The Puzzler; Where rocks are born

The 50 mile event comprised three sections.  The first 7.5 mile loop included a narrow bench-cut single-track climb followed by a long jeep-road descending back through the start/finish.  Already I was beginning to understand why people said it would be very rocky.  I hadn’t seen anything yet.

The second loop–about 27.5 miles–made its way west and up over the mountains.  At nearly 5 miles in length, the climb to Mundy’s Gap was a slow, hard grind with many folks walking parts of it.  In my groove, I churned out those miles and summitted the pass feeling strong.  The descent from there, however, was something I had been warned about.  After a few rocky sections of varying difficulty came the hairiest descent I’ve ever seen.  For about 200 yards and about 20 feet wide, the trail was nothing but lose rocks the size of basketballs.  It was nuts!!  Most people walk some or all of this section.  High chance of failure, high risk of serious injury.  But, you know me, what’s a little challenge on the bike?  Focused, firm but loose, I rolled that whole thing to the sound of folks cheering me on.  Feeling like a champ I pumped my fist  in celebration.

Just beyond that rock-laden insanity came the first feed-zone, however, I rolled past looking forward to the flat section to the west of the mountains.  By flat I mean relentless short climbs traversing seemingly endless arroyos and small hills.  There I rejoined Thomas with whom I’d been playing leap-frog most of the morning.  Turns out we met two years ago at the Chihuahuan Desert Bike Fest here in Big Bend.  A strong rider and a  really friendly guy, we rode together for about 45 minutes until he finally pulled away.(he would end up finishing about 25 mins faster than I)   Before riding away he mentioned The Puzzler that was coming up.  “What’s that?”, I ask.  “Oh, you’ll see..”  That sounded ominous.  At the second feed-zone I stopped for a minute to swap water bottles, eat a power-gel and was quickly back on my way.

The Puzzler is a ridiculous climb, very steep with nearly a dozen super tight switchbacks, maybe half of which I could negotiate.  Looking up and down that hill I could see many other cyclists pushing or carrying their bikes around those rocky corners.  With The Puzzler finally behind me, I had about 40 minutes of very technical riding before rolling through the start/finish.  I was feeling strong and riding fast.  That feeling would soon end, however.

The final 15 miles, I was warned, would be the toughest.  But after what I’d already ridden, how could it be any harder?  Ahh, blissful ignorance.  After a mile of fun, twisting single-track, we had to slowly churn our way through a sandy creek-bed before being pitched up a short, though very steep and very loose climb.  Panting over the top, my energy was starting to dwindle.  Talking with a fellow racer, I was again warned that this would be the hardest part of the ride.

A few minutes later my front tire was losing air.  Pumping and praying, the Slimed-tube held fast and I didn’t have to do a full repair.  Excellent, let’s roll!  And roll I did.  More like tumble, actually.  Following another steep climb was a nice wide left-hand turn that I flew down.  Trying to really push the corner, my front wheel drifted and I went down, like sliding shin-first into home-plate.  Stopping for a few minutes to regain my composure and inspect my leg for any real damage, my energy was definitely starting to wane.  Noticing that my saddle was broken in two places, I prayed that it would stay together long enough for me to finish the race.  The idea of riding those last several miles standing up was not something I looked forward to.

From there was more climbing and the most technical riding of the entire day.  It went on for miles and miles.  Rocky ledges, boulders, off-camber soft corners followed by more slow, technical features to negotiate.  I dabbed a few times, really starting to get tired.  With about 5 miles to ride, my front wheel again drifted out from underneath me and I went down, on the same shin.  I was now really tired and concerned that the next fall could be a bad one.  I gave my head a shake, dug deep and carried on cautiously.  One thing that kept me going was the knowledge that the last mile and a half would be fast, smooth, glorious single-track.  And it was!  With the finish-line looming my spirits lifted, as did my speed.

Crossing the line at 6:14:17 I had beaten my goal of 6:30 by nearly 16 mins.  I was elated, though certainly tired, sore and bloody.  Looking at the results board I was listed as finishing 4th in my category [men, age 30-39] yet 25 mins out of a podium spot.  As it turned out, two guys–including Thomas–had mistakenly been included in my category.  With a bloody leg exposed, the guy from Canada took to the podium to claim 2nd place!  I was stunned, it was something I never anticipated.  For the record, 1st place overall went to a guy who was nearly two hours faster than I.  Damn those pros are strong.

All in all, it was an incredibly tough day of riding but ever so rewarding.  Beyond the stellar riding on really tough trails, I got to hang with friends, make many new ones and be a part of a truly amazing event in the land where rocks are born.  A special thanks to Tyson at The Bicycle Company; the El Paso bike shop that repaired my fork on-the-spot Saturday afternoon.  Without his help, there would not have been any race for me.