Every gambler knows that the secret to survivin'
is knowin' what to throw away, and knowing what to keep.
Cause every hand's a winner, and every hand's a loser,
And the best that you can hope for is to die in your sleep.
You got to know when to hold 'em. Know when to fold 'em.
Know when to walk away. Know when to run.
You never count your money, when you're sittin' at the table,
There'll be time enough for countin', when the dealing's done.
The Gambler, Don Schlitz (1978).
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| Sunset lap at the 2025 24 Hours In The Old Pueblo. The cholla do not sleep. |
After last year's rollicking race at the 24 Hours In The Old Pueblo, I had to go back. See, 24 Hours In The Old Pueblo - 2024 Race Report.
So, I planned to ride solo again. To help justify the 20 hour one-way drive, I added a weekend with our daughter Cara in Denver, 3 days volunteering at the race, 3 days for the race itself, and another 6 days in Phoenix with a brother and a sister. That worked out to an 18 day road trip, taking a big bite out of a South Dakota February.
Overall? Great road trip. Rough race.
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| Sunrise at 24 Hour Town. |
Let's deal with the race first. I came into race day with limited training, low energy, and little fire. For weeks, I had been fighting a lingering cold/flu/something that would not go away and left me in a continuous state of fatigue. I decided to start anyhow and work through it.
After four straight days of cold, overcast skies and unusually high winds in the desert, race day broke sunny and relatively calm. I felt pretty solid for the 500+ meter LeMans-style running start and throughout most of the first 16.7 mile lap. Not normal, but solid enough, I thought.
I pulled into base camp at practically the same time as last year, but this year found South Dakota Mines classmates Dave & Lori Litzen! They buzzed down from Phoenix for the weekend to check out this nutty 24 hour mountain bike race scene. Great to see you guys!
Back on the course, I faded early on the second lap. I simply had little strength, energy, or endurance. Managing my output, I stopped frequently to collect myself and finally limped into camp to prepare for the sunset/first night lap. This was going downhill rapidly.
Sunset at a 24 hour race is always magical, as it was this year. But about halfway around that lap, pitch darkness extinguished all light, and then my race. I know my normal tired at this stage and this was not it. This was a larger problem manifesting as overwhelming fatigue, growing chills, shooting stomach pain, bloating, cramps, and headache. On the final climb, I could barely pedal. The last miles took an eternity.
Eventually back at camp, I immediately changed into dry, warmer clothes for the upcoming cold night laps and searched for something hot to eat to settle things down and shake those chills. Nothing sounded good. Nothing tasted good. So, I drank some fluids, including my normal Hammer Recoverite and some hot broth. OK. Better. Maybe. But this stomach is a mess. Everything is.
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| Basically the same base camp as last year. |
Meanwhile, temperatures plummeted. Angry winds awakened. Chills deepened. Stomach pain intensified.
I retreated into my Jeep. Racing thoughts vainly sought a path through this.
Realistically, I knew that I was in no condition to get back out there. Not now. Not for awhile.
OK. I'll re-assess in 20 minutes. Sigh. OK. Maybe awhile longer. Another 20 minutes. Heavier sigh. SMH. OK, another hour.
Still not anywhere near OK.
I knew that digging too deeply to finish an endurance event can result in months to fully recover. I knew that, in the past, I have lost at least two or three summers that way. Is this the time to dig that deep?
Ultimately, I decided no. This was not that time.
So, I rode 3 laps in about 8 hours, with 2 long breaks. Call it my own 8 Hours In The Old Pueblo.
And I lived to ride another day, much sooner.
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| SD Mines classmates Dave & Lori Litzen checking out the scene. I'm still smiling after the first lap. |
Other than a rough race, I enjoyed a great road trip. I first visited daughter Cara in Denver for a weekend and then drove some scenic back roads to camp at the race venue at Willow Springs Ranch, north of Tucson. I volunteered at early packet pickup on Tuesday, helped with venue setup on Wednesday, and volunteered at the venue check-in on Thursday. On Friday, I met my growing assortment of neighbors and enjoyed the vendor and sponsor booths. The race ran Saturday noon to Sunday noon, shortly after of which most all of the 4,000-some people left the venue.
On Monday, I drove to Phoenix for 5 days with my brother Cyler and his family, including two days on ranch land he's developing in the hills outside Prescott. Friday evening and Saturday I spent with my sister Candy, who took a break from remodeling projects to demonstrate her prowess on a recently installed putting green. I capped it all off with a Colorado Rockies spring training game on Sunday afternoon, the highlight of which was watching kids run around the bases afterward.
Overall, a great road trip, sandwiched around a rough race.
Next year? Maybe.
Solo? Maybe. Anyone interested in a team relay?
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| Elite endurance athletes Colin & Kristen Schindler (formerly of Spearfish, SD) stopped by with encouragement. |
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| Neighbor Susie with her 5 person family team from Montana. They enjoyed a 20 hour drive, too. |
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| Joyous Jesus (red cap) raced solo, with his dad and brother as crew. His first ever mountain bike race. |
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| Solo racer Ben from Colorado with his fiancee. Ben works for the City of Breckenridge and manages the Firecracker 50 race. |
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| Neighbor Tony raced solo, with his wife crewing. |
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| Solo racer Ben from Colorado pushed for the podium. |
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| Solo racer Dustin from Alaska was out racing. This is part of his crew. They flew from Alaska, shipped all their gear, and rented a U-Haul in Arizona as a camper. |
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| Bonus image of kids running the bases after a Colorado Rockies spring training game. |
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| Bonus image of Arizona State Highway 77 that eventually drops into Tucson. |
The Gambler, Kenny Rogers (1978).
