PRAYER MOUNTAIN PEDAL Getting hurt, humbled and feeling hopeful

It was a lousy race, and I also took lousy photos. To get a true feel of how kickass this course is, venture over to IngotImaging to see race shots.

Let's just get straight to the point: Saturday's 2013 Texas XC Mountain Bike State Championship Series race — the Prayer Mountain Pedal at Big Cedar in South Dallas — did not go as planned. In fact, it really sucked for yours truly.

I signed up for the race well over a month ago thinking that it would be another great opportunity to race a trail I was training on regularly. It's a tough trail — lots of climbing, plenty of roots, and tree trunks line the twisty singletrack and seemingly are magnetized to attract your handlebars and throw you to the dirt.

All that being the case, I really enjoy riding this trail. It requires focus. Now, that's not to say I'm really skilled on the trail. I've fallen most every time I have ridden Big Cedar, once hard enough to warrant a trip to the doctor. A spill in a rough rock garden had me concerned that I broke my shoulder. Luckily, I was wrong, and I healed.

My riding, in fact, had improved greatly. Last week, I had a particularly good training session at Big Cedar — rode fast, climbed like a mountain goat and stayed on my bike the whole friggin' time. That was an excellent day. It convinced me that despite training for a 24 hour endurance race, I could be competitive in a quicker competition — the two-lap, 16-mile cat 2 Prayer Mountain Pedal race.

DORBA, which helped coordinate the race, does things differently. All of a sudden, 29-inch tires seem inadequate. 

On the day of the race, the Big Cedar was packed. I read that 500 cyclists were signed up to compete, and it appeared each took his or her own car — soooo many vehicles. And, sooooo many badass bikes. I arrived early to watch the pro and cat 1 racers speed through the course (and stare at their bikes). As it turned out, I had plenty of time to watch racers (and, say it with me ... stare at their bikes). The start times had been pushed back at least thrice since I signed up for the race. TMBRA could have done a better job communicating the time shift; but I can't complain about getting to sleep a little later and hang out. During this extra waiting time, I heard a cat 1 racer say that a section of the course — the right turn immediately after a creek crossing around mile 5 — was slick as ice because of all the riders' wet tires rolling through the corner. I thought, "I know that section. Duly noted."

While lining up for the race, I managed to get marked with the the incorrect age group (group 2 instead of group 3). So that wasn't a good start, but not the end of the world. Despite the incorrect mark, I started with my correct wave (30-34) and promptly ate the dust of the racers who are in the top 10 for the TMBRA series. I knew I probably wouldn't catch all of them, but I knew my familiarity with the crazy-ass climbs would benefit me down the road, er, trail.

All was going well. I started to make up time, passing a guy from San Antonio I chatted with before the race and some group 2 racers. Then, I reached the "slick-as-ice spot." I splashed through the creek crossing, reaching the other side and approaching the right turn. I was going too fast. And, in a split second, I went down. Hard and fast. Still clipped in, the right side of my body slammed onto the singletrack. That sorta hurt. But, what really hurt, was my left knee, which slammed directly onto the top tube of my bike's aluminum frame. The pain was immediate. I writhed on the ground. I said choice, four-letter words. I was pissed. Even worse, I was really hurt. The bruise and swelling were instant. I couldn't bed my knee without feeling a sharp, stabbing pain.

Minutes passed and riders passed, and I eventually tried to walk off the pain. Then I foolishly tried to ride my bike. No chance. Each attempt to press down with my left leg was met with an intense pain in my knee cap that shot up and down my leg. I could taste the pain. So I walked. More riders passed me. Even though I did my best to stay as far off the singletrack as possible, some were audibly pissed that I was in their way. Others were varying degrees of concerned. Several asked if I was OK. I replied to some, saying that I wasn't OK, but there was little they could do. Some said they would alert race officials who were about 3 miles away. It was really no use. I had to get out of the woods on my own power.

I walked up and down the tight trail, moving into weeds as best I could when riders approached. I leaned against the bike's saddle, using it like a rolling crutch. The climbs sucked, but the descents were even worse. It was difficult trying to maintain balance with a leg that could neither bend nor support much weight. I gritted my teeth and sucked it up. I was especially upset when I walked the hilly switchbacks that I had recently conquered and felt comfortable on during training rides. On the few flat stretches, I clipped in with my right foot and pedaled with one leg, shifting like a maniac for small changes in elevation in order to maintain momentum.

After the 3 miles of this race hell, I eventually finished my only loop for the day and went straight to the EMTs. They iced me up and offered to take me either to the ER or my car. I thanked them for being out there and for their offers but declined and opted to pedal another half-mile to my car, making a slashing gesture across my throat as I passed the race officials' table. I was done for the day. Dammit.

I packed my crap and went to Primacare pronto. Long story short: X-rays were negative, I was ordered to rest, elevate, ice and take some anti-inflammatory pills. If the pain didn't get any better by Wednesday, I would need to get an MRI. Based on my 1-out-of-10 pain level (a solid 8), I was certain I would need to get an MRI. Dammit.

Well, it's Monday evening, and, miraculously, I feel pretty good. I can bend my knee, and the pain is minor. I'm sore, but the knee is hardly swollen now, and I am walking quite well. I'm hopeful that I will continue to improve and won't obsess about not training. That's easier said than done. This injury is going to set me back considerably when it comes to training for 24:00. Alas, the only thing I can do is get well. I may line up at Palo Duro less prepared than I would like; but, I can't afford to start that race injured. So, more rest is in order this week. If I'm lucky and feeling up to it, I may get in a short road ride. We shall see.

You never know what will happen each time you set out on a journey, race or daily, mundane errand. It could be a matter of what we eat (beware the blueberry doughnuts), our state of mind, dumb luck, the nature of our activities or a combination of factors that lead to bad ish happening. Regardless, we have to dust ourselves off and get back to business. And that's what I intend to do. Unlike past road bike crashes, I will not allow a spill on the dirt to ruin my passion. I love to ride bikes, and it's going to take a lot more than a sore knee to keep me from pedaling my ass off.

PRoud Running my best half and pacing my sister to her first 13.1 finish at the Irving Marathon

Race day at the Campión Trails in Irving.

Anyone who has read recent blog posts is probably sick of all the bike posts. Cycling and related races have dominated this space as of late. Tunesday has taken a backseat, so too has Five Photo Friday. Even running posts are in short supply. Well, I can fix that last one today!

Saturday marked the inaugural GE Irving Marathon on the city's Campión Trails, a scenic greenbelt that traces sections of the West and Elm forks of the Trinity River. My sister and I have raced before (Lovejoy Country Run 5K), but this was a very special day — Anne's first half marathon.

We took two different approaches to get to this day. She trained hard — followed a plan, incrementally ratcheted up her distance and hydrated like it was her job. I, on the other hand, didn't have a training plan. With all the training on the bike, I managed to run once or twice each week in the past month. Not ideal, but I figured the cycling counted for something — physical and mental strength conditioning (more on that in a moment). But I also figured this would not be a PR race for me, which would be OK. The highlight of the day was going to be seeing my sister accomplish her goal of finishing her first 13.1!

Ominous, fat, gray clouds rolled above our heads about an hour before the race. It looked like my knack at running rainy races would continue. Fortunately, they rolled east and the weather turned for the better. It was even a bit chilly at the start of the race.

The race layout was something new for me — the start/finish was in the middle of the course and there was an out-and-back loop on each side (map). Half marathoners ran both loops. Marathoners ran both loops twice, and 1-mile fun runners, 5Kers and 10Kers had different turnaround spots on the first loop. (To say that there was an opportunity for a lot of confusion on the course is an understatement. Fortunately, the course was well-marked and it was clear where everyone needed to go.)

I started the race in the 7:30 mile pace corral, hoping that I could keep that pace for at least a few of the miles. I busted that plan straight out of the gate, running 7:00. Clouds overhead and not terribly hot, I felt good, but I knew I needed to ease off the accelerator a bit. My second and third miles were around 7:15. That was more like it, but I still thought I might be a bit too fast. As I approached the first turnaround, I paid attention to the number of half marathoners who had already reached the turnaround and were passing me heading toward the second loop. There were only 10. That made me feel really good about my effort and gave me a boost. At that point, I knew this day could be special.

On the return route of the first loop, the sun came out, and the heat started to pick up. So I employed my dump one, drink one strategy for water stations (was *this close* to dumping red Gatorade on my head). I apparently wasn't the only one because some aid stations ran out of water and/or cups. These things happen, especially at first-time races. Fortunately, I also had my handheld water bottle, Endurolytes (3 every 30 minutes) and a gel (taken around mile 10) to keep me from seizing up.

I saw Anne for the first time as I approached the second loop, around mile 5. She looked great and like she was having a great time — smiling and strong. That's just what I wanted to see! Once on the second loop, the trail was less congested — fewer people bunched together, and no runners running in the opposite direction. This helped a lot because I was able to run the tangents. Over the couple of years I've raced, I have learned that every step counts, so why take more than you have to?! (Thanks, TPG). I looked well ahead on the trail to position myself for each step-saving, direct route. There was a runner 5 feet behind me who seemed content to keep my pace and follow my strategy for about 3 miles. At first, I was sorta annoyed. But he pushed me, and that's what I needed. I wasn't going to let him pass. And around mile 9, he slowed his pace and that was the last time someone was directly behind me.

What followed was the most challenging part of the race. Miles 10 and 11 were on a dam's gravel road. I, and probably everyone running the race, didn't expect this change of surface. I struggled on the rocks and contemplated running on the grass. My pace dropped and the turnaround in the distance seemed miles away. But I was feeling strong and I was passing runners. I didn't let these two miles discourage me. I knew that I could suck it up and get finish them. The sooner, the better.

The final stretch of the race was back on pavement. I fought my mind (the one that wanted to slow down and walk and take a stretch break at the next aid station) and focused on catching runners ahead of me. I also focused on friends and even people I don't know who are facing tough situations — extremely sick children, a broken back, unemployment and addiction. Their ability to stand strong when dealt tough cards made my temporary pain feel so insignificant and completely tolerable. Thinking about friends training for next month's Ironman also pushed me. Thinking about my recent successful races races reminded me that I can overcome the desire to slow down and not push myself.

Third in my AG (first time I placed at a run) and 19th
overall. A damn fine day at the races!

When I reached the mile 12 marker, I was exhausted, but my watch showed that I was on pace to run a sub-1:40. I dug deep and kicked as hard as I could. I didn't slow down. I kept fighting and I crossed the finish line — 1:36:37. I credit staying mentally tough and focused on the task at hand for slashing 11 minutes off my PR.

I was stoked! I hardly could believe it. I stretched, took some shots, made the accomplishment FB and Twitter official and then turned my attention to the the important task of the day — meeting Anne for her final miles en route to completing her first half marathon.

I removed my timing chip from my shoe and removed my bib (didn't want to jack up my results or confuse racers as I ran the wrong way). I had a good idea that I would probably meet her at the worst place on the course — that gravel road. I was right. I was glad I could reassure her that this section would be over soon and that she could do anything for two miles. She was relieved to plant her feet back on the stable concrete. Although she said she felt bad, she looked good for a first-time half marathon runner. She was keeping a good pace, was hydrated and able to talk while moving. She didn't stop once. Even when the desire creeped in, she kept going. All. The. Damn. Way. In the last half mile, spectators and 10K finishers lined the way. I announced that my sister was about to finish her first half. The dozen-or-so people erupted in cheers. It was AWESOME! With the finish line in sight, I sprinted ahead so I could capture the moment. Anne, finishing her first half marathon.

13.1 in 2:37:29! Congrats, Anne!

It was an amazing moment! I was thrilled I got to see it and be a part of it. It was an outstanding day for us. She accomplished a big damn goal! So proud! And I managed to podium in my age group! It was outstanding and so too was the post-race Tex-Mex meal!

We are capable of big things, y'all. Don't let anyone — including yourself — tell you otherwise.

RACE RECAP Riding hard and smart at Austin Rattler 100K

Photo courtesy of TPG

Pre-race posing. Lots of black for a 70-degree day.

Whether you run or ride dirt trails, there's a good chance you've heard of the trail races in Leadville, Colo. The most vaunted of the races are the 100-mile trail run and mountain bike ride. Not just anyone can compete in these ultimate endurance challenges.

The Austin Rattler 100K, set at Rocky Hill Ranch in Smithville (42 miles southwest of ATX), was the first of this season's qualifying races for the Leadville Trail 100 MTB. Outside of watching trail clips riders posted on YouTube, I had very little knowledge of the course. I heard it was hilly and that sections were technical; but I entered the race only knowing that I had to ride the 15.5 mile loop four times in fewer than 7 hours if I wanted to qualify for the Leadville lottery.

The Friday night before race day, TPG drove us to our weekend home base — Bastrop State Park, just about 13 miles from the race course. For those who don't know, a wildfire ravaged 96 percent of the park in 2011, burning thousands of loblolly pines. We saw acres upon acres of charred pine trees at the park. But there also were pockets of green sprouting from the ground that made us hopeful that in a couple of generations' time, the park would be returned to its stunning glory. The weather was ideal for camping — just cold enough for a sleeping bag, but not too chilly (or windy) to be uncomfortable. Best of all, no rain!

Photo courtesy of TPG

Straight outta the gate. Hook 'em!

On race day, we headed to Smithville with bikes in tow — my fat mountain bike invading the personal space of TPG's svelte tri-bike on the bike rack. With Ironman Texas just about a month away, the race location afforded her plenty of hilly, pave options for a good 3-or-so-hour training ride.

I estimated it might take me 6 hours to finish the race. I didn't like not knowing the course, but what can you do? So when the race began, it was all fresh trail to me. And it was awesome!

I hadn't entered a mountain bike race (excluding gravel grinders) since 2005, but my recent training has been predominantly on trails. So I was confident from the beginning. The first half of the trail was mostly jeep and fire roads — plenty of room for all the riders to avoid each other and avoid logjams. These were the sections where I excelled, especially up the hills. And there were plenty of hills. Many were separated only by 50 yards or so of flat or downhill relief. So it seemed like we were constantly climbing.

But we weren't. There were some fun and fast downhills. I confidently flew down these sections, many littered with fist-sized rocks and featured puddles from recent rains at their bottom.

Zazoosh

The start/finish line was awesome. An announcer
calling your name and spectathletes yelling and
ringing cowbells can boost the spirits. The
organizers of the Leadville Race Series clearly
know what they are doing. 

Overall, the singletrack sections weren't incredibly technical. Compared to Big Cedar or even Rowlett Creek Preserve, the course didn't have quite as many switchbacks as I imagined it would. The first lap of these sections, however, were painfully slow. There were a few bottlenecks where racers struggled to climb and descend, which slowed the rest of the field. This didn't concern me too much. The slower pace the first go-round afforded me more time to get comfortable with the terrain. So comfortable, in fact, that during one of those bottlenecks I plunged into the dirt when gravity won its battle with balance. No harm, no foul. I collected myself and pedaled onward. 

The trickiest section of the course was about 5 minutes from the start/finish line. I haven't a clue the name of this section, but the three whoop de doos, two with bridge crossings, made for an exciting race. (The first and second loops, I conquered them; the third and fourth loops, they returned the favor).

The first lap, I clocked in at about 1:15, significantly faster than I anticipated. I expected at least an 1:30 for the first lap.

The second lap was mostly uneventful. My confidence was elevated since I knew the course. The humorous race volunteers at one section of the course blasted late '90s and early '00s rock and rap (I recognized Cypress Hill and Limp Bizkit) and good-spiritedly mocked/motivated riders to pick up the pace. And that's exactly what I did on the second lap. I pedaled fast through the flat sections, passed anyone in front of me on the hills and conserved energy as I sped downhill. The sun poking through the pines and beating down on racers in the open sections of the course became a factor on the second loop. I had to stop for a two-minute Camelbak refill. Even with that delay, I crossed the line in 1:15.

Zazoosh

Such a fun time splashing in the puddles. I think in this photo I am actually saying "Yeah, yeah, yeah!!!"

The third loop was the toughest one. My quads started cramping, and I couldn't attack the climbs quite like I did the first two times. I focused on engaging my hamstrings and glutes as much as possible — leaning my core forward and grabbing the bar ends of my Ergon GP2 grips. That made a big difference. I only hopped out of the saddle and relied on my calves two or three times the entire race, practicing my strategy for enduring 24 Hours in the Canyon in June. My pace was slower — not quite sure exactly, but at least 1:20.

Zazoosh

This angle does the whoop de doo no justice. It was steep and fast. Oh, and the most fun you can have on two wheels
in Smithville.

Entering the fourth loop, I figured finishing in under 5 hours was going to be impossible, but, barring a complete meltdown or a mechanical problem I would finish well under 7 hours. I pushed and pedaled fairly hard, but not full effort until the end of the race. I enjoyed the final loop — soaked up the scenery and the spirit of a fun race. Approaching the final segment of the race, the crowd started cheering hard. as I approached the finish line. I thought that was pretty damn cool. And then I heard cheers of "Go girl!" and the like. As soon as I realized those cheers weren't for me, a speedy female racer blazed past me. I tried to catch her in the final 400 meters, but she had more in the tank than I did. I crossed the finish in 5:11, felt the sense of accomplishment when I heard the announcer call "Robert Tracy, Dallas, Texas, and rolled to the aid station where I congratulated the woman who passed me on an impressive finish.

Photo courtesy of TPG

Livin' Dangerously Fast. Proud of my race and the kick-ass badge/bottle opener. Muchas Gracias to TPG also for making a killer post-race sandwich and being the best Sherpa a racer could ask for. 

Overall, it was a great race. I performed well, didn't injure myself, felt great on the bike and could have ridden even longer. All of that's a great thing, because I have entered the buildup in my training for 24 Hours in the Canyon. This weekend, I will return to Palo Duro Canyon State Park for the first time in over two years to get in some solid miles and hours on the race course. It's supposed to be a perfect weekend for it, too. Great weather for riding and camping.

Final note 

My finishing time qualified me for the Leadville lotto. Fifty spots were up for grabs, but I didn't hear my name called. That 100-mile race won't happen this year, but I wouldn't be surprised if 2014 is my year to compete in Colorado. At the very least, I would gladly race Austin Rattler 100K again, and I recommend it for anyone who is looking for a well-run race that offers a good challenge and fun atmosphere.

ALL DIRT DIET, PART TWO Spinistry's Red River Riot — Muenster, Texas

Photo by Jessica Lee/Spinistry

The road to happiness isn't always paved. In the case of the 2013 Red River Riot, only the beginning and a few stretches of the 50K, 100K and 200K courses were paved. The majority of the roads were dirty, muddy, slippery, challenging and fun gravel.

Straight-up posin' for y'all.

Another weekend, another race that's down and dirty. The second installment of my all-things-dirt series (part one) brought me to Muenster, Texas — a small city just barely on the right side (read: correct side) of the Red River. Muenster is well known for its German heritage (strudel!!!) and ... well, that's really about it. Unless, you're a fan of football; then, by all means, read about the Kraut Bowl.

All kidding aside, there's much more in Muenster, actually. It turns out, there are the necessary gravel roads and significant hills for another Spinistry event — the Red River Riot. If you didn't read about Spinistry or gravel grinding in my Texas Chainring Massacre recap, here's the gist: Spinistry puts on kick-ass, tough races in farflung communities for mountain bike and cyclocross riders. The races are laid-back and an absolute blast. I intend to race as many as I can.

That's one clean bike. Not for long. 

The night before RRR, it rained heavily throughout the region. While the storms didn't hit Muenster too hard, the precipitation was enough to turn many of the roads into a muddy mess for the approximately 130 riders who dared to grind gravel for distances of 50, 100 and 200 kilometers.

I signed up for the 200K (route actually equalled 130 miles). I figured it could take me 10 hours to complete, depending on the terrain and weather. It would be a perfect training ride for 24 Hours in the Canyon and a good test of my recently purchased Orbea.

I started the race spinning fairly easily, not succumbing to the excitement of the race and overexerting myself early. The 29er sure does pedal smoothly — much more bang for your effort buck than my old 26-inch-wheeled MTB (my review of the rig coming soon). Still, I wasn't hauling much ass. I happily allowed the cyclocross riders and quick-paced MTBers to roll right past me. As wet as the roads were, they didn't kick up much mud. That's not to say it wasn't messy; it sure was. It took a few miles to get a feel for the way my bike handled on the terrain — getting comfortable with the way the rear tire would drift, following well-worn tracks and picking lines that would offer the smoothest ride. You can't ride these roads with your brain completely shut off. You have to be engaged. And it's a blast. Riding them on a bike is one thing, but I couldn't imagine the fun of driving on them. I figure tooling around in a 4X4 is good sport and cheap entertainment around Muenster — as evidenced by the varieties of light-domestic empties lining the sides of the roads.

Riders ahead and wind turbines on the horizon. As is the case for smaller races that cover considerable distances, most of the ride is a very solitary experience. This picture shows some decent elevation, but nothing close to the most challenging hill later in the race.

All smiles on the flat sections!

The sights of this part of the state are limited, but none the less interesting. The sky was endless and blue, punctuated by at least 50 wind turbines sprouting from the ground that used to be oil rich. Amid the few remaining derricks, there were plenty of cattle (even longhorn), horses and a couple of sheep "mowing" their owner's grass. But it's unwise to admire the surroundings too much during a gravel grinder. The route is marked with orange rectangles. I almost missed one while taking the picture on the left. Not my best moment of the race.

Need more incentive for paying attention and not mugging for an effin' picture: Apparently the locals can be troublesome during these kinds of events — either removing those orange arrows or turning them in opposite directions. Utilizing GPS is a good idea, as race director/Spinistry founder Kevin Lee advises. I had printouts of the route and the map on Google Earth just to be safe. Fortunately, I didn't need either. Thanks, Locals for not jackin' with the signs!

So, yeah, those hills. There were a few of those bastards. Dry gravel would have been challenging, but doable. A little bit of precipitation made them damn tough. I resorted to walking the last large climb when I realized spinning my granny gear was wasting more energy than pushing a bike would.

Photo by Jessica Lee/Spinistry

It's hard to tell from the picture, but that's a 17 percent grade (better evidence in subsequent shot). It kicked my ass. 

Throughout the race, I went back and forth in my head — "Will I do the full 200K, or will I call it a day at 100K?" Thinking about friends who have accomplished bigger, badder and tougher races kept me motivated at times. Then I would lose focus and daydream about being done. And then a well-timed Lara bar would revive my spirits ... and then dropping it in the gravel after a single bite would deflate me. (I almost stopped to pick it up. No lie. I wanted it soooo bad.)

Photo by Jessica Lee/Spinistry

Ain't that a sight! Well worth walking, too!

By the time I finished the first 100K in a little over 4 hours, I was 50/50 on finishing or quitting. It was sort of nice having the option. See, the route wisely led all racers back to the start/finish — 200Kers had to check in before starting the second half of the course. I built a bitchin' veggie burrito (respect to Spinistry for providing vegetarian-friendly food) and enjoyed it as I mulled my decision.

Sitting in the parking lot near Muenster High School, I watched other racers load up their gear and clean up before heading back to their homes for the day. All of that was very appealing to me, more so than completing the day's challenge, I'm afraid to say. In the moment, it was the right choice — I enjoyed the ride, felt strong and wanted to end the day that way. Finishing the 200K probably would have felt great. An accomplishment. But I pondered if finishing might be more punishment than training. We will never know. I'll live with it ... until next year, when I will finish the whole damn thing.

Up next

After spectating the hell out of Ironman 70.3 Texas in Galveston, the plan is to camp at Bastrop State Park before racing the Austin Rattler 100K. I have no doubt I'll be ready for that. I received extra motivation the other day when I watched the two "Race Across the Sky" documentaries about the Leadville Trail 100 Mountain Bike race. I highly recommend both if you're looking to get pumped; however, I will say that the second doc is better because it highlights more everyday riders than the first (that 2009 doc is a Lance Armstrong highlight reel). If only I had watched them before RRR; those mountains make gravel roads look like child's play! See for yourself.

ALL DIRT DIET, PART ONE Crazy Desert Trail Race

Last time, I waxed on (and on, til the break of dawn) about how important the city of San Angelo is to me. As promised, this is the recap of an outstanding weekend in the Concho Valley, which included camping and spotting wildlife, the prospect of cycling for hours on endless FM roads and my first trail race, the Crazy Desert Trail Race at San Angelo State Park.

Just outside of Abilene on Highway 277, you'll encounter dozens of wind turbines. It's the first interesting thing you'll see after three hours of driving the long, boring stretch of Interstate 20 toward Lene Town. 

TPG and I hit the road Friday so we would have ample time to make the 4-plus hour trip to Angelo, set up our campsite and get some rest so I would be ready for the race and she would be in top spectathlete form. Funny how plans don't always work out!

You never know what you might encounter while hiking. San Angelo doesn't like to boast about it, but it has a bone-
dry lake you can walk into, which is what we did. When I lived in the city, O.C. Fisher Reservoir still had some water. As you can see (and watch in this dramatic video), it's returned to its natural state.

See, we like primitive camping. It affords us the tranquility you can't find in a big city like Dallas; and it puts us closer to all the wildlife. Packed to the brim backpacks, tent, sleeping bag and some comfy chairs — that's a nice setup for us. And, ideally, that setup is located a decent hike away from RVs and paved roads. On the South Side of SASP (the more scenic side, IMHO), that kind of camping isn't really available. Our "primitive" spot had a picnic table, fire ring and parking space. No hiking required, but being close to the car was convenient.

Sunrise in beautiful West Central Texas. 

You can never predict the weather for a race day or weekend camping. We take whatever may come. The forecast showed significant wind (20-30 mph) and a good chance of thunderstorms. The storms didn't come, but the strong winds were constant reminders that we were in a different environment. In a word: dusty. Everything was covered with dust: the car, tent (even inside; the rainfly isn't called a dust fly for a reason) and us. We didn't sleep well at all — the wind howled and whipped the tent's rainfly like a tethered kite all night. At times, we were certain the tent would go airborne.

I learned that trail races are much more laid back than their road counterparts. Everyone just hung out. Nerves were at a minimum. Oh, and this is what passes for a starting line. It's questionable when the race director says, "The start line is between those two trees. The finish line, which was marked, also was confusing.

Doing the prerace picture thing. And hey,
check out the lucky number!!!

So, with about a cumulative two hours of sleep, we headed to the North Side of the park where the race was staged. As mentioned in that earlier blog post about Angelo, I spent significant time riding these trails during 2003-2005. I will ride for hours, without goals, set mileage or time. I'd just ride for the beauty of it. Eventually, I became a strong mountain biker, and even raced a bit. But I never ran on these trails. Back then, I couldn't think of anything less enjoyable than running. So while I entered the race knowing the trails like the back of my hand, I didn't know what my feet would think of them. But the trail wasn't the only thing that was familiar. I got to see a former colleague, Anthony, and his wife. Both are accomplished runners, cyclists and triathletes. Anthony and I also worked together at the San Angelo Standard-Times. We now work for municipalities, so you can imagine we had plenty to chat about (before the race and later over pizza at Cork & Pig Tavern).

The race started with the 50K runners, then the marathoners and then 30 minutes later the half-marathoners. As has become my (bad) habit, I started faster than I should have. The long first couple of miles of the course snaked through flat, twisty sections of dirt. Prickly pear and thorny trees fence in the singletrack. It's a sure bet something will snag you will running these trails.

The first challenge on the course was around mile three — the Big Hill. That's what it's called. It's a rocky, steep fire road that I used to punish myself trying to climb on a mountain bike. Running up it was no small feat either. Fortunately, after reaching the top, I knew there wouldn't be anything nearly as challenging (the course route excluded the famed Roller Coaster trail).

There were a few aid stations on the trail. By the time I reached the first at mile four, my handheld was nearing empty. The temperature quickly reached 60 degrees. That's not terribly warm, but the trail offers scant cover from the sun. By this point, I was now running at a comfortable pace, no longer in the lead pack, but situated near the front of the average runners. I was racing, but barely. I hadn't trained much, and my only goal was finishing in under two hours. I wanted to challenge myself, but more than anything, I wanted to have fun. I wanted to soak up the experience; I even ran without my iPod (which were allowed, surprisingly).

Chad Hirt Photography 

Just further photographic evidence why
I should always wear sunglasses during
a race.

During most of the race, I had plenty of time to think. There were plenty of racers on the trail, but there were only a couple of instances when someone was near me. As my feet reconnected with this dry, red-dirt playground, I saw familiar landmarks. Spots that were sandy 10 years ago were still very sandy. The crossing that has a small cattle guard likely surprised many runners, but its location was etched in my brain. Sections that I didn't consider hilly on a mountain bike proved to be challenging on foot. In fact, several stretches were quite hilly and rocky. I can see and feel the benefit of using trail-specific shoes that have rock plates. The wind was relentless, and I could taste the dirt collecting in my mouth. Delicious!

I stopped at every aid station to refill on water, even opting to eat a banana (I passed on the gooey brownies reserved for the 50Kers) and grab a second bottle of water at mile 9, just in case. Hands down, the volunteers at the aid stations were awesome. It was nice to see smiling, friendly people and hear their words of encouragement.

At mile 10, volunteers from the Army were stationed to track racers progress. I can't remember what they said, but I thanked them for their service and for volunteering. Seeing them reminded me that I need to get back in the (good) habit of volunteering at races.

I was on track to finish the race in less than two hours, and felt pretty good. I passed several runners in the last three miles, partly because they included hills, but mostly because people seemed to be dehydrated. By the time I reached the last half-mile, I could see the race area through the trees. More volunteers lined the turns that led to the overly complicated finish line.

Sprinting to the finish hurts so good. I didn't leave everything out on the trail, but I had a great race. *Unofficially finished in 1:58.

I'm not one to complain. The race was inexpensive, the course was marked well (white ribbon with orange polka dots), aid stations were properly placed for the distance and volunteers were friendly and helpful. But the finish line was confusing: The orange coned finishers chute had a "finish" sign on the first cones. That confused many runners. Even though volunteers and the race director yelled keep running, that didn't help tired/confused runners from stopping early. I didn't have a problem running all the way to the real finish line, but others did. Seems to me a banner over the actual finish line would have solved that problem.

*Worst of all, I apparently DNFed. Well, that is if you believe the race results. My watch said 1:58 when I crossed the finish line. A race doesn't have to have a chip timing system, but it really should have accurate race results. Judging by the comments on the Facebook page, I wasn't the only person who saw problems with the results (such as 50Kers marked as half-marathoners). When I finished, there was no one near me. The volunteers should have been able to look at the stopwatch, my bib and write down a finish time. It shouldn't be that difficult. I get that putting on a race isn't easy and entrusting volunteers with duties is part of it. I don't expect there to be a good post-race food option for vegetarians. But I do expect to have an accurate time for my race. It'd also be ideal if those results were divided by distance and finish time so racers could see how they fared against the competition. I don't think that's asking too much; it is, after all, a race.

With my first trail race in the books, TPG and I spent the rest of our weekend embracing our surroundings. Have you ever been to Prairie Dog Town. We have!

This part of the state park is actually new to me. I never went to the far south side because the bike trails didn't extend that far. But we were rewarded with three prairie dog sightings. We surmised that the two in the above picture were watch dogs keeping a mindful eye for predators (a hawk looking for them spared above the town minutes earlier). We also heard one of their friends barking on the other side of town. It's hard to describe the sound. You just have to hear it for yourself.  We also enjoyed seeing the biggest rabbits you'll ever see, a speedy chaparral (meep-meep), and hearing what I think were quails. We hustled along the trail to see them, but they outsmarted us on their home turf.

The second night was also restless, though my race helped me catch a few additional winks. It rained a bit, and the wind wasn't quite as bad overnight, However, it picked up again Sunday morning. Our plan was to ride for a three or four hours. As much as I wanted to show TPG some special spots on bike, we opted to not ride. But that doesn't mean our morning was a complete bust. Nope, we made oatmeal and coffee and tea with her new Jetboil Sumo stove. It's ingenious! Starting the day with something warm was so awesome. Burn bans in the state make fires verbotten. It's nice to have a lightweight packable option. Two thumbs up for this piece of camping gear and MaryJanes Farm's Organic Outrageous Oatback Oatmeal.

All things considered, it was an excellent weekend. I enjoyed seeing this city again, and showing TPG all the spots that I used to frequent — from the newspaper building and tattoo parlor, to my apartments and the wonderful trails. I can't say we'll go back often, but it's nice to know that we now share good memories of our time in my old "home."

RETURNING 'HOME' San Angelo

Photo by TPG

Barbed wire and cacti: This prickly pair (har!) makes me smile. San Angelo's beauty doesn't reveal itself; you have to look for it. It's worth it.

Tonight, I flipped open my computer fully intending to write about my first trail race — last Saturday's Crazy Desert Trail Race in San Angelo. I had an outstanding time running the familiar trails of San Angelo State Park.

A fun, homecoming post about how great it was to return to the city and run a great race: That was the plan. But that post will have to wait because first I need to share a little history on how San Angelo became home.

I didn't grow up in San Angelo in the traditional meaning of the phrase. My formative years were spent in Garland; that's where I actually grew up. Then, in many ways, I delayed achieving adulthood during my college years at the University of Texas in Austin. But I did grow up (read: became an adult) —eventually — in San Angelo.

Truth be told, San Angelo wasn't my first choice (or third or 20th) for where I wanted to land straight out of college; but in the first months of 2002, there weren't a hell of a lot of good options for a young journalist. I spent the better part of four months unemployed in Austin — depressed that I had skills (good training through internships at a couple of papers and stints at the school paper) and no place to use them. I was choosy at first. I only really wanted to work at the Austin American-Statesman. I might have worked part-time there ... if I hadn't bombed the pre-employment editing test. Worst mistake: I nervously confused Mark David Chapman with Charles Whitman. Yikes!

When I realized that working at the Statesman wasn't ever going to happen, I started applying everywhere. And I mean everywhere. A few newspapers showed some interest. But only The Joplin (Mo.) Globe and the San Angelo Standard-Times invited me to visit their cities for interviews and subsequently extended formal offers of employment.

I won't bore you with all the details. Just some of them. There are more than three years of details. Way more years and details than I had anticipated. Highs and lows. But, what you must know is that I:

• Stopped smoking for good in San Angelo.
• Slipped into depression and drank way too much in San Angelo.
• Learned a lot about the newspaper industry and journalism in San Angelo.
• Started my path toward vegetarianism in San Angelo.
• Met some lifelong friends in San Angelo.
• Lost some friends in San Angelo.
• Got hooked on tattoos in San Angelo.
• Bought my first new car in San Angelo.
• Fell in love with mountain biking in San Angelo.
• Lost 50 pounds in San Angelo.

All of those details are what got me here. "Here" is a life that is packed with way more blessings than one person could ever hope for. It's a full life — one that's much more than just running, riding bikes and listening to music. It's a life in which I learn something new every day, do work that's fulfilling every day, improve who I am every day, thank God that I've found the love of my life every day, appreciate incredible friends and family every day, and much more.

It's a special place, all right. And this is a special life. It could have unfolded anywhere. But it didn't. It happened in a West Central Texas town that will be dear to me forever. I hope everyone finds his or her San Angelo.

FIVE PHOTO FRIDAY Yakin', stressin', runnin' and illuminatin'

Courtesy of Rick Hose/Keep Irving Beautiful

About a month ago, Rick Hose with Keep Irving Beautiful invited me to join in a cleanup effort of the Elm Fork of the Trinity River on March 2. So that means boats, specifically, kayaks. See, TPG and I like to do cool and different things. We also respect the earth and do our part to be responsible stewards. So this was right up our alley. We had a damn good time.
• For a fine writeup of the day — Pigs, Paddles and Nutria Scat
• For a boatload (har) of photos — KayakPower.com (at the end of the post)
• For more details about the day and KIB — KIB Volunteers Kick Off the Great American Cleanup 

Just the other day I got a stress ball. It lasted exactly one day. Good thing I am starting a three-day weekend. I am looking forward to running my first trail half-marathon (Crazy Desert) in one of my old "homes," San Angelo. There will be biking and camping, and catching up with friends, too. Most likely plenty of blog fodder.

Orbea.com

That's the bike I bought. An Orbea Occam 29 H30. I love it, especially the color. It is reminiscent of my first legit MTB — a Spanish gold Trek 6700. I blogged all about the process of selecting the new sweet ride here, here and here. Right now, I am told it will be another 10 days until my bike arrives. Twice the dudes at Dallas Bikes Works have said I could get the black-frame Occam pronto, and twice I have said, "My bike is brown and gold." This wait will be worth it; however, if I hear "two more weeks again," I may consider another option.  This delay could drag on for much longer. Who knows. I sure hope it doesn't. Races are coming up, and my training is getting started.

Speaking of training, I went for my first night ride with the ultra-bright Gemini Duo light kit. Strapped to my helmet and pulping out only half of its 1400 lumens the trails at Rowlett Creek Preserve glow like daytime. Two petrified rabbits that crossed my beam can attest to the brightness. It's a whole new experience riding the trails at night. It's like you're going twice as fast; and since you can't see much in the periphery, it's not unlike being in a tunnel. It's a strange sensation, but one I dig. I am looking forward to improving my nocturnal bike-handling skills. Holler if you have any tips. 

FRONTRUNNERS More races, more gear — Part three

As mentioned in part one and part two, I have spent weeks searching for the perfect full-suspension 29er mountain bike for my upcoming races — Red River Riot (just-for-fun 120 miles of gravel grinding) and 24 Hours in the Canyon (test of endurance and my first fundraiser to kick cancer's ass).

What really made the following bikes the frontrunners was seeing them during a recent trip to Austin with TPG. ATX is the cycling hotspot in the state — bike lanes for commuters, trails aplenty for MTB riders and badass hills for roadies. And there are so many shops in the city. Some cater more to students and commuters, others serve elite riders and triathletes, and then there are those that are one-stop shops for all manner of cyclists.

Er'body knows about Mellow Johnny's bike shop in downtown Austin. It's a great shop. I don't want to take anything away from it. But my favorite shop in Austin is Bicycle Sport Shop. The headquarters location on South Lamar is huge and carries a gaggle of legit brands (Trek, Specialized, Santa Cruz, Salsa, Independent Fabrication, Cervélo, Co-Motion, Surly, Niner).

BSS staffer Steele Taylor had all the answers I needed. I told him my cycling goals, and he dished out expert knowledge of the bikes BSS sells. He steered me toward (see what I did there?) a couple of bikes I was considering and steered me away from (I did it. Again!) a couple of others. If I lived in Austin, I would have test ridden and potentially bought a bike right then and there. But I don't, so I didn't; I didn't want to waste (any more of) the shop's time on a no-sale. Armed with excellent information, I knew there were two excellent full-suspension 29ers I needed to seek back home.

TrekBikes.com

Trek Superfly 100 AL
This was the last bike I checked out at Bicycles Plus. I've ridden a few Trek models over the years. In fact, all of my mountain bikes have been Trek. I am brand loyal. I was pleased to hear from Steele and then the fellas at BP that Trek had improved its rear suspension and that Bontrager had stepped up its components in recent years (they used to be very cheap, low quality and the first items replaced on stock Treks). The Superfly is a nice machine. It bears MTB grandfather Gary Fisher's name and his former company's proprietary G2 Geometry. As is expected from the mega-huge brands (volume, it's all about volume), the part spec is dynamite (XT rear derailleur, SLX brakes, Fox suspension), and you can easily find them in stock. The color (because, yes, color does matter) is much sharper in person (great gray with hook-em burnt orange touches). Ultimately, I decided this just wasn't what I was looking for; it's a great ride, but it didn't feel like my bike. To make a comparison, the bike, to me, felt like a Chevy or Ford sedan — perfectly fine cars that get the job done. But I am looking for perfect, high-performance excellence that feels right to me.

SalsaCycles.com

Salsa Spearfish 2
This was the odds-on favorite when I first started my search. If the company's marketing means anything to you, this rig's made for endurance rides. And many a forum post backs up Salsa's claims. One thing to note about the Spearfish: It is elusive. A handful of shops carry them, but very few have them in stock because they sell so well. That's a good problem for them and a not-so-good problem for someone trying to track down a test ride. Fortunately, after calling several shops, I located a Spearfish at Oak Cliff Bicycle Company. Don't let the website fool you. This is a serious bike shop in the seriously hipster section of Dallas. You will find boutique bikes, retro rides, a shit-ton of single speeds and more fixies than you can shake a stick at in Oak Cliff. And most of their owners bought them at O.C.B.C. The bike I rode was owner Jeremy Ordaz's. I'll say it a gain: When a shop's owner will let you pedal his or her ride, you are dealing with a great shop.

How great is this bike for endurance rides? Ordaz rode it 350 miles across and 56,000 feet up Georgia (Trans North Georgia Bike Adventure, consider yourself on my list of to-do rides). My test ride was considerably shorter and less challenging. The Spearfish felt fine — comfy and capable, and it handled well, but it didn't seem as fast as the other bikes I had tested. I was sorta bummed because it was my favorite pre-test ride bike. That, and I liked O.C.B.C. — good people who love what they do, support cycling and have fun events (vegan options aways on their barbecue BarBikeQue grill). I am loyal to supportive shops that offer good gear and quality, knowledgable service — even if they don't have the best hours or aren't right down the street; I have written off shops that are snooty and offer crap customer service/repairs. But I couldn't buy a bike I didn't love. Sorta sadly, I didn't love the Spearfish.

So ... the search is over. And I bought a bike that I love. But it's on back order. My wait is about halfway over. I should have my new ride late this week or early next week. Check back then to see what I bought (if you've read all three posts, it shouldn't be a surprise) and to read some of my first-ride opinions.

NOT DONE YET More races, more gear — Part two

Heck, it's only been a couple of days since my last post. You remember. The one where I detailed how I have signed up for even more races and have sought choice gear. In the short period of time between then and now, I managed to sign up for another race — El Scorcho, my first 50K. For those not familiar with the Fort Worth race, it is held at midnight in July. So that means the temperature will be a chilly 80 to 90 degrees at that ungodly hour. Why do this race? For the challenge. And because I know I can. Remind me I typed those words on July 21, please.

I didn't, however, get any new gear since my last post; although, I am guilty of eyeing those new Adidas Energy Boost shoes that are plastered over magazines and the Internet.

But enough about shoes. Let's get back to MTB Search 2013.

I am a loyal customer of Bicycles Plus. The good folks at the Snider Plaza location have treated me well. I received exceptional customer service when I bought my Cannondale CAAD10 4 Rival there in 2011. The staff is helpful and they do kick-ass ish when they're not selling or wrenching (ex. A: Kevin Campagna is prepping for Tour Divide — the self-supported race from Banff, Canada, to Antelope Wells, N.M.; follow his training and progress on Facebook). Oh, and Bicycles Plus also offers lifetime service on bikes purchased at the shop — something all LBSes should do. And all the locations I've visited (three of four, sorry, Allen) are pretty solid. During a lunch break last week, I stopped by the Coppell location to check out some more full-suspension 29ers.

BMC.com

BMC Fourstroke FS03 29 XC SLX (store had top-of-the-line model)
First, just let me say the name alone is a turn off — the tail end of it looks like a launch code or something CAPTCHA would spit out. That's not enough to turn me off, but the suspension is. My ideal fork in my price range is a RockShox Reba or Fox CTD 100. The RockShox Recon Gold is just not cutting it for me. That, and the rear suspension is suspect. I think the shock — Scor SHP200 — is made by BMC because I have never heard of it or seen it on other bikes. What's worse, the suspension system is too similar to the Trek Fuel 95 I had backinnaday. I was not a fan of its bobbing on even the smallest least technical climbs. These points and the fact that it was pushing the top end of my budget shot holes in this otherwise sweet-looking Swiss machine.

Cannondale.com

Cannondale Scalpel 29er 3
I never considered Cannondale bikes before I bought my road bike. But I've been impressed with it, so I figured its MTB offerings were worth considering. The obvious difference with this bike compared to the others is the Lefty fork, which is Cannondale's specialty (note: Fox, RockShox and others have helped with the internal mechanism of the fork). Lefty is certainly different. It's lighter, it's responsive and the location of the lockout is ideal (the dual crown inverted design places it right at the headset). This bike normally would have been out of my price range, but the price at Bicycles Plus was $500 off MSRP. Of course, when it comes to bikes, not all MSRPs are intended to be followed; so I can't say it's a true discount (other stores online are selling them below MSRP, too). Anyway, the Scalpel 29er 3 has a pretty sweet part spec and is a nice looking bike. But ultimately I am not a fan of the Lefty fork at any price point.

Scott.com

Scott Spark 950
Seeing TPG's sick Scott Plasma and witnessing how fast she can pedal that stealthy ride made me interested in seeking out the brand's MTB options. I was very interested in the Spark 950 as soon as I saw it online. Much like the BMC, the only potential problem is the Scott-brand rear shock. Otherwise, it looks like its geometry is similar to the aggressive stance of the Orbea Occam 29 H30 I really liked. Alas, no one has these bikes. Bicycles Plus and other local shops no longer stock the brand. The only place I can find that sells them is REI; one problem though: they don't have them in stock. Gotta place an order without riding, which is not something I am willing to do. Word from a couple of shops that used to carry them is that in recent years Scott has oversold its models and customers had to wait months to get their backordered bikes. That's too bad, because I thought this bike would be a serious contender.


To be continued ... 

ADDING IT UPMore races, more gear — Part one

Not too long ago, I mentioned I filled my plate with some righteous racing. Well, guess what? I got a bigger plate! After running my first trail half-marathon in San Angelo on March 9, I will switch gears for my second Spinistry ride — the Red River Riot, a 120-mile gravel grinder on March 30 in Muenster, Texas. After an excellent time at the Texas Chainring Massacre, I am quickly learning that gravel is where it's at.

Oh, and I also signed up for the Triple Threat — the Wee-Chi-Tah mountain bike race on Friday, Aug. 23, which precedes the Hotter  'N Hell Hundred, which is followed by the Wee-Chi-Tah half-marathon trail run.

My calendar is looking friggin' rad these days. Many weekends this spring and summer will involve rides, runs, rallies and races, and spectating the crap out of events that TPG and others are signed up for.

It's not a maxim, but many times races/training means more gear. One piece that's essential for training for and racing in my first 24-hour race:

Gemini-Lights.com

A bright-ass bike light. I looked at so many comparison guides and reviews to figure out the appropriate lumen ratings, the necessary accessories (batteries, cables, helmet attachments) and reasonable price (pro tip: your light shouldn't cost more than your bike). I finally settled on a sweet Gemini Duo. Such a compact design and lightweight, this little dude packs a manufacturer's rating of 1400 lumens (some reviews say its actual lumen rating is 1100). What does that look like?

Gemini-Lights.com

That's outstandingly bright! My Duo arrived today, and I can confirm it is just that bright. I can't wait to give it a try on a dark trail!

Light. Check. That was an easy purchase. In addition to running a couple of Niterider handlebar lights, I am set for riding at night. The harder decision? Buying a new bike. I have flipped and flopped many times about whether I really needed a new bike. I like my 10-year-old Trek hardtail. It's the bike that got me hooked me on mountain biking. I've had other mountain bikes — newer, nicer, pricier, but it's the one I've kept. So why upgrade? The key factors are performance and comfort. Technology has improved, and my old hardtail isn't the most comfortable, efficient-shifting rig.

My needs: A full-suspension ride (80-100 mm front and rear), 29-inch wheels, light as possible, best mix of components (no off-brand brakes, no low-end part specs). Oh, and it has to ride like it's on rails and be fast as %#$*.

The best things about bike shopping? Staring at beautiful machines, the smell of new tires and riding bikes of course. The worst part? Visiting multiple bike shops. I have stated my opinions of local bikes shops and their wildly different levels of customer service.

First up, I visited the LBS nearest to my home. Dallas Bike Works is just about 4 miles from Casa del Trece. DBW's selection is incredible, too. Of the brands and models I wanted to ride, they carried a few. Even better, the shop has a grassy hill and BMX pump track behind it, so you can actually get a decent idea how a bike will perform on dirt.

SantaCruzBicycles.com

Santa Cruz Tallboy
I have a soft spot for SC. It has made sick skateboards for decades and the bikes have always caught my eye. In fact, about 7 years ago, I almost bought an SC Blur. As much as I loved the look of that bike, it just didn't fit me — too much of a trail bike and not as well-suited for cross-country riding. That's kind of the same verdict for the Tallboy. I enjoyed riding it, but it didn't seem very agressive. It handled OK and was comfortable, but it lacked the quickness and agility I sought.

Orbea.com

Orbea Occam 29 H30
How do you know you're in a good bike shop? The owner lets you test ride his personal bike. That was the case at Dallas Bike Works. For the second day in a row, I hopped off at White Rock Station on the DART Blue Line to swing by the shop closest to my home and test ride the next bike.

While Boyd Wallace's H30 was extremely modified — RockShox SID World Cup fork and carbon wheelset, for starters — I got a great feel for the bike's geometry. It passed the test better than the Tallboy. It inspired confidence. I knew I had a serious contender. I even fell in love with the brown/gold color.

To be continued ...

TEXAS CHAINRING MASSACRE Recap of my first gravel grinder race

Photo by Jessica Lee/courtesy of Spinistry

Race director/Spinistry founder Kevin Lee runs down the details before the start of Texas Chainring Massacre on Feb. 10 in Valley View. 

While it is true that I have a couple of half-marathons coming up, my focus lately is riding my bikes in preparation for 24 Hours in the Canyon. June is well in the distance, but one does need to prepare for such endurance events. And one of the more fun ways to prep for a big race is by entering some smaller races. Ten-or-so days ago, @24inthecanyon tweeted about the Texas Chainring Massacre. I was pleasantly surprised to learn that the race (with the most bitchin' name in all of cycling) was coming up and was only an hour from my 'hood. I had to race it.

First, let me explain what TCM is and what it isn't. The race is produced by Spinistry, which specializes in endurance/ultra-endurance rides on a variety of courses, but especially unpaved surfaces. TCM is held on mostly gravel country roads and some paved FM roads. It is not a race for dudes who rock Cervelo P5s. The best bike for a gravel grinder race is a cyclocross rig; to really over-simplify, CX bikes are similar to road bikes but they have off-road tires capable of rolling over rocks, dirt, mud and roadkill (which I saw plenty of on Sunday). Most of the racers at TCM rocked CX bikes, several single-speed rigs. I rode my hardtail mountain bike, which can handle the rough roads just fine but is about 10 pounds heavier and 5-10 mph slower than the average CX bike. My goal was to get some quality saddle time on my MTB and see what tweaks I need to make to my training, fuel and/or gear.

The night before the race, significant rain descended upon the Dallas-Fort Worth area, including Valley View/Cooke County, the location of the race. Flooding in portions of the 78-mile race course forced the race director to run the race on the same course as the 50-mile fun ride. So at 9:15 a.m., all 114 riders pedaled off into a less-than-welcome 17 mph wind with gusts in the 20s. In a word, it sucked. The first handful of miles were on access roads and asphalt, but they were tough sledding with the wind smacking us in our faces. There's an abundance of farm land and fields in Cooke County but not many trees or structures along the roads to mellow the whipping wind — probably the worst obstacle on the front half of the race.

Photo by Jessica Lee/courtesy of Spinistry

The key to riding gravel is following the tire tracks of cars and trucks, which are fairly clear of sizable rocks. If you follow that line, riding is considerably easier. Otherwise, it's gonna be a bumpy ride.

The area was surprisingly hilly, too. The rocky roads only ramped up the difficulty level. As CX riders nimbly negotiated the hills, holes and rough patches, I plodded along, trying to coax my bike to move faster than I could run. It was a challenge at times, and it sure was tempting to downshift into the granny gear. But I toughed it out and stayed away from the tiny chainring. I pedaled comfortably in the larger gears on the flats and the smaller climbs.

I paid attention to my hand positioning throughout the ride. I am trying out a new set of grips, Ergon GP1, in hopes of not aggravating the ulnar nerve issues I've had in the past while mountain biking. So far the grips are doing the trick. I also am testing new fuel options. I gave dates a whirl at TCM. They were a delicious, semisweet pick-me-up that I popped every 15-20 minutes. I think they may be a winner; they're certainly easier to eat than my trued-and-true tortillas!

Photo by Jessica Lee/courtesy of Spinistry

As is true with any bike race or triathlon, ogling bad-ass bikes is part of the fun. I saw so many sweet rides. And while I won't invest in a CX bike soon, I can definitely see their benefits on this terrain. 

The race included a mandatory check-in at the support station. The planned 78-mile race would have had two stations where racers could refuel on the food they placed in their drop bags. I like this option for a race. It allows the event organizer to keep costs down (thus an inexpensive entry fee) and you're guaranteed the station will have something you can eat and drink. I didn't pack drop bags because I wanted to keep everything in my Camelbak. Now, that's not to say that I didn't have a couple dozen animal crackers and some candy orange slices. They were greatly appreciated at the 26 mile marker — half way point of the race.

The back half of the race greeted riders with more asphalt and a friendly tailwind. It also was filled with more climbing. I can't speak for everyone, but considering the wind and the weight of my bike, those 50 miles were just as difficult as riding the Hotter'N Hell 100. Cycling so slowly on rocky gravel and often with no one around you and nothing to look at demands mental fortitude. I'm pleased that I was able to stick it out. I stayed positive by appreciating the fact that I was getting to race on such a beautiful, blue-sky day. I stared at the gravel during the long, tough climbs when I didn't want to know how much farther until the road leveled out. I thought about how tough The Texas Time Trials were. I admired, smiled and said hello to the cows, horses, massive dogs and goats that broke up the stretches of empty acreage. According to the results, about 30 racers/riders DNFed.  I finished 49th out of 59 racers, a majority of whom weren't riding MTBs (stating that just for the record ... oh, and yes, for my pride's sake, too). The timing isn't official yet. By my watch, it took me about 4:15 to complete the race. I'll take it!

Photo by Jessica Lee/courtesy of Spinistry

Such a gorgeous day for cycling on a new route and testing one's mettle. 

So, with months to go until 24:00, I feel good about my fitness, especially considering how sick I was a couple of weeks ago. And it was outstanding to learn about this whole new world of racing in North Texas. I highly recommend signing up for a Spinistry event. They are fun, few-frills (good swag bag), cost less than most rallies/races and offer unique challenges. You won't be disappointed.