When the shotgun goes off this Saturday morning signaling the start of the Leadville 100, I’ll roll out all alone in a sea of 1,500 other racers. I will pedal the fifty miles to the top of Columbine Mine and the fifty miles back all by myself. No one but me will push my bike up the Powerline. No one but me will turn those pedals over to get me to the finish line. It’s easy to think I’m in this alone, but really, that’s just an illusion.

I do not ride alone.

Karydes got the ball rolling way back in 2006 by inviting me to train for and ride our first century together, the MS 150. The team we organized for that ride (Team Climb On!) has raised over $50,000 in the fight against MS since then. Oh, and we completed the ride in style…

In 2007 alone, Team Climb On! raised over $22,000 for the National MS Society.

Dr. Hodges, Alpha Dave and the rest of the Mighty Descenders showed me what riding hard was really all about. Getting invited to their Monster Climbs trip in 2008 was a breakthrough experience. Suddenly, I could pedal all day, up mountains and down.

Horseshoe Meadow Road climbs 5,000 feet out of Lone Pine. Amazing.

The Mighty Descenders at Monster Climbs II

Marcos kicked it up a notch by suggesting that I race – “You should race, you’ll do great.” Suddenly it was all possible and we began cycling at a whole new level. Later he’d remark that we should, “Mix it up a bit to keep it fresh, maybe do some MTB rides.” That would be how I started MTB racing and entered my name into the 2009 Leadville lottery.

Marcos and Dr. Hodges racing the 2009 Julian Death March.

After winning last year’s Leadville lottery, I was terrified – what had I gotten myself into?!?! Having DMoz crew for me and Bazza and Daphne join me at the race made it all possible. Their support and encouragement sped me along my race and helped me finish strong. I’m very much looking forward to sharing this beautiful race with my wife and kids this year.

Bazza took this photo of me racing inbound on the new singletrack at last year’s Leadville 100.

Racing Julian Death March this year was crucial to my Leadville training plan. Riding alongside guys like Mickey, Dr. Hodges and Sam taught me what “Never quit!” really means. I’ll never forget watching Sam struggle against The Bonk without giving in and how Mickey finished his JDM within minutes of the final cutoff because he just wouldn’t quit – no matter what. I could not have done as well as I did without these guys.

Sam, Dr. Hodges, Mickey and I at this year’s Julian Death March. I’ll never forget this day!

Having training partners, nah… having Dirt Bros like Marcos, Mickey and Karydes have allowed me to take ultra-endurance cycling to a new level. Heading out into the pouring rain for a 40-mile MTB ride with 5,000 feet of climbing is a great way to get strong. I can always count on a hard ride and “never give up attitude” every weekend. The way we encourage each other to go hard and push our boundaries makes us all stronger.

The Dirt Bros make their way down a cold and snowy trail to climb the infamous Oriflamme Canyon.

Two of my Dirt Bros, Mickey and Marcos enjoying a recovery bevvie in Cuyamaca.

And of course, the Family… Always there, supporting me to ride countless hours even to the point of organizing our vacation calendar around cycling events. Putting up with stinky kit hanging from the banister and a sore, sleepy Dad every Saturday afternoon.

My Girls cheering me on!

When I finally roll back onto 6th Avenue, at mile 103.5 on Saturday, I’ll be thinking about all the people who helped make this day happen. Thank you.

The 2009 Leadville 100 gets underway on a shotgun blast. By Bazza.

Standing in front of the Leadville Courthouse at 5:54pm on August 15th, it occurred to me that for the first time in a long while, I had nothing to do. I did need a shower pretty badly, but besides that, my schedule was completely empty. Wow, what a strange feeling…

I started preparing for Leadville as I filled out my application back in January. After finally receiving my “Yippee!” card, I dedicated everything to the race. I hired a coach, religiously executed a training plan and devoted every training experience to optimize my performance in August. Everything I did was about Leadville. Everything.

Fun rides like the Triple Bypass became fitness and nutrition tests – ways for me to test how I would react to altitude. A week’s vacation in July became my High Altitude Training Camp. I routinely bailed on rides with friends, giving the excuse, “Sorry, my training plan says I need to…”

But all that came to an end as I rolled down the red carpet and across that glorious finish line in Leadville.

So… What’s next?

I think some people (maybe myself include) expected me to quit cycling after Leadville… Oh, I thought about it, sure. You spend 6 days a week on a bike for 7 or 8 months and see where you end up mentally. But deep down I know I’m not done with it yet. Rolling down that red carpet felt so good. Punching the air as I crossed the line was a declaration! It was just the beginning, really.

If I’m to figure out where I’m headed next, I needed to first decide where I’m at already. I’ve done quite a bit of introspection since the race and here’s what I know so far – The reason I raced Leadville was to learn something about myself, to see if I had what it takes to do something that hard. I think cycling still has a lot of challenges left for me and I guess I’ll keep pedaling till I’m done learning.

Whatever it is, it’ll find me – not the other way around. It always happens that way with me.

If you ride a mountain bike with any regularity, you already know what this is about. If not, you may be surprised to learn that you are going to crash if you ride a mountain bike, so just expect it.

Sometimes crashing happens in predictable ways. Like, you know you shouldn’t have bombed that section quite so fast – right? But sometimes the crash comes completely out of left field, where even later you can’t really say what happened.

Check out this picture my buddy Mark sent me – can you figure out what happened? Neither can I, the message was something about how he fell off a cliff and into this tree.

Not sure what happened, but the story is that Mark went flying off a cliff and landed in the tree. Epic… Courtesy my buddy Andrew

I’ve crashed a few times this season – I figured I’d share my favorites so far.

Honorable Mention – “Watch out for that tree!”

Just last weekend, Andy and I were out for a fun ride in the canyon. Almost back to the car, coming down a really fast piece of single track, I overcooked a corner which was really no problem since there wasn’t any kind of drop off. I veered off the trail and into this field – the only obstacle was a single bushy tree.

For some reason, however, I couldn’t avoid the tree. I thought about going farther right, but nothing happened – I turned my head and closed my eyes as I horked the brakes and crunched into the bush/tree. Of course, it’s August here in San Diego (read: the desert) which means that bushes are really collections of thorny pungi sticks.

Picking myself up off the ground, I could feel my face was wet and salty but couldn’t tell if it was blood or sweat. I asked Andy if I was bleeding and he asked me about my “antennae”. I wasn’t bleeding, but I did have two good sized branches stuck in my helmet – including one that apparently bounced off my sunglasses.

2nd Place – “Do you think I should go to the ER?”

At mile 2 of a 50+ mile day, I came to a complete stop trying to negotiate a tight switchback in loose, rocky conditions. My bike slowly tipped to the right and I put out my hand to catch the fall – no biggie. Mark was behind me and quickly asked if I was ok. I responded, “Yeah, no problem”, I mean I just tipped over uphill. It was nothing.

Then I looked down at my shin which had been neatly sliced open by a scalpel shaped rock fin jutting out of the soft dirt. The rock fin now glistened with my, well, juice… My shin was cut so deeply I could see underneath my skin at globs of subcutaneous fat. Eewww! I got dizzy and almost passed out.

Is that my liver in there? This view into my leg gave me little comfort.

We bandaged up my wound and continued an abridged version of the ride, of course. 10 hours later when Mrs. Adventures took a look at my wound, she sort of lost it and forced me to go to the ER. Three weeks later, the gash was still deep enough to whistle if I rode faster than 17mph…

My Favorite Crash (so far!) – “When I grow up, I want to be Superman!”

Andy and I were making our way back to Cuyamaca from a fun day getting lost in the Laguna Mountains. I could almost taste the Stone Pale Ale as I hammered my way down a beautiful narrow single track through oak trees and grassy meadows…

And then I was flying through the air, seriously, with the greatest of ease. I tucked, landed hard on my left shoulder and tried to make myself into a ball. I figured my 25lb bike was also flying through the air and I was hoping it wouldn’t land on me. I was spared as it crashed down heavily beside me.

It was later determined that I had hit an immovable rock at between 15 and 20mph which catapulted me into the air. I flew at least 15 feet before landing in a nice rock garden. How I managed to pedal away with only the slimmest of injuries amazes me still.

The Moral of the Story?

So get out there this weekend and ride your mountain bike. You’ll have a great time and you’ll probably crash too. Embrace the crashing, it’s all good.

The Straight Poop…

I’m flying down a rocky fire road, going like a bat out of hell trying to catch Mark. I’m maybe 20 feet off his wheel, looking for a place to pass and his dust is choking me. I think about the amount of horse poop I’ve seen that day and I wonder just how much I’m inhaling. When did it become ok for your animal to leave scads of poop wherever they happened to be when they got the urge?

Sorry to be so graphic, but this is horse poop.
Photo cc Horrortaxi

If my dog pooped on that trail, I’d be expected to clean it up, no? If I pooped on that trail, I might just get arrested and charged with a sex crime.

I don’t understand why horse poop is special.

No Bikes Allowed!

Mark and I climbed 1,000 feet in about 1.5 miles to get access to a fire road that leads to some promising backcountry. We sweat and grind our way to the top only to find a “No Bikes” sign on the trail. I see a lot of “No Bikes” signs on trails, usually on the choicest single track. I’ve only seen one “No Horses” sign and that was pretty weird and probably just the exception that proves the rule.

Can’t we share?
Photo cc micamonkey

Why can’t horses share trails with the rest of us? We happily share with them, even when they are in the vast minority (like in Rancho Penasquitos Canyon Preserve).

Why are horse-people so greedy?

Who is Afraid of Who?

Mark, Andy and I are having the time of our life hammering away at a new section of single track. I can’t begin to describe the beauty of that moment; weaving down and up narrow single track that is often hidden by wildflowers and grass. The sky was clear, a light breeze and perfect sunshine.

We hammer around a corner and see a group of horses and their riders. As we come to a stop, one of the horses kinda freaks out, rearing up and trying what looked to me to “get the hell out of there”. The horses were obviously very frightened of us. The rider did not fall off thankfully, but there were a few tense moments as she got the animal back under control.

We moved off the narrow trail to let the equestrians pass and they were very nice. Pleasantries were exchanged on such a glorious day.

Maybe we could invent mechanical horses that aren’t so afraid – oh wait, that’s a bike.
Photo cc Dan Shouse

Why do people ride 1,000 pound animals that are scared of people on bikes? I can imagine that a frightened, rearing, kicking horse could seriously injure and maybe even kill someone – its rider or maybe me.

But How Do You Really Feel?

I don’t really have a problem with equestrians. I see why they appreciate the beauty and power of these animals. I just don’t get why cyclists are treated so differently. We all want to have a great day on the trail, right? We’re more the same than we are different, that’s for sure.

It’s hard to remember why I didn’t finish the Julian Death March now. Isn’t that funny? It was so clear Saturday afternoon, but all I’m left with now is, “How could you quit?”

Mark makes his way. Photo © 2009 Barry Munson. All rights reserved.

The mind is an interesting machine; it forgets the painful stuff and leaves us wanting more. Forgotten is the way my legs felt after 63 miles and 8,600 feet of climbing. It’s hard to recall the way my stomach revolted against energy bars and how I had to force myself to swallow a GU packet to finish the Three Canyons climb. The memory of how bad my back hurt and how sore my whole body was as I pedaled back through Julian are completely gone.

All that’s left is the certain knowledge that I tried to do 85 and only got 63.

Find the thorn. Photo © 2009 Barry Munson. All rights reserved.

I’m supposed to be proud of myself. It was only a month ago that I rode my first 40-mile MTB ride, so getting 63 is pretty good. And I’ve just completed a tough block of work for Coach Colin who warned that this race was going to be tough and my power would be hard to find.

I am happy with finishing 63 miles. It was a tough day of climbing and I felt pretty good until the final 10 miles or so. But there is an asterisk next to my name – I didn’t finish the entire course.

I’ve got a lot of work to do between here and Leadville.

I dig Twitter, but maybe not why you think.

First, I detest distractions, they are truly in opposition to doing anything well. Secondly, I’m not into “tweeting” about all my daily events like, “Writing a blog post!” or “Smearing a bagel!” or “Watching my cat chase a bird!” and am certainly not into reading anyone else’s random blatherings.

But I am a huge fan of pro cycling. I have been for years and I follow all my favorite riders. I devour VeloNews and have my TiVo set to auto-record Versus for anything remotely cycling related. These media are great, but only provide the “official view”. Except for a rare interview, you don’t get many glimpses into what it’s really like to be a pro cyclist.

As it turns out, many pro cyclists are on Twitter and regularly share directly with their fans. All of a sudden, I’ve got an insider’s view into what it’s like to be a pro cyclist – a view previously unavailable unless you happened to know these guys personally.

Here’s a sampling from today Twitter feed. Any of those names sound familiar?

mcewenrobbie just had a guy on the phone saying his dog has a headache. well my knee hurts! you do the math

mickrogers Hard day at Pais-Vasco today. Lost a little bit more than I would of liked on the finish climb. Oh well. I’ll have a go in the tt Saturday

CadelOfficial Another day of Vuelta Pais Vasco done, my third second place for the year (

lancearmstrong hear they arrested 2 guys 4 stealing my bike at the ToC. These guys musta been @ the back of the line when they were handing out the brains.

ghincapie 305 average Watts today for 5 hours. Epic day. Legs were good though. Very happy my roomate won.

johanbruyneel Happy to hear that Kurt Hovelynck (Quick Step rider) who crashed heavily on march 17 and has been in coma since, is doing better. Good news!

I’m arlynasch. I plan to post about specific workouts I do to prepare for Leadville and stuff that’s too short for a full article. Follow if you’re interested.

Dear Lexus Driver,

Hello, my name is Arlyn and I’m 39 years old. My wife and I have been married for eighteen years and we have two wonderful children; a seven year old daughter and a five year old son. I have many great friends and enjoy spending time with my parents.

Have you ever seen It’s a Wonderful Life – that Jimmy Stewart movie where he gets to see what the world would be like without him? I wonder sometimes what my family’s life might be like if you had killed me today.

Now, I know you would not choose to kill me. You’re probably a very decent person, maybe with a family of your own. But you did choose a moment of inattention while driving your car that could have resulted in my death or grave injury.

Please keep an eye out for us cyclists. We’re people, just like you.

Best,
Arlyn Asch
Father, husband, son, friend and cyclist

I spent all last week with my family in Mammoth Lakes snowboarding, hanging out and generally having one heck of a good time. I managed to get 7 consecutive days on my brand new snowboard which began to feel like I was in a stage race.

So why am I writing about snowboarding on my cycling blog? Well, squint your eyes a little and this’ll sound like just the sort of adventure I have on a bike – and how could I not share?!

Mammoth Mountain (from space!)

The wind blasted snow at me sideways at 50mph. I hunched down a little farther on the chairlift, bowing my head, trying to avoid the stinging snow. Even with all the layers and fleece, I was freezing. I unloaded the chairlift into a near whiteout. As I buckled my rear foot, I vowed this would be my last run – it was too cold, this was too crazy.

Only the faint outline of a tree line helped guide me back down the mountain. At first, my brain freaked out because I was snowboarding without much visual input. I told my brain to “feel the mountain through my toes” which seemed to help a little. I felt like Luke Skywalker, using “The Force” to see the mountain which made me laugh a little at myself.

Canyon Express – this is at the bottom of the mountain!

There were not many people on the mountain and most of the ones braving this blizzard were sticking to the narrow swath of groom down the center of the main runs. I was having none of that. I got my speed up as I paralleled a drop off to my left and when I figured I was in the right spot, I cut hard left, dropping down a steep embankment, dropping out of the clouds and leaving the groom behind.

There was three feet of fresh powder on top of 10 feet of packed base. I was in heaven. Suddenly everything got very smooth and very quiet. Turns were made more by thought than action. I was floating down a mogul run except the moguls gone under the powder. Stay right to carve the steepest sections. Nothing is too steep in a meter of powder. Jink hard right at the bottom into the trees and catch a little jump coming out the other side.

Halfway down.

By the time I get to the bottom it’s so good, I’m waving my arms to the music in my head and singing along. I’m no longer cold and my heart if full of nothing but joy and love.

One more run. I text my friends, “I can’t stop, it’s too good.”

Iwent back to the Boulevard Race course yesterday with Mark, Voris and Rick. The idea was to pootle the first lap as a preview and then race the second and third. We’re just two weeks away from the actual race and we all wanted to leave everything on the road.

I got more than just a great workout – I learned a little more about the difference between quitting and failure.

Three laps of the Boulevard Race course has a lot of bumps in it.

Lesson One

After rocketing west on Hwy 94, we make the turn north onto La Posta road and begin climbing. Voris wants me to learn how important it is to stay with a rider going over the top of a hill. His point is that two riders can go a lot faster downhill than one. So he picks up the pace on the last mile of 6-8% grade. I grit my teeth, dig deep and survive. I have resolved to keep his wheel or die trying.

Lesson Two

Voris attacks again on the second hill on La Posta. Again, I survive. I find it easier to stay with him by spinning higher than by mashing at a slower cadence.

Lesson Three

We’re climbing along Highway 80 back to Live Oak Springs and the faux finish line. Rick decided to test his legs and is gone up the road. Dave digs in again, again and again. I find it within me to keep his wheel. Sometimes he’s able to open a bike length, but not much more. I make the comment that he’s being cruel to me and his reply is that he’s training me.

Lesson Four

We’re on lap 3 now, back on that first climb on La Posta Road. Dave attacks and at first I’m ok. Then I start to waver, but struggle back. I’m really hurting. We come around a bend and the crest of the hill is farther than I thought so I momentarily sit up and let a gap form. I remember my commitment and continue to spin, now trying to close the gap. If he goes over the top first, he’ll gain lots of time on the descent.

Rick is with me, encouraging me, pacing me up. As we crest the hill, Rick is telling me to shift up, again and again. Then he takes the lead and we rocket back to Voris.

Did you notice that I let the gap form? I didn’t die, I gave up.

Lesson Five

On the steep ramp up to Hwy 80, Voris attacks hard. I follow and at first I feel really good. I’m mashing this big gear, almost passing Dave as we round the corner onto the highway. He sits and accelerates uphill; I sit and try to match. The pain in my legs is unbearable and I let another gap go.

Mentally, I’m a mess. I don’t want to lose, but I don’t want it to hurt anymore either. I can’t remember my commitment to stay with Voris and tell myself to just go my own pace. Rick comes up beside me and helps me through it. He paces me and talks me through it. He can see it clear as day – I gave up.

With Rick’s help, I held Dave to not much more than a minute and gained a little each time the road turned downhill since I had Rick to pull me. On the last steep section before the final right hand turn, Rick pointed out that Voris was struggling and encouraged me to push, push, push. I did, pushing right through the pain in my legs. After the turn, Dave sat up and we finished the last couple of downhill miles together.

In Conclusion

Giving up is a lot more common than failing. Understanding the difference gives you the power to choose. My thanks go to Rick and Voris for the education.

Aden had his training wheels removed yesterday.  He’s pretty stoked, as is Dad.