I don’t like to think 2011 was a bad year, but it certainly was a tough one.

A wise man once said you have to know where you are at to know where you are going. I think another wise man said, you have to know where you’ve been to know where you’re at. So even though I don’t get excited taking a look back at the last year, it will help me to move forward.

The year started out as a married man, sharing a house with a wonderful woman, the first time in my life. Colleen was out of work looking for something new. I was still trying to grow my real estate investing business and doing some architecture work on the side.

Come Feb 12 it was time to defend my title at the Dirty Dozen 12 Hour Race at Warda. The competition was stout, and I was dealing with a little knee pain. I was in 2^nd place, but felt defeated, so I quit. It was the beginning of a downward spiral. On the good side of things, Colleen had finally found work at a dream job

On Feb 27^th I kicked off the 2011 TMBRA spring series by returning to Warda. This year they introduced a Singlespeed Open category, for the more competitive riders wanting payout. I knew right away I could win this series, but after finishing a mediocre 4^th in this first race I knew something wasn’t quite right and I had a lot of work to do.

Early March, Colleen and I embarked upon a Carribean cruise to celebrate our upcoming one year anniversary. Her parents bought the trip as a gift and came with us, along with an Aunt and Uncle of Colleen’s. I really enjoyed this new form of travel and seeing different parts of the world such as Jamaica, Grand Cayman, and Cozumel. This trip was actually one of my better memories from the year.

March 16, 2011 my life changed forever. I was out doing a training ride in the hills of west Austin. A driver in a Nissan Xterra come up to cross street stop sign very quickly. Not seeing me at first, he began to make the turn. I was moving along at a good pace going downhill and had to react. My knee jerk reaction was to steer to the right to try and miss him as he kept going into the intersection. Unfortunately, he saw me at the last second and his knee jerk reaction was to stop. I t-boned the SUV with my right shoulder taking the blunt of the impact. It was dislocated, bad.

Four days later I celebrated my anniversary with Colleen in a sling and a little bit of pain. We had made it a year! And while it was a year full of trials and tribulations, we were making it and doing alright.

I spent the next few weeks recuperating and then started my therapy. The road to recovery was excruciating and frustrating. The therapy hurt like hell, and progress was slow. Little things that used to be so easy like getting dressed, driving, cooking, cleaning, they all now had a degree of difficulty I wasn’t accustomed to. I had serious doubts of whether I would be able to return to the things I loved doing most, like racing and doing caveman workouts. Eventually, I was, but to this day I have limited strength and range of motion and am still receiving therapy for the injury.

My return to racing was bittersweet. On May 22, just 67 days after the accident, I was able to hop in the last race of the TMBRA season at Rocky Hill. I started the season in singlespeed open, and I was going to finish it that way. The race was absolutely brutal. I had lost just about all of my fitness, it was hot and humid, the course was tough, and I only had one gear. I finished last, some 25 minutes behind the winner. That was the bitter part. The sweet part was that I was back on the bike.

Following this race I felt confident my shoulder could hold up to the stresses of mountain biking, so I began to train again.

On June 25 I entered the Blazing Saddles 6 hour race in Warda. I knew where my fitness was and had no expectations for this race other than to finish. The brutal heat eventually kept from riding all 6 hours, but I was happy with 5 and pleased with the effort. Now, all of sudden, defending the 24 hour title at Rocky Hill in October didn’t seem out of the question.

Unfortunately, there was a storm brewing on the homefront that was about to affect me larger than the shoulder injury, larger than anything I’ve been dealt before. People always want to know how relationships go wrong. I’ve got my theories, but in truth, I just don’t know. Somewhere along the way, things just begin to deteriorate.

Not too long after that 6 hour race, Colleen and I began having serious talks about our marriage. The last talk ended with her asking me for some time away. Very unwillingly, I obliged. At first, I thought I would just call up a buddy and couch crash for a week or two, but then something big sprung up in my head. Some kind of mid life crisis type of thoughts. The kind of thoughts that inspired Peter Gibbons to knock down the cubicle wall and take over the office. The kind of thoughts that snapped Kevin Spacey into action in American Beauty. The kind of thoughts that Luke Skywalker must have had in realizing he was a Jedi, like his father before him, and he was the salvation of the universe.

I’m getting carried away here, but my thoughts were leading in the direction that I was at a point in my life where I needed MAJOR change. I packed my bags, not fully knowing where I was going or what I was in for, but I had something in mind. I left my home of eleven years and on July 16 I landed in Durango, CO. At this point, I was viewing this trip as a camping adventure, somewhere between 2 weeks and 2 months long. I was optimistic the time off would give Colleen what she needed and we could get back to life as a happily married couple.

Two things happened that intervened is this fairy tale dream though. First, the time and distance away didn’t do anything for us except make matters worse. Secondly, I realized that a place like Durango was where I should have been all along. Even if Colleen had asked me to come back, I’m not sure I would’ve. Everything here fits with who I am, who I want to be, what I want to do, the people I want to be part of. That is a bit selfish on my part, but moving back to Austin would have been to betray my spirit, and I would rather be a little selfish than to live somewhere I wasn’t truly happy. Austin was getting too crowded and just can’t compete with Durango when it comes to outdoor adventure.

I slowly began building my life in a mountain town. Found a place to stay, starting looking for work, began meeting new people, and started playing as much as I could. Riding, hiking, running, sight seeing, tubing, whatever I could find. Mostly riding though. Austin probably has the best trails in Texas, at least for a large city, but the trails here make Austin look like a kiddy playground. There is a reason that national champs Ned Overend, Todd Wells, and Shonny Vanlandingham call this place home.

As I got used to elevation and mountain riding, my fitness began to increase. I saw a flyer for the 12 Hours of Snowmass coming up, so I signed up. I did pretty well, riding 11 hours at 9,000 feet and LOTS of climbing. The effort here gave me confidence to skip Rocky Hill and enter the granddaddy of 24’s, Moab.

Time passed, and it became clear to Colleen and me that our marriage was over. I got busy with work and didn’t have the time to train I wanted to. Also, at some point I would have to make a trip back to Austin to get the rest of my stuff and tie up loose ends. I decided to return to Rocky Hill after all and kill two birds with one stone.

All things considered, I was in decent shape, but I was harboring doubt going into that race. I knew I would be up against the strongest field yet, plus I would have to deal with that dang Texas heat. I fought hard, but my body eventually succumbed to the conditions and I had to pull out. The Caveman reign was now officially over.

The drive back to Durango was long and emotionally draining. The loss weighed heavily in my mind, not to mention the long goodbye from my wife and to Austin.

Since then I have been trying to get as much work as possible since I have some rather hefty financial obligations to contend with. The split and relocation definitely didn’t help with these matters, but I’ve never defaulted on a debt and I plan to keep it this way.

Before I left for Dallas to visit my family for Christmas, I made known that I won’t be racing anymore, at least for a while. That fire is dead now and I just have too many other things to take care of.

That brings me to today, December 31, 2011, the last day of the year. 2011 was definitely a tough year filled with hardship and heartbreak, but there were also a lot of good things that happened. Everyday I walk out the door and am greeted by gorgeous mountain vistas and clean mountain air. Beautiful rivers and creeks abound. In the summer, I have hundreds of miles of trail to ride. In the winter, hundreds of miles to downhill, XC, or backcountry ski and snowshoe. I pretty much lost custody of the best dog in the world, Ladybird, but I’ve got a new companion now, Rocco, and he’s ok. I’m broke as I’ve ever been, yet I am as free and as rich as I’ve ever been.

2012 will be a year of rebuilding. I might not have the big accomplishments of years past, but I’m aiming to have several small ones that will build a foundation for success in the years to come. I might not have the money to go and do the vacations I want to do, but who needs vacations when you live in Durango? I’ve already met some wonderful new people and feel like a local here. I can just about walk into any business and recognize someone I know. I won’t be racing, but you can bet your bottom dollar I’ll still be out in the woods somewhere staying in shape.

I hope you take a little time to reflect on your past year and what you would like the next one to be like for you. Be safe and smart this evening. I would like to leave you with the words of one of my best friends from high school who suffered an untimely death from Hodgkins Disease:

Live Life, Love Life

-Jennifer Wood

Happy New Year!

Caveman

Winter is here in Durango, and it’s still a few days away from the winter solstice. The days are short (in terms of daylight hours) and it has cooled considerably. We’re currently on the tail end of a cold front that brought night time lows to -3 and only limited highs to about 27. This is as cold as weather as I’ve ever experienced my entire life. However, I have acquired some warmer clothing since my stay here and it’s not all that bad. We’ve had some decent snow here in town, and in fact, I’ve been commuting to work on my new snow bike in up to 4″ of it, but it’s not quite cold enough for a lot of to stick around, except for north slopes and shaded areas. The ski resort a half hour up the road, well, that is a different story. Last I heard they were reporting a 40″ base.

I was able to snag a volunteer position at the ski resort for the winter. In exchange for 14 days of my time, I get a season lift ticket (about a $800 value). More importantly, I got arguably one of the coolest volunteer positions available, a snowshoe tour guide. Last weekend we had a voluntary snowshoeing orientation up on top of the mountain. A few feet of fresh powder had fallen the previous days and we were out to break some new trail for the season. I have never snowshoed before, but there’s really not much to it. If you are treading fresh deep powder on hilly terrain, it’s actually quite a workout and a lot of fun. Up on top of the mountain and out of bounds, you are traversing undeveloped land. There are no groomed slopes, not structures of any kind, no logging, no signs of human intervention whatsoever, unless you aren’t the lead dog.

The snow glistens, the wind stirs tiny crystals from the fir and spruce trees. You happen upon rabbit and fox tracks. The trail winds through trees and into meadows that in the summer time flourish with wildflowers but are now blanketed in a sea of deep powder. There are no machines, no artificial sounds, no obligations, no time constraints : just you, the forest, and the snow. It is quite a beautiful thing.

I try and paint this idyllic portrait for you so you can understand where life is taking me these days. Moving to Durango has been an extraordinarily profound life changing event. This blog was primarily established to track my racing results and progress, but racing is no longer a priority for me. I do not possess the talent, time, and resources to be at the level I truly would like to be at. This is besides the point though.

The main point to take from this post is Durango has changed me, and probably not in the way that you would expect-certainly not in the way I expected. I thought moving to a place with some of the best mountain biking in the world would make me a better rider and sharpen my competitive desire. While it has definitely made me a better rider, it has somehow quieted my desire to race.

It’s funny how life was in Texas. For some odd reason, serious cyclists feel this urge to race all the time. It’s not uncommmon to see people race all year long in road, mountain, and cyclocross, maybe even triathlon. No one tells them they have to be at every single race TMBRA or TXBRA puts on each year. They certainly don’t get paid to do so (except for a very small handful) In fact, racing is a super expensive hobby. Yet, there is still this internal voice in their heads saying that they just have to race. I know, because I was one of those people. The emphasis that racers put on results, benchmarks, goals, whatever, it just isn’t healthy. Here in Colorado, lots of people still race, but they aren’t as crazy about results as are all my buddies back home. It’s more about the ride, the people, the experience, the natural beauty.

A mid pack Cat 2 racer here is just as strong as a top Cat 1 in Texas. A fast Cat 1 here could easily hold his own against a Pro in Texas. Sure, living here can make you a better rider, but it doesn’t necessarily make you a better racer, mainly because you would rather just enjoy the ride rather than bury yourself at 90% max heart rate and be on the throttle with your head down the entire time. Racing takes away the fun factor, and fun is the number one reason people move to Durango. Epic rides through the mountains. Ripping downhill sections. Cresting 13,000′ mountains on foot. Shredding powder in the winter .Floating the river in the summer. It truly is all about the journey, NOT the destination. Racing puts too much emphasis on the destination, not the journey. 12 and 24 hour races are a little different, but they’re still races.

For this reason, I’m stepping down from racing for an indefinite period of time. No more “training”, just playing. No more strict dieting, no more bike or gear upgrades, just playing in the mountains, on my terms, on my time. Truth be told, I’ve even been slacking on my Caveman roots. I more or less stick to a Caveman diet, but more and more things like flour tortillas (for breakfast burritos), hamburgers and fries, chicken tenders, and a few other forbidden items (like beer and my housemates homemade banana nut bread) have crept back into my diet. Life is just too damn short to not enjoy things that are just really enjoyable.

I only work out when I’m motivated. Biking, hiking, skiing, snow shoeing, and living at 6500′ generally are plenty to keep my fitness at a good level. Paying work is still a bit of a problem, but I do have enough to get by. Getting by is the name of the game in this town anyways. Even though there are hundreds of houses over $350,000, I never seem to meet the owners of such properties, usually just the people that rent them out, and like me and most every other bike or ski bum who lives here, they’re just getting by. We wouldn’t want it any other way though.

Since I won’t be racing for a while, I’m not sure how often I’ll blog, but this blog isn’t just about racing, its about adventure, so I’m sure I’ll do something once a month still. I’d love to share with you all of my adventures, but words just wouldn’t do them justice, and besides, the mountains are calling…

Mmmmm…Fresh powder…

Thanks to all who have supported me in my journeys thus far. Please realize I’m not quitting, just shifting gears. The best is still yet to come. Keep an eye out around New Years for my final 2011 post. Happy Holidays to you and yours.

Caveman