Rockwell Relay 2015: The Ride of Our Wives (part 3)

All it takes is all you got.
--Marc Davis

When last we spoke Kim was digging her way out of the Lake Powell Pit into which this race had abandoned her. It's been a difficult climb and she knew it would be.  She's seen for the last 9 hours how dramatic the hills which are so subtly rendered on the elevation map actually look in reality and her elevation map promised her twenty miles of constant climbing and is now delivering exactly that.  Throw in the recently arrived (late but now trying its best to make up for earlier missed opportunities to make us miserable) wind and heat and Kim gets the first taste of how bad this can get.  The distances of each leg in Rockwell are deceptive, almost seductive to any seasoned cyclist.  Forty five miles. What's forty five miles?  You can knock that distance out before breakfast most days especially when you've taken down century rides or even double century rides (ie Lotoja) which Kim has.  But there's a reason the Race Bible cautions first time participants to not be fooled by how imminently doable this race might appear on paper.  It is a real-deal no joking Grade A certified challenge.  I know I've drilled that knowledge into Jennifer's head through race reports of years past and especially these last six months as we've prepped to do it together.  I assume Thad has done the same with Kim, so this may not be the same reality dope slap that other rookie arrivals (lookin' at you team At Dawn We Ride) are receiving but it's still hard medicine, whether you were expecting it or not.  As for me I'm just watching the minutes pass and hoping to be on the bike in Hanksville by 7. It's about thirty flat (or as close to flat as any of the miles that Cyclist #1 rides... so not flat at all but closer than the other 105) miles from the Hanksville Exchange to the begining of Capitol Reef National Park and just once I want to see it.  It's all coming down to Kim and what she can do in these last twenty five sun-baked, wind-swept miles.  

Kim finally hits the summit, all down hill from here,
except for when it's not,
which is often

My guess (and my hope) is that Kim is not worrying about my plans to spend time in a National Park but rather how she's going to do this again and then again after that?  Each one of these twelve legs is challenging in its own right.  If you rode them at home you'd probably need a cool shower and a nap before you could tackle any activity that's even slightly mentally or physically taxing.  When Kim gets done there will be a cramped truck 3/4 full of tired sweaty bodies (of which she will be one) and 150 miles of stop and go roadside driving before she gets back in the saddle.  So, recovery will become "recovery".  Not a comforting thought this early in the race.

We stay with Kim as long as we can then high tail it to Hanksville so I can use the facilities and get some lights attached to my bike.  Even if Kim gets to Hanksville at 6:30 (not really a possibility at this point) I will still be riding after the proscribed 8:30 PM lights burning, safety vest on cut off.  I take care of my business, Thad takes care of my bike and by the time I have my shoes buckled our soon to be a Dr of Dentistry is pedaling down Hanksville's main drag.  I boot up my Garmin and check the time:  6:50, she finished that interminable crawl out of Hell's Cauldron in just over three hours.  A respectable time in any year under any conditions and half an hour earlier than we've ever arrived at this staging ground for Lake Powell adventures. Kim is wearing sunglasses, so I can't see if she looks defeated but her body looks deflated, like she's gone a few rounds with what she thought was going to be her sparring partner only to find herself in a bare knuckled brawl with the welter weight champ.  I know that feeling.  Everybody who has ridden this race knows that feeling.  I want to hug her and tell her "Welcome to Rockwell, everyone of us is going to experience that before this weekend is over, be glad you got it out of the way early."  Also "thank you for getting me out of Hanksville ahead of schedule that was a brilliant performance."  And finally:  "Don't let what you are feeling now intimidate you, that was your most difficult leg and the worst conditions* you will face. You've got this."  I want to tell her all of those things but remember what time it is?  And team Taking Turns With Spouses is still in business and it's time to start my second shift.  So I leave the pep-talk debriefing to our captain and coach and I mount up and point my bike towards Torrey.

*That may or may not be true depending on how you feel about excessively cold as opposed to oppressively hot weather for riding.  Also, wind lest we forget

Moab Leg 5 Details

Distance:	45.4 Miles
Start Elevation:	4,318 Feet
Finish Elevation:	6,547 Feet
Total Ascent:	2,602 Feet
Total Descent:	-381 Feet
Net Elevation:	2,229 Feet
High Point:	6,562 Feet
Low Point:	4,291 Feet

Leg 5 Notes

This leg is a significant climb that follows the Fremont River (upstream) most of the way. At mileage 29.0 you will enter Capitol Reef National Park. This  park is one of the last great secrets in the USA. As the sun sets in front of you the light will illuminate the towering red cliffs. The historical town of Fruita at mileage 37.4 shows how early settlers of Utah lived. The green fruit trees of Fruita contrast beautifully against the red cliffs overhead.

Leg Nicknames:  Hurricane Hank, Capitol Reef-er Madness and The Fruita Incident?

I pedal out into the suburbs of Hanksville (a sleepy bedroom community of mainly tumbleweeds, sagebrush and the occasional desert tortoise) all by myself, which with the exception of one year is how I've always ridden this leg.  We're now 200 miles into this race and even with the staggered start, teams are spread out all along those miles.  I enjoy the solitude and don't mind riding alone at all.  The wind that was blowing  in Kim's face is a manageable 7 mph and though not exactly at my back it's not working against me either. The road is flat to gently graded and the sun is still well above the horizon.  At the exchange Thad told me it would be a while before they would catch me and I told him to take his time, If I'm in trouble on the first half of this ride nothing he's got in the truck is going to help me.  I see a lone rider about five miles out of town, make him my carrot and tentatively plan on working with him.  Jared's team left about five minutes before us and the gentle climb in the first part of this leg would be perfect for working with him but I realize as I close the 500 meter gap on this cyclist in less than two minutes that this is not Jared.  What it is is a cyclist who is in suffer mode and well on his way to his own personal 'Fruita Incident', if he makes it that far.  I want to tell him to hop on but I can tell from the look of desperation on his face that it's not a possibility and suggesting it would be more cruel than kind.  A few miles further I see, not Jared, the jersey is far too bright, too loud to be the clean bib kit he and his co-workers designed, rather it's our buddy Gordon, of Dot and Gordon.  Him I do tell to hop on and he does and we work together for a few miles.  I'm not sure how old D&G are but they have to be late 50's at least, probably 60's and they are still bringin' it.  I tell Gordon that he's an inspiration.  That Jennifer and I hope to still be riding and racing when we are his age.  To which he responds "We hope to still be riding and racing when you are our age!" (touché).

The road pitches up, I gear down, and maintain cadence and somewhere on the incline I drop Gordon but don't notice until my crew passes me 20 miles in, just before the first big hill, the one that looks like a double hiccup on the map but from a bike seat looks like  a roller coaster climb.  We make the obligatory bottle exchange/photo shoot at the crest but I don't stop to put on the safety vest (as per usual) cause Guess what? (no not cheese butt) There's still plenty of light left in the day.  Thank you Kim (and Jenn and Thad) for pedaling your butts off to get us here before dark.  I drop down the back side of this hill and roll into Capitol Reef just as the sun is dipping behind the high cliffs east of Torrey.

The scenery I've waited so long to see doesn't disappoint.  I even start to get company.  Fast teams that started two hours behind us and really fast teams that left Moab four hours back are now closing the artificial gap created by the staggered start and passing through. On fresh legs I could probably jump onto their fast moving trains and shave a few minutes off my split time but I am more than eighty miles and 6k of climb into my day now and I know how this Hanksville to Torrey leg ends and it's not pretty... well it is, to look at, not necessarily to pedal.  So I keep my current pace enjoy the scenery and walk the constant Rockwell tightrope between conserving and competing.  The method works and gets me past Fruita and to within eight miles of Torrey before the crew has to wave me roadside to don the after dark safety vest.

"Tomorrow is another day, and there will be another battle!" --Sebastian Coe

Thanks for the reminder Sea-Bass, but today isn't over and there's still the matter of these last eight miles.  Thad asks me how I'm feeling "a little hurty-hurty?" He can see it in my face.  I am fatigued but also a bit shell shocked.  I always am at this point in the race.  The first time we did this in 2011 I imploded on this stretch of road.  On the hill we're about to climb in fact.  You can read about what has come to be know as 'the Fruita incident' on Rodney(Rodzilla)'s blog:


http://cyclingwithrodzilla.blogspot.com/2011/06/rockwell-relay-hanksville-to-panguitch.html

(if you go there, be sure you read Rodney's response comment to my post.  It is truly one of the more memorable moments of my life from both a physical and a spiritual standpoint as well as being another vivid thread in the ever growing and changing Rockwell Relay tapestry that we continue to weave)

it's a good read about a bad time on a bike.  The stripped down truth is I bonked, truly and totally, not the 'my mouth is parched and my legs feel rubbery' kind but the 'I don't have the energy to bear my own weight, let alone ride a bike' kind of bonk.  Throw in the wilderness setting, the absolute dark of a moonless desert night (one we're about to replicate) and the inability to communicate with my crew in any way (cell service disappeared back in Blanding) and you have all the makings of an injury that breaks your spirit and leaves scars on your soul.  I've since conquered this hill, this stretch of road, this stage several times but I still feel like it knows it beat me once and can do it again at any moment. There's another quote from Sebastian Coe that talks about the most critical distance in any race being the nine inches between your ears. It's a battle I still fight every year at this point in the race, I'm just glad I'm confronting it in the waning but still visible daylight.  Thad gives me his standard pep talk "almost done, just eight miles more, go ride your bike."  Which I do and it hurts and I feel pukey and when the sun finally does disappear I get the old familiar CapitolReef/Fruita incidentabandonment-issues shakes but I'm too close to the finish for it to cause any real drama.  I make it to the Torrey exchange in just over 2 hrs 50 minutes.  A PR by a mere minute but a PR just the same.  Next up Jenn takes a shot at Boulder mountain and the QOM climb.

Moab Leg 6 Details

Distance:	39.2 Miles
Start Elevation:	6,547 Feet
Finish Elevation:	6,484 Feet
Total Ascent:	3,442 Feet
Total Descent:	-3,556 Feet
Net Elevation:	-63 Feet
High Point:	9,639 Feet
Low Point:	6,471 Feet

Leg 6 Notes

From Torrey start climbing up UT-12 into the Boulder Mountains. Climb is steep up to a false summit at mileage 15 then after a short decent and 5 more miles of climbing you will hit the boulder pass. Take a moment to enjoy the view the east. The mountains seen in the distance are the Henry’s that you just passed earlier in the day. After summit you have a steep decent down to the quaint town of Boulder and to the exchange. Take caution and watch for cattle, deer, and elk on the road during the decent.

Leg Nicknames:  Sisyphus and the Boulder, The King Is Dead, Long Live the Queen! (and a third option to be named later)

"The will to win is worthless, without the will to prepare." -Les Brown

Jenn's exchange kits
including cold weather
swap out for the Boulder
summit

After some confusion as to where to meet Jenn (they moved the exchange out to the road, not in the parking lot as in years past) I go through the chute and swap out the ankle chip and the vest (the latter costing Jenn a minute or so on her new this year QOM split). There's also a problem with the lights stemming from an earlier problem with the lights which is bad news because it is now not just dark, but moonless night in the middle of nowhere dark and if our lights (there are three complete sets, that at our current rate of progress will need to be used not just by Thad and Jenn but Kim as well) do not work then we are going to be in trouble. We finally get the lights, the vest and everything else situated. Jenn's exchanges, and this one too, at least the parts for which she does not need to rely on anybody else come off without a hitch because Jenn has prepared herself in every way she can: physically, mentally, emotionally and technically.  If fortune favors the prepared mind then winning races favors the athlete who prepares in every way he/she can and Jenn has managed exactly that.  It's what she does when she decides on an event.  If she finishes off the podium, performs poorly or is in any way dissatisfied with her result it will never be because she wasn't prepped trained and ready for the task she has undertaken. 

She climbs out of Torrey and covers the 24 miles and 3500* hundred feet of climb to top of boulder mountain in 2 hrs and 24 minutes.  Fourth** place (of twelve) in the Queen of the Mountain competition.  Thankfully she was several minutes off the third place cyclist or there might be more consternation and recrimination regarding the muddled exchange, the fact that she let me through the chute prior to swapping the chip and vest (allowing me to log a personal best time from Hanksville to Torrey, thanks honey) and the problem with the lights. But fourth place or last place, she climbed a mountain in the dark!  I want to say I was right there with her the entire time, ringing cowbells, whooping it up and urging her on to the summit but nothing could be further from the truth.  Rather I was curled up in fetal position in the back of the truck unable pick my head up off the seat, let alone yell or show any emotion.  Remember Kim?  How I said we would all get to this point?  Well it's my turn now. If I hadn't done this race enough times to know better I would assume that I was done, that recovery was out of the question.  But I'll be back, just give me a few minutes of back seat and broken asphalt rest and I'll be as close to renewed as you get on Rockwell.   While I'm suffering, Kim and Thad track up and down the mountain looking for Jenn.  I'm assuming on any other night finding a cyclist on this mountain would be pretty easy since there would probably only be one (or more likely none) but tonight there are dozens and they all look surprisingly similar from behind and in front.  Jenn wore her flashing slap band that she uses for running on her arm but it's not bright enough so we lose her temporarily but catch her just as she hits the false summit just before the final five miles of climb.  We needn't have worried though, Jenn is having a great time and a great ride.  The night is cool and star studded and the air is clean and pine scented.  There are other riders but most of her time is spent in solitude, just her and her bike.  Turn the cranks, focus on the cone of light in front of you glance at the stars until it starts to cause vertigo then go back to the road.  

*Her Garmin says 4000, those discrepancies between bible and handlebar mounted GPS unit kill your will and sap strength from your legs. You budget and meter out your effort based on those numbers.  That's especially true when you are flying blind like Jenn was. Those last 500 feet would must have felt unfair.

** Post race addendum.  A male cyclist's time was listed on the QOM finishers as the second fastest.  This has since been amended and Jennifer actually took the third spot (podium finish) and the Boulder climb (woot-woot). In the awards ceremony they only recognized the King & Queen respectively which is a good thing because otherwise we would have to call up the Rockwell Riders and organizers and hold a post hoc podium ceremony and photo op, I would insist upon it.  

We hit the summit at almost exactly midnight and I finally peel myself off the back seat.  I am dumbstruck by the galaxies you can see from this elevation and removed from the light pollution of civilization.  The stars are so numerous, so thick they almost look like cloth woven into the firmament.  The first time we rode Rockwell, a local rider who regularly did this climb on summer nights told our rider "You'll find God up there, if you look for Him."  Not sure if it happened for Jenn but I am awed in the moment at the vastness of God's creations and my small place in it.

We get to the summit before jenn arrives and Thad does his final prep for Leg seven so we can accompany Jenn down the mountain.  When we first discussed doing this ride with our wives I insisted that if Jenn was going to do Boulder Mountain we would stay with her on the descent.  The first year we did this race a rider hit a cattle guard* wrong and went over his bars, suffering a neck fracture.  Thad agreed and so rather than lose time at the Boulder exchange he is making sure he can be on the bike and rolling in the five minutes or so that it will take Jenn to cover the last few miles of her leg. At the summit Jenn pulls over cracks open her pre-race prepped cold weather/boulder descent bag, dons the contents, bumps her headlamp level to high beams and we're off.  We track her for the first mile or so until we can pass her.  Wish I had the mental wherewithal to get film of both her and Thad bombing their downhills in the dark.  Descending is a skill at which they are both quite adept and watching somebody do it well is like listening to opera or reading poetry.  It's beautiful and impressive in the way that watching somebody perform an act you could never duplicate always is.  The ride down Boulder Moutnain's southern slope is not without drama however. About 2 miles before we cut her loose, but still a good 8 miles out of Boulder we nearly hit a group of (...!).  We still don't know.  We leave our lane to pass a cyclist and Kim has to slam on the brakes to avoid mowing down three (possibly four) people walking down the mountain in the opposite lane.  Despite the fact that they were nearly crushed under three and a half tons of rolling steel and equipment they don't even flinch or acknowledge our presence.  They are dressed in dark, baggy clothes, tatters really and they look like extras from the film set of Walking Dead.  Before Thad Kim and I have a chance to ask each other if we all saw the same thing we come upon two more walkers, then another two and a straggler of two after that.  maybe a dozen in all.  A similar incident happened in 2011 (which also happens to be the only other moonless Relay we've ridden) only it was near the summit of the mountain and there were three individuals similarly disinterested in the fact that there was a bike race going on and they were about to be crushed under the wheels of its support vehicles.  We talked with other teams that went through about the same time of night and got independent confirmation that what we saw wasn't a product of our collective sleep deprivation and road weary vision. There's a solution to this mystery but I'm not sure I want to know what it is.  I rather like leaving this layer of Rockwell lore permanently under investigation but never adequately explained.

*About five miles out of Boulder, with Thad on the bike we see an ambulance headed toward boulder mountain.  A cyclist hit a cattle guard wrong, lost control and went into the guardrail suffering a concussion, several cracked ribs and later was discovered to have fractured one of his cervical vertebrae.  Glad we stayed with Jenn

Moab Leg 7 Details

Distance:	56.6 Miles
Start Elevation:	6,484 Feet
Finish Elevation:	5,983 Feet
Total Ascent:	3,061 Feet
Total Descent:	-3,514 Feet
Net Elevation:	-501 Feet
High Point:	7,608 Feet
Low Point:	5,220 Feet

Leg 7 Notes

This section of State Road 12 is what makes it famous! It just cannot be put into words, but here we go with a meager attempt. As you descend from Boulder down to the Escalante river, you will thoroughly enjoy cycling down the famous ridge at mileage 6.3 with steep drop off’s on both sides of the road. You will feel as though you are cycling in the clouds. As you near the Escalante River you will pass the Calf Creek Gorge (home of Calf Creek Falls) on the right. Excellent views from a top the road down to the green bottom of the gorge are breathtaking. Shortly after climbing up from the river on the other side you come to a windy section of road that contours a rugged white slickrock. At mileage 26.1 you will pass through the town of Escalante and begin an ascent back into Dixie national forest. After reaching a mild summit, you wind down the narrow canyon and end in the town Henrieville, population 159.

Leg Nicknames:  Heart of Darkness, the Frozen Marathon or Graveyard Shift

Don't bother just to be better than your contemporaries or predecessors. Try to be better than yourself.

--William Faulkner

Thad's turn back in the saddle this is the ride he has been prepping for for months now.  It's the longest, darkest and often coldest leg of the entire race.  A team that's running in the middle of the pack can easily drop twenty places in the rankings based on what Cyclist 3 does on these lonely miles through the Escalante Grand Staircase National Monument.  I hate to keep going back to them as Exhibit A but team At Dawn We Ride!(?) takes five and a half hours to cover this ground.  Our teams have posted 4(+) hour legs on this section more than once and have never done it in under 3 hrs and 45 minutes.  That is all about to change however because Thad has been eyeing this leg like his dog Otus eyes a T-bone steak left unattended on the counter top. 

Per the elevation map, the leg features two good sized climbs and (you can't see this from the maps) two descents that would be considered 'technical' in daylight, at this hour with only helmet and bar lights they are practically suicidal.  We track Thad down the first descent, though it's hard because we are about as ungainly as a moving vehicle can be and Thad and his Giant TCR are carving up these corners like he's the Grinch and they are Rare Who Roast Beast.  If the roads outside of Escalante were a math equation it would go something like this:

 (where 'X' is the posted speed limit)

Big Chevy Duramax diesel Truck  =  X- 5 mph.  

Thad and his Bike  =  2X+5 or 3X if we can illuminate the turn in front of him with our headlights.  

What honey?
Did you say something?

Despite the fact that we are stuck in remedial arithmetic in our vehicle and Thad is doing graduate level parabolic Trigonometry on his bike, we manage to get him to the bottom of the first descent upright and still pedaling.  he cuts us loose to ride forward to Escalante and that's where any recollection I have of his heroic Paul Revere-esque midnight ride comes to an end.  We arrive at the high school parking lot, I break out the 'bag and I'm gone.  I've said it before and I'll say it again, most profound twenty minutes of sleep I've ever had.  Only it had to be more than twenty because I'm still asleep when Thad rolls through and alerts us that he's gone past by yelling 'Team!' to which Jenn and Kim respond by driving down the road a few miles to see if he needs anything, leaving me in the 'lot, easy prey for mountain lions, black bears and coyotes (all of which are present at a greater population concentration here than anywhere else in the state) or the Walkers of Boulder Mountain which may or may not have been flesh eating Zombies but were definitely creepy.

When they do finally come back for me Thad is well on his way up the agonizingly long and for the final few miles, steeply pitched climb.  When we catch him Jenn says "He's enjoying himself, he actually looks like he's smiling and he is, only it looks like the toothy triple layered grin you see in pictures of Great White sharks as they bolt free from the water to take a huge chunk out of the hide of a Sea Lion or the leg off a hapless surfer.  And that pretty much sums up Thad's Rockwell Relay 2015, Leg 7 ride.  "If a tree falls in a forest or a cyclist destroys a ride in the middle of the night but nobody actually sees or hears it, does it make a noise or even happen at all?"  The answer to the former is up for debate in freshman philosophy class. The answer to the latter is evident to anybody who logs onto Strava and sees the half eaten Sea Lion or the Peg legged surfer.  

Some numbers:

56.6 miles in 3 hrs and 20 minutes

17 mph avg.

(and most important to Thad) avg 248 watts

It's a PR for Thad (and for the team) by almost thirty minutes and of the Cyclist 3 contenders that showed up this year only 33 did it faster.(!)  It's more than impressive, it's phenomenal, especially considering the level of this year's competition.  Thanks for the advice Mr. Faulkner. Done, done, and done.

We accompany Thad to the summit, stop long enough to let him put on a windbreaker and try (again, the physics and Math are decidedly against us) to track him on the winding descent.  This time instead of leveling and then climbing, the road stays on a downgrade and because of it we are not completely ready when our rider thunders into Henrieville with a full head of steam.

Next up Part Four "After all, tomorrow is another day!"/ Kim climbs us back into the race (again).

Rockwell Relay 2015: The Ride of Our Wives (part two, Day 1)

"It's biz-ness, it's biz-ness tiiiiime!" -Flight of the Cochords

Remember last blog entry when I said without further ado and there was more ado, much more ado in fact and very little actual riding of bikes?  Well ado time is over and now it's time for business, the business Racing the Relay.  So without further (you know) let's get to it.



Moab Leg 1 Details

Distance:	54.4 Miles
Start Elevation:	4,020 Feet
Finish Elevation:	7,059 Feet
Total Ascent:	4,101 Feet
Total Descent:	-1,063 Feet
Net Elevation:	3,309 Feet
High Point:	7,094 Feet
Low Point:	4,020 Feet

Leg Notes

DO NOT underestimate this leg! The elevation map doesn’t look too menacing, but in reality it is a punishing 54 miles usually made worse by a head wind that nags at your motivation. This leg does have a lot of climbing, but it is also among the most scenic.  It is a great way to start off a great race. 

Watch for the Hole-in-the-rock at mileage 15.9 and Wilson arch at mileage 25.8.

The race bible tells me not to underestimate this leg and having prior history with it I don't.  It climbs, lots.  No real big hills or double digit grades just a fairly constant 2-5% pitch with rollers here and there to keep things interesting.  The real challenge for rider one on leg one is the race math.  Trying to calculate the percentages and value of burning matches in your limited pack to stay with fellow riders or scaling back and conserving energy for what is going to be an endurance ride to the 'nth degree as opposed to a sprint.  Unfortunately there are outliers in every sample population and those outliers in bike races tend to let their race legs rule out the rational voices in their heads and break free from the pack leaving the rest of us to debate whether to chase them or catch them later when they flame out.  I've had this conversation, about this very leg and this ongoing quandary with Thad on several occasions.  His response is always the same:  "You need a power meter* then you won't have to worry about it."  This was three years ago.  Every Rockwell I bring up the same conundrum and every year I get the same phlegmatic reply from cap'n Engar, so finally I broke down and bought one.  I got a great deal on a used Quarq crank-based unit that allows you to keep your carbon fiber racing wheels while giving you all the same info as a hub based power tap.  Aaaand it's on Jenn's** bike.

*a device to monitor your power output in Watts.  In a conditioned athlete it can reliably tell you (among other things) exactly how hard you can push and for how long 

**the original plan was to let her use it this season while she tries to make her Triple Crank dreams a reality then as soon as she crosses the finish line in Jackson Hole, Pull it off La Canadienne and swap it onto the Talented Ms/Mr (gender uncertain) Ridley.  But it took Jenn about two seconds to realize that the meter was an asset to be coveted and kept.  So I guess I either train myself to the point that I'm leading the pack without problems or preoccupations or I'm in the market for a second meter.

One thing leg one offers is lots of opportunities to crack under the pressure of starting a race, climbing hard and trying to stay with the pack.  One year I hit a pothole about 200 meters into the race and unknowingly shifted my rear brake caliper off center (to the point that it all but locked my rear wheel) and watched as first the fast riders got away, then as I was passed by the riders dressed in costumes and finally by the XXXL riders who would abandon the race somewhere short of the first exchange in Monticello, despite the fact that I was pedaling myself stupid.  I did that for about 12 miles before I finally got off my bike and looked for and found the problem. Thad knows all of this so he hastily packs the gear, racks the mounts and hustles the rest of team Taking Turns' into the truck and in the process donates all the cokes and diet cokes (which, along with dill pickle juice, are his preferred race/recovery beverages) he purchased at the Piggly Wiggly the night before to the Bowen Motel. Hope you enjoy it Arches hikers, Slick Rock riders and Canyonlands visitors, this round is on the 'Juice!  No such problems this year however.  Conditions, honestly could not be better.  The race bible makes a cursory mention of headwinds, as though it's a gnat you can swat away and go about your business when in reality it's a cast-iron sucubus-vortex crushing your soul and dragging you down to its demon lair.  Today, however somebody blew out the pilot light in hell's furnace and took away the Devil's wind machine cause I'm cruising south at a steady 18 mph without a ripple in the air to stir the flag in the Hole 'N the Rock Parking lot and debating whether arm warmers would have been a good idea every time I ride into the shade.  So nice in fact that I begin (again) cursing the individual, man or woman, who invented chip sealed pavement.  It significantly increases your rolling resistance on a bike making it feel like you're riding on velcro and the gentle, constant vibration makes your hands go numb, the fillings in your teeth ache and your bladder feel weak.  I never once noticed how much of said tarmac there was on this stretch of highway. Funny the things you notice when you're not battling a constant twenty mile per hour wind that feels like it started life in a convection oven. 

I settle into a rhythm and while still pushing hard, I begin enjoying the ride. When I do get into my head it's more for entertainment than for anxiety and self doubt.  I think of ways to make what is already an excellent event even better.  For instance:  They should give an award for the best team name.  We had some good ones this year, like Earth Wind and Tyres, The Wasatch Chainring Massacre, or the all peri-menopausal aged women's team: Four Hot Flashes. They could let riders vote on their favourite and give a token prize, a T-shirt maybe, to the team  member who came up with it.  Great idea number two (one that I shared with Thad during the manic post ride high that comes when you finally get your first leg in the books and was told to sit on it until the buzz wears off, see if I still like it. Which I did and I still do).  There should be nicknames given to each of these legs.  I have pet names for people and things I spend far less time thinking about than these twelve discreet stretches of road.  

Thought bubble: "The Honeymoon's Over! that's a brilliant co-ed team name.  
It works on so many levels. Where was this clarity of thought four months ago?"

Possible Leg one Nicknames:

Ace-in-the-Hole-'N-the-Rock, Bikes On a Hill and Release the Hounds/Who Let the Dogs Out?  

I went on like this (in my head) for the next 25 miles and was still mining mental gems when I hit the last big leg one hill, about 10 miles from 'Cello.  It was here I encountered the climber from 'At Dawn We Ride!' (my personal favourite team name).  The unspoken enthusiasm signified by the exclamatory punctuation seemed to have worn off as their team's Ace was struggling mightily.  I complimented him on the solid moniker to which he responded "This is my first bike race of any kind... I don't know what I'm doing."  To which I thought "Truth.  And you're not the first cyclist to slam rudely into that sad reality on this patch of steep (and getting steeper) asphalt."  I predict a long trail for Team At Dawn' with more hard truths waiting for them on the dusty byways ahead. 

At the top of the hill I manage to group up with half a dozen other cyclists and we pace the last 8 miles to Monticello at a brisk clip crossing the time chip chute, finishing the 54 miles and 4100 feet of climbing in just over three hours, beating the best time I've logged in the last four tries by a full 18 minutes.  A satisfying start to long race.  I strap the timing chip to Jenn's ankle thinking it would be entertaining to pretend I'm removing the garter from her leg at our wedding reception but then I think "That's probably a good way to get smacked, and not in the 'love tap' way."   So instead I smack her on the bum and send her off with the advice Josh texted us last night:  "Be fast, be safe, have fun!"

Moab Leg 2 Details

Distance:	44.7 Miles
Start Elevation:	7,059 Feet
Finish Elevation:	6,158 Feet
Total Ascent:	2,441 Feet
Total Descent:	-3,392 Feet
Net Elevation:	-901 Feet

Leg Notes

This leg will take you past the beautiful Abajo (Blue) mountains on the right. Passing thought the Comb Ridge at mile 37.5 is a majestic moment. 

Crosswinds in this section last year were so severe that they blew our rider all the way over into oncoming traffic and eventually off the road on the other side.  So, 'majestic' is one adjective you can use to describe it.  Harrowing could also work, depending on conditions.

Leg ends at the Mule Canyon trailhead where Anasazi ruins dating back to 1200 AD can be explored. GASOLINE WARNING!!! After the turn off at State Road 95, the next gasoline is in Hanksville, 121 miles away. Make sure to fill up in Monticello, Blanding, or the gas station at the corner of 191 and 95.

Leg Nicknames:  The Blanding Blitz or The Blanding Beatdown (depending on which way the heretofore ever-present wind is blowing) Abajo Does Not Mean 'Blue' and Into the Gap

Unbelievably,  Really

Jenn is out of site almost before I can unclip from my pedals, charging hard into the eerily still southern Utah morning.  I've been tracking the predicted weather pattern on the Weather Underground website for the last 10 days and was skeptical that it could possibly be as favourable as predicted, but here we were and it was.  No wind, temps in the 70s with possible rain in the afternoon but definite cloud cover either way.   One last word about the wind (or lack thereof) and we'll put the subject to bed... mostly.  Wind can make an otherwise pleasant day on a bike a quad killing slug-fest.  It can force you into your smallest gear on the flattest of roads, it can make rolling hills feel like canyon climbs and make actual mountains feel insurmountable.  

Leg 2, 2014 
The wind has blown our boy Josh,
literally and completely 

But in the end, wind or no wind, your finish time in a race this long is going to fall within a fairly well defined range, whether it works with you or against you. For instance, 2014 was by unanimous agreement the worst conditions we have seen in five years.  The fastest team finished the course that year in 24hrs and 15 minutes. This year tied with 2011 for the best conditions I've personally witnessed. The fastest riders finished this year in 23 hrs and 45 minutes, a difference of less than three minutes per leg.  Our best efforts the past years between difficult and favourable conditions has fallen within a 3 hour gap, or about 15 minutes extra per leg on average.  So not a huge difference in final results.  What a violent, contrary wind can do is cause a rider to crack completely, to the point that you have to consider abandoning the race altogether or subbing in a rider and swapping out your competitive status to non-competitive.  Either way, your team has been deeply gashed and you hemorrhage time, sometimes hours worth.  The cracked rider feels guilty and responsible for letting his 'mates down and morale plummets as every other rider slips into panic mode and begins to question whether they will be able to complete their individual legs and whether the team will be able to make it to St George with a rider still in the saddle.  The entire experience is no bueno.  After the fact it all becomes so much cannon fodder for post ride war stories but at the time, not to put too fine a point on it, it sucks.

Jenn letting the peleton pull her along, 20 miles in, twenty five to go.

Back to our the relay.  We heed the Race Bible warning and gas up at the local petrol (diesel) station and I figure Thad will force me to choke down something from Taco Time or Subway (culinary hot spots are limited in this neck o' the woods) both of which sound marginally appetizing on the best of days but my stomach is still ride queasy and I have no desire to eat though I have a personal testimony of its necessity. Instead, once the tank is full we're motoring out of town, and just as well.  This can be a lightning fast leg in the current conditions and sure enough though it's only been forty minutes since I handed her the baton we have to drive almost 20 miles before we catch our Canadian Comet.  We ask her if if she needs anything.  She does not. She came to this race prepared to drop bombs and she's currently letting 'em fly with Wreckless Abandon (another great team name... maybe next year).  We motor up the road and Thad says we should grab some lunch in Blanding.  I am doubtful  Blanding makes Monticello look positively cosmopolitan in comparison in both size and restaurant choices.  He pulls into a laundromat parking lot and says 'let's eat'!  I expected it to be bad but I figured if we were going to eat out of a vending machine I could do better with the road snacks in my cooler.  Instead we walk over to the Patio Drive In.  Don't be fooled by the joyless exterior, the place is even more dreary inside.  But the food?  Improbably delicious.  If you can create an instant tradition we just did.  This will be our second leg grub stop in 2016.  Book it.  We wolf down some chicken wraps as Jenn and several dozen other riders jet past on their way out of town.  I post a few early race photos to facebook, because I'm incorrigible and because we are about to enter terrain that not even satellites monitor on anything close to a regular basis and I want to say good bye one last time to my loved ones before we go dark.

Looks Ghetto, tastes uptown

La Canadienne and the Green Machine chewing up the miles

We catch Jenn just this side of the Gap that marks the 7 miles remaining point in her ride, the last five of which will be a steady and at times double digit grade. Temperatures are threatening to (gasp) hit the mid seventies, still lots of low clouds but even on the most temperate of days two hours of riding will make you sweat.  She requests a bottle refill and when we pull over to comply we discover that we're down a water cooler.  Where once there were two, now there is one.  Not sure when it got jettisoned but it did.  On any other relay this would be a critical development, one that might inspire a rapid return to civilization to replace the back up cooler but the forecast is for mild weather (and possibly rain, so more water than we could possibly use) so we decide to soldier on.  Jenn continues her international good will cycling tour as she works with half* of team Broken Spokes Bicycles. She hits the final climb at just over two hours and pulls into the second exchange in 2 hrs 32 minutes.  Just two minutes behind the best time we've ever logged on this leg. It was a near textbook ride with the only minor hitch coming when she got a little squirrely in the saddle tucked in behind her escorts on a fairly technical section of descent.  She kept off the brakes shifted her weight appropriately and brought balance back (thank you yoga class), crisis averted.  Well done (and done).  We are 20 minutes ahead of the splits we hoped to have logged at this point and so far ahead of last year's results that it doesn't bear mentioning.   Spirits are high and though the sun is now peaking through the clouds, temps remain low.  Time to let the 'Juice loose.

*Yep, you read correctly.  They did the entire 12 legs, all 525 miles of riding as a two man team (low, long whistle).  More on this later

I take a moment to break down Jenn's performance... only I don't because?  What do I correct?  Your helmet was a bit off center, clean up your lid-game?  She just rocked that ride and she knows it.  Time to get changed these will be the last facilities, meager as they are, for the next 100 miles.  Info that Kim (up after Thad) may have appreciated. 

Moab Leg 3 Details

Distance:	56.4 Miles
Start Elevation:	6,158 Feet
Finish Elevation:	3,868 Feet
Total Ascent:	1,010 Feet
Total Descent:	-2,339 Feet
Net Elevation:	-2,290 Feet
High Point:	7,156 Feet
Low Point:	3,852 Feet

Leg Notes

Jacob's chair, only to me it doesn't look like a chair, it looks like a
boot, which when you say that out loud sounds like a Canadian
saying 'about' which when I point that out to Kim it makes her laugh
but not Jenn.  That's linguistic critique number two.  We are officially
on notice.

This leg is long but offers a nice gradual downhill leading to the Colorado River and beginning of Lake Powell. Pass the Natural Bridges National Monument at mileage 17.6 where the team vehicle may want to stop for a moment and view some of bridges at the National Monument. Also notice the Jacob’s Chair landmark around mileage 35 on top of the cliffs to the right. As you come to Lake Powell you will cross the Colorado River bridge then immediately after that the Dirty Devil Bridge. Enjoy the beautiful scenery of Lake Powell.

Leg Nicknames:  Jacob's Chair-man of the Board, Colorado River Run or Guess What?Cheese Butt!




What to say about Thad and more to the point, Thad's riding?  We all came to this race trained, prepped and prepared, But Thad brought his game to a whole new level in 2015 to the point that he really should have been the climber and would have been if I could see worth a lick in the dark, but I don't, so he's not. If you had to describe our individual performances in the separate legs compared to our competition it would go like this. 

We're really missing Rodney 'Rodzilla''s leadership on this bottle exchange,
Also his wingspan and hand-eye coordination.

Me: really good, pretty good, OK

Jenn: really good, excellent, OK

Kim : pretty good, really good, excellent

Thad: excellent, really good and you were cheating!

We are currently standing roadside and enjoying Thad's excellent leg.  Once you get him in the saddle he is all business, which is great considering what time it is. This is the least dramatic leg in a near drama free race.  Just Pickle Juice throwing down like a boss, cashing checks and spending cash like it's a bachelor weekend in Vegas. He chases down riders, one after another, tries to work with them then summarily drops them, leaving them in his wake like so much roadkill.  Most times without even realizing he's done it.  

Things got interesting when the clouds darkened on the horizon for a few minutes but nothing ever materialized. So instead of needlessly worrying about our man in the saddle we busy ourselves trying to block off the appropriate letters in the roadside sign so we can make it read 'cheese butt' in a selfie.  

This is what a cheese box looks like.  No, I'm asking.
This is what a cheese box looks like?

We get to Dirty Devil Bridge at about 3:15, forty minutes ahead of schedule skies clearing up and temperatures pushing into the 80s as we roll into the Lake Powell Exchange.  The girls (rookies, remember) insist that there will be port-a-potties there for changing and taking care of business (the other business).  I tell them that's never been the case before but then think maybe they know something I don't, which is generally the case when I'm dealing with Jenn (and I assume the Thad-Kim dynamic is similar). But when we get to the exchange, guess what?  No Honey Buckets, No Port-a-Johns, No Crapper-Wockies (made that last one up but I think it works), not much of anything but sand, sandstone and support vehicles of every stripe.  Fortunately there are RVs (with facilities) that can be borrowed, which is what I planned for Kim ever since I forgot to tell her to get changed in Mule Canyon. I head off to make inquiries and return to direct Kim to the motor home that gave us the green light. Wish I could remember the team name of our bathroom benefactor, I would nominate him for the Good Samaritan award (new this year).

Kim's turn (finally!) She's geared  up and ready to roll, game face on.

Moab Leg 4 Details

Distance:	45.0 Miles
Start Elevation:	3,868 Feet
Finish Elevation:	4,318 Feet
Total Ascent:	1,923 Feet
Total Descent:	-1,457 Feet
Net Elevation:	450 Feet
High Point:	5,210 Feet
Low Point:	3,868 Feet

Leg Notes

This leg has a gradual climb out of Lake Powell up to a plateau summit followed by a gradual decent into Hanksville. Enjoy the view of winding red rock canyons all along the ascent and tall rock pillars and layered cliffs along the descent.

Leg nicknames:  Dante's Inferno, Like a Bike Outta Hell or A 'Tandoori' Is a Clay Oven Used in Indian Cuisine, It Can Also Be Used To Cook Cyclists (that last one is a bit wordy but entirely accurate)

Thad pedals into the exchange at 3:30 on the nose.  He just took down 55 miles of desolate wilderness in 2hrs and 50 minutes.  He'll have some wattage numbers that are far too esoteric for most of the readers of this blog so I will tell you he averaged almost 19 mph, A command performance and  one I would have thought hard to top but I would have been wrong.*  Jenn hops to the ankle-wrapped time chips and while she gets that situated Thad gives Kim some last minute coaching which if it was anything like what he told me it probably consisted of "Go ride your bike."  Which on the surface sounds so simple as to be facile, but is profound and insightful.  We all ride bikes, we all love riding bikes, we are all capable of above and even well above average performances on our bikes. Today is no different.  Go do what you came to do ("I can do it coach!")  Thus calmed and prepped Kim heads out to do exactly that.

*That sounds like foreshadowing... yep, that's what it is alright

"The waiting is the hardest part." -Tom Petty


Any Rockwell team at some point, hopefully before you register but definitely before you turn the first crank in competition, has to have a sit down meeting to discuss the division of labour. Who's going to ride which legs and what are the reasons for that?  If we're doing this for fun, ride whatever you like, but if you're competing it behooves you to match a riders abilities to the terrain he/she will be tackling. Let me be right up front,   Rockwell Relay gives no free passes to participants.  None! Every rider will be tested by  every leg he/she rides. The challenges can be obvious, riding over a mountain in the middle of the night for instance or through a national monument at an hour when everybody except convenience store workers are in bed.  But others may not be as plain to anybody who hasn't raced before.  Cyclist four does more than their share of climbing, rides the third longest distance of the four and gets the most extreme temperature changes of any of the cyclists.  But the real challenge, the not so obvious one is the sitting around and watching your teammates finish their legs, put up their feet and breathe easy for the first time since the race started.  Until you actually start pedaling there are lots of things that are on hold, not the least of which is your nutrition. Once you've ridden you can eat whatever you want, comfortable in the knowledge that if it was the wrong thing to eat you still have ten or eleven hours to make it right.  For instance,Instead of a delicious fried chicken wrap in Blanding Kim got a tossed salad. Then she had to sit in the truck all day, watching her teammates one after another clean house, each performance better than the one that preceded it and assiduously studying the race bible's info regarding her leg, then reciting the stats to herself like a complex chemical formula she has to memorize for Dental Boards exams:  "Two mile steep hill, then flat for a couple, then twenty more miles of hill then twenty of descent. " Repeat (like a mantra).  And, to make matters worse, the mercury has been climbing all day, reaching its zenith about the time the timing chip was pulled from Thad's ankle and placed on hers.  If she was worried about her performance she needn't have.  She dug her way out of the Lake Powell Pit that Rodney calls the clay oven with hardly a sweat then began the long, hard, clawing crawl  to the high point of her ride.  The race bible calls it a 'gradual climb' but could just as easily have called it slow death.  The last two years we have watched cyclist after cyclist weave, wilt and then drop like wounded ducks on this hill.  Throw in the first actual headwinds (the ones I had been tracking on Weather Underground all week but didn't want to mention to Kim because she had enough to worry about) and you have to admire the gut check she is performing.  

Don't kid yourself, we'r supporting Kim by sending her
peaceful happy thoughts

Right now I'm Kim's greatest biggest cheerleader.  The relay skirts the edge of three National Parks which would be great if this were a week long tour.  You could pull into an RV park, set up camp and take in the scenery before lights out and sleep until it's time to cover the next day's miles but this is a race and though we drive right past the entrances to Arches, Canyonlands and Bryce, we never actually go inside.  Capitol Reef is different.  The race takes us right through the heart of what the Race Bible identifies as the United State's Last best kept National Park secret, and it's still a secret, to me at least because every time we've done this race it's dark by the time we get there.  When they began staggering the start and allowing us to roll out of Moab an hour earlier (actually two hours earlier last year) I thought I might get my chance.  Mother nature had other plans however and it was once again dark before I even got close.  If Kim can finish her leg in anywhere close to three hours I should be watching the sun set over the trees of Fruita rather than suffering in the dark as I ride by.  If I have one wish for this race it's that I get a chance to do just that.  I nervously watch the roadside sagebrush and scrub oak bend in the stiffening breeze and say a silent prayer for cyclist #4 as she grinds her way to the summit.

Next up Part 3:  Fly By Night