I woke up at 5 this morning and took off on the singlespeed towards Walnut Creek. This was to be the last major training ride before Rocky Hill this weekend. I wanted to be out on the trail when the sun came up, when the stillness and darkness of night gradually succumbed to the light of day. For many, 5am is a normal time to get up-not for me though. It was tough hopping out of bed, throwing some gear on, and heading out the door on an empty stomach for the 14 mile ride up to the park. I’m glad I did though. Not only was it nice to wake up with the creatures of the forest and have the morning twilight eventually overpower my lighting system, but I was tired-real tired- and it was a good reminder of a challenge I will face during the race. It’s often cited that a racer’s greatest enemy at a 24 hour race is himself. This kind of effort really takes a toll on the body and mind. There’s no real good way to prepare for it, your just have to do it. Two full laps and the ride back home made for a nice 50 miler to start the day, only to result in a lunch buffet and some good hibernation back at the man cave.
Following some R&R, Team Caveman Productions made it’s intent to enter the 2010 24 Hours of Rocky Hill official. The diet has been strict, training has been satisfactory, sleep has been good, and the machines are in good working condition. I plan on spending this final week leading up to race resting and finishing preparation. I’ve got caveman energy bars to make, other foods to gather, final equipment preparations, and final physical preparation, which entails sleep, yoga, foam rolling, all that good stuff. Check back in Wednesday for an exclusive interview by a special guest discussing the race.
Life has been nice since the last installment of the Burning Flame was published. Colleen finally put in her resignation at work the last week in September. We both knew it was only a matter of time since it was really wearing down on her and the call of a new direction was beckoning. I had just wrapped up a large chunk of contract architecture work and was ready for a break too, so we decided to skip town and head out for the mountains of New Mexico-Cloudcroft and Ruidoso to be exact. It was this same time last year that I was laid off and we did our big trip to Colorado. It is not only a time to relax, enjoy the sights and sounds of new places, take in the cool fall weather, and and be inspired to move to some place more enjoyable than sea level with 1 million people and congested roadways, but a chance to get some hard core training in! Rocky Hill is now less than 2 weeks away. The altitude, combined with the mountain terrain provide ample opportunity to get some fantastic exercise in. Here is a brief recap.
Days 1-2 Abilene/Travel
There just happened to be a TMBRA cross country race in Abilene this weekend, and Abilene just happened to be on the way to Cloudcroft, so I reckoned I would kick start the training effort by dusting off the racing legs for my first XC race in over a year. There was a little internal debate whether or not to go Pro/Cat 1 or fall back to the Cat 1 age group since it had been a while. I don’t like taking the easy way out, though, so racing with the big dogs it was. To make it a little more interesting, I would race singlespeed. Proud Mary was setup with one gear in preparation for Rocky Hill (Cat is out of the bag, I will be racing SS again this year). For the most part, it was a good singlespeed course. There were only a few spots wide open enough to gear out, and only a few short climbs that hurt but were all doable. I felt my 34×18 gearing was just right. The start sucked with one gear since it was a long flat jeep road intended to split the group. That didn’t happen though as all 11 racers hit the singletrack in one group. I was 10th and just happy to have been there after spinning 160 rpm for a mile. From there it was classic Caveman cat and mouse moving up the ranks. By the end of lap 1 I was sitting in 4th, 20 seconds back on 3rd. I didn’t see 5th behind me, but i felt he wasn’t too far back. No matter, trying to catch 3rd (Payson McElveen) would be my focus. For the first part of the 2nd lap, it worked pretty well. I got within 10 seconds maybe, but then just gradually fell back as the gear-less effort on the climbs took its toll. That kid was just floating up the climbs! Through the feed zone into the final lap, he was 30 seconds up again. The focus was now just holding onto 4th, which I was able to do comfortably by a minute. 4th-on a SS, not too shabby. Really surprised myself, and a few other folks. It would be nice motivation to carry into the mountains and out to Smithville in a few weeks.
Photo by Ingotimaging
I got my check, we packed up, ate lunch/dinner at the Abilene Cracker Barrel, and then hit the road for Cloudcroft, NM. Come midnight, we were exhausted and in an eerie, damp Lincoln National Forest just a few mile from town. We found a make do campsite on the side of a forest road and setup camp for the night, not sure if we had chosen a safe spot and whether any bears would come and eat us.
Day 3 Cloudcroft
Yay! The bears didn’t eat us! We awoke to sunshine, fresh mountain air, and great vistas of the Lincoln national forest beyond. Cloudcroft ( elevation 8,960 ft) was a quick drive away where some huge green chile stuffed Omelets at Big Daddy’s diner had our names on them. A quick stop at the Ranger station and we decided to do the 8 1/2 mile Trestle loop hike.
Following the vigorous 4 hour hike, we briefly dropped down to 4,000 feet to visit the space musuem in Alamogordo and then go play at White Sands National Monument.
Back up Highway 82 and we veered onto another forest road to find our campground for the night. Colleen was again worried about wildlife messing with us, and I did hear something quite large gallop by our tent in the middle of the night (probably just a deer), but by morning everyone (and dog) was safe, ready to start the exciting new day.
Day 4 Rim Trail/ Ruidoso
After bacon and eggs, we didn’t waste much time making our way to the Rim Trail trailhead. This trail is considered one of the top 10 mountain bike trails in the country. It is 31 miles out and back and somewhat follows the edge of the Sacremento mountains overlooking the Tularoosa basin 5,000 feet below (the location of Alamogordo and White Sands) The terrain isn’t very technical, but the elevation change is grueling. I had with me my trusty singlespeed, with the lowest gearing I had, 34×21. I’m a masher and like a tall gear, so this felt fine at first. At about 3 miles and 1200 vertical feet of ascent in we hit a Forest road. Colleen was spent at this point and decided to turnaround and work on homework in town while I went out for some more. Having read and heard so much about this trail I wanted to ride as much of it as possible. 60 miles in Texas on a singlespeed would be tiring but do-able. About another 3 miles down this killer New Mexico trail and I was destroyed. The lungs were seared and the legs felt like deadweights dangling below me. I maybe could have made it another 3 miles out, but at this point I had 6 miles to go back so I turned around and made for town. Never had I wanted gears so bad in my entire life, but sometimes you have to rung whatya brung.
After making it back to the village and changing clothes, I was starving. Sometimes, the only thing to satisfy such a hunger is big ass burger, so we found a cafe in town that had exactly what I was looking for, The Mountain Man Mongrel Burger. Behold:
The waitress had to do a double take, and then when she hollered out the order to the chef, the other waitress too did a double take, before the cook himself had to ask if he had heard the old lady correctly. I was impressed by the mighty burger, but not intimidated in the least. Far greater accomplishments had I achieved. The ice cream might not have been Blue Bell, but you better believe it was still delicious!
Following this lovely lunch, we drove up to Ruidoso and began scoping out stuff to do and place to stay for the night. Having endured the highway and the elements for the past 4 days, we opted for a warm shower and cozy bed in a cute little cabin along the Rio Ruidoso for the night.
Day 5 Ruidoso
After visiting the Ranger station in town we got some info on where to ride and camp while in town. The first ride would be Perk Canyon, supposedly a local favorite. it was fun, but just turned out to be a moderate climb up a canyon that dead ends at a logging closure and then descends back to the bottom. The legs still felt heavy from the day before, and I still only had one gear, so even though the ride was short, it was still a good workout.I had actually brought parts with me to setup the bike with 9 gears, but didn’t have a long enough shifter cable to make it work on this ride.
Afterwards, Colleen did some homework at a coffee shop while I went to visit Cody Thurston at Ruidoso Outdoor Adventures, a friend of a friend I had been referred to. I was able to get the parts I needed to fix the 1×9 setup and talk about where to ride and camp. He even agreed to ride with me in the morning on one of his favorite trails! We setup camp at Cedar Creek on the edge of town, cooked a nice pork chop dinner with Caveman salad and hit the hay.
Day 6 Ruidoso
We awoke to some chilly temps in the high 30’s but the weather was no match for our zero degree double mummy sleeping bag nor my wool jersey and warmers! Colleen and Ladybird hung with Cody and me for the Cedar Creek trail before we crossed the highway and rode what they call the Spaghetti bowl. I had working gears for this ride and they made a huge difference. Climbs didn’t hurt nearly as bad and I could maintain the pace for longer. When we hit the end of the singletrack, we turned around and rode everything backwards. Just as fun! I thanked Cody for showing me the trail and the Parham family was back on the road to the mountains north of town. We drove up to the Skyline campground at 9000 ft and decided to make camp about 300 yards and 200 feet up from the parking area. Lugging all the gear up the hill was a pain in the butt, but the view was worth it.
After camp was setup, we took a brief hike up to the Monjeau lookout tower, built int 1936 by the CCC.
We had some daylight left so we hiked a portion of the Crest tail, a 22 mile foot trail that connects all the peaks of the range in this area. While the trail doesn’t crest any of the major peaks, it offers a way to get to them as well as spectacular views as far as the eye can see. On our way back to camp, a huge doe jumped out in front of us. Startled, it took off leaping down a steep mountain canyon. Ladybird wasn’t far behind. It was a sight to behold watching that crazy dog take off full speed after that deer. She didn’t catch it, of course, but it made the hike that much more interesting. As we got close to the trailhead a rainbow appeared and added a nice touch to the end of a long hike.
Following some Cowboy fajitas and a bottle of mead, the gentle mountain breeze carried us to sleep.
Day 7 Ruidoso/Bonito Lake
On today’s agenda was to ride the Kraut/Littleton Canyon loop near gorgeous Bonito Lake a little further north of town. Kraut canyon started out as nice jeep road then turned to tree clogged single track and finally hike a bike right before the top. We weren’t even sure we were on the right trail until reaching the top and seeing a little trail marker for it. I guess the trail just doesn’t get much use. The trail at the top was in good shape and was lots of fun. Soon, we were heading back down Littleton canyon and this had to be the highlight of the trip. The descent down was a steady grade with lots of berms and turns thrown in for a stupid fun roller coaster effect. It eventually turned into jeep road, but this just meant you could push the bike faster! Getting up to about 35-40 mph was a huge adrenaline rush. Too bad we ran out of trail eventually! Oh well. We got back in the car and travelled on down the road until hitting Forest Road 108, a backcountry jeep trail that would take us up to our hike for the day, and possibly a campsite for our last night in the mountains. At 8700 ft, we again set out on the Crest trail and took a right on to the Nogal peak trail shortly thereafter. This is where the real fun began. This is was the loosest and steepest hike I’ve ever done. We went from about 8800 ft to 9957 ft in 1.1 miles. The view was totally worth it though.
We didn’t find any campsites up in the area, so we cruised on down Forest road 400 until finding a cozy spot under some apple trees and next to a small creek. Spit cooked chicken on a stick with Caveman salad and Lonestar beer was the chef’s special that evening before dozing off to the trickle of the creek. Days 8-9 Terrell
We ran out of water for breakfast so some boiled mountain water made a killer brew of coffee Saturday morning as we began the long drive to Terrell, TX. Sunday was my mom’s birthday and I told her we would pass through on our way back home. A late arrival that night barely left time for hugs as we crashed in the guest room. We enjoyed a nice breakfast, a trip to the picture show, and a late lunch at the hometown favorite, El Nogalito before heading back to Austin Sunday night.
What another awesome adventure in the books. Stay tuned for more adventures to come!
Nearing the end of the 2010 summer, things were starting to change for Caveman. His first big project with the new career endeavour was close to paying off. The architecture business was booming once more and Caveman was able to secure some contract labor with an old boss. Although there were parts of the daily grind Caveman really didn’t miss, there were some things he did. Riding to work, a morning cup of hot coffee to start out drawing, exercising the brain with design problems, going for a ride after work.
Yes, riding was making a comeback. With some steady income and work hours, it was only a matter of time before the thought of racing and riding would breathe new life into this once mighty but now dormant warrior. He kept track of other warrior’s preparation for the the dearest of races Caveman kept close to his heart, the one and only, 24 Hours of Rocky Hill. He had not anticipated competing this year due to time off the bike. He was prepared to make the sacrifice and not race for the rest of the year in the name of building a new career. He kept hearing of epic training rides and a cool bike frame that would go to the 2010 winner. The fire was kindling; he tried his best to put it out. Sometimes, a Caveman has to do what he was made to. The Burning Flame was ignited once more. Caveman would shoot for the title again, and he’d get to work right away.
He would have just a little over two months to get back in shape and square away equipment choices. How the heck would he get back to top form after barely riding a bike since February? Would Proud Mary fly once more? What about Big Tex? Single speed or gears? Rigid or full suspension? This would be his first year doing the race without a bonafide race team. What would he wear?
Indeed, this year would provide a whole new set of challenges. To get back in shape, Caveman would embark upon one of the most demanding training regiments to date. A strict Paleo diet was the first step. Lots of raw meat, eggs, and veggies. No more sugar or grains. No more beer, limited Tex-Mex and ice cream. P90X was resurrected, and it brought him to his knees this go round. Wednesday night rides on the backtrails with the Sport Shop boys were new this year, but a great traditional training tool. The road bike was dusted off for some long casual rides in rural Travis county. Some running was thrown in the loop, made more interesting with the canine friend now a valued training companion. This year, there would be some new training ideas. Caveman started pedicabbing once again following his dismal outing the past winter. He figured this killed three birds with one stone, satisfying 3 of the 7 primal laws: move frequently at a slow pace (like when one is riding around looking for a fare), sprint once in a while (when a driver has to start/stop a lot, or make it through a yellow light) and lift heavy things ( hauling three full grown men on a machine that already weighs 80lbs is no joke). Another new tool would be tire pulling. Caveman found some large used tires in a drainage slough near his dwelling and decided to haul them home to tie off to and do sprints with. He would also pick them up and see how far he could throw them. The ancient art of warrior Yoga was put back into practice to restore balance and harmony from within There was a fair amount of on-the-bike training, but this go round Caveman would put more trust in hardcore off-the-bike workouts to deliver as well. Rocky Balboa remained his ultimate training guide, not “expert” coaches who dictate 30 hours a week on the bike and power meters and heart rate monitors. A keen awareness of self, of the environment , and of instinct would be all Caveman needed to gauge progress.
A machine was chosen, but this info is not available at press time. Besides that, it is undergoing some improvements to make it one of the most lethal 24 hour weapons that course will ever see. Stay tuned or show up at the race to check it out.
The 2009 Rocky Hill race was the last one ever that Caveman donned the once proud NRC/Pedalmasher jersey. It was time to find a new team and some new colors. While there are plenty of great teams in the State of Texas, they all come with with one form or another of bureaucracy. While he understood the name of the game, he still didn’t like it. He was always a bit of a lone wolf anyways. And so Team Caveman Productions was unofficially formed. Over the years Caveman had worked hard to acquire friends and businesses that saw value in his talent and offer him sponsorships. Performance Wellness, Chipotle, Puresport, Karmabiker, Bobcat13 to name a few. The fallout of team NRC left him without a critical sponsor though, a bike shop. Caveman had long supported his East Austin local bike shop of Eastside Pedalpushers, a small outfit by the tracks in an industrial part of town. Lee, the scruffy red headed owner, agreed to be the new shop sponsor, and alas, the fellowship of Caveman Productions was complete.
As of September 21, Team Caveman Productions became Official with the arrival of the new tribal cloth:
And so friends, this brings us out of third person NFL voiceover guy and into the present. I’ve been training hard and only look to train harder for the next 2 weeks as the race date of October 23 fast approaches. I hope you have enjoyed the recap of Caveman’s 24 hour race adventures and life story. In addition to making the decision to get back into racing and training, putting some new posts up on the neglected blog has helped me get the mental focus back. If you are an athlete or a very goal oriented person, you know the importance of mental focus.
Mentally, I feel like I will be better prepared than any other race I have done. Mostly because I haven’t raced this year and I don’t plan on racing much afterwards so I can put a lot of energy toward this one race. Physically, it will be tough to get to where I was this time last year. I have also set a goal that will undoubtedly push my body beyond ruin. I expect good competition from the solo racers, and I will respect them and definitely shoot for the solo victory. This year, though, I will up the ante by focusing on competing with the 2 man, 4 man, and even grande teams. Sounds crazy, I know, but if a national 24 hour champ like Eatough or Tostado were to come to a race like this, they would probably destroy the multi-person teams. If I want to race at their level, I have to set goals of their caliper. I honestly cannot see myself winning the whole thing given my condition at the moment, but maybe top 5 or 3rd would be respectable. I tallied up 26 teams from last year that had more than 18 laps. There were several in the 19-20 lap range, only a handful in the 21+. I could have turned 19 had I wanted to, but it wasn’t necessary. This year, I will shoot for 20 or 21 laps. I don’t care if the next solo rider down only makes 17. With the good Lord willing, I’ll be gunning for team bragging rights!
So the fun begins. Anyone who has ever built a large out of control fire knows how hard it is to put out. I think the only thing that will put this fire out is the race itself. Only time will tell. Thanks for reading. Have a great day.
Caveman went on to win the 2010 Dirty Dozen at Warda once again. “Dirty” turned out to be an understatement this year as torrential rains the week before left the course soaked and sloppy. It was brutal struggle against the elements and war tattered steeds that couldn’t quite keep up with the punishment Caveman was bestowing upon them. In the end, though, Caveman snatched the victory with little fight from his competitors.
Following the Warda race, Caveman embarked upon a new life journey. There would be no racing, no training, no hunting. Instead, he would tie the knot with his chosen mate and settle into a new dwelling. He would take up a new skilled trade because the old one had left him with little pay and naught to do during hard economic times. While he did miss racing, he enjoyed the time off. It was greatly needed chance to work diligently and sow the seeds that would bring a fruitful harvest for years to come.
During this time, Caveman’s fitness and health declined. In many ways, Caveman began to lose track of his inner being. Not only was he no longer placing the physical demands of racing upon his body, but he was sacrificing sleep and mental stability to his newly chosen trade. The once strict Paleo diet was succumbing to occasional modern conveniences with highly processed grains and sugars. High quality meats and plants still remained staples, but he gave in to bread, pizza, caffeinated fizzy refrescos, alcohol, ice cream, cake, Mrs. Baird’s pastries, and other sumptuous deserts. Dark chocolate gave way to milk chocolate. Raw meat and eggs somehow became cooked. He traded in the sheep skin on the floor bed for whatever cushy nest his mate had before him. The new dwelling had working conditioning of the air, and Caveman was pampered cool air during the hot summer days and nights. He was spending more time indoors, and less in the great outdoors. Were it not for an occasional run, hike, or bike with his high strung canine companion, exercise would’ve been neglected altogether. The stress of a new career, of starting a small business was testing Caveman’s mental grit to the max. He knew these artificial stresses were silly things to worry about, but they still ate away at him anyways.
Caveman suddenly found himself in a state of Purgatory. He longed to get back on the trail, to be in the races once more. This would be his heaven. But hell beckoned louder. Caveman knew he would have to go though a little bit of hell for a while before being able to return to the good life. The return to bliss would be more glorious though. With a new business up and running smoothly, he could work his own hours, cut his own paychecks, and buy lots of bike parts and race entries.
How long he would stay in this state was unknown. Would things come together quickly? Would he fail? Would he break down and go back to a steady day job? When would he return to racing? Only time would tell…
Following his sh0rtcomings of 2008, Caveman spent the fall and early winter recovering and reflecting upon his journies. It wasn’t long into the new year that his racing instincts began to thunder from within. The 12 hour race in Warda was fast approaching in early February. He had completed the race victoriously in 2007 as part of a two man effort. In 2008 he patiently sat it out in preparation for the Old Pueblo race that he would depart for in a few days. This year there was nothing holding him back. The time had come to brandish his weapons once more and set out for the hunt, solo.
As is traditional with several endurance races, the gun went off and the blood thirsty riders from near and far scrambled for rank in a running LeMan’s start. Caveman’s strategy would be similar to races past. Ease into the pace and then finish strong. He knew he couldn’t pace himself too much, though, for he only had a 1/2 day this go round to seize the win.
The pace was kept consistent and inched up steadily until about halfway through when Caveman gained the lead. By this point, the pace had become too much for Caveman to sustain. His body and mental stamina began to degrade. With about 2 hours left, Caveman had built up some nice breathing room, but then disaster struck. An overworked IT band had rubbed his knee for several hours; the pain was to the point that the leg all but froze up, refusing to pedal any longer. He was forced to stop and try to massage it out. With some quick body work in the pit, Caveman managed to get back on the trail on carry on through agonizing pain. With the lap times he was cranking out, he had 2 laps left to secure the victory. Pain succumbed to iron will. Caveman hooked on to a wave of adrenaline and cortisol to finish the final two laps in the cover of darkness and hang on for the win.
It wasn’t a 24 hour victory, but none the less, the price of victory was still steep; the reward just as great. At the awards ceremony, Caveman graciously accepted his trophy in one hand, while smacking a raw t-bone steak that had come from the very ranch the race was held at. It was a definitive moment in the warrior’s young career. He had proven that his ancient Caveman training tactics could prevail in a world obsessed with increased athletic performance through technology. More importantly, he had proven he was still a top notch endurance racer and that he was ready to get back in the game.
The defeats in Tuscon and Moab loomed deep in Caveman’s heart. He sought vengeance and a return to those mighty courses to prove he had the mettle to perform well. Finances, wisdom, and patience would keep Caveman in Texas for the rest of 2009. He spent the summer focusing on Xterra’s, a type of battle altogether new to him, incorporating both a swim and run part into the race. While the events were somewhat foreign, a true neanderthal adapts quickly, or dies. He was able to survive the swims, crush it on the bikes, and do well on the runs. He finished the Xterra season 2nd place in the regional age group standings, another indication he was getting stronger and better prepared for the next big thing.
Making the trip back to Rocky Hill in that same little pickup truck on a very similar morning to the one in 2007 awakened feelings of nostalgia for Caveman. It had been a long hard journey for him to get back to this point, just to compete in yet another long journey. While Caveman was away in Moab in 2008, a newcomer had come along and won this race on a singlespeed. Caveman had no idea if this respectable warrior would return to defend his title, but Caveman figured if he did, there would only be one proper way to duel such a gentleman: on a rigid singlespeed. He knew it would be a tough and agonizing struggle to the end, but having endured the likes of Tuscon, Moab, and Breckenridge, he was up for it.
The plan this time would not follow traditions of the past. he would not walk the LeMan’s start, but run it. He would not start slow, but fast. He would not stop for breaks. He had learned how to eat, drink, and answer the call of nature while on the bike. Every second counted. Caveman knew what it would take, he knew he could do it, now all he had to do was do it.
A slew of small mechanical problems were putting kinks in Caveman’s plan, but just like a steam locomotive keeps on chugging, so did the tireless warrior. He stayed in hot pursuit of the leader until catching him at the end of lap 11 in the early hours of the night. Perhaps sensing the closeness of his pursuer, the leader had battled valiantly to hold the lead, perhaps a little too valiantly. As Caveman caught sight of his prey in the feed zone, opportunity knocked and he sped off into the cool night for the next lap. The former leader didn’t go back out for another 4 hours, forfeiting the chance to stay in the fight with Caveman.
From here, Caveman just had to stay consistent and avoid trouble, which, minus a few more nagging mechanical problems, he was able to do. The rigid single speed had been pretty rough, but Caveman had prepared well for this beating. Caveman completed his 18th lap in 23 1/2 hours, 1 hour ahead of the nearest competitor. He had bested his lap count by 1 from two years previous. He had done it in less time. He did it with a technologically inferior machine. He did it eating mostly fruit and Caveman energy bars. No gu’s, no gels, no processed food of any kind. It was was a race that harked of old times; a race that spoke to the power of getting back to the basics.
Following Caveman’s great feat at Rocky Hill, he was left bloodthirsty for more. He was looking for an even bigger kill, beyond the Texas state line. A group from his racing clan had assembled a 4 man fellowship to travel to Tuscon, AZ for one of the largest 24 hour events in the US, held mid February. The legendary warrior Tinker was rumored to be there, along with a host of other mighty fighters from faraway lands who excelled at such feats. With the glory of victory still fresh on his mind and pumping through his veins, it was a no-brainer to accept their invitation to join them on such an epic journey. Caveman set out a plan to prepare for this gigantic undertaking.
Rocky Hill had taken a great toll on his body though. All sorts of ailments hampered training throughout the winter. He slaved over equipment choices and fine tuning to improve comfort and efficiency. Up until this point, just getting things close was good enough. When taking on feats such as 24 hour racing, though, the slightest biomechanical inconsistency can take a huge toll. Recovery was an art neglected in the past as well, but at this level, it could no longer be overlooked. Caveman spent countless hours sifting through modern manuscripts and consulting with voo-doo body healers. Returning his body to a healthy state of homeostasis was a costly and time consuming endeavour, made tougher by the fact his strenuous training slowed progress.
When it came time for the mighty showdown in the desert, Caveman felt as if he had made enough progress to toe the line with the best of the best. He was no longer in the presence of small village heroes, but rather great knights and giants from powerful territories. A great ‘norther had blown in the night before, bringing with it a unseasonable chill and snow. Having lived in a land of sunshine and balminess his whole life, this was a force of nature Caveman was unaccustomed to, but at the same time, not afraid to confront. It would not be deciding factor for his race, but it would, as he came to find out, add insult to injury.
The race was off at high noon and things were running smoothly for the most part. This particular battlefield mandated lap distances of 17 miles, compared to 10 at Rocky Hill. It was smoother,faster course; even so, having to go so far out into the wilderness away from base camp for so long was a bit disheartening for Caveman. A mighty warrior in the woods, he was reduced to a young pup in the unforgiving desert. Suguaro cacti and a host of unidentifiable succulents lined the fast and narrow singletrack, proving to be almost as much an enemy as the enemy warriors themselves. Still, he trudged on. As the sun fell across the sky, so did the mercury.
By the ninth hour, the race was taking its toll on Texas’ main hope. At 11pm, with temperatures near freezing, warriors spread thin across the vast emptiness, and an aching body telling him it was about done, he set out for the 7th lap. Halfway through the loop, a dormant demon flared up and excruciating knee pain befell this helpless rider. The bitter cold night was beginning to hand Caveman more than he could handle. Local tribesman had come out to witness this great battle and had setup outposts along the trail with warming campfires. Caveman took refuge at the next one he came to. When he accepted their gift of fire water whilst sitting on a rock next to the radiant glow, he knew in his mind that the battle was over. This injury would be too much to overcome, and the piercing winds of the night would only get colder and leave him more vulnerable. He had to live to fight another day.
After gaining a little strength and warmth courtesy of his newfound friends, it was a slow and arduous crawl back to base camp. Depressed and war battered, caveman crawled into his portable man cave and hunkered down for a frigid night in the Sonoran desert. His bloodlust for conquering 24 Hour races had come to a screeching halt.
The injury to his left knee was severe enough to keep him off a bike for 3 months. It was back to voo-doo doctors and manuscripts to not only repair the damage that had been done, but also learn how to keep it from happening again. Time passed on and Caveman didn’t even want to think about doing another 24 hour race. It was a dark and scary time for this once accomplished warrior. He was able to compete in the last XC race of the state amateur series, and although he finished way back of rivals he normally would have had the upper hand on, it was a start into riding again.
Word came round that the racing clan was looking to build a fast 4 man team for the granddaddy of 24 hour races, Moab. Not feeling the strength or mental reserve to attempt it solo, Caveman happily agreed to join the team. If he could go out with a 4 four man team and do well, it would be a good indicator that he was ready to return solo. It would be held the same date as the Rocky Hill 24 Hour, but Caveman was still doubting his solo capability, so Smithville would just have to be put off in 2008.
The team arrived safe and sound, only to be greeted with gale force winds stirring up the desert floor of Moab. Car paint was dulled, bare skin was exfoliated, and tents were destroyed by the relentless winds. The winds would die down before race start, but they would contribute to very dusty conditions with so many riders on this hardpack course. It was another long 15 mile loop, this time with some technical sections and a lot more climbing. Base camp sat at about 6000 feet above sea level, not horrible, bit still 5600 feet higher than the team’s hinterlands.
Caveman was chosen to anchor the team and got out to a good start, but suddenly all hell broke loose. The front tire blew off the rim on a technical descent. He put in his spare tube and got back to it. A minutes later, the rear tire sustained a small gash. He had no more tubes, so he had to baby the ride and stop frequently to put air in until it just wouldn’t hold anymore. He was left no choice but to walk and beg passerby’s for a tube until finally a rider just out for fun stopped and lent a helping hand. By the time he rolled in, the team was 30 minutes back. They fought valiantly anyways and got into a rotation, but despite their efforts, the competition was too fierce this day.
Caveman went out for his 3rd lap at dusk. This nasty course was taking its toll, but everything was still holding up. He made it back to check in only to find out his team had abandoned him. An executive decision had been made without him that it would be a lost cause to keep going. Maybe it was, but nonetheless he hadn’t traveled across the country to just throw in the towel. Caveman was devastated. He crawled into his portable cave of despair once again to settle in for a few hours sleep. He would eventually ride a lap in the middle of the night, just to see what it was like being out on such a desolate place in freezing temps. With one hour left til noon, he would take off for a final lap to finish what he started. A broken seatpost halfway through the lap only caused laughter this go round. He was past the point of depression now and just trying to take in the beauty of the ride. Some duct tape and zip ties at an aid station got him back in business to finish with at least a little dignity. It was not the race he had imagined it would be. Having seen what the big dogs had accomplished in the solo category on such a demanding course only made him feel smaller.
It had been a dark year for Caveman, but the worst was over. He would spend the rest of the fall and early winter relaxing and riding for fun. Although 0 for 2 in large 24 hour events, how vowed to come back one day and be better prepared.
Stay tuned for Caveman’s next great episode of the saga: Part V, Caveman Strikes Back
It was a calm mid October morning in 2007. An modest warrior emerged from his dwelling, weapons and provisions in hand, and he set out on a journey that would change his life and legacy forever. 24 Hour mountain bike racing was no stranger to racers and weekend warriors alike, nor was it an unfamiliar face to the hallowed singletrack that is Rocky Hill ranch near Smithville, TX. This creature, or Caveman, as his peers liked to call him, was nothing more than a mere mortal of a mountain biker. He had picked up a few wins in the amateur scene across Texas, but nothing to garnish any national bravado. He was hunting for the chance to take it to the next level. He was looking to trade in squirrells and rabbits for mighty mastadons. Opportunity found him in the coming 2 days.
He had never done anything of this magnitude. Only the craziest of the crazy wake up one day and decide they want to race a mountain bike for 24 hours straight. Only the bravest of the brave, the ones with the biggest juevos actually go through with it. The forty minute jaunt to the ranch from the city via a compact pickup truck the morning of was uneventful. Caveman only thought to himself what the heck he was going to eat during such a long journey, and whether or not his arse cheeks would sustain such a brutal beating.
At high noon, the gun went off, and the rest, so they say, is history. Caveman got off to a blistery start, choosing at first to conserve energy by walking the LeMan’s running start and then taking his time to hit the trail. Not in a particular hurry to reach the finish line 24 hours from then, he was actually the last rider to enter the singletrack. This was all part of the plan. Giving his enemies a false sense of security only to overcome them halfway through battle was a tactic Caveman had artfully executed several times before. This time would be no different.
Caveman fought through heat in the day, and a chilly mist at night. Unimaginable hunger and fatigue tempted him to quit and crawl into the portable man cave for rest and creature comforts. He endured crashes, bike problems, and a host of demonic hallucinations in the darkest hours of the desolate night. Had he the blood sugar for proper thought process, he probably would’ve thought “why in the hell am I doing this?” Blood sugar could not be spared for such silly thoughts though, more important tasks were at hand.
Morning light finally broke throughout the forest and a brought with it a renewed sense of energy for this sentient being. His triumphs over the demons of the night had propelled him into the lead. The end was coming into focus, but a few more laps would need to be cranked out to secure the victory. His nearest competitor had many years over the rookie, and being as such, had more experience pounding his body into submission. His enemy’s gristly physique and iron grit would prove to push this young pup to the brink of self destruction. Caveman was unaccustomed to this kind of pain and his consistency faltered the closer to the end he got, but he kept clawing right up to the end.
When the dust settled and the clock turned over 24 , only 5 minutes stood between Caveman and the wild beast of a man that had been pursuing him relentlessly. Sometimes, though, the difference between catching dinner and starving for another night is only the length of a tiger’s paw while chasing a gazelle. Caveman had passed the test. A gazelle no more, a tiger he was now. A new legacy was born. A burning flame was sparked into existence.
Wow. It seems like forever and a day since I’ve updated my blog. The times have been very trying for me. I’ve been busting my butt doing renovation work on my first house flip. Work is almost done. The house was posted to the Austin MLS on Wednesday. In case any of you would like to see, the MLS # is 8028907. I also have it listed on my company site: http://parhamsolutions.com/Properties-For-Sale.php .
I have sacrificed much to start this new endeavour. Racing is on hold, I don’t eat as well as I used to, my body is torn and tattered from endless hours of physical labor, I don’t get to spend as much time with the two ladies of my life as i would like to, I don’t get out much, I’m racking up debt to pay for the repairs, and I’d dare say I’ve lost a bit of sanity.
Just today I lost $500 in earnest money from a contract gone bad. I left out one small important piece of the puzzle and paid the price. You better believe I won’t be making that mistake again… I don’t like to think of it as a mistake though, more like education. The school of hard knocks, if you will.
There are days when I seriously consider going back to work as an architect. Steady income and a work routine is comforting. Indicators point to work picking back up in this field. It’s not that I don’t enjoy architecture, it’s just that I know bigger and better things await. Wouldn’t it be more fulfulling to do what you love because you loved it, not because you needed it to pay the bills? That’s where I wanna be. Develop a business that works for me, and then do whatever I want in my free time. I will stay the course, I will fight the good fight, and I will Carry on Wayward.
I am busier than a three legged cat trying to cover up poop these days. I am hard at work learning the new ropes of the real estate investing career. I’m searching for deals, crunching numbers, putting in offers, and most importantly, going back to school all over again. It’s not high school or college either where you pay people to tell you what to do. I’m almost completely on my own, although I have acquired some mentors to help me. Lots of home study courses, lots of internet research, lots of advertising, and lots of efforts to just dive head first into this new endeavour. I have not closed a deal yet, but like I said, I’m putting in offers and building confidence daily. It won’t be long before that first deal goes through and it all becomes second nature, like riding a bike or drawing a building.
IF YOU PERSONALLY know anyone in this business that I could network with, please send them my contact info or vice versa. Realtors, brokers, bank “assett managers” or “loss mitigation” , other RE investors, rehabbers, contractors, people with capital needing a place to put it (9% + return on investment!) etc. It’s all about who you know, and I’m trying to get as many names as possible. Thanks in advance,
Greg
