We spent
some time chatting with the PL campground host and he was pretty astounded by
what we all were about to do. I told him that this was vacation for most of us
and he just shook his head. You get that reaction a lot with this flavor of
adventure. The host also told us to be on the look out for a wild Rasta man who
was section running the AZ and was most likely a day or two in front of us. I
eventually caught the Rasta man at La Posta Quemada ranch bathrooms outside of
Tucson...turns out he was just another Colorado local out on vacation.
Friday
I managed
a descent 5 hour sleep in the car. Elliot and his Dad were a good alarm
when they fired up their truck to head south to the 750 start. I was
up and packing by 0430. Choked down some final water and food. Hugged and
kissed my sweetie. Gear good, bike good-Let's do this! I hit the TH for the
Canelos, AZT Section 2, at exactly 5:45 am- the official start of my race.
 |
| 0545 4/11/14 |
The first
morning of the race, I learned that trackleaders.com and bikepacker had listed me as being in
first place! Flattered, but anyone who knows me knows that I would in no way be
leading the AZT300. Never. At any point. Unknown to the interweb, I had made a decision
Thursday night to start 3 hrs. earlier than the grand depart. But I hadn't let
Scott (or the world) know. Therefore, my blue dot appeared in front of the
mutants usually found at the front of the pack. I regret the confusion but
enjoyed the "leader" classification attributed to me in
cyberspace....next time, I'll clearly articulate my intent to ITT the 300. Most
definitely plan on departing a day before so as to be assigned a yellow dot and
not confuse spectators/dot junkies and the SPOT stalkers out there. This
way, I can still enjoy the camaraderie found during the scheduled race. But why
anyone starts this thing at 9am is beyond me….
 |
| MountainJah in 1st? |
The
decision to leave early was the right one. The forecast was calling for a
sizzlefest and I shutter to think how my ultimate problems day one- with the
heat and cramps- would have been compounded had they manifested in the Canelos.
Those first two sections of trail, the first 30 miles to Patagonia, had been
billed as a suckfust in every TR, blog and online forum I had read. And these
sections lived up to every bit of the hype. It was an up and down route with no
chance to find any flow while riding. Shitty trail surface- shredder rock, to
sand to disjointed slab to kitty liter- to crumbling wash-to hike out of
crumbling wash- and repeat....Being out there before everyone put me in the
dark and the proliferation of trash, smuggling paths and recent evidence of
border crossing groups made me nervous. Just the night before, the Parker Lake
campground host was regaling us with stories of guns being pulled on intrepid
hikers when they encountered coyotes- the human smugglers that work these
hills. Out in front, I tried to make a lot of noise, stayed focused on
following the AZT and hoped I wouldn't round a turn and run into a group on the
move. The beta I received beforehand was spot on and there are definitely times
where the trail moves through thick vegetation and the foot paths branching off
are defined and numerous. A good gpx file and base maps will get you through
but I couldn't believe how accurate this confusion had been described in my
pre-race research. Be advised...
 |
| A little more ridable than the eastern section. |
After the
first 15 miles of Canelos East, you hit the TH for Canelos West. I still hadn't
seen the front of the pack and was still on target to hit Patagonia between
noon and one. Again, great decision to start early if it keeps you out of these
hills during the heat of the day! The number of casualties I would ultimately
hear about at the Rincon store would again validate my decision to depart
early. And from what was reported, the Canelos West section had contributed to
the majority of stomach/heat/cramping issues that eventually led to a number of
scratches. I found the Canelos West section to be hot, but not oppressive. The
section is far more rideable than the Canelos East and I was pumped to arrive in Patagonia a little bit after noon. As I hit pavement and headed towards the
market for a coke, the race leaders emerged behind me, banged a sharp right to
cut to the Highway and without missing a beat, continued grinding hard for
Sonita. I believe this pack was Kurt, Arron G, Neil and JP? Regardless, I was
struck at how fast they were moving and I knew that was all I would see of
those guys. I chugged some water, ate a banana and pounded a Coke. Mounted up
and began charging towards Sonita- 12 sizzling hot pavement miles away...
Things went off the rails almost immediately. A mile out of town, I got passed
by another racer and was confused by my power output (or lack thereof). At this
point, I was only 40+ miles into the race but I couldn't get my legs to fire. I
began to cramp up. I've come to believe that cramping can be caused by two
things: First, the heat and everything that is associated with pushing hard in
hot temps- dehydration, salt imbalance, overheating core temp, etc.....the
second reason for cramps is pushing beyond your current conditioning level. I had
trained hard for this race. I had trained harder for this race than anything in
recent memory. Therefore, only half a day deep without having put in a bunch of
miles, I knew the cramps were not a result of not being physically prepared for
this adventure. It was totally the heat. And it was about to get worse.
The
pavement grind to Sonita is exposed and cars whizz pass going 60+. I tried to
keep it steady and massage my knotted quads that were tensing up as I pedaled.
I had done a fair bit of work with meditation and mental training focused on
"the breath" I kept pedaling and attended to my breathing. I
concentrated intently on each inhalation. I was focused on sending oxygenated
blood to my cramped up legs and breathing out the bad. I began to relax and
started to experience a more free spin in my legs. Eventually, I ended up in
Sonita and knew I needed to be proactive and aggressive with self care if I was
to continue this race. It's hard to describe how hot it was at this point. Mid
90s and with all the blacktop, reflective surfaces, etc....Well hopefully you
get the point.
 |
| What the hell am I doing? Trying to cool down in Sonita |
I hit up
2 Gatorades, 2 bananas, destroyed a Dove ice cream bar and put down half a
gallon of water. I had forgone salt tabs in lieu of bringing a bag of pink Himalayan
Salt. I just grabbed pinches of the stuff and sucked on it. I remember running
into some racers at the store. I think Elliot was there? At this point, the
heat was all I could think about and I knew something needed to give if I was
going to complete this adventure.
 |
| hot & hurting... |
Taking a
much needed but much longer than anticipated break in Sonita, I scrambled to
top off my water and saddle back up for Gardner Canyon Road. I secretly hoped
that all I needed was food and water and things would be back on track. Unfortunately,
it seemed only to get hotter and grinding out of town, we were blasted with a
warm, dusty headwind. Yuck...I stopped to pee and remember being so perplexed
why my urine was not clear. I mean c'mon....I should be overhydrated now with
all the fluids I had been pounding in town! Had I really let my hydration level
become so low and deficient? Was my body that compromised that I really
couldn't drink enough to stay ahead of the game? Answer: yes. I somewhat
freaked out and that's when the shakes started....There's something about
shivering in 90 degree weather that's concerning. My body is sizzling in the afternoon
sun but is so impacted by the heat and dehydration that the result is intense
cramping with some uncontrollable shivering mixed in....good times. I was
hurting. Big time. And I never saw or caught it coming on.
 |
| Shawn and Mike on the road out of Sonita. |
I focused
on breaking the rest of the day down into 10 mile segments. Next up, finish
grinding the road, then pick up ST to Kentucky Camp. I know mid pack racers
have utilized Kentucky camp as a night one camp but I was planning to go at
least 20-30 miles beyond there on day one. Now, just making it to Kentucky Camp
was my goal. I saw Mike from Crested Butte and Shawn Gregory and was rolling in
their wake out of Sonita until I realized I had dropped a glove. I turned
around to get it a quarter mile back and never saw those two again. I kept
going and ultimately made it to Kentucky Camp. There, I found Sean Allen who
was having major knee problems. He was talking about the injury with the KC
caretaker who ended up lending him a compression sleeve/knee brace. Sean had
also perked himself up on pain killers and it was obvious, despite the narcos,
that he was dealing with major discomfort. He set out to "see how it
goes" and I didn't expect him to last much longer. I cracked a tuna pouch
and a bag of potato chips for an early dinner. It was delightful. While eating,
Brian rolled in on his fatbike followed by Elliot and Jen Morse- both 750
racers. At this point, my legs were stiff and sore from all the cramping but
felt loose enough to keep moving forward. I felt better after eating and was
able to top off my bottles at the spigot. Eliot said that after one big climb,
it was all downhill to I-10. Brian disagreed and said it's more up and down and
many more hours before you hit the aforementioned downhill. Turns out, Brain
was right....
I set out
first and they all caught and quickly passed me. Only minutes out of Kentucky
Camp, I ran over a small rattlesnake and felt super bad. Was I too have a snake
curse for the rest of the ride? Moments later, Jen assured me that she had
encountered the same snake and it was still very much alive...and pissed. After
a series of roads coming out of Kentucky camp, you finally meet back up with
more ST and the start of the Las Colinas section. I turned off the road and
onto the singletrack. Both legs solidified like cement and it took every ounce
of Zen just to get off the bike. Wow- dual quad cramps, toes curled, calves
locked up....to anyone watching me, pure comedy. At this point, it was like
7:30pm-ish and the racers behind me were readying their lights for at least 4
to 6 more hours of night riding. However, I couldn't move without having both
legs lock up in excruciatingly painful cramps. Then a stroke of luck. Not 300
yds. deep on the AZ single track, I noticed a small social trail trending down
and to the left. It led a hundred feet down to a perfectly level cement slab.
Looked like an old well cap? I immediately made the decision to stop, stretch
and stand on the cool slab barefoot to help dissipate the cramping. I hadn't
decided whether this would be it for day one or not but I did inflate my pad
and got my bag/bivy out, etc. so as to stay efficient. El Freako and company
spotted me and I went up to the trail to chat. Jeff had helped me a ton in
getting ready for this race and I was embarrassed to be sharing with him that I
was pulling up only 67 miles deep. He was intent on pressing on into Tucson
that night! I told him I thought I could work out the cramps and get moving
again by 2-3am. He told me that's when he would be bedding down....I felt like
a total fred.....
Day
Summary- 12.5 hrs. on the go- only 67 miles deep....3 solid hours of sleep
Saturday
The
decision to stop early on day one saved my race. The heat was taking out
handfuls of racers at a time and many folks who pushed past me on night one
struggled to continue on. They couldn't find places to bed down, suffered
stomach aliments and broke bikes riding and pushing through the Santa Rita
mountains/Las Colinas section in the darkness. Many racers scratched upon
hitting Tucson. I however, had dialed back my day one expectations and launched
into some aggressive self care. I massaged and stretched from about 2100 to
midnight. That cool slab was perfect! When my legs finally felt loose and
relaxed, I drifted off to sleep and caught 3 hrs. of shuteye- awakened by a
strong urge to pee at 0315. Hydrated again! Clear and copious....I vowed to
never let myself get that hammered again by the heat...The funny thing was that
I thought I was being hyper vigilant the day before. Just proves how extreme
this route/trail can be. Remember, mother nature always bats last.....
I was
rolling out by 0345- intent to tackle the Las Colinas section in the dark. The
border patrol spotted me an hour later and two different gov't rigs lit me
up....Sorry boys, just a dirt bag cyclist moving thru. I passed Arno, Rick,
Justin and Jeff from California who had all pushed past me in the middle of the
night. Up and down, up and down....Elliot, where's that flowy, downhill single
track?
 |
| Las Colinas ='s Canelos 2.0 |
 |
| goodness |
 |
| more goodness |
I stopped
for breakfast around 0700 and everyone I passed that morning passed me again.
This was a good stop because the trail in front of me (finally!) was the fun ST
that leads down to 1-10 and ultimately Tucson and a resupply. This next section
of trail can only be described as "goodness" Think of your most
favorite, gladded ski run...now charge it on a bike and turn the pines into
cactus. Swoopy, flowly, buff- for miles upon miles!!!!
I
registered a perma-grin for the whole run down to the highway. I crossed under
the interstate and charged towards the Hope Camp section.
I saw
lots of day riders doing the AZT and many knew about the race. All of them
wanted to see Carlos, who I hadn't seen since the campground the night before
the race. It's really nice to have their interest and conversation but multiple
times I had to remind folks who were congregated around me on the
trail....We'll this is a race, I'm going to keep charging okay?.....they would
always be like- oh yes, please, don't let us hold you up...beautiful people out
there. Thanks for the encouragement!
|
|
under Rt. 83 on the way to 1-10 culvert
|
Spent time
riding the Hope Camp section with Justin and Jeff. They were going to charge
past the Rincon market to head to Broadway Bikes and Safeway. I secretly
wondered if they would be able to escape the draw of Babylon. Would they be
able to head into the city, deal with mechanicals, burn all that time at the
grocery store and still stay motivated to grind back out the Reddington rd. and
continue on?...not sure I had that kind of mental fortitude. So lucky for me
all I had to pry myself away from was the Rincon market....which was oh so
good!
 |
| riparian area shade! |
Pizza, ice
cream bars, Gatorades, chips, beef jerky.....anything and everything a tired,
hungry bikepacker would want! Plus there’s an outlet to charge the i-device and
a hose to clean the drive train with. I gave myself a quality, 90-minute stop
and enjoyed catching up with the field. People were crushed from the heat and
scratching at the store. Rachel was there and the want to call it all off and
hop in the car with her was strong. Besides, just making it to Tucson was an
accomplishment in its own right. It was my rookie run at the 300. I had
experienced a horrendous cramping episode and was already behind my
time/distance splits. No one would have questioned me pulling the plug right
there.
I'd have
nothing of it. Harden the fuck up and get on with it Michael.....Caroline S was
there and she and I had been of similar speed/pace at last year's Durango Dirty
race. Mike P from Bend was there as well and he was really struggling with
stomach issues....I guess he had made it all the way to the store without being
able to keep food or drink down! That’s some impressive resolve cashed in for
the first 100 miles. All around me folks were struggling. It gave me
perspective and I started to recalibrate my own assessment of self. I was okay.
It was reassuring to find that folks I'm used to grinding centuries with were
all around me and hurting just as much, if not more than me. Some terrific athletes
were scratching but I felt well enough to continue. This realization was
valuable. I centered my thoughts. My position in the pack was just fine. Time
splits are only guidelines and subject to refinement based on what reality
throws at you. I had shaken off the heat and except for some sore legs from the
previous night's cramping episode, I was feeling good. So visualizing the most
positive outcome, I left Rincon, intent on making it to Italian Trap and the
AZT above Tucson before calling it an evening.
 |
| The Reddington Road climbing above Tucson |
Spinning
pavement on the city's outskirts, I passed Saguaro NP and before I knew it, I
was making the turn on to the Reddington Rd. As the pitch steepened and the
road turned to dirt, I decided to call into MTBcast and record an update for
everyone following the race.
I missed
the right turn off of the Reddington Road and quickly backtracked to find the
chunky 4X4 road everyone raves about... I pedaled and pushed up the road and
was eventually passed by Arno. I stopped to soak in the sunset and take a bunch
of pictures.
 |
Chunky 4X4 road- on the way back to the AZT above Tucson
|
 |
| Another fantastic AZ sunset! |
Darkness
hit and I felt good to continue moving forward. Passed Arno at 8:30 pm. Hit the
Italian Trap TH at 9pm. Mike P emerged from the darkness fifteen minutes later
after making a remarkable recovery from what I was sure were race ending GI
problems. I guess he had taken extra time at the Rincon store, iced and rested
up and got some food and water on board. Now, here he was with me at Itrap and
he wanted to keep going! I felt good with my day's effort and told him I was
going to sleep for a few hours. We decided to have a dinner date and shared my
sleeping pad, each of us chowing down like animals, sharing small talk, lit up
by a full moon in the middle of nowhere. That was a great dinner and great
company. Mike saddled up and I sacked out feeling good about persevering to
this point and looking forward to the next day going over the mountain. Asleep
by 2230.
Day
summary- 94 miles with an on-route resupply at the Rincon Market. On the go for
18 hours with a 90 minute store break and two, 15 minute rest breaks. (pants on
breaks)
Sunday
I awoke to
Arno rolling past me while singing. A baritone. I was moving by 0430 after 5
solid hours of sleep. This next section of AZ would culminate in the Molino
Basin switchbacks. I flew through this section, passing Arno who was stopped
for a break and another racer who was sacked out on the trail- Mike P?.
Eventually, I caught sight of Jeff from Phoenix about a mile back and charging
hard. But I managed to stay in front of
everyone while heading over the saddle above the Catalina Hwy/Gordon Hirabayashi
campground. (Although I pedal at an average/slow pace, I realized on this race
that I'm a pretty fast hike-a-biker compared to most of these skinny cyclist
types.) I'm glad I didn't study up too much on the Molino climb. I knew it
existed but chose not to read about all the ugly details. I think this helped
because the climb sucked. Had I known what I was in for, I may have
over-thought that section. Counted switchbacks, over-consulted the map, etc...
I just knew I had to climb so I put my head down and got that shit
done...before I knew it, it was over and I was descending the technical single
track down to breakfast at the campground.
After a quick visit to the vault
toilet and another Tuna packet, I set out on the Prison camp section of trail.
This section of trail leaves the GH campground and climbs up a rough trail,
running parallel to the Catalina Highway. I had a quick chat with a woman who
was out for a trail run, training for her next Ironman event. Really neat lady
and we talked briefly about the mental challenges of endurance sports. Moving
again, I kept trying to guess when the trail would turn back towards the
pavement and the day's real climb would begin.....alas, the pavement and grind
came all too quickly. Only 20 miles to the top and lunch in Summerhaven!
 |
| Mt. Lemon Pavement |
Since it
was Sunday, Mt. Lemon was bumping and every species of asshole roadie passed
me. What is it with these guys? The looks, the comments, the vibe-you-out
snarls? The stupid questions....? Yes, this bike is steel. Yes, I am
packed a little heavy for Mt. Lemon, thanks for noticing. No, I didn't start at
the bottom. Yes, I am working hard.....It's funny, Tom W did a little
experiment and said hello to every roadie he encountered on Sunday. (Tom was
about 2 hrs. behind me) Results- only 2 cyclists returned the greeting....man,
must be a bummer to have that vibe be emblematic of your local scene/sport...or
maybe I just enjoy a strong disdain for roadies? Or hit Mt. Lemon at the
wrong time? We’ll see next year….
Regardless,
the pavement sucked. It was freaking hot and as usual, only getting hotter. I
had started the morning with full bottles/bags (approx 245 oz) but was down to
one final water bottle for the last 10 miles of the climb. I checked the spigot
at Pallisades and it was turned off until the 15th.....it was the 13th. I tried
to go into the Rose Garden campground to fill up and the lady at the gate
wanted to charge me a day use fee....I was like, "I'm just filling up my
bottle?" "Sorry, you have to pay," she said. I asked if I could
just duck down and filter water from the murky, man-made lake...."nope,
gotta pay for that too!".....I decided to suck it up and grind the final 8
miles to Summerhaven dry. No big deal. I made it just fine. More Mt. Lemon
wackiness to take note of however…
Summerhaven
is actually downhill from the top of the highway climb and the two miles I sped
downhill into town chilled me to the core. I should have stopped to layer up
but was so focused on getting to lunch that I just went for it. I arrived in
Summerhaven and ran into Jeff from PHX. He had just enjoyed a sit down lunch
and was off to hit the market. I took his table inside the Sawmill amongst
roadies and tourists. It was great listening to some carbon fiber weenies tout
their manhood and entertain the tourists with great tales of adventure
surrounding their day pedal up Mt. Lemon. A woman turned to me, enthralled by
the roadies tales and said, "I just don't know how you all do it." I
smiled...if she only knew the real plan! I devoured an order of wings and half
a bacon/cheese/green chile burger, two Cokes and two waters. I wrapped up the
rest of the burger for later- big mistake! I hurried down to the market and
purchased some more trail food and an ice cream bar for desert. Then up to the bathrooms
and water fountains at the Summerhaven Community Center. 90 minutes later, I
was standing at the base of Oracle Ridge. I knew too much about the challenges found
in this next section but was psyched to be tackling it by 1400.
 |
| Oracle Ridge TH |
I don't
want to disrespect the route and say Oracle Ridge was easy. By no means did
this beast of a section give up the goods easily. However, Traverse of death?
No chance...but maybe I've got too many other "Traverses of death" in
my experience vault from 20 years of climbing/mountaineering/bc riding etc...Oracle
was hard but not intimidating or even that hard... There were a lot of
"moves" you had to make. Step ups, bike wide slots, knife edge
sections, boulder carries etc....but the whole time I kept thinking- Man, I'd
hate to be up here before they cleaned up the trail. It was obvious that Oracle
has had some great trail work done and I can only imagine the horror show this
trail was when it originally received the ominous "ToD" moniker.
 |
| These gorgeous matriarchs guard the twists and turns of Oracle Ridge. |
 |
| Hitting the Cody Trail after Oracle proper |
 |
| Sunset over Biosphere 2 and the town of Oracle |
Although it
was sunny on the ridge, the wind gusts were blowing 20+ and it took total
concentration not to be blown off the narrow spots of the trail. At one point,
I started to feel a little greasy and began to hyper focus on all my moist,
sore and nasty body parts/areas. I was particularly horrified by the clammy
chamois that I had been wearing for the last 3 days. It was pretty gross after
another hot day in the saddle. I determined it was time for a bath so 3/4 of
the way across Oracle, I found a nice overlook- off-trail, out of the wind and
stripped down. Never underestimate the power of a "pants off" break!
Hanging out in the sun, giving myself a quick wet wipe bath and drying
stinky/sweaty clothes and undergarments out in the afternoon sunshine was just
the ticket. It was only 15 minutes but the break change things for me both mentally
and physically. Now, feeling less dirty and slimy, I could charge on
comfortably. However, I did make the mistake of putting down the second half of
the burger I had from the Sawmill. This decision would haunt me until I hurled
that treat up hours later....Take note future Sawmillers!
I finally
hit the flowy Cody Trail but then encountered more bs trail surfaces above
Oracle. I was totally focused on making it to American Flag Ranch. Partly
because it was the next milestone on the map but mostly because I've been
excited to pass under the AZT sign at the trailhead. Seems like an iconic spot
and most TRs feature a pic of riders passing under the sign. Unfortunately, my
picture at this very cool spot on the 300, was taken in the dark.
I was
tired and wanted to sleep but knew I was only about 10 miles outside of Oracle
and my next resupply. I burnt time walking around the American Flag TH,
contemplating laying down right there to sleep. It wasn't that late and I had
more in the tank to give. I pressed on through the Oracle State Park section,
stopping multiple times to consider lying down. I'm pretty sure that if that
section had better bivy options and less noisy coyotes, I would have crashed
out right there. Uninspired by the lack of level surfaces, I made the decision
to press on all the way into town. My next resupply was the Oracle Circle K and
it is open until 10 pm. I hit the main road into Oracle at 9:30pm and could
have made it to the store with 10 minutes to spare. But I was in no space to
rush in and shop. I knew Tom W. had passed me while I was chilling on Oracle
ridge so he was most likely ahead of me at the K getting his supplies for the
final 100 miles. As much as I wanted to try to catch Tom, pound out a resupply
and press on, I was too toasted to think clearly/efficiently about the
logistics. I pulled up a 1/4 mile short of the Circle K and stealthily bedded
down under an outdoor pavilion at St. Helen's Catholic Church. I puked up
what was left of the Sawmill in my stomach, brushed my teeth and was
asleep seconds after getting horizontal. A very good day of racing and a strong
rebound from my Day One debacle. Final image of day is seeing Tom biking by me
on the road, lights blinking, bound for Tiger Mine Road TH and points north.
Day
Summary- 58 miles, 17 hrs. on the go with a 90 minute break at Summerhaven and
two 15 minute rest/snack stops- (including one pants off break with epic
views!) Body is sore, mentally torched- too much lost time from fucking around
doing stupid shit! Much room for improvement here....
Monday
 |
| Resupply and one haggard looking rider... |
I awoke
feeling refreshed after sleeping from 2300 to 0430. A solid 5 hours of shuteye!
The plan was to push from here to the finish without sleeping so I was psyched
to log such a good spell of quality slumber. The final push, known as the Gila
100, is the hardest part of the race. When you contemplate this route and
reflect on every challenge you encounter in the first 200 miles, recognizing
that you still have the "hard part" in front of you can be a tough
pill to swallow. So it's no coincidence that my mental crux came that morning
in Oracle. I was at the store for 5am opening and consumed three breakfasts. I
emptied my bags of trash, took stock of my food and supplies and purchased what
I needed to get me to Picket Post. I really needed batteries and although I
knew they probably wouldn’t have lithium, I didn't expect a shortage of regular
AA/AAAs- (I was running a light set up that required 4 AAs and 3 AAAs) Not sure
if the pack in front of me scooped up all the batteries but I was only able to
re-up juice for one light. Take note, this will become a factor many hrs.
later....
I wasn’t
moving quickly but consciously permitted both my body and mind to take it slow.
I knew what was in front of me and I wanted to make sure I didn't hastily rush
into the ride's final test. Physically, I was still feeling good but I was
growing a little shaky in the head. I started having trouble convincing myself
that I had in me the necessary motivation and positive mindset to see this
thing thru. Voices start- What the fuck was I doing out here? At that point,
Jeff, Caroline and Alexis all rolled into the Circle K in rapid succession. For
a second, I thought my fellow racers would be just the mental pick-me-up I
needed to shake off the funk and push forward. Unfortunately, all three of them
were wrestling their own mental demons. Jeff, who was in front of me coming out
of Summerhaven, had pulled up short of town and had experienced a cold and
miserable bivy in a wash just below the highway. Caroline and Alexis both had
had thoughts of quitting and had rallied together in Oracle- getting a hotel
room and psyching each other up to keep going. I have so much respect for these
ladies. Tough as fucking nails! Very inspirational.....however, no one was
feeling very good about themselves or their world. No group huddle, no
motivational speech, no pep rally. So rather than hang out under the dark cloud
of Circle K, I decided to pedal forward and get on with it. It was the last
time I would see Caroline and witness her valiant efforts on the 750. Alexis
took off like a rocket and I wouldn't see her again either... Although her
MTBcast call ins from the 300 are not to be missed!
I hit the
TH on Tiger Mine Road and started to drift off into darker thoughts and more
negative inner dialogue. It's actually hard writing this reflection because I'm
still hit with an overwhelming wave of emotion just thinking about this point
in the race. Without a doubt, my mental low point and I was sinking fast. Voices
continue- "Michael, what the fuck are you doing out here?"
"You're setting off for 70 miles through the desert, in the middle of
nowhere in the heat of the day!" "You can easily pick up the phone,
call your wife and get picked up in Oracle. There's no need to do any
more-you've already exceeded your expectations on this ride and no one will
question your decision to stop."
 |
| Tiger Mine Rd. TH- really struggling mentally here. |
Instead of
fighting these thoughts, I just let them come into my mind. I acknowledged the
impact this inner dialogue was having on me and decided to just let the
feelings well up. (Kind of like the Sawmill burger!) About 10 miles deep into
the Tiger Mine section, I pulled over and just lost it. I guess there's no
better place than the desert in the middle of nowhere to breakdown. Like a
little kid, I wailed, cried and let it all out. I screamed. I shouted. I felt
real pain-shit shoved deep down inside. Pain that was in me long before this
bike race started. This is what I was here for. To push to the breaking point
and then push past that point. Here it was and I wasn't backing down. Get it
out and get on with it man.
Embarrassed
as I am by letting my emotions/mental state blow up like this, it felt so good
to let it out. Incredibly therapeutic. I knew that purging these raw feelings
would allow me to refocus and move on. I'll always look back at that moment on
the trail with fondness. To truly feel. To let yourself weather the storm of
your own, authentic emotions. To contemplate, reflect, cry and emerge on the
other side of that experience a more balanced soul with renewed clarity and
purpose. That's what it's like to feel deeply. It is the essence of our being
and is at the core of the human journey. I'll always consider this moment on
the AZT a gift. A transformative moment for me in my maturation as a long
distance cyclist and as a man. I knew at that point I would finish this race.
And sure enough, after my brief, trailside pity party, I hardened up and
charged on.
 |
| Another quality water source- dead birds and slime for all! |
Shortly
thereafter, Jeff caught me and asked if I would be okay moving through the
desert together with him. His exact words were something like, "I don't
want to harsh your vision quest vibe, if that's the trip you're on..."
Funny shit-did he see me melting down in the bushes? Both of us had been racing
solo and hadn't enjoyed the company of other racers for longer than a few
minutes at rest stops. It was nice to have someone around as we traveled
through this wild section of the route. Like every other day on the 300, it was
hot and only getting hotter. It's amazing how much you have to dial back your
efforts in the heat of the day in the desert. Sections of trail that were only
moderately steep-sections I'd grease without thinking- became epic climbs in
the heat of the day. Many times, it seemed more efficient and quicker to get
off and slowly push vs. riding and overheating. Next time I run this course, I’m
going to plan on hitting these final sections in the dark/cool of the
night/day. The heat made for slow going and I just continued to repeat my
mantra- "Always moving forward"
 |
| Jeff makes his way through the Freeman Section....middle of nowhere, AZ. |
Eventually,
we made it to the Freeman Water cache. In retrospect, I
made the same mistake El Freako mentions in his blog.....thinking the first
crossing of Freeman Rd. was where the water cache was, I burnt valuable time
looking for a water box that wasn't there. A quarter mile later, after the
second crossing of Freeman Rd., there was the cache-so obvious! Carlos from
Tucson, who scratched on Day 2, was a welcome sight at the cache. He was out
for a day ride, checking on the water caches and saying "hi" to his
fellow racers. He informed me Jeff was 5 minutes ahead of me. He hadn't seen
anyone else but told us we were mid-pack and gaining on the folks in front of
us- I'm guessing these were the riders that I lost Day One when I pulled up
short? Regardless, it was a great pick-me-up seeing him and he lined me out on
the route over and through Ripsey and down to the Gila. I've come to believe beta
is a good and bad thing and in retrospect, I wish he told me less... I kept
trying to translate his info into what was happening on the trail. I now know
that I prefer ignorance and prefer going for the on-sight than trying to have
everything explained in detail beforehand. But I digress…
 |
| ride, push, repeat |
I caught
Jeff and experienced a few nav errors while closing on him. Eventually, I
decided it was time for another pants off break and I wondered if this was the
last I would see of him. Not to worry, I caught up with him on the HAB over
Ripsey Hill that evening and we railed the ST down to the Ripsey cache
together. At this point it was like 2100 and I needed dinner. We sat on the
water box and enjoyed food and water. Jeff was cooked from his shitty bivy,
crossing the desert all day and was looking to crash ASAP. I felt good and told
him my plan was to go until the finish or until I fell over from no sleep. I
was enjoying his company and tried my best to cajole him into continuing to
move forward. He said that he needed sleep and would nap for three hours and
then catch up. I wished him well and continued on. Down, down, down....into
Kelvin and over the Gila River. I struggled to make sense of my nav cues by the
river but steadily made forward progress. At this point, 2 of my three bike lights
had died. But I had semi-fresh batteries in one and was moving forward via a
combination of 148 lumens and the full moon. About 2 miles past the Kelvin
bridge, I got a super weird feeling. Like I was being watched. I don't know
why, but I was convinced there was a cat watching me and moving above me in the
talus above the river. I would move forward and I would here motion/rustling
above me. I’d stop and the noise would too. I started to sing. Silly, loud,
made up lyrics helped calm my nerves. But I couldn't shake this feeling. Being
a four corners kid, I've felt this before and it's always been validated by
tracks/sightings/etc....come to find out, many of us where encountering felines
on this final section. Scary stuff for sure...
So I
kept moving, signing and fighting off the sleep monster. Then, the light
started to fade. I was confused. I had new batteries in my one lamp but it was
getting darker? What gives? I looked up- an obvious lunar eclipse.....shit,
didn't know about this. One can try and imagine the mental gymnastics I was
doing at this point. I stood still and starred upwards. I was trying to figure
out what was happening here? Sleep deprived, mentally and physically sizzled
and now the lights were going out....great. I watched the moon turn blood red
and a bright green star prominently shone off to its right. Mars I think? Was
this really happening? How can I move over this trail in complete darkness? I
knew there were some exposed/tricky sections and I also hadn't shaken the
omni-present cat energy. Now no lights? Really AZT? But with my only bike
light now fading fast from fleeting juice and no moon to light the way, I felt
completely shutdown but oddly, still in control of my situation. I
believed the safest and smartest move was to wait out the eclipse. It couldn't
last longer than 2-3 hrs. right? So I set my bike down, right there in the
middle of the trail, pulled out my bivy sack and got in it with all my bike
clothes still on. No pad, no sleeping bag-this wasn't a bivy or even (supposed
to be) a nap. I curled up inside the bivy on the cold, hard ground and waited
for the lights to come back on. I actually drifted off for about 90 minutes but
awoke shivering and sore. As luck would have it, the final shadow was moving
off the moon and the lunar light came back stronger than ever. I got up and
kept moving. There would be no stopping now until Picket Post, which I thought
I could reach by 1000 that morning.
 |
| The Picket Post Mountains guarding the finish-thankful for daylight! |
 |
| Making the turn away from the Gila. Only 21 miles to go! |
 |
| Climbing out to Picket Post |
Another
section of the 300 that I hadn't researched thoroughly was the final 21 miles
to the finish. I knew I would at some point need to take a right and climb away
from the Gila, steadily heading uphill towards Picket Post. I hadn't taken the
time to check contour intervals on that last piece of trail. I hadn't drilled
down on my splits for that section. Basically, my thinking was climb up and
away from the river and eventually crest a saddle, look down, see the highway
and cruise killer singletrack into the finish. I'm laughing out loud just
typing that....300 racers will tell you those final 21 miles are brutal. Filled
with more endless climbing, false summits and crushed expectations. Not 15
minutes after making the turn away from the Gila, Jeff caught me. As he
planned, he had slept for three hours at the Ripsey cache and spent the morning
hustling to catch me. We spent 17 or so miles together climbing up from the
river. He was on a singlespeed and the ass kicking this climb was handing out
seemed to have little impact on Jeff. He had the fire in his eyes and I knew he
was going to finish as well. We traded positions often. Him in front on the
pedal parts, me leading the HAB sections.
We moved together up the final climb
to the saddle. This was definitely the highpoint and I took a moment to verify
the waypoint on the Etrex. The descent took me much longer to negotiate, as I
was totally smashed from this final push. I kept thinking the TH was right
around the next bend, only to be fooled as the trail twisted and traversed it's
way through more washes, around ridges and over dirt ribs. The flowers and cacti
were in full bloom and this section of trail was pretty flipping gorgeous. At
one point I remember riding through a "grove" of old growth saguaros.
Hands down the largest ones on the route and meeting these giants before the
finish was another blessed moment for me. Eventually, the trail smoothed out, I
caught a glimpse of the highway and finally the TH. Rachel was there to snap a
pic as I emerged and greeted me with a huge hug and kiss. I asked her for a
moment, walked down the road a bit and purged the final emotion from my body. I
said quiet thank yous to the universe, to the landscape to all the elements and
entities that had provided me safe passage through this intimidating
environment. No mechanicals. No major crashes. Pushing through big physical and
mental hurdles. For the last 6 months, every waking moment was spent consumed
by AZT logistics, planning and strategy. The training. The sacrifices. The
risks. The perseverance. It had all been an investment in getting me to this
very moment. The finish. I breathed deep and exhaled my appreciations into the
world. It was over and I was a 300 finisher. Moved to tears still thinking
about this special accomplishment….
Day(s)
Summary- Final 100 mile push. Approx 33.5 hours on the go. 90 minute nap waiting
for the moonlight to return.
 |
| Finish- 4d7h29m |
I called
my finish into MTBcast and proceed to just lay around the TH parking lot taking
it all in. Slowly, I explored the stocked cooler Rae had brought and cracked my
first beer since the super bowl. Various folks rolled into the lot, SPOT
stalking other racers yet to finish or just looking to catch up with those of
us that had just completed the route. You know, it’s really tough to have an
intelligent conversation with folks when the experience is still that fresh. I
was in a very raw state of mind and was still trying to process the transition
to simple things like- Michael, you don't need to keep moving-sit still. Michael,
why don't you take your sneakers and socks off? You get the point- just pretty
foggy and I spent the better part of an hour just trying to wrap my brain
around basic functions. Eventually the realization of finishing and the pull of
a hot shower and hotel room in PHX grew too strong to ignore. We filled the car
with both Tom and I's gear and headed back into Babylon. A wonderful night in a
hotel, room service, two showers and laying in bed next to my sweetie proved
the ultimate reward for this finisher.
I'd be
lying if I told you I slept in, woke rested and refreshed and went back to my
normal, daily life routine. I had intentionally planned a PHX rendezvous with
my mom and she had graciously offered up frequent traveler points to secure us
a suite at a fancy Scottsdale resort. So my post-race agenda consisted of
moving from one hotel to an even nicer resort and then sleeping and eating as
much as possible for the next 72 hrs. I'm only now, a full week later,
beginning to get back to my regular sleep rhythm. I'm still hungry all the time
and I think a little bit too skinny. We're working on that....nothing an
upcoming San Juan float trip can't fix! But overall, I wasn't too surprised by
the physical and emotional toll I needed to recover from. My body swelled a bit
more than I expected and I thought I'd be better able to sleep after that last
push with no rest. But the knees and ankles held out and the body felt decent
all things considered. All good stuff to note for the CTR.
3 years
ago, I never thought I could ride a century, never mind race off-road ultras.
Last season, after completing multiple, one day, dirty hundos the thought of
riding ultras day after day seemed un-doable. But now, after a winter of
training hard and finishing the 300, I'm
looking forward to more suffering this season! I'm also looking forward to
running the 300 next year… Maybe the 750 in 2016? I'm ready to come back stronger...both
mentally and physically. I do want to acknowledge how hard I worked for this
finish but I am confident I have a much better race in me. A final assessment
driven by some data-
It took
me 103.5 hours to complete the 300.
If I back
out breaks, 90 minute big stops and sleep time, I'm left with approx 19.5 hours
of what I call "fuck around time" The goal next time is to limit the
FAT! What contributes to FAT? Well both planned and unplanned
inefficiencies....Like safety checks and pants off breaks or wrong turns or
dropped gloves, or chats with tourists or sizing up roadies, etc.....basically,
it's anything that impedes efficient and timely forward progress. Now I know I
can't eliminate all the FAT but I'm positive I could cut the bs in half. If I
could get ten hours of efficient, forward progress back from the FAT vault,
that puts me at a 93ish hour race..... sub 4 days.....if I really get my shit
together, I'm thinking I could even creep up on Freako....like a prehistoric
cockroach!
These
thoughts are inspiring and with such a great first run at the 300, it's proving
impossible not to already be thinking about next April. We'll see......
Thanks to
all for a great adventure. I love this community and feel very blessed to be
part of this movement while it still feels very grassroots. Thanks to Scott for
setting up a great ride with friends. Thanks to Joe at MTBcast and Trackleaders
for the dots. Huge props to anyone who lined up for this beast-You are all
amazing athletes and your stories are inspirational. A special appreciation to
those I shared saddle/push time with. Thanks Rae and mom for being the best
support team a self-supported guy can have. And thank you Arizona
trail.....you're a magical ribbon of adventure and your beauty rivals anything
I've ever experienced. I feel at home in the desert and will never take this
sense of place for granted. Congrats and love to all!
Some final
misc. pics:
