I went racing!!!

I decided on Thursday to go racing on Saturday. Actually my better half decided. Something about my attitude needing some improvement. This time of year can get that way for me. Winters can seem long and lonesome without my racing but let me not forget to enjoy the here and now. Yesterday is for fond memories to carry in my pocket. Tomorrow will be here and gone before I know it; Make the most out of the present moment is my goal. But expectations are often far from realities. I have been lying to myself for the past few years thinking that I can still throw a leg over my bike and be the racer I was ten or fifteen years ago. But I know that most of racing is mental. Most of it. The memories of the Wickenberg race are fond. Also known as the Mile Marker, The Duel in the Desert, and now the Outlaw Endure. "The toughest race in the west". Once I finished 3rd overall behind Destry Abbot and Max Gerston. I have finished in the top ten several times. I once got gang banged by a choa cactus and ate shit leaving Mick's Go pro in the trail only to DNF shortly succumbing to wounds from the cactus and the crash. Look up Newbold Go Pro snaps off on youtube. It has been ten years since I raced this usually fast and flowy patch of desert. I made the 9 hr drive and took some pictures along the way checking the pulse of America along the way. The Navajo Nation has always made me feel strongly of what being an American. Now more than ever. The old native lady picking up trash along the road side. The cracker critter crossing at "Forrest Gump Hill" taking selfies like life depended on it. The Graffiti is real. The windshield time was nice. For pre race dinner I had some spam, a can of black beans, and bread. I watched bikes in the pits for an hour and a half before I saw a four stroke. Times have changed. But my choice in bike has not. I wondered about my choice. But I was excited to race the ol Elvira for her first ever race. The 2006 CRF450X was a bike I built for the 2007 Baja 1000 but due to a series of unfortunate events (ask me for the whole story at the campfire) the bike never raced. Two years ago the owner sold me the bike for cheap. Poor Elvira had been sitting out in snow banks for several years and she needed nursed back to health. I about have her ironed out. What better first race for the big ol desert racer than one of my favorite old races. But things have changed with "Enduro" racing. All the two strokes, The riders meeting laid strong words on cut off times for the 4 tests, and it was 90 miles. The first test was 11 miles. Fun virgin singletrack. The only bike to pass me all day was Joe Wasson and it was awesome! I finished the test out of breath but having fun. Then I looked down to see all my transmission oil gone from a huge hole in my clutch cover. Luckily I found some quick aluminum and a qrt of oil. Test 2 was 20+ miles. It was not only long but very technical. Tight rocky washes with aluminum eating ledges, waterfalls, boulder gardens, and giant loose rock hill climbs. I finished without major mistakes and some oil left in transmission. I ate my snacks and on the 7 mile transfer to the next test my shoulders/neck became angry. It was at this point that I knew I needed to just survive if I hoped to finish. Test 3 seemed to last an eternity. I was in excruciating pain on the rocky uphills but I kept forward momentum passing downed, and limping bikes all the way. The 4th and final test was only 9 miles so after the transfer I found some shade and lay my head on a rock and tried to re-charge. I gave it everything I had and finished strong. Good enough for 20th overall, and 11th AA out of 324 bikes. almost 6 hrs to do 90 miles! The old fast and flowy Arizona race is now slow grinding Hard-Enduro. Times are what they are. The beer was good and I went to bed in the back of my van early, sleeping like a dead tree trucker after a 5 day benny binge. On the drive home I was a bit dreary of my results but after some philosophical thought I realized that results should become less important to my comprehension of fun while racing, at least as I age. There is a formula in the numbers somewhere with age. I was once fast. I was once young. I was for sure the only AA rider on a four stoke and a 20 year old one at that so maybe that is a fond memory I will find in my back pocket some day.

Things are and will be whatever we make them to be.

PEACE.