I would have happily blogged the weekend sooner, but I had things to do, places to go, beer to drink, people to see. Better late than never. Just FYI the epic part refers more to the length of this story than the actual weekend itself. I know many people misuse the term ‘epic’ when describing very pedestrian adventures, rides, whatever. I assure you I am not one of them. Your eyes may bleed by the time this blog post is complete. Hell, just typing this has rendered my fingertips cramped and useless. I can barely lift my beer to my lips, and that my friends, is a tragedy right there.
To start this party right, you’ll have to go back with me in time… To last Friday, which very well could end up being any Friday here in the perfect perfection that is called Bend, Oregon. (cue hypnotic harp music and wavy visual effects)
Happy Hour Ride @ Whoops
Early evening. The Portland posse coming down for the Night Ride is bailing out. Something about too much beer and suddenly all the bikes are disassembled. What. Ever. I get a tip off to another night ride, simply called Happy Hour Ride and by now I’m chomping at the bit to ride and not wait for darkness to fall. Yes sure it was a perfect night for a night ride, but Happy Hour took place on a favorite trail which I was soon to fall madly, deeply, hopelessly head over heels for.
Since it’s a Happy Hour ride I don my leopard print cocktail riding dress. I always dress up all girlie like for Fridays, why would a bike ride be any different? I roll up to the trailhead to meet best new Bend friend CB and about a dozen of his friends. The outfit is a smash hit. Tasty! Ridicuous, but tasty!
While not the most epic, or scenic or technical trail ever, this ride clinched it for me. I knew the honeymoon was over between me and Fruita. So I broke it off with Fruita. See, it’s not that Whoops was the Best Trail Ever. And yes, Fruita kicks ass and always will as far as I’m concerned. Fruita, Grand Junction, Moab… all incredible riding destinations that anyone who loves MTB should experience. But Bend is right here. The trails rock, the weather is amazing, the community of riders have all been so welcoming and inviting that I can’t imagine a better place to be. There is such an assortment of trails here there really is something for everyone from first-time novices to expert riders.
Whoops is one of the most fun trails I’ve ridden here and I can’t wait to go back and do it again. And again. And again… In fact, it’s now Wednesday as I write this and I’ve been back to do laps on Whoops and every time get a little bit faster, a little more air. So much air I broke a chain on my last run. Talk about buzzkill! But if my grin gets any bigger my face will split and peel back off of my skull.
I know I’ve only seen the tip of the iceburg as far as local rides are concerned, and what an iceburg it is. I decided to keep the Friday ride mellow because I’m racing on Sunday, and hoping to climb on Saturday, sooo….
CLIMBING @ Smith Rock!
Solo riding is one thing. I do it all the time. But solo climbing is, well… It’s done but it’s not a widely accepted practice in the climbing community and even those who are very experienced and skilled frown upon it. The truth is, for most people rock climbing requires a belay partner. This is the one thing about rock climbing that drives me nuts. The dependence on another person is a real limiter. Finding partners with compatible schedules and skill level is a real challenge. If I thought I could solo safely I’d do it in a heartbeat, but even I won’t go there with climbing. So in all this time on the road I FINALLY got to touch rock and pull ropes on Saturday.
My hero (I couldn’t have climbed without him) picked me up and we headed out to Smith Rock, casually arriving in the heat of the day. Patiently, we waited for the route we wanted. It was a busy weekend but not terribly overcowded. I ran into familiar faces from the Portland Rock Gym and felt oddly comforted by that. I was … not really nervous, but cautious. My partner hadn’t climbed in awhile and I too felt a bit rusty. It had been about 6 weeks since my last climb. It’s still so new to me that I thought: What if I have forgotten how to climb? It’s NOT “just like riding a bike”.
My partner was the embodiment of calm, radiating ease, and so I rallied to lead. It was fantastic. The route was ridiculously easy, so I got to enjoy my lead without feeling nervous or scared… at all. It was a milestone. I’ve never felt more confident and secure in my ability. I took extra long setting the anchors and then cleaning them after I top roped the same route, because that’s where I tend to get nervous. (You may remember I lost a very close friend and mentor to a fall, so I’m a safety freak on the rock.) It was possibly the slowest climbing I’ve ever done and the slowest rapell, but no matter. It was… excellent. I had fantastic company, the weather was perfect, and the climbing was sweet. Besides, I had a race the next day to rest up for…. Right?
RACING @ Pickett’s Charge XC Race
Well, I feel a little silly calling this a race report. The reasons for this are twofold:
1) I’m not really sure I actually “raced”
2) Yeah, no. That pretty much covers it.
I say this because while I have hit that moment in many races in the past where I found myself saying to myself: Self, what the f*** do you think you’re doing out here? in this race I actually sat up and stopped racing. Someone should take my bike. It deserves a better rider.
While I’ve had these thoughts during many races, I never actually gave in to it. I’m not really sure what happened or why I did this time. I think it was just that it was my first race in 9 months. My fitness sucks anymore from lack of training, while everyone else has raced 5, maybe 6 times already this year. Comparing my fitness this year to that of three years ago when truck met Uma’s body is silly. I know this. But it still comes up. I used to be fit, fast, and super focused on competing. Now? I’m slow, janky, got no engine, weigh about 8 lbs more, and can’t go uphill to save my life. As for the focused part… Let’s have a little sample of the dialogue between the legs and Uma’s Inner Perfectionist (UIP):
Yo Uma! This is a race babe. C’mon and giddy up lil girl. Woot woot. Ride it girlfriend!
Legs: I’m trying. Give me a break. It’s my first race of the year. Everything’s cramping.
Excuses, excuses. That 50 year old lady in orange is gonna pass you, woman!
Legs: No she’s not. She’s NOT. That CANNOT happen. I swear I am gonna… (50 year old lady passes)
WTF? What the effin eff? Come ON legs! Pedal! Circles! NOW!
Legs: Can’t. Got nothing. Sleep deprived, rode too much this week, drnk too much beer, and climbed yesterday. CLIMBED!
Idiot. Who thought rock climbing would be a good pre-race activity!
Me: Shut up all of you! Shut the fuck UP! I’m trying to RACE here!
Legs: Oh look…. Such a pretty flower. That looks like a good place for a picnic.
Really? Seriously? This bike deserves better.
And that’s pretty much when I thought maybe I should take up paint-by-numbers instead of racing.
In hindsight, though my performance was one of the worst ever, there were some breakthroughs. I rode the technical sections decisively. If I hadn’t blown up at the start trying to get a good position entering the singletrack I would have placed better, but as it was I dropped a chain (rookie move, geez) on the first hill, and this is where the field split. I thought I was racing for DFL status, but then discovered I had company and duked it out with a couple of women in out own sort of private race. The desire to crush it returned, I focused, passed the two I’d been leapfrogging with for 12 miles on the technical stuff and hammered home.
Janky Hip didn’t say a word.
This alone is a triumph of epic proportions. It’s been over two and a half years since I’ve had full and pain-free function of my hip. At some point in the race I reflected on this… I’ve just gotten so used to the constant driving pain that had become my daily companion, I’d come to expect it. Somewhere around mile 14 I found myself nearly in tears, grateful beyond words for this gift. Of course, my calves, lower back quads and arms were screaming at me from the climbing the day before and probably being dehydrated as a result. I cramped many times during this race, something that’s never happened before.
But I finished solidly in the middle of the pack. And though she didn’t get a medal or stand on the podium, Janky took the gold.
If there’s anything I could say to those of you working with chronic pain: Take heart. It can heal, it can change, it won’t be the same forever. How long it will take? No one can know. But don’t lose heart.
As for myself, I *will* race again. Short track starts in two weeks and there are even rumblings deep within me to give a Super D a try.
Meanwhile, I have a few more days to enjoy Bend, riding, climbing and yoga on the deck.
Have I mentioned how much I <3 Bend?
… to be continued …
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