutes to reflect on how incredibly good I am at certain things. For example, I am good at napping. I am excellent at listening to the radio. I am practically phenomenal at making eye contact and apparently paying attention while actually not paying any attention whatsoever.
Above all, however, I am good at choosing winners at random. Crazily good at it. Honestly, I’d say I’m one of the top ten random winner choosers in the world. I’m like the Martin Riggs of random drawings.
Last weekend’s trip to Northern California proved this, in an enormous way. Specifically, I showed astonishing brilliance in managing to randomly choose Jeff D as the winner in last September’s fundraising contest to benefit Forget-Me-Not Farm.
Jeff, as it turns out, is within a year of my age. He’s a strong cyclist, with no ego about it whatsoever. He’s incredibly smart, thoughtful, and interesting…again with no ego about it. He’s a great conversationalist, but doesn’t feel the need to fill every single moment with chatter. And he’s a great photographer.
All of these things would matter a lot to me personally, since Jeff and I would be together, more or less nonstop, for the next 72 hours or so.
During which time, we would do all of the following, all together:
- Text each other, from three feet away, about the creepy bus driver
- Pick up an RV and then live through the terror of me driving any largeish vehicle, ever, for the first time in my life. And then take it up and over three large mountain passes (and then back over those same passes two days later)
- Eat at an 80’s-themed British pub
- Hang out with llamas and goats
- Plan race strategy with Levi Leipheimer
- Go grocery shopping with Levi Leipheimer
- Go grocery shopping again, but without Levi Leipheimer
- Race our brains out
- Clean my wounds
- Hang out with numerous Friends of Fatty
- Race our brains out some more
- Agree that we would not use the bathroom in our RV for pooping unless absolutely necessary
- Race our brains out a third time
- Eat scrambled eggs and avocados
- Discover a fatal flaw in our plan to return our RV
And, due to the fact that he is — as I’ve mentioned — a great photographer, the telling of all these parts of this race writeup will be well-pictured.
At some point during the weekend, I confessed to Jeff: “You have no idea how relieved I am that you won this contest. What if it had been a woman? Or someone who couldn’t go with the flow? Or someone half my age?”
My point was, out of the universe of potential contest winners, Jeff was pretty much the ideal person to win this one.
As one of the best winner selectors in the world, I take full credit for all of this.
Now, let’s begin the story.
Thursday: The Day Before The Race
Jeff and I meet at SFO, arranging the where as soon as he lands. We hop aboard a shuttle to Santa Rosa, where we’ll be meeting our driver and chaperone for the day, Greg Fisher.
“Have you met Greg?” I ask Jeff.
“Just in email and on the phone,” Jeff replies.
“Then you’d better watch him in Mementum,” I said. And Jeff did. Which probably, now that I think about it, prepared Jeff for Greg to be something completely different than what Greg actually is. (What Greg actually is: smart, hilarious, well-organized co-honcho of BikeMonkey)
Meanwhile, the bus driver enchanted all of us passengers with his Krusty the Klown impersonation, which is why I drove a knitting needle through both my eardrums.
Greg picked us up in a friend’s jeep, explaining that his Subaru was broken. I asked Greg if, like me, he found it impossible to hear the word ‘Subaru’ without getting the lyrics to Blondie’s “Rapture” stuck in his head.
Greg avowed that he did not have that problem, and so I helped him out by reciting the relevant portion of the song, and then — because I have two terabytes of eighties music stuck in my head — kept going.
I’m very fun to be with.
Oh Look, They Have Themselves an RV
After a quick stop by the hotel, we headed over to the RV rental place, where Jeff and I posed by the RV we’d be calling home for the next couple days:
Greg and Jeff inspected the interior:
Everything looked good. There was, in fact, just one tiny problem. Someone was going to have to drive this thing. And — for a reason I to this day cannot grasp nor fathom — I was that person.
Now, I realize that for many of you, this would not be a big deal. This RV was not the longest vehicle in the world. Not even close. And it was set up to be driven just like a regular (albeit very long and wide) car.
And yet, truly, I have never been so petrified. Just look at my face in that photo. It’s like I’ve aged twenty years in five minutes.
But it is my name on the insurance for the RV, which BikeMonkey (wisely) bought.
Bicycles
Next up, we went to The Bike Peddler — sister shop to the legendary NorCal BikeSport — where Jeff and I were set up with matching Marin Rift Zones:
Full suspension, plus dropper posts. We were ready for anything.
Forget Me Not Farm
The whole reason we were here, of course, was because we had been raising money for Forget Me Not Farm. The idea of this place is beautiful: take children and animals that have been abused, and help both by putting them together.
It works. And a big reason it continues to work is because Levi’s GranFondo (and people like the Friends of Fatty) put the money together to help it keep working.
Carol, the founder of Forget Me Not Farm, took us on a tour of the place, showing us a number of the animals the kids help take care of and the crops they raise.
Jeff (right) with a llama (left)
Onions
Probably I should know what these are
We were now at dinnertime, and would be meeting Levi at Riviera Ristorante to eat and strategize. Then we’d be going grocery shopping. Which…well, it would be weird.
And those two things together…well, they probably deserve their own post.
So I think I will.
PS: Jeff is writing his own report of this weekend, and is further along than I am. Read his part 1 here, and his part 2 here.
Comments (19)
04.29.2015 | 7:55 am
A “Time’s Almost Up” Note from Fatty: You’re almost out of time. This Thursday is the last day of the “Buy Gear, Make a Donation, Win the Ultimate Dream Bike and Vacation” contest.
It’s not too late. Buy some Fat Cyclist gear, or make a donation to WBR, and you could well be the one who wins any Specialized S-Works bike you want, outfitted with top-of-the-line ENVE and SRAM components. And you’ll be making a significant, immediate impact in someone’s life.
We are currently just over $18,000 raised with this incredible bike / vacation combo. I would love to hit $20,000.
RAWROD: Ride Around White Rim in One Day. It’s the event that actually inspired me to start this blog (see part 3 of my RAWROD ’05 writeup [also worth checking out: part 1 and part 2]), almost exactly ten years ago. (So yes, I’ve been doing multi-part ride reports literally from the very beginning of this blog.)
And the 2015 edition of this annual group ride was last weekend.
But it was a year embroiled in controversy, uncertainty, intense debate, and — eventually — a resolution that is hotly contested, to this day.
I will explain.
Very, Very Important
My dad will be turning 80 this year. Or actually, he has already turned 80 this year, but we’re pretending like he hasn’t, because while all his kids are getting together in Grand Junction, CO to celebrate his birthday, we’re doing it kind of late.
Because of me.
Or more to the point, because I couldn’t let this family shindig get in the way of RAWROD. It’s that important. So I asked my family to rearrange their schedules, moving this birthday party to a couple of weeks later.
Including, I should mention, my sister who lives in Germany.
Secret, Interrupted
I have noticed that the likelihood of at least the threat of bad weather is exactly proportionate to the importance of whatever it is you’re looking forward to.
Which, generally speaking, are bike rides.
Fortunately, I’m very good at using The Secret, so I’m generally pretty good at staving off bad weather.
I do this, mostly, by just not thinking about weather very much. For example, did you know I’ll be going to California for three days of racing this weekend, with Levi Leipheimer as my actual teammate?
It’s true. I am.
But I haven’t checked the weather even once, instead confidently believing that the weather will be fine. I imagine myself on a bike, in a race, comfortable and dry, the tailwind blowing through my hair. Or where the hair would be, had I hair.
But here’s the problem for : I am not the only one going to Moab for RAWROD. My friend Dug is going, too.
And Dug…well, Dug is interested in weather. And by “interested,” I of course mean “concerned.”
And by “concerned,” I mean “dangerously obsessed.”
At first, his text messages are benign, asking how much water and food I plan to carry, whether I ran out last year, how it’s possible that I can be so remarkably handsome. Normal stuff.
And then, this:
What does the forecast need to get to for you to not go?
The answer of course being, “I hadn’t even considered bad weather as a possibility.
But I was now.
Dug’s text messages began to be increasingly informative. And ominous:
right now it says 10 – 20 % chance of some rain in moab. you’ve ridden white rim in iffy conditions, just wondering what you thought
and
chance of rain in moab saturday goes up about 10% a day
and finally:
SHOWERS INCREASE FRIDAY THROUGH SUNDAY ACROSS EASTERN UTAH ANDWESTERN COLORADO A PROLONGED PERIOD OF WET WEATHER TO THE REGION WILL BEGIN ON FRIDAY. THE FIRST WEATHER DISTURBANCE WAS OVER SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA ON THURSDAY AND WILL SLOWLY TRACK THROUGH THE DESERT SOUTHWEST THROUGH FRIDAY. THIS SYSTEM WILL BRING INCREASING SHOWERS ON FRIDAY. THEN A STRONGER AREA OF LOW PRESSURE WILL DIG IN FROM THE NORTHWEST ON SATURDAY AND PASS ON SUNDAY. THE ASSOCIATED COLD FRONT WILL MOVE THROUGH THE REGION SATURDAY NIGHT INTO SUNDAY BRINGING WIDESPREAD SHOWERS SCATTERED THUNDERSTORMS AND COOLER TEMPERATURES. SNOW ACCUMULATIONS ARE EXPECTED IN THE HIGHER TERRAIN WITH THE SAN JUAN MOUNTAINS FAVORED TO RECEIVE SIGNIFICANT ACCUMULATIONS. EARLY INDICATIONS SHOW 6 INCHES OF SNOW WITH LOCALLY HIGHER AMOUNTS POSSIBLE. VALLEY RAIN AND MOUNTAIN SNOW SHOWERS ARE EXPECTED TO CONTINUE INTO MONDAY MORNING. THERE IS STILL MUCH UNCERTAINTY ON THE TRACK OF THE UPPER LOW WHERE THE HEAVIEST SHOWERS WILL OCCUR AND SNOW LEVELS AND ACCUMULATIONS. STAY TUNED TO THE LATEST INFORMATION AND FORECASTS ON THIS DEVELOPING STORM.
Yes, he really sent me that. As a text message. To which I finally replied, “You are making it really hard for me to use The Secret.”
He answered:
“Is Ahab [a newish and really terrific trail off Amasa Back] rideable in the wet?
At which point, I had no choice but to block him.
Commencing Conversations
The Hammer and I planned to stay in Green River Friday evening (Moab hotels are just too expensive, and we don’t like camping), then drive out to the White Rim trailhead early Saturday.
It began raining just as we left home. Within twenty minutes, however, we had left the rain behind us.
But only literally.
Figuratively, the rain was still very much with us. Moreso than ever, in fact.
“I don’t want to ride all day in the rain,” The Hammer said, reasonably.
“Me either,” I replied, savvily.
“So is it going to rain on us?”
“I think it could,” I said. (The only way I could have made that statement more wishy-washy is if I had thrown the word “probably” in there somewhere.)
“Why don’t you ask Dug about the weather?” The Hammer asked. “See whether he’s going to ride.”
I checked. Dug was already 80% of the way to Moab. Which is a much stronger statement than anything he could have actually said.
But we still both had concerns.
We talked on the way to Moab, trying to decide what the threshold was for abandoning the ride.
Would it be if clouds were threatening? (But clouds can clear, and had done so before!)
Would it be if it were raining? (But rain can dissipate and had done so before!)
How about if it were really bad wind? (Ditto!)
In the end, we decided to…not decide until the next day.
The Next Day
We woke to rain. A vigorous, “no-plans-to-quit-just-getting-started” kind of rain.
We loaded our bikes and gear, undeterred. The rain might stop as we got closer to Moab.
It did not stop.
“Are we in for this ride, no matter what?” The Hammer asked.
It was a good question. No, make that an excellent question, thanks to the fact that it was a tricky question. In fact, it may well have been a trick question, designed to lure me into making a unilateral decision that applied to both of us.
Thanks to many years of being a man in a committed relationship, I knew exactly how to answer.
“I don’t know. What do you think?”
The Hammer was prepared for this deflection.
“I’m good either way.” But we both knew this wasn’t true. Any more than it was true when I said that “I don’t know.” Of course I knew what I wanted to do. This is due to the fact that, like many people, I am capable of reading my own mind.
And so, for the next half hour, as we drove toward Mineral Basin Road, we continued our precipitation negotiations, accompanied by the soundtrack of rain.
A rain which, I feel compelled to mention — did nothing whatsoever to help make the decision obvious. Instead, it carefully straddled the line between drizzle and downpour. Diminishing this moment, gathering force the next.
Stupid rain.
Anyway, the conversation went like this:
Me: I don’t want to spend ten hours in the rain.
The Hammer: I don’t either.
Me: But the weather forecast shows the rain either stopping or slowing for at least four hours. The rain should stop just about when the ride should begin.
The Hammer: So we could have a nice first half of a day of riding. But then the rain could pick up, leaving us right about at the halfway point of the ride in a downpour that doesn’t let up for the rest of the day.
Me: And if that happens, it’s not like we can cower in a convenience store until the storm passes. Out on the White Rim, there’s literally nowhere for us to hide.
The Hammer: It’s not like we’ve never done this ride before, either.
Me: But we do look forward to it every year. And we always have fun. And we did drive out here for about four hours.
The Hammer: So what are we going to do?
Me: Well, if we go ahead and do the ride, we might really regret it. And if we bail, we will almost for sure really regret it, because then we won’t know how bad it might have been if we had gone.
The Hammer: You decide what we’re going to do then.
Me: I have decided…to be happy with whatever you think is best.
Decision Made
And thus the dance continued, until we reached Mineral Basin Road. When dry, this ten-or-so-mile road is wide, smooth, and about as fast as pavement.
It was not dry. No, not dry at all. The baked red clay had de-baked, turning into a clumping sandstone mucilage.
By the time we got to where the trailhead — and all our friends — were, the truck had gone sideways twice, I had kept the windshield wipers on nonstop, and we had made a decision.
There was no way we were going to do White Rim. If Mineral Basin Road was precarious, how would Shafer be? How would Dead Horse be?
We pulled into the parking lot to go see everyone, but it was strictly a courtesy call.
Decision Really Made
Before we had a chance to step outside, I saw Dug, walking up to the truck. He was not dressed for cycling.
But he was laughing.
“Have you seen what your bike looks like?” He asked.
As a matter of fact, I had not. So I stepped out of the truck, nearly slid out onto my butt, and then walked around to the back of the truck, where my bike was attached to the receiver-mounted rack:
And this:
Truthfully, these pictures (which I didn’t think to take until much later, at a gas station, on the way home), don’t show the depth of crud that had been sprayed onto and into my bike.
We stayed a while and talked, then dispersed. Some of us talked about going down to Moab and riding Amasa Back, or maybe the Slickrock trail.
The Hammer and I were in. Any ride is better than no ride. I’d power wash my bike as well as I could (The Hammer’s was still relatively clean, having made the trip in the truck bed).
But when The Hammer and I got back on Mineral Basin road, it had become even more slippery and gunky than it had earlier been. If that’s even possible.
And so the ride / no ride negotiations resumed.
“I don’t want to ride in this,” I said, now emboldened, the “never say no to a ride” taboo now gone. “This is going to be a terrible day to ride. Let’s go home.”
I was newly confident. Assertive. Outspoken even.
“OK,” said The Hammer, clearly respecting my confident point of view.
Which, as it turns out, was dead wrong, as I would find out soon enough, when the Instagram photos of the day came in. Like this one:
And this one:
I have learned my lesson: Waffle and deflect as much as necessary, because you do not want to be the guy who makes the “no go” call on what will eventually turn out to be a demonstrably awesome day.
Comments (10)
04.22.2015 | 8:27 am
Let’s imagine, for a moment, that you are a mountain biker. For many of you, this will take very little imaginifying, because you are in fact a mountain biker.
And while we’re imagining, let’s go ahead and throw on this further supposition that you’ve got a knack for this mountain biking, which you’ve enhanced with years of experience.
You’ve become quite discerning.
Let’s imagine, now, that you, as a mountain biker, somehow get paid to ride mountain bikes. To try out lots and lots of mountain bikes and wheels and component combos.
In other words, we are imagining that you are Jake Pantone of ENVE, whose title is something like “Director of Marketing”…but whose title might more accurately be “resident cycling savant and product genius.” (if you want to see what he looks like, check any of ENVE’s “How To” videos, like the one on cutting carbon handlebars.)
After a while, as Jake Pantone, you start to form a pretty clear picture of what a perfect mountain bike might be.
Which gave me an idea: I should ask Jake what bike he would get and how he would set it up, if he were the one to win the “Buy Gear, Make a Donation, Win the Ultimate ENVE/Specialized Dream Bike and Vacation” contest.
And I’m glad I did ask. Here’s what he said:
The Enduro 29er is considered by many the best all-mountain/enduro bike ever made. Paired with our components…I’d have to agree.
“Wow,” I thought. “I’ve never even considered that bike.” See, I tend to think inside a pretty narrow slice of the mountain biking universe: very light hardtail XC racers. And the Enduro is more of an “anything, anywhere, anytime” machine, which Specialized describes as the “world’s most advanced all-mountain machine.”
Here’s the color I’d go with:
It also calls it a “155mm trail slaying rig,” but I’m opposed to using the word “rig” on principle; a frame that retails for $4000 is not a “rig;” it’s a marvel of technology and engineering.
Anyway, I was a little bit startled that in answering my question, Jake didn’t say which ENVE wheels he would pair up with this frame.
So I asked.
“M70 all the way,” he replied — referring to the ENVE M70 Thirty 29 wheelset, which is light enough for climbing, but tough enough to take pretty much any bumps you can throw at it.
Jake elaborated that he’d get Chris King hubs on this wheelset, and that he’d add the ENVE DH Bar (ENVE’s video on how they tested their DH bar is worth watching) and a 40mm MTN Stem.
This would be, according to Jake — and I am quoting here — “a super cool bike.”
Good News
So here’s the good news. When (it’s important to think “when,” not “if” for these kinds of things) you win this outrageously cool contest, I’m going to put you in touch with Jake at ENVE, and — whether you choose to build up this particular superbike or some other superbike — Jake will give you advice on which wheels and components from ENVE he’d recommend.
Just think of it as an added perk to winning the contest.
As to whether you take your trip out to ride in Santa Cruz or at Gooseberry, well…you’re on your own for that particular decision (though I’d be happy to weigh in and further muddy the waters, if you’d like.)
Still a Good Deal
Recently, I told you (and only you) that this particular contest is an especially good one to enter, due to the fact that it has somehow managed to fly under the radar. This in spite of the fact that:
- You could win an extraordinary bike. Really, an impossibly wonderful bike. Any Specialized S-Works frame, with any ENVE components, and a top-end SRAM drivetrain.
- You could win an extraordinary trip. Go to Gooseberry Mesa! Or to Santa Cruz! With Dave Thompson and me! So awesome it warrants the use of a near-infinite number of exclamation points!
- Even if you don’t win, you can still get really great gear. Unlike many of my contests, in this one you can enter by buying 2015 FatCyclist gear, and the full price of your purchase is included in the drawing.
- You’re making a big difference. This is a fundraiser for World Bicycle Relief, which makes an immediate and massive difference in a person’s life every time they give away a $147 bicycle. This bicycle means being able to stay in school. It means a greater range for job opportunities. It means being able to reach patients in need of health care.
Since then, this bike and contest have raised a total of just over $15K. Which is good…thought it’s still way below the value of the prize.
So if you’re a contest nerd (like I am), I’d suggest that if the entries in are below the value of the prize in the contest…well, that’s not a bad contest to get into. In which case, hey: make a donation.
And if you’re the kind of person who likes to get maximum value out of your dollars, well, considering the fact that your Fat Cyclist Gear purchase automatically gets you that gear (the best-made gear I have ever offered, no less, at a great price), entry into this contest, and makes a donation to World Bicycle Relief…well, that’s kind of hard to beat.
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