The Good, Bad, and The Ugly

As in any of life's disciplines, experience takes on many forms. In our youth, we foolishly think that things eventually become easier at some magical point. We wait and wait and wait for that moment when our efforts become, effortless. Slowly, the realization sinks in that you never will arrive, it never becomes easier, and there will always be the bad alongside with the good.

The first 10 years of my cycling experience were an unrelenting pursuit to arrive, to be strong, and be fast. The following five years was like a roller coaster in slow motion, grasping the rope at its end in an effort to attain that firm hold. I was almost there, if I could just get to the top of the last rise.

These last five years have been a gradual eye opening transition to relax and enjoy the ride on this never ending roller coaster we call cycling. It cannot all be good. There is some bad and sometimes downright ugly. But it all fits together for one heck of a ride!

We have made the conscious decision to avoid a good bit of the ugly lately. Suffering just for the sake of suffering is not good, and can lead to bad things. Things like a bad attitude, a weak body, and a twisted mind. No, there's enough ugly in this world without us adding to it. I've enjoyed our new level of maturity in cycling in knowing how to keep it good and fun while continuing to stretch ourselves to a degree.

Tuesday nights road rides have been replaced with the Big Creek mountain bike playtime. Plenty of pictures have been posted previously, so I felt entitled to enjoy a night off from documentation. This Tuesday night was all mine to indulge in a full on ride. How good it was to pull up to a parking lot jam packed with all our friends. Even though it was 998 degrees, everyone was eager to hit the dirt.

I spied Raja, Treybiker, Cyclesmith, Millhouse, and Burch heading to the trailhead, so I quickly jumped on their train. With no camera in tow, I had opted to ride sans camelbak, and had my water bottle in my jersey pocket. I enjoyed the freedom of a weightless back, but could not access any refreshing water on a whim. The pace was brisk and my tongue was stuck to the roof of my parched mouth. If I could just survive till the freeride area, I could take a big gulp. Ah, how do the pros race with just a water bottle?!? That would be ugly in my case. Good thing I'm not a pro.

Raja, Cyclesmith, and I did numerous runs down the gully. The first time I came here a few months ago on my new MotoLite, I remember hanging onto Raja and Treybiker on the downhill. Scared me senseless, but the flow was on and all was good. Every time since, I have not been able to dial into that focus and flow. Staying on Raja's wheel has no longer been an option for me. I just cannot handle the speed.

When we get to the top of the run, I like to just keep it going. If I stop and linger at the top, it allows me too much time to scare myself and lose my nerve. This time, we kept it going without too many delays, but I still could not keep chase with Raja.

Cyclesmith was riding fast, but sensibly enough not to push the envelope too far. He's a Class A downhiller, but I think he, like me, no longer feels the need to make every pass a World Cup Run. Feeling more comfortable with him as my Captain, I tried to position myself behind him for each session. Trying to focus on my balance, leaning my body in the turns, getting my weight back, I felt less discombobulated descending than I have the past few weeks.

After 10 repeats, it was time to hit the singletrack. Raja led me and Ony back to the cars, setting a nice pace. Back at the parking lot, the light was fading, but there was still time for Robb to lead a handful of us out for one more short lap. I don't know what Robb was smokin', but he was flying and it became an all out race.

Finally towards the end, I gave up. Things were getting bad, and I did not want to load my legs up with acid. Tomorrow's ride was going to be ugly enough as it was, and I knew this would only prove to hurt me. I am only good for one hard effort a week. Let's not waste it here amongst friends. I'd rather be off the back on my mountain bike than left for dead on the side of road by a pack of ravenous shavers.

An hour and half workout for Tuesday night's dirt ride, not too bad. I might be okay for Wednesday, not good, but hopefully not bad.

While stretching Tuesday afternoon before the ride, I managed to get a rib out of sorts. Searing pain shot up the left side of my back, and I could not get in a deep breath without a reminder. As long as I did not breathe too deep while riding, I could handle it. Needless to say, that was a tricky feat. The heat was brutal, and I was gasping for any ounce of oxygen I could filter through the humidity. This pain better subside before Wednesday or it's going to be really ugly. I'll sleep it off and reassess in the morning.

Wednesday morning I awaken from a comatose slumber. Take a deep breath. Is it better? Inhaling slowly.....AH! No, we're not good. Still ugly. Time for a SOS call to my Torturer, Janusz. What would I do without Janusz to put me back together again (and again and again). It's like Humpdy Dumpty when he sees me coming.

Janusz is one of the best things that has happened in my life. In 1997 something really ugly happened to me when my bike ride coincided with a car on the road one afternoon. If I had had Janusz at that time, I firmly believe my recovery would have been much different. Instead he and his wife were dancing in Germany, and I was left to my limited knowledge of physical therapy and a doctor's less than limited knowledge of physical therapy. Throw on top of that a nasty mtn bike accident in '99 and another bike/car incident in '02 and you have the makings of a big ole mess of scar tissue and messed up muscles in the guise of my body. Years of roaming from one bad therapist/doctor to another and I finally hooked up with a good thing, my beloved Janusz Mazon.

As always, my muscles and ribs were made compliant again, and I was ready to face another ride. Wednesday afternoon's workout was the Outspokin ride. Last time I did this ride a few weeks ago I got lucky. The heavy hitters were in short supply and the A Group pulled me along in a nice steady consistent pace. Somehow I knew this time lady luck would not be on my side.

Shane and Cerar were there. (I actually asked Cerar one day how you properly spell his name, sounds like we call him Caesar.) I did not know the other players, but that did not matter. These 2 bad boys had a couple more notches in their belt than mine. It was going to be an ugly scene for sure. But I was okay with that. I came here with one goal in mind; to get in a good workout. This was not social hour or fun time. Things cannot always be good. You have to sow in a little pain, let in the bad, before you can reap the good.

In our preride chatter, Shane said, "Yea, I'm tired tonight." Ah, yes, I know that language; Shaverlish. Been conversing in it for 20 years now. Translated into English he was saying, "I'm riding so strong tonight that I'm going to chew you up and spit you out before you ever even know what hit ya." I gathered my wits about me and decided to give it all I had. I would make it a game. Let's see how long it takes ya'll to crack me; 5 minutes, 10, do I hear 20? Don't hold back fellas, give me all you got!

They did. Without a doubt. At first the group eased out innocently enough along the beautiful rolling roads. Having already done this once, I knew there were some downhills early on the course. Why the tentative riders get up front for a downhill, I do not know. It irritates me, but not as much as it annoys Concrete Blonde. Oh, it got her gander last time, and I remembered that. Therefore, I quickly maneuvered myself to the front away from the heavy brakers. If I cannot keep up on the climbs, at least do not steal the one joy I have away from me!! The downhill!!!

I got on Shane's wheel and we blasted down the hill. I could almost hear the wheels turning in the other guys' minds. What does this chic think she's doing? Does she really think she can keep pace with us. We'll drop her in a New York minute. No, I was not trying to make a statement, and I did not really care what they thought. They would get their chance soon enough to put me in my place. But dang it, they were not going to slow me down on the fun part of the ride. Slowing people down on a downhill is not only bad, it's just plain wrong. If someone behind you is faster than you, swallow your pride and let them in front. Just say NO to turtles in the fastlane.

As good as the downhill is on Epperson, its climb is equally as bad. That's when things got ugly. I turned myself inside out to hang onto the train. Getting unhitched towards the top, I was not about to give up so easily. For once in a long while, I had some fight in me. I dug deep in the dark corners of my memory to remember how to do this. This wasn't just a matter of going hard. It was a whole other ball game that I used to play a long long time ago.

I became oblivious to what was around me, how many riders there were, and what road we were on. All that mattered was tapping deep inside to the power within, every muscle fiber, every brain synapse, every nerve firing, everything was being called upon to do their job. Details become a blur. Am I the last one? Did we just make a turn? Who's up front? Did I just run over a pothole? How many are in this group? I don't know, don't remember.

I do remember the pain, unbelievable pain, ugly pain. It took me years of training to become accustom to calling on that type of pain, driving through it, and surviving. I've put that ugliness behind me, but a few times a year I seem to be able to dredge it up from within me and stare it in the face. I could hear the tiny voice in me, "this is ugly, this makes me uncomfortable, we do not have to do this." Normally I quickly give in to that voice. But tonight I wanted to fight. Enough of good all the time. Let's get down and dirty, time for the bad.

But fight will only take you so far. I simply did not have the strength in my legs to match theirs. 28 minutes into the fight, we hit a climb long enough that I could not recover to catch back on the train. I could continue to fight, but I'd just be swinging into empty space looking like a fool. The ugly was over, now it would just be bad.

Some good was still lurking around the corner. Not knowing exactly where to go, I looked behind me. One of my fellow derailees was not far behind. As he pedaled by, I quickly slipped into his draft. Bud was strong and steady, just what I needed at a time like this. Uh oh, a little too strong. Desperately trying to recover, I could not stay in his slipstream. Unhitched again.

The Bad turned quickly back to good. Bud realized he'd cracked this little new found egg, so he eased up to let me hook back on his wheel. I thanked him profusely with halted breath. "I....didn't....mean for you.....to.....wait on me.....please....keep your.....pace.....you're a......lifesaver." He seemed content to be my domestique and calmly replied, "this is good."

For almost another hour we strode along in silence, heavy breathing belting out from my belly as if it were the steam propelling our train along the road. I admired his strength and patience, and he displayed no annoyance or arrogance at the role he was playing.

The last couple hills brought my legs to the edge of the precipice of cramping. I was going to have none of that. This ride had required all my body could give, but I was determined to finish standing upright. A huge bright orange sun was just setting behind the trees. I laughed within thinking how that represented the yolk of this egg that had been broken more than once tonight. With a face red as a beet and steam rising from my flesh, we turned into the parking lot. All I could think of was getting the ice cold bottle of water from the car.

After swigging half the bottle down and pouring the other half over my head, I looked for my Race partner. We shook hands as if we had just finished competing in the US Open. Respect and gratitude dripped from my heart thicker than the sweat flowed down my brow. "Thank you, Bud, you were just what I needed. I could not have survived without you."

I gave Shane and Cerar a high five. Cerar said, "I was tired tonight." Let me translate that for those who don't speak Shaverlish, "I could have annihilated you sooner, but just didn't feel like going any harder."

So now I'm good. I earned a nice day of rest without guilt. Cam rode by me this afternoon on his way to the mountain for hill repeats. I bid him on his way and said, "you go have fun without me." Translated that means, "Cam, you're bad and I can't take another day of ugly. Let's ride together again when it's all good."

Surprises

Two decades of cycling has no doubt made us rich in experience and memorable moments. However, after a bazillion cumulative hours in the saddle, rides can now be easily relegated to one of 8-10 type categories. Although every ride has its unique qualities, rarely are you surprised in the end. The choices sound something like this; "Alex, I'll take Fast n Furious for $200", "Epic for $500", or "Just Plain Fun for $800." Usually before the ride starts, you have a good idea of what category with which you will end up. Not that there's a thing wrong with that. I am just rarely surprised anymore.

The previous rides on Saturday and Sunday had successfully ripped apart every muscle in both legs, and I wanted desperately to recover in two days. We went to Tuesday night's Big Creek social fest, but the rain was threatening to ruin our "Good Times for $100" party.

Raja was determined to beat the rain and get in as many gully runs as he could on the bike du jour. Surprise, surprise, he still had some test riding to do on the Pivot demo bike.

Eventually I will get to a post reporting on all the bikes he has been testing. That will surprise even me if I accomplish that.

I went along to Big Creek not because my legs were ready to ride, but because we were to meet up with some out of town friends afterwards. Still not recovered from my vicious weekend, a hard ride did not tempt me in the least. I put the camera in my camelbak and went ahead of the small gang to entertain myself by setting up for some shots. Dark clouds and deep woods do not give a photographer with a slow lens much to work with to get success. No surprise there. The Captain and Ony did not care. They hammed it up for a shot everytime they saw me. Typical;-)

Robb was there still testing out the Ellsworth Evolve. The Fox F29 shock apparently had not been shipped to him before quality control did their job, but he fixed that error from Saturday's ride and was riding high.

Treybiker was eager to get back on the bike after being off due to an injury. Janusz was out of town, so there was no chance of Treybiker getting busted over riding. Unless I tell on him (I smell blackmail). An injured rider that cannot stay off his bike, that's not surprising!

Andres, Robin, MOMentum, psychobillycadillac, and regularjoe......a few other hearty souls were out there not scared to chance the rain. My legs did not feel as heavy as I expected, but I still did not push fate. I pedaled easily to the gully run and tried to take shots in the dark while foraging through the poison ivy. I was surprised I was able to get anything at all. With some tutelage from regularjoe, I will eventually get a faster lens. Thanks for your help, EPOjoe;-)

It became obvious the downpour would be arriving soon, so we booked it back to the parking lot. Game over.

Wow, we beat the rain. Now, that's a surprise.
Rest day #2 under my belt. Hope I'll be recovered for tomorrow's ride.

Having such an overactive imagination is probably what keeps me from being easily surprised. It takes alot to catch me off guard. Wednesday's ride was one of those rare surprising moments.

The plan had been to do the Outspokin road ride, not because I wanted to, but because I needed the workout. My aversion to riding the road had gone on long enough, and something drastic had to be done. Instead of easing back into it, I figured jumping into the deep end would be the best tactic.

Now granted, I have been riding the road some; early morning workouts by myself and hitting Hulseytown with the Caminator. Those ride are still very different from the yucky medicine I needed to choke down....a group ride with strangers. Nothing will shake the cobwebs out of your system quicker than a group road ride with cyclists of which you know nothing. You can't cheat by taking advantage of their weaknesses or whining your way into their graces. When you ride with strangers, it's a whole new ballgame that keeps you on your toes.

I still did not feel perky in the morning and considered resting one more day. Our schedule has been hectic and I stay in a constant state of sleep deprivation. Dirty clothes and dishes are piled up to the ceiling, and the house is so filthy from neglect that surely the city is soon to condemn it. There just has not been time to tend to my regular chores, let alone rest. Oh, I wasn't feeling good about today's ride at all. No surprise there.

Raja dropped the Pivot off at Outspokin, and we arrived to the ride start early.

I pedaled a mile down the road to see what the legs would do. They felt bruised. A hill was before me, and my speed dropped as pain ripped through my quads. Yea, this is not going to work, I can tell. Oh well, maybe I can hang with the C or D group, if there is one. Guess I need one more day of spinning.

I was not surrounded completely by strangers. When I rolled back to the parking lot, Tweety and ConcreteBlonde had appeared. They were lucky enough to commute over by bike from home. I miss the days I used to ride to the rides, but Raja will not let me do that anymore. Having only ridden with these 2 on the mtn bike, tonight's skinny tire ride would be a first for us!

Blair was there too. That was a pleasant surprise. G-Off was making a comeback and decided to make a showing since Rlaz was shaming him into it. So maybe there were some familiar faces, but there were plenty of others I did not know.

We rolled out at 6:30 keeping our fingers crossed the alleged rains would not appear. Despite the fact the forecasters had said today was the biggest threat, the radar looked promising. The weatherman was wrong, wow, what a surprise.

From the weather to my ride, the whole evening took me off guard. Totally expecting to just blow on the first climb, somehow my legs were putting out some power. They hurt like heck, and I kept waiting for the usual explosion, but it never came. I did not feel like a powerhouse at all, and I was not about to take anyone on for a showdown. And yet I still found myself staying on the wheel of the lead guys.

The only one I knew in our front group was Rlaz, the other 3-4 guys were strangers to me. I had no idea what to expect or what they would throw at me. I've said it before and I stand by it, guys do not like it when a girl (that they don't know) shows up in their pack. So I put on my best cloaking device, trying to fade into the background while hanging onto the train.

I suspect none of these guys were the real heavy hitters. They all appeared very strong, but I could not help but wonder how the story would have unfolded had Cam or the likes of him been there.

The beauty of it was their consistency, which is what surprised me. Guys are always jumping and sprinting. They will turn around, see you are still there, and do their best to crack you. The pace was high, but always steady. My fitness does not suit itself to sprinting and jumps, which is usually what a weekday intown ride entails. That is why I dislike them so much. It is excellent training, but dang, it hurts.

There was no talking, no socializing. We just rode at a steady high clip, nose to wheel. The entire time I am just wondering how long it is going to last for me. I was a bad girl and did not take a pull. The less these guys were reminded of my presence, the more time I figured I could buy. Besides, a pull probably would have broken me. I may be blond, but I ain't stupid.

The dreadful Freemanville climb came, and 2 of the guys went. My heartrate was spiking at 160. Oh dear God, please help me make this. No KOM for me, but I jumped back on the train with the assist of Rlaz and another guy.

The ride went quickly, thanks to the fact that I was concentrating so hard. Less than 2 hours ago I thought I would be limping back to the car, and yet I rolled in with the A Group. How did that happen? Who knows? Life is full of surprises.

I was exhausted, not from the effort, but mentally from being so focused. Over an hour and a half of riding with no laughing and no talking. Just heavy breathing. What a stark contrast my ride was to mountain biking. Sure, when you fly on a mtn bike, you focus hard. But the focus is different.

Tonight my focus was solely on the wheel in front of me. We could have been riding past elephants, dancing monkeys, and naked men and I never would have known. Whereas, in the dirt, I am always conscious of my surroundings. It is the surroundings that tune my senses and throw me the challenges.

Two very different experiences. I am not saying I think one is right and the other wrong, or one superior to the other. It just really jolted me into understanding a bit more of why I prefer mountain biking. Perhaps because I lean towards being artsy and have an over active imagination.

I am looking forward to our road ride trip in Switzerland though. Not only will we be riding with the Hillseekers, but the scenery will be surprising us at every turn. And I bet we will even socialize during our rides and perhaps stop for a picture or two! (By the way, Happy Anniversary! Congratulations on 15 years of marriage to Becky & Jeff today.) Nothing to prove with these two. They love riding just as we do. Riding in a cool beautiful place will be incredible. That motivates me. Raja calls himself a view snob.

As I grow in life, I am learning there are always surprises around the corner. In your 20's you think you know it all. What is the big fuss with these adults? In your 30's you really think you have it all down pat. Then you turn 40 and you realize you have barely scratched the surface. That's when the fun begins. Surprise, you're living life!

Perpetual Motion

Tuesday night draws a big crowd of passionate mountain bikers to the trails at Big Creek in Roswell. The beautifully handcrafted singletrack trails are a delight for the senses, but the real draw is the freeride area.

Downhillers with 8" lazy boy recliners come for endless sessions down the fabulous gully run.

Chris Warren, responsible for much of this heavenly playground shows us how its done. The free riders rail it and huck it and then do it over again, and again, and again.

The really serious ones choose to lug their flying carpets back up the hill the hard way. Those of us that ride the stiffer style bikes of 30lbs and under can pedal back up the trail for more runs. No matter what the choice of bike, everyone has fun and plays together quite well. Ony has mastered these trails over the past few months and dropped some serious pounds while doing it! Awesome!

This is the perfect place for Raja to put his bike du jour to the test.

Everything from Speedy singlespeeds to.........

...blinged out 198 machines. All are welcome at Big Creek.

Girls and.....

boys....

RedRockers and

FatlipCaptains chasing after the girls.

Psychobillycadillac dreaming about his new IF in the wings.

cRASh, not crashing;-)

Doesn't this look like fun?!!!

It feels as good as it looks!

Yea! I thought you'd agree. Good stuff, this perpetual motion.

Come on out and play! If you see one of us, introduce yourself. We're really not as scary as we look.
Click here for all the pictures, or just sit back and watch the thumbnail slideshow right here.

Big Fun

Tuesdays used to be our roadie training ride day. Death by crit or the Cycleworks Steel Magnolias ride, take your pick. Having entered our "too lazy to work hard" phase of life, hitting the dirt with our mtn bike buds has been more appealing lately.

Riding with cyclists like Tweety, iride, and Robb is always a treat. It's like poetry in motion. iride can definitely ride!

I love watching everyone rail it in the freeride section. Tom was styling tonight.

He tried to throw me a curve ball by switching his bright orange hub from the rear to the front. Has a purdy red one on the back now. Makes him go really fast.

MOMentum was flying high. Being child free for 10 days will do that for a mom!

It's just a big ole social fest, in between hammer sessions. I will not attempt to list names, because surely I will leave someone out. It's late and I'm not working on all 4 cylinders. Almost everyone was there! (psst: Good to see you, Concrete Blonde;)

RSutton was uber cool and hooked the Rajasan up with a beautiful Mojo to........what else.........but test out!
The Ellsworth is already sold and on its way to a new owner in Illinois. The search continues.

Robb is cool like that, and a cool rider.

This is a crowd of many talents. FarmerG had a bumper crop of fresh veggies for sale in his vehicle. Talk about cool apres ride treats!

More girl power represented...Robin still riding strong even while she waits for her new drivetrain to be installed.

And two rides in a row for me to have Colin alongside too! A double treat.

We played hide-n-seek through the trees climbing up to do downhill and gully runs. Over and over and over. How many times can we go?

We jumped and hucked,

flew through the air,

and railed it some more.

Shew! It was quite the workout. Those road rides are looking to be the easier way out after tonight's thrashing. Oh, but the dirt is soooooooooooo much fun. I like my beatings with a little dust on the side. I think we'll tough it out a little longer.


Here's a link to the photo album to see all the pics.
Or if you want to be lazy, you can watch a thumbnail slideshow right here;-)