F you covid and thanks.

O the places I'll go (with these two)!

   Beginning of break. I read and hear about this covid fatigue thing. I suppose that’s what I’m suffering with. Not fatigued because I have covid-thankfully (been tested four times)-but living and teaching and husbanding and fathering and house maintaining during this pandemic’s what’s getting me fatigued. In addition to this, my beautiful state is hitting record-high acres burning due to forest fires in addition to the upcoming presidential elections are putting my noggin into all manner of bat shit crazy. Just heard that Hal Ketchum passed away last night (the 25th) due to complications of dementia! Give me a fucking break 2020! It mos def has a cumulative and exhaustive effect for sure. Maybe I’m not blowing off enough stress? I’ve ridden some killer miles but when I get home, the tabs in my brain begin to open up again; but fair enough, before I went cycling, I suppose I didn’t shut them down and log off properly. I’m grateful I can still feel that pillar of survival. Karen-my extraordinary wife-and I still laugh a lot. Mostly when we talk at night, sometimes in the morning. I couldn’t imagine being in a pandemic with anyone other than her. My oldest daughter was living with us for a while too and I am so immensely proud of her. I live with two awesome, smart, athletic women. Well, my sweet boo gives me her blessing to go without her to visit my brothers during a second, massive wave of covid ripping through this beloved country of mine. I was checking for Airbnb’s that would accept dogs in the Phoenix area and I was not getting any luck for the money I wanted to spend. She saw me struggling I’m sure. Not anything massive ('cept drooling or my lack of completion of sentence; but that's most days) but watching me cope poorly. No group rides when I get there, just me saying, ‘later’ to my ego and to take deep breaths, enjoy the company of my brothers and soak in the vibes the Sonoran Desert emanates either running or cycling within its spiritual confines. As with any good road trip, you have to have some choice tunes. My latest sonic fix(es) is: Ben Cooper aka Radical Face. I got two of his Family Tree series: The Branches and The Bastards. Ghost completes this road tripping Ben Cooper trio. Another one is Preston Lovinggood aka Wild Sweet Orange. I sonically came across an old CD of his called We Have Cause to Be Uneasy and forgot how amazing it is, so I downloaded his EP The Whale. Can’t forget my devil music-a good dose of Lamb Of God is a plus heading down the highway. On my six or so hour trip to Albuquerque, I reminisce on why I am heading towards this destination. Why I need to reset mentally, appreciate what I have and to commune on my mtb with forces outside myself. Furthermore, when I get there, I will blow of the carbon build up on the exhaust and intake systems of the machine called The Notorious M.I.K.E. Gotta make the machine run cleaner and more appreciative given the fuel and circumstances, creating purposeful velocity towards destination: chill-my-shiznit-out.  

Already feeling better. 

L-R: moi, Jeremy, and Woody

   First Ride: We went out to Black Canyon Trail (BCT): Antelope Cyn to Bumblebee. The last time I was out here was with Kevin, but now, this was a new route. What I also remembered from last summer was the loud, tinnitus producing, rapid syncopation of rattling from a rhumba of ninja rattlesnakes out here-that’s what made it spooky. You round a bend at speed and all you hear-not see- are evolutionary adaptations of Mr. Crotaluses keratin shakers. The only thing that did physically tagged me were the overgrown plants with thorns. I saw the cacti well enough, but the spreading branches got my left knee (the same knee I like to crash on too) pretty good. My second shuttle ride (my first was Monarch Pass). Took the Acura and needless to say it was on dirt roads. I remembered the trick for not getting bounced on the ripples was to haul ass so my suspension would ride on the tops and not push into the troughs via harmonic frequency. It worked pretty well although my black beauty was dusty. Like Monarch, this was a net downhill. Rocky as can be. Some super skinny singletrack that should you lose it, you’re going down a ravine with nothing but sharp, angular rocks and cacti to help break your fall. It’s that crushed granite stuff, so you had to stay alert-especially when chasing a local (Lem’s friend, Woody). Was impressed on how my nephew Jeremy was climbing. If he could descend as quick as he can climb, that boy would be double legit! You know I had to keep him honest by climbing at tempo. That evening, Neil and I stopped at Ambassador Cigars-a mighty fine establishment might I add-and I bought three, Padron 1926s, one was a Madura for my oldest brother Lem. Oh man, tasty but I dint smoke it down. When we were talking in my brother’s back porch, trippy looking cirrus clouds formed over the desert and made me smile. That evening, my brain was starting to settle down because it was finally arriving in break mode. Got 5 hours of uninterrupted sleep that night. You know how you can’t sleep in strange beds even though they’re decent when on vacay? My brain was finally settling. On our way home, Neil and I go halfsies on a bottle of 18 year-old, very rare, Glenmorangie for Lem’s birthday coming up. Addendum to the very rare Glenmorangie. 18 year-old scotch doesn’t leave a finish after you gulp it. Mos def feel the heat, even when I exhale immediately on the gulp. It’s a super clean, minimum-to-no finish. It’s smooth with a sublime taste. The taste is fainter with an older bottle than with something younger. I think I like 12-15-year-old scotches better because it leaves a nice, hearty finish and when I swirl it in my mouth and bathe my tongue with it, I taste what I smelled when I swirled it. I was hoping to taste what my nose smelt when I swirled it but I only caught a fraction of that bouquet. Drank it with spherical ice cubes. It was almost too cold; but with bourbon that spherical frozen hydrogen hydroxide mass o’cold really makes the bourbon pop. 

top of Ridgeback overlook

   Second ride. I fly solo on a tip Lem gives me: Apache Wash. It’s right outside of Anthem. Pretty cool yet simple trail system. I think the whole outer perimeter’s like 16 miles? I loop a couple of the steady state climbs-Ridgeback-on my segments. Noticed that my cleats were loose and thankfully I carry tools in my wagon, so back to the car I go to snug ‘em down at 5 nm a’piece. It’s very XC-like terrain so I let it rip on the climbs but stay cautious on the at-speed, downhill curves. It’s still a mixture of mostly crushed granite floating on talcum powder soCan’t be apex turning when Mr. Cacti are there to greet you rather suddenly. I notice a girl running in a two-piece bikini. I guess I would too if I was sun-starved (‘cept I’d be in a one-piece). Fun, flowy, and fast. 

    Non-sequitur insert: I’m a new fan of Suntori. A salient feature of staying with Neil is that we are kidless. It makes it easier because I (mostly) watch my Ps and Qs whenever there are wee ones around and since they were missing it really nice speaking without too much of a filter, having adult conversations (I’m a high school teacher), and drinking scotch whenever the need arises! Neil has quite the collection of scotch in his quiver. Mos def a fan of Suntori. It’s a little sweeter; but nothing wrong with that. Got in seven hours of uninterrupted sleep that evening! 

   Third ride. Gonsta scratch Mount Lemmon off my riding bucket list! Oddly it was a cold and windy day in Tucson, but this isn’t a start of a mystery novella, just me belly-aching before a 25 mile climb that’ll sting your legs with 5500' of elevation gain. The dealio is, is to park at a coffee joint called Le Buzz. In Le Buzz I order a double espresso and I get the 4-1-1 from a local on the route up. Thankfully I brought (and wear) my knee and arm warmers and a base layer, even though the temps are deceiving. At around 6k’ elevation, the wind is kinda ripping and I’m getting cold. I find the landmark Woody told me to turnaround at: Palisade Visitor Center. 

midway up

As I’m descending, my 50 mm deep dish, pan pizza wheels are acting like sails and I viciously get blown off my line numerous times. A little unnerving going 40 mph, so I get super alert again and ride it out-sometimes on the drops, sometimes on the hoods-prolly with the death grip. On the way up though, you can see ecosystems changing appropriately with its elevation. The road here is rough and when your tires are at 120 psi, I can feel ALL the road’s uneven micro-contours, chunkiness, and cobbled together sections-especially downhill. Even though I road ride in Colorado, we too have fairly long steady-state climbs but not 26 or so miles uphill. I suppose if you road ride up Mt Evans or Pikes Peak, but I don’t think it’s twenty miles of straight up. That kinda shocked the legs a bit; but thankfuly, what goes up, must come down. Thankfully the shoulders didn’t have rumble strips for when I deviated from my line due to me or this infernal cross wind. Had to pee something fierce and as you know, the public restrooms near mid-mountain were closed due to the ubiquitous effects of Covid. 

   Fourth ride. Rode at White Tanks Regional Park. It was a trail Lem took me on once before and Kevin and I attempted it too late in the scorching heat this past summer. Instead of going clockwise, I went counterclockwise, and it kicked my butt. Still having mother nature challenging you with all her Sonoran Desert beauty is still awe-inspiring (yet amazingly painful). Was going to loop the competitive segment in but it was getting too late and I had to get back to the visitor center. I was lucky to not have sliced a tire out here. Here, there is a plethora of sharp, big assed rocks. The funny thing is when I was on Mesquite Trail (?) I no longer saw any mountain bike tread imprints on the soil. Guess I was the only one dumb enough to attempt to ride this section counter-clockwise. My hardtail is taking me on some cool adventures. Out here it’s analogous to being a pedestrian, performing bi-pedalism in New York City. That city is a pinnacle of condensed human interaction and achievement. It's a visual show-and-reveal. The desert is like that for me. I am just rubbernecking trying to get in as much visual data as my reptilian brainstem’ll allow me to upload. It looks like Moab on Mars with all variations of cacti surrounded by a backdrop of gnarly looking mountain ranges. Figure in the 60- or 70-degree temps-man, sometimes I have to pinch myself that I’m here riding and communing with nature in my humbling and bumbling way. Thankful for the evolution of how everything arrived at this point in my space-time continuum for this barely sentient being to soak it in and grateful enough to resonate in my noggin’. 

   Last ride was with my Lem and my nephew Jeremy. We rode out at Estrella Mountain. Apparently the trail builders out there-thank you!-built some new trails that Lem wanted to check out. Lem brought his new whip for this one-his Pivot. He was one with the bike and he just went volume 11 whenever he could. My legs were amazingly compliant after all these days of riding because I mostly stretch post-ride (so hopefully that’s why!). Not going to bore you with terrain and stuff but riding out here, today with my kin-folk, really distilled the highlights of hanging with my brothers and their families. 

Estrella in Goodyear

I really enjoyed the closeness, the talks, the downtime, the breaking of bread, the drinking of scotch, the smoking of 90 point plus cigars, and just the silent electricity flowing within my tribe. The familial unit and the interactions therein really placed a tranquil yet appreciative frame-of-mind in my consciousness. No more trepidations of returning to work, but it allowed a mental reset and a healthier perspective for the remainder of my semester. Loved every minute I was there and you know why? Family. Ain’t gonna lie, I did miss my boo something fierce. I get to come home to that slice of heaven. Well, thank you and I’m gonna give this one a ‘W.’ Oddly, this pandemic made this memory even more sweeterer.