24 HOP - Clothing

After three consecutive years of racing solo at the 24 Hours In The Old Pueblo ("24 HOP"), I called for backup. Three other retired PCSO Officers answered the call, none of whom have witnessed, let alone raced, a 24 hour mountain bike race. In fact, two have never even raced a mountain bike, at all. Not deterred by a little headwind, we formed a four man relay team shooting to each ride a Saturday afternoon lap, an evening/night lap, and maybe a Sunday morning lap. See, 24 HOP - Old Dogs New Tricks. 

An idea hatched over coffee and donuts.
Four man relay team at 24 Hours In The Old Pueblo.
Craig Groseth, Dave Rubins, Mark Steele, Trent Fliginger, Tim Malone (L-R).
The four racers + Trent, who will be cruising elsewhere.

To help those teammates prepare for such an endeavor, I broke down some logistics. First up was my Clothing Plan, specifically targeted for my riding this event with this team. 

For a behind-the-scenes look at a relay team preparing for a 24 hour mountain bike race, I reproduced here the communication "Clothing" that I sent out to the team.

__________________________________________________________________________________

"My thoughts to help prepare for the 24 Hours In The Old Pueblo in February. I know that you guys will figure all this out, but I thought I'd kickstart the process.

The weather. In mid-February in Oracle Junction, the average daily highs are in the low 60's and the average daily lows are high 30's.

So, say 60 degree days and 35 degree nights. Average. Know that one year I experienced highs in the low 50's with cold rain/high winds and lows in the mid-20's. Another year scorched with 90 degree days and 50 degree nights. So, the averages are just that.

Also, it will be dark from about 19:00 until about 06:00. Temperatures drop quickly after the sun goes down. So, the warmer temperatures are half of any given day, at best.

First lap starts at noon Saturday and typically is warm.
(2024 24 HOP, image by SportoGraf)

That leads to clothing. As of now, I plan to be there from early Thursday morning until mid-afternoon Sunday. So, that's 4 days of camp clothes, which for me will include sweat pants, sweat shirts, a down jacket, and rain gear. FWIW, they bring in portable showers for the weekend, if you want to wash off some desert.

For riding clothes, I'm comfortable in cycling specific clothes, but you don't have to wear that dorky stuff. Wear what's comfortable. You'll see all sorts of attire at 24 HOP, including crazy costumes, but mostly baggy shorts of some kind and a short sleeved top for the warmer laps.

I plan to pack a set of riding clothes for a casual group ride on Friday. Then for the race itself, I plan to pack, in separate bags, a set of riding clothes for each lap. Finally, I'll pack in a large bag practically every other piece of cycling clothes I own. A grab bag for contingencies, from which everyone is welcome to use.

My clothing bag for the Saturday afternoon lap will be shorts, short sleeve jersey, gloves, socks, shoes, helmet, sunglasses, and a light jacket carried along, depending on race day.

After my first lap, with 3 riders each riding a lap before my next one, I plan to immediately grab my second lap bag to change into a clean, dry set and add some comfy layers overtop if the temperature drops or rains come.

Start of a night lap, closer to dawn than to midnight.
(2024 24 HOP, image by SportoGraf).

The Saturday evening/night lap will be significantly cooler, so I plan to wear tights under shorts, long sleeved top under jersey, warmer gloves, a thin stocking cap, lightweight jacket, and maybe even a warmer jacket, depending. That image on last week's blog post (10/6/26) showed me starting an early morning lap wearing a down jacket!

Again, after that night lap, I'll immediately change out of those clothes. If there's any chance of riding a third lap, I'll change directly into riding clothes. Only if there's no chance of my riding another lap, will I change into camp clothes. It's easier to stay in the game, than get back into it.

After the sun fully rises, it warms quickly. So, for Sunday morning laps, if any, I'll have another bag with the same type of clothing as the Saturday afternoon lap.

Last lap, closing in on noon Sunday. The clothing, at least, looks much like the first lap.
(2024 24 HOP, image by SportoGraf)

In sum, I'll have 4 sets of riding clothes, each packed separately for 1) the casual Friday ride, 2) Saturday afternoon lap, 3) night lap, 4) possible Sunday morning lap. If I want to make adjustments for any given lap, I'll go the contingencies grab bag. That way, the bag for each lap will always have a basic set from which to start.

That's my plan, anyhow."

 

2026 Potters Race Day

Potters Pasture is a gem tucked into the rolling hills just south of Brady, Nebraska, with 32 miles of single track trails exploring 1,200 acres of forest and grassland. It is a privately owned, publicly accessible playground destination for cyclists, runners, hikers, campers, and anyone seeking a little outdoors retreat.

Over the years, local volunteers have poured an untold amount of hours, talent, and resources to develop and maintain Potters Pasture, including building campsites with power, water, and internet and creating, mapping, and maintaining an entire trail system. A variety of community groups host activities there, such as Halloween haunted trails, movie nights, charity walks/runs, and cycling events.

Earlier this year, a mammoth prairie wildfire swept through the area, devastating much of the vegetation and hard earned infrastructure. From the ashes, Potters Pasture is being reborn, both by nature and people.

To support the ongoing work to not only rebuild the Potters Pasture trails and infrastructure, but also to ensure its future, a local group is hosting "Potters Race Day" on Saturday, October 17, 2026. On tap are mountain bike races, gravel races, trail runs, fun runs, and even a free movie. Organizers also will update developments that will shape the future of Potters Pasture.

This is community. People coming together to make things a little bit better.

It looks like a road trip next weekend is in order.

For more information and current events, go to Potters Pasture FaceBook Group.

Also, for a hint of the volunteer work done at Potters Pasture, here's a map of the trails.

24 HOP - What Is A 24 Hour Mountain Bike Race

What is a 24 hour mountain bike race? Apparently few cyclists, and even fewer regular people, are familiar with that type of event, as it all but vanished since its heyday in the 1990's and early 2000's.

But 24 Hours In The Old Pueblo ("24 HOP"), set in the high desert north of Tucson, Arizona, lives on for its 27th year. And I'm going back for the fourth straight year. This time, I'm not going alone.

Team CO4. Four retired Correctional Officers from the Pennington County Sheriff's Office. Combined age of 241 years, with over 80 years of combined law enforcement service. 

We'll have to put that experience and judgment to good use. For two teammates, 24 HOP will be their first ever mountain bike race. For a third, it will be his first mountain bike race since the Clinton Administration. None of those three have raced at night, so none have raced through the night.

To kickstart preparations for this experience, I have reproduced my blog post from April 2024 that describes and links a video by vlogger Tyler Pearce, aka VC Cyclist, entitled "What A 24 Hour Mountain Bike Race Feels Like." In 33 minutes of insightful narrative and quick paced video, he describes the race concept, course, venue, vibe, and experience. Informative and entertaining. Highly recommended place to start.

To dig deeper, the race website offers a wealth of information. EpicRides.com.

Deep into the night at 24 Hours In The Old Pueblo in 2024.
(image by SportoGraf.com)

Push through the darkness, and the light will be so bright.

Tyler Pearce, aka The Vegan Cyclist of VC Adventures

What does a 24 hour mountain bike race feel like?

From responses to my series of posts of the 24 Hours In The Old Pueblo ("24 HOP"), I realized that many people, including endurance cycling friends, are not familiar with 24 hour mountain bike racing. It was a relatively small niche type of event that peaked in the early 2000's, then all but disappeared.

Somehow, over the years, 24 HOP not only survived, but thrived. And, now, here's a video race report that captures the essence of what it's like to race a mountain bike solo at that venerable event. It's great fun.

At the Friday expo with Tyler Pearce, vlogger and film maker VC, aka the Vegan Cyclist.
(image by Tyler Pearce)

Tyler Pearce, aka Vegan Cyclist of YouTube fame, recently published his story of racing solo at 24 HOP. In about 33 minutes of narrative and quickly paced video, Tyler describes the race concept, course, venue, vibe, and experience from his saddle as a first time solo racer near the tip of the spear. His take is informative and entertaining, with lots of footage flying around the cactus infused course.

As a solo racer at the same event, but at the other end of the spear, I really enjoyed this video. His description of the physical, mental, and emotional challenges and rewards could have been mine, and likely most other solo racers. We all were wrung out, passing through the same wringer at different speeds.

With a plan sounding eerily familiar, Tyler rode steadily through the afternoon and into the evening, pacing for a 24 hour race and forcing himself to take regular breaks to recover. Then, in the deep of the night, he "got a little arrogant," pushed too hard, and cracked. In the pre-dawn bleakness back at camp, Tyler concluded his race was over and fell asleep. An hour later, his son woke him and, somehow, in "the hardest one minute of my life," Tyler got up and back on his bike.

Ultimately, he completed 16 laps to finish 5th in the Open Solo Men category. Afterwards, Tyler addressed the question of what it feels like to race a mountain bike for 24 hours.

"It feels like everything. You feel the happiest you've ever felt. You feel the worst you've ever felt. You feel connected to nature, but you also are connected to nature (showing image of cactus stuck to his arm). You go through every range of emotion. You fight with every excuse. Everything goes wrong. Everything goes right. You live an entire lifetime in those 24 hours." 

As for 24 HOP specifically, Tyler simply says "the 24 Hours In The Old Pueblo is gotta be the best 24 hour race on the planet. I can't recommend it more highly."

I know that I hope to return in 2025. If you're considering it, know that registration opens on October 1 and last year filled in 2 hours 10 minutes.

What A 24 Hour Mountain Bike Race Feels Like.

(link to video by VC Adventures)

Links to the 5 part series of my experience at the 2024 24 Hours In The Old Pueblo. 24 HOP-Back At It; 24 HOP-Sticker Smiles; 24 HOP-Race Report; 24 HOP-Whiskey Tree; 24 HOP-People Make The Place.

24 HOP - Old Dogs New Tricks

It's a long, long road

From which there is no return

While we're on the way to there

Why not share?

And the load

Doesn't weigh me down at all

He aint heavy, he's my brother

He Aint Heavy, He's My Brother, Bob Russell & Bobbie Scott (1969)

Thousands of teammates & crew await the runners of the LeMans start at 24 HOP in 2024.
The big white transition tent and orange finishing arch anchor the sprawling 24 Hour Town.
(image by SportoGraf.com)

I'm going back to the 24 Hours In The Old Pueblo. Not solo. This time, I called for backup.

For the past three years, I've loved my annual mid-winter road trip to southern Arizona that included riding solo, self-supported at 24 Hours In The Old Pueblo ("24 HOP"). However, when looking ahead to February 2027, I thought maybe that experience had run its course.

That thought sat uneasily, like a convenience store burrito that had been made too early.

Sunset lap at 24 HOP in 2024.

One morning over coffee with a few retired Correctional Officers from the Pennington County Sheriff's Office, we talked about our various traveling plans, e.g., visits to kids and grandkids, sightseeing road trips, snow-birding, cruises, etc. My friend Mark Steele asked me about 24 HOP. I responded vaguely.

He kept asking. I eventually realized these were no longer general questions from a curious friend, but questions of logistics, such as the course, the venue, the camping, the gear. This was different.

"Mark, are you interested in riding it?" I blurted.

"I think it would be a hoot!" he said with a glint.

Wow. Although Mark is an accomplished hiker and off-pavement endurance motorcyclist, he will readily admit to be but a casual cyclist. Indeed, this would be his first mountain bike race. Really?

Mark quickly added that his idea of a "hoot" would be to ride a day lap and then a night lap. Maybe another in the morning, maybe not. He just wanted to experience 24 HOP.

What a great idea. We'll form a four man relay team. We just need two more like-minded adventurers.

Sunrise lap at 24 HOP in 2026.
Elon Musk should study the outlandish energy surge from the first light of a new day
breaking the dark deepness of the last hours of a night at a 24 hour race.

My first phone call went to Dave Rubins, another former Officer now living in Florida. After hearing just a short description of the idea, Dave bursts out "I'm in!" Then his wife walks into the room and Dave turns to her, "Heidi! Boys weekend mountain biking, in Arizona, in February. What do you think?"

"#*@% yeah!" Heidi bellowed.

Alrighty, then. Finding a fourth teammate to commit didn't take much more. Tim Malone, another former Officer, just needed a little more time to arrange things, as he still works as a productive member of polite society. But it didn't take long. Tim even offered to ride the first lap, taking on the crazy chaos of the 500 meter LeMans running start and the first lap madness of the rutted, endo-fest called "The Bitches."

Three old dogs are enthusiastically tackling new tricks at 24 HOP.
The fourth dog is the oldest, who is pushing the limits of experience.

For Mark and Dave, 24 HOP will be their first ever mountain bike race. For Tim, it will be his first mountain bike race since the Clinton administration. None have raced at night, so none have raced through the night.

With a combined age of 241 years and over 80 years of law enforcement service, this team of old dogs will be learning a whole bag of new tricks.

It'll be a hoot! #*@% yeah!

Addendum. For more information about 24 HOP, go to their website epicrides.com. For my reports over the past three years, go to 2026 24 HOP Report; 24 HOP - Something Makes Me Turn Around; 2025 24 HOP Report; 24 HOP - Back At It; 2024 24 HOP Report.

He Aint Heavy, He's My Brother, The Hollies (1969)

Bikepacking - Not Speed Golf

Slow down, you move too fast

You got to make the morning last

Just kicking down the cobblestones

Looking for fun and feeling groovy

Ba da-da da-da da-da, feeling groovy

The 59th Street Bridge Song (Feeling Groovy), Paul Simon (1968)

Stopping for lunch along a creek in the shade of a bridge in Montana on the Great Divide.
Feeling groovy with a nice break that cooled us off for a late day cruise into Ovando.

A visionary within the Adventure Cycling Association created the Great Divide Mountain Bike Route, a 2,500 mile off-pavement cross-country ride from Canada to Mexico along the Continental Divide. Almost 30 years later, untold numbers of cyclists have dreamt of riding that route and thousands ride at least a portion of it each year.

Unfortunately, an inordinate amount of attention falls onto the "Tour Divide" race that piggy-backs that pioneering route. Many don't seem to know that the Tour Divide simply started as an individual time trial by a few individuals pushing the limits of self-supported, self-navigated bikepacking on the then nascent Great Divide route. However, for all but a very select few, racing the Great Divide was never the aspirational standard. Touring was the designer's intent and riders' dream, not racing through the backcountry. Touring still is the dream for many, although you'd never know it by the fawning attention given the Tour Divide.

Paul Brasby forages for huckleberries along Boulder River Road outside of Basin, Montana.
A special treat for attentive riders on the Great Divide.

I believe that a focus on racing a well-designed bikepacking route misses the mark for most, especially on a 2,500 mile backcountry route designed for touring. It's somewhat like the game of "speed golf," where the time to run the golf course means more than the number of strokes. The heart of the original sport is lost while chasing the clock. And the new activity is then something entirely different.

Maybe speed bikepacking is your jam. If so, go for it.

A rancher preparing for a two day ride to re-supply the shepherd of his herd,
on USFS Road 330 along the ridgeline to Indiana Pass on the Great Divide route.
What a lifestyle, both the rancher and the shepherd.

Speed bikepacking is not for me. Not with the focus on the running clock. Not with the idolization of timed results. Not with the attendant rules and outside oversight.

Bikepacking for me is backpacking on my bike. See the country, the wildlife, the people. Stop as often and as long as catches your fancy. Allow the day to unfold, opening more opportunities for random serendipity. Perhaps ride at night, but only if conditions are magical. Engage with others, non-riders included. Be an ambassador. Give others a chance to be a Trail Angel. Ride through the backcountry at the pace of life.

Admittedly, as part of the bikepacking adventure, I experience the call to go harder, go faster, go longer, go higher. Sometimes, I answer that call. Sometimes, not. I did the same when backpacking. The freedom to decide is liberating.

Bikepacking ambassador Paul Brasby patiently answers questions from curious hikers.
USFS Road 455 in Caribou Targhee National Forest in Idaho on the Great Divide.

On the other hand, certain types of bikepacking "events" certainly appeal to me. For example, I'd love one that offers a group ride and group camp, even if just for one night. The best case would be to ride an unknown route on unknown roads through unknown country with a group of old and new friends, on a unique route designed by a passionate local, to camp as a group at a special spot. That sounds like great fun.

Now, repeat that day a few times. Or more than a few times.

Invite a few friends and you're now riding the Mammoth 450, a gravel/dirt road tour of the Loess Canyons in Nebraska crafted by local bikepacking guru Paul Brasby. Or any of the Black Hills BackBone or Black Hills Bounty bikepacking routes that I created. Or any number of similar bikepacking routes created by like-minded passionate locals around the country.

Of course, the ultimate bikepacking route is the Great Divide Mountain Bike Route.

Ride it your way. 

Just know that bikepacking offers so much more without the clock running.

Addendum. This is not a new take on bikepacking for me. Here's a link to my July 2019 post entitled Bikepacking The GDMBR.

Addendum 2. Many of my posts on my Great Divide ride share stories of people I met as a bikepacker. Here's an example of one encounter, along with a photo gallery of some others. Riders, Hikers & Others on the Great Divide.

The 59th Street Bridge Song (Feeling Groovy), Simon & Garfunkel, live at Carnegie Hall (1970).

Planted Seeds

Somewhere over the rainbow

Way up high

In the land that I heard of

Once in a lullaby

Somewhere over the rainbow

Skies are blue

And the dreams that you dare to dream

Really do come true

Somewhere Over The Rainbow, Harold Arlen & Yip Harbury (1939)

This print hung on a wall at my grandparents' farm house for as long as I remember,
until a tornado destroyed the house in 1986.

My paternal grandparents, Joe and Mabel Groseth, lived their lives on a family farm in SouthEastern South Dakota near the small town of Centerville. Both of their grandparents immigrated from Norway to  homestead there in the late 1870's and much of that land remains in the family to this day. 

Grandpa Joe and Grandma Mabel successfully farmed the family farm for decades, starting with horses and adapting to machinery. Beef cattle and dairy cows, hogs, chickens, and horses filled the barnyard and surrounding pastures. Pheasants, jackrabbits, deer, coyotes and all sorts of other wild critters roamed the dense shelter belt and nearby river bottoms. Corn and soybeans filled the fields and the harvest filled the barns and bins.

Grandpa Joe actively engaged in community affairs at Scandia Lutheran Church, with various service organizations, and through township politics. He even served 10 years as a representative in the South Dakota State Legislature. He was a force.

Grandma Mabel also actively volunteered at their church, service organizations. and charities. She had grown up on her family's farm just a few miles away, and played basketball for the Centerville High School girls basketball team in 1919. That's over 100 years ago! She then became a country school teacher, before starting her own family. She was a rock.

They raised three sons on that farm, the youngest my dad Clifford. That hardy, faith-driven upbringing developed Dad's strong character traits of integrity, honesty, accountability, independence, and self-reliance, as well as his entrepreneurial spirit, business acumen, and legendary stubbornness. Farming occasionally allowed time to think and dream, which Dad eagerly embraced.

Grandpa Joe's "business card" when running for re-election to the South Dakota legislature.

As a "town" kid growing up in the 1960's and 1970's, I loved our frequent visits to that family farm. The main attraction, of course, was Grandpa Joe and Grandma Mabel. But getting outside, out into the barn and outbuildings and deep into the shelter belt, was always a great adventure.

One enduring memory of the family farm was that of a small art print in a simple frame, hung on the west wall next to a window in their living room. I would see the image of a little cabin perched high in the mountains, gaze out the window to the west, and wonder.

Do places like that exist? Where? Could you live there? How? What would that be like? It looked so quiet, so peaceful. Boy, I'd love to go there someday.

I also wondered why Grandpa and Grandma placed that print in such a prominent place in their home.

I do know that in 1928 they drove a Ford Model A over a thousand miles one way from Centerville over the Rocky Mountains to Salt Lake City for their honeymoon. That certainly took some gumption and some grit, especially back then on mostly dirt roads. Maybe the print had something to do with that. I don't know. I never asked them while they were alive.

Grandpa Joe passed in 1977. For several years, Dad maintained the buildings and continued to farm the land. But in 1986, a tornado blasted through the area, destroying the homestead. It actually lifted the roof off the house, spun it a bit, and set it back down off kilter. Debris scattered everywhere.

The family and community pulled together a massive cleanup effort and eventually Dad auctioned off most of what had been salvaged. I wasn't there for any of that, though I should have been. Afterward, only the uninhabitable house and the old barn remained standing.

Aerial photograph of the homestead of Joe and Mabel Groseth (circa 1978).
This was after Grandpa Joe passed and before a tornado destroyed the house.

Much later, when I finally made my way back, Dad and I walked around the hauntingly vacuous homestead. Ever the stoic Norwegian, Dad spoke softly of the tornado and its destruction. It felt like the heart of family history had been ripped away.

We entered the house. Doors had been blown off hinges and siding pried off walls. Shattered glass, broken furniture, chunks of woodwork, tree branches of all sizes, and random debris littered the floor. Every step landed on top of something that wasn't supposed to be there. A heavy sadness clouded all thoughts.

Climbing a narrow, creaking staircase to the second floor, I stepped into a small bedroom. My heart stopped.

Atop piles of debris on the floor lay that mountain cabin print!

How it found its way up there is anyone's guess. Dad suggested that it flew out a first floor window and, in the swirling chaos of a tornado, flew back into the house through a second floor window.

I don't know. It didn't matter.

In the midst of such destruction and loss, here was a cherished piece of family history. Somehow, despite the tornado's unimaginable power, the print had survived and appeared right in front of me, long afterward. 

It felt like a miracle.

With Dad's permission, I dug it out of the debris to take home. The rest of our homestead tour passed a little lighter.

The high mountain cabin print, as restored and re-framed.
(Thanks, Kent Cherne at Denver Art Supply)

That restored and re-framed print has hung in our home ever since.

And it always makes me wonder. 

What combination of nature and nurture creates a yearning to explore the unknown, to see what lies around the next turn, across the next river, or over the next mountain. More broadly, what fuels the willingness to take a chance, venture beyond your comfort zone, or forge your own path, however unconventional.

Certainly some of that is hereditary. But it's hard to discount seeds planted by environment. They are likely inextricably intertwined.

I'm just grateful for both.

Thank you, Grandpa Joe and Grandma Mabel.

Over The Rainbow, Eva Cassidy (2014).

That One Left A Mark

The bells were ringing

Our souls were singing

Do you remember, never a cloudy day

There was a 

Ba de ya, say do you remember?
Ba de ya, dancing in September
Ba de ya, golden dreams were shiny days

September, Maurice White & Allee Willis (1978)

(image by Cyler Groseth)

Five years ago today, I stood alone in the blazing sun, stunned, at the closed U.S. Border Station at Antelope Wells, New Mexico not quite believing that I had just finished riding across the country on the Great Divide Mountain Bike Route. Unreal.

That day is seared into my pysche.

Rather than trying to somehow express that day yet again, I simply reproduced the journal entry handwritten while waiting on my brother for a ride toward home. Nothing profound, yet it still releases a flash flood of thoughts and emotions.

That one left a mark.

Addendum. I listed, described, and linked over 50 posts about this ride on a Blog Page entitled Great Divide Mountain Bike Route (2021).

Addendum 2. I finished my Great Divide ride on September 8, 2021. While waiting for my brother Cyler to pick me up at Antelope Wells, the song "September" by Earth, Wind & Fire and the cover by Kirk Franklin played through my head many times. Pure joy. Some singing and dancing may also have been involved.

The bells were ringing

Our souls were singing

Do you remember, never a cloudy day

There was a 

Ba de ya, say do you remember?
Ba de ya, dancing in September
Ba de ya, golden dreams were shiny days

September, Maurice White & Allee Willis (1978)

September, Earth, Wind & Fire (1978)

Everybody has a September in their life

You know that first time you heard God's voice

So you felt His love

So no matter what season you're in right now

After winter comes spring

So, if you love my Jesus, help me sing

Ba de ya, tell me you remember
Ba de ya, when your heart felt like September
You still had the joy and God was just a prayer away

September, Kirk Franklin (2007)

September, Kirk Franklin (2007)