Werecyclist

It's the wolf moon, or at least the day after. It's the brightest moon of the year this year. I have had a time of getting the Coy Mistress out of the garage and down the street. I am out of new tubes and have several issues with the tires. It's been a bad week, a busy day, and I'm way strung out. We finally get operational though. The city lights are behind and I stop to switch off my light. Yes, turn it off. The moon is bright and I spend the next 2 hours riding in the moonlight with just my taillights to light up the back.

My goal is to get right up against the Superstition mountains and work the neighborhood roads across the front of it. The closer I get to the mountains the more the giant cliffs loom above me in the moonlight. Suddenly the road I am on turns and around the corner it is dirt. As I stop to turn around I am surrounded by the sounds of Coyotes howling at the moon all the way along the front of the mountains.

Meandering through the neighborhoods silent and stealthy without my light on I feel like a bandit or some sort of night apparition roaming the neighborhood. Maybe I should stop and terrorize some chickens or something like that. Nah, I think folks up in these here parts probably have some buckshot for any sort o Werecyclists roaming under the full moon.

On the way home I run into something stranger than a cyclist out around midnight.

Theres a lady that sure, all her curlers are rolled, And she's buying a hairway to heaven.....

This has got to be one of the more bizarre signs I have seen.

Guess what I saw on the wild horse trail?

The head of the brumbies.

So....I got my fork fixed with 1 of the last 4 cartridges for my fork in existence according to the manufacturer. Unfortunately the first bike shop I went to to get the shock pumped up at didn't have the adapter for an older fork like mine. So I spent over an hour cursing as I tore the garage apart trying to find the one the guy I bought the fork from sent me. In desperation I called the good guys over at A1 bike shop in a last ditch effort. True to form, they had the part. Never underestimate the guys down at A1.

So, I finally got to the trailhead at 3:30. My 4 hour ride had become a sub 3 hour ride. Scenery wise it was tops though. Due to the rains the trails were a little more difficult than normal. There were ruts where there hadn't been formerly and all the washes were sandy. After a few days to dry out everything will be back to normal again.

Another wild horse

The river below the first set of cliffs was running and the desert was starting to green up. Within a few days it will be absolutely beautiful.

I was barreling down the trail when suddenly there was a cactus in the way. I managed to brake and miss it but that wouldn't have been good if I hit it. First thing it would make me do a face plant and then to add insult to injury I'd have a flat tire too!

Heavy rains like we had are death to Saguaros if they are leaning or getting old. They suck up all that extra water and it makes them heavier. If they are leaning or weak then they go right over. I saw two downed saguaros on today's ride.

Heading up to the NRA pit there were a few guys on downhill bikes climbing up the hillside for a last run or two for the day. The sun was getting further down and it was time for me to head back.

The wild horses

On my way back the sun was getting lower and as I turned a corner a beautiful mustang with a white patch on his nose was standing on the ridge in front of me. It was a pictures perfect moment but by the time I got the phone out and tried to get close enough for a good picture he moved. I did get a pictures of him and the others but it wasn't as good a shot. I counted 8 of them total. Wish I had brought my good camera.

More horses.

After getting off the Wild Horse trail and up twisted sister I started to run out of time. The sun was setting and I had to get back to the car before dark fell. At one point I heard a clear 'ping' and noticed my lockout knob on my fork had come off. I must not have tightened it enough. I could either sit and look for it in the shadows and perhaps get stuck out here, or I could just realize I'd have to buy another one and get back to the car before darkness. I made it before things got really dark but it was hard to see the last bit.

The Storm

Aarrr, says ye knows adventure says ye, arrr. Wet behind the ears ye be says I. How can ya know this hear thing called adventure when yer ship be naked as a summers day and not a fender in sight. Aye lad, ya aint lived til yer brought to a standstill in a 60mph gust. Ya aint felt rain until it stings and feels like horizontal hail bite'n yer cheeks and yer feet be dippin ankle deep on each pedal stroke. Ya aint ridden in traffic til yuv been shoved to the opposite sides of the lane by gusts blown between buildings. Ya aint lived til y've firmly held yer life in yer hands lad.





Arr, this evenin been one o them dark and stormy evenins. The wind was howling like a banshee out of the south crying death in the wind. She was blowin over 30 and gustin upper 50's if she was blowing at all. The rain was shootin across the road. It was the kind of night folks look at ya and say "wow". Not a soul about cept thems that be locked away in stinking cages o glass and steel. Aint no place for a fair weather racer boy lad. These be conditions to try the soul and mind o man. A man aint race'n another on a night like this boy. There aint no one else about. A man yells and mocks the fates on a night such as this.





Aye, ye be discoverin yerself on a night like this lad. Be glad it be just 18 miles. Time was years ago I road 245 miles like this. I remember it lad. I remember it well. Blowed full off the road I was. Sent off from Arivaca to brave the winds and rain alone I was. All the others behind me jumped ship when they had the chance. Men ahead o me came within a hairs breadth of stepping too far son. Steppin too far be the end of ya lad. Comin close though will teach ya things boy. Teach ya bout yerself.

Gone, gone, gone

Held up at work and a moment too late I have missed the last express bus. I'm a refugee relying on the light rail to move me over to Mesa. It drops me onto Main street. Nearby is an old shell of a building that used to be a Walmart. You know it's bad when Walmarts start going under. Moving down another mile I am approaching downtown. Downtown Mesa is an area they have tried to keep the 1950's mainstreet type atmosphere going. I am pleased to note that though the atmosphere is supposed to be quaint they are not above including a bike lane.






I pass a paper boy and look to see what he is so excited about. The cynical side of me says that back in the day this poor boy was probably expected to go collect the money for the newspaper putting him in danger as he knocked on the doors of the various strangers of society. If he didn't keep up with the daily changes to his route he likely lost his shirt. Lets just say I know whereof I speak and the image of the paperboy holds painful memories.

At the other end of town are three fat ladies on a bench. These hold no painful memories for me. I can't say I have ever had the experience of hanging out with 3 large naked fat ladies before so how can it be a painful memory? Except maybe now, but statues aren't that traumitizing for some reason I guess. The fat ladies are moody and one seems downright depressed.

I put my arm around Maggie to let her know it's ok. There's lots of fat statues in the world and it's much harder for lady statues to lose weight than men statues. I tell her I hope she doesn't get too cold sitting out in the cold and damp tonight without anything on. She says it's nothing. She's sat here on many an icy morning with hardly a shiver and even an epic rainstorm doesn't frighten her.

Moving on down mainstreet we are into the late 50's early 60's. Before us60 was the Superstition Freeway it was the southern sibling of route 66 and was Mesa's Main Street. Once upon a time Mesa Arizona was probably pretty exotic sounding to some folks from back east and they would stop and stay in any one of the hotels along mainstreet with large neon signs towering over the burning desert asphalt beckoning the travelers to come on in and rest the them tired dogs for a piece.

Many of the buildings are nearly identical to the hotels that line route 66 in Flagstaff. At least the ones that haven't been ripped down and built into new hotels. In the 80's the 50's to 60's era route 66 hotels were out of style and many were torn down or abandoned. You can still find them in Flagstaff though as you can here in Mesa. Some have been made into economy studio apartments, some are still motels albeit run down.

The king of this ilk in Mesa is the Starlight Motel with it's eternally diving woman, ever jumping off the sign into the refreshing pool.

Alongside the old motor lodges are the rv parks. Once upon a time an RV was THE way to see the country. Chain up the old trailer to one of them old cars that were as big as whales that were still made out of steel and could tow more than many trucks can today and head out into the wild country.

Motel westernaire. I'm getting to the further east end of main street now. There are not too many old neon signs past Power road.

At nearly all of these motels there are maybe 2 or 3 vehicles in the parking lot. How these people stay in business is a mystery. Perhaps they own their properties and this is what they pictured retirement being like in their old age?

I wonder if most of these hotels had weekly rates 40 years ago?

Further east the signs get a little more rundown. Back in the day these signs held off the darkness of the wilderness and desert to the east. Now it's just a continuous city all the way out to the Superstitions.

The circle rb guest lodge motel is the last one of the neons left on my commute tonight. It's light still flashes in warm friendly color to passing travellers. Next door is a hotel that is not so lucky.

The Motel San Dee is dark. Chain link fence surrounds the hotel and the office door lays on the ground. Standing on the road you can see the roof has burned right off the top of the hotel. Perhaps it had a meth lab in it, maybe it was just some smoker falling asleep. The hotel is dead now. In the coming months it will likely disappear. Elsewhere on similar roads hotels like this stand with empty windows on the sides of highways for decades watching forlorn as travellers speed on by in search of more hospitable lodgings.

At Power and Main Street I mark the end of this evenings diversion and turn for home. The rains will start soon and a cyclist should get inside or else prepare for a long cold night.

Technical Difficulties or Press on Regardless

Me out on Four Peaks road.

The plan was to get out at 5, ride out to the beeline, catch four peaks road and ride back to Cline Cabin, maybe even see some trees. Well, there is many a slip twixt the cup and the lip. Or many chickens counted before they hatch, or plans are made by mice and men, or whatever. I woke up late, didn't get out the door until six. Swinging my bike around I managed to catch the generator hub light on the tire of our van and it promptly snapped off. This brings my weekend mechanical carnage to 1 broken fork (massively expensive fork at that but the guys at Marzocchi seem to think they can fix it), 1 broken stem bolt, 1 broken generator light, and 1 stripped brake adjustor. I forgot to tell you about the brake adjuster didn't I? Got to the corner and noticed the brake was rubbing. The non-generator hub wheel is dished a little different so I screwed the aduster screw one step beyond! I fiddled with it in the dark as I felt the first raindrop or two but ended up heading back to the house where I was able to tap it back in from the backside and make it work.

Rocks and Cacti up near four peaks

It is 5 after 7 AM now. I toss the bike in the back of the car and park out along the salt river so I can get at least some of the ride I had intended in. Once I am finally on the bike it is beautiful riding through the gentle rain. I see clouds up on Four Peaks and I know the rain will get harder. Soon I have climbed up to the turn to Four Peaks. The road is pretty smooth and things seem good until I slide in the first patch of sand in the 2nd or 3rd corner. In fact there would be a lot of sand. This was a road that really required a big and fat tire but I was determined to see how far I could get on my modest 28c tire.

I carried a lot more water than I needed. Cool to see the third bottle cage worked though.

I would hit a lot of sand going up the road and had two walk quite a few sections and when I wasn't walking it was slow going. As the rain died down the guys on 4 wheelers and motorcycles started cruising down the road. I also noticed there was an unusually high amount of garbage out here. For all the trouble Tonto National Forest is giving PBAA about running the Tour de Phoenix down the bush highway you think they could direct that angst elsewhere like to the people who are thrashing our public lands and not a bunch of cyclists who have zero impact. Anyway, just a little ticked at the prejudicial treatment PBAA and other cycling event organizers have been getting from a particularly Barney Fifeish type fella who is obstructing things at Tonto. If there had been accidents out there I could understand but 17 years of events I think proves it is not unsafe. Gotta love public servants that fly by the seat of their pants instead of basing decisions on facts. But I digress.

Clouds on Four Peaks

Around 10 I decided I'd better turn around. I had 4 miles left and I had been making about 5-6 mph so I wasn't going to make it. That being said I made it back down to the highway faster than I thought I would. Pavement was a nice change. I managed to get back to the car before 11:30. A lunch at Schlotzkys would complete the morning.

The Weaver's Needle

Wacky Commute in the big city

In a place like downtown Phoenix anything can happen. This morning was one of my more interesting commutes so I thought I would blog it.


Of course it's Friday and since last Friday I overdid it I opted to ride the express bus both ways and cut the actual biking distance down to a nice 9 miles each way. Of course, this means riding the bus which this morning had two people I know get on. Neither one recognized me. To be fair we are just members of the same church but different units in the area and only see each other periodically, also I had my cycling glasses on and my super spiffy helmet with all the writing still on it from Cochise which I need to black out. Cool to know I'm not the only one doing the public transportation thing though.


So, I am sure you are thinking to yourself that that can't be what made my commute interesting right now and you would be right. After I got off the bus just north of Downtown I was making my lazy, non-intensive, supposed to be a rest day way up 3rd street and had just passed palm way when there was a huge bang and looking back two cars had nailed each other head on, hard.


I doubled back to see what I could do. I recently had a cpr course with some first aid so I thought I might be able to help. One guy was on his cell phone in his car as I pulled up and the other was getting out of his car with a rag on his head. He told me he was bleeding pretty good. At this point I wished I'd had a sterile gauze pad or something I could give him but I didn't. He was doing pretty much the best thing he could do and I watched him for signs of shock or erratic behavior. Head injuries are nothing to be trifled with. Within probably 90 seconds a fire truck came around the corner with sirens blaring. I was pretty amazed they responded so quickly. I figured they had the equipment and know how and I wasn't really needed after all and I headed off.


I think in the future I might put some rubber gloves and some gauze in the seatbag. Maybe a disposable cpr mask too. You never know. If the fire engine hadn't been so close and the guy had hit his head a little harder it could have gotten ugly fast.


Now, I know your thinking that you don't see an accident happen in your rearview mirror everyday so that might make a commute interesting, well, these things come in two's sometimes. I was mulling over the experience as I headed up the road when a raving derelict lady starts yelling garbled words at me or the sky or whatever as she walked down the sidewalk. The first thing I thought about was the cat lady from the simpsons. This lady did not have any cats though.


Raving derelicts always present a bit of an interesting situation. I never know quite what to do so I kind of ride on by. I figured as long as they are not walking around down a busy street or posing a danger to anyone, there's not a whole lot, little no psychiatry degree holding me, can do.
It's also funny, that moment from when you think someone is yelling at you and you are wondering what you did to merit such an attack, to your realization that this is a person who is like that car down on palm lane with the horn stuck on from having crashed into another car.


I'd say she'd get the help she needs eventually but the mentally ill are often pushed to the back of the political agendas of both parties with the democrats at least saying they might try. I will try not too get too political here because both sides are at fault but when I researched which candidates seemed to actually care in the last election Hillary was the only one who bothered to fill out the questionaire distributed to the candidates by the national alliance on mental illness. Obama responded next best with a list of support he's given in the past. McCain said he didn't respond to surveys and mentioned some support in the past and the other GOP candidates ignored it. I realize the election is all in the past, but hopefully the lady's chances for help aren't.


Sorry to get political, this subject just strikes a little close to home for me. When I lost my job I couldn't afford medicine or cobra and I was in too high a tax bracket for medicare (high tax bracket yes, money in pocket? no). We managed but if I hadn't gotten a job when I did it would have been ugly. None of the private insurance companies would take me on so I was pretty much hosed. They would insure my family but not me. Whichever party you belong to, support a solution to healthcare and not some tough sounding and witty sound bite. There's a real problem out there if you don't have a job and have a mental illness. I realize a public option doesn't sound good to some. Unfortunately there's people out there that have expensive medicine that make them non-profitable in an insurance company's eyes. If there's a way to get private companies to profitably insure these people, great. I'm just not seeing it at this point. I don't think public insurance is the answer for everyone, but there are a select few for whom I don't think you can get a company to cover and stay profitable without having the deductibles go through the roof. There, I said my piece. We will now return to the regularly scheduled and fully bicycle related blog.

Treadmill

There are times when one day seems the same as the next. That there is never any hope of anything else and that no amount of effort will yield anything worthwhile. Life becomes pointless and desire for anything is gone. The grey city breathes heavily and a million people move about in unchanging paths like hopeless unfeeling automatons. Life is a burdon and a weight hangs heavy on my soul.

Then like an aspirin a good bicycle ride starts to pump color back into life and resurrect a positive perspective. If I can just get up enough umph to get the bike out things will be alright. It might not last, it probably won't, but for the moment, all is right. Hanging over the handlebars as the legs churn the pedals and propel me down the street or through a desert landscape, it doesn't matter. My bike and I leave this sad rain grey world for a short period of time and things are OK for awhile. I am free to ride wherever or however I want. Up hills, down hills, around cacti, in the mountains, down screaming descents or up steep desert canyons. There is no one there to criticize, my mind is employed in positive endeavors and the demons of self degradation are drowned out by the wind in my ears and the joy of motion. There is no second guessing, there is only motion, wind, sun, air, and life in it's purest form. Allure Libre.

Week in pictures

Sterling climbing out of Canyon Lake

It's been a good week. I probably worked a lot harder than I should have after last Saturday's ride but I felt Ok and the body seemed to hold up ok until today. Today I rode out to canyon lake with the Brumbys but had to back off to the moderate groups since yesterdays mtb fest over lunch left my legs a bit drained so I settled for 67 miles at a moderate speed with a moderate amount of climbing. I turned around when I got dropped as I thought Sterling had turned around when he got dropped and climbing hills alone into a vicious wind with a knee that wasn't sure about things didn't seem like it was a good idea to me. Just a few miles back down the road I ran into Sterling and Wade though. I figured I'd hop on with them and was glad I did.

View of Canyon Lake from near the first bridge.

It was a good ride with good conversation despite the fickle wind, fickle but strong. I wanted to get close to 200 miles for the week but I ended up a little short but that's ok, I'm recovering I guess, besides I got well over that last week.

Another shot of Canyon Lake

I'd originally thought I might actually make the end of the pavement but after I got dropped I kind of ditched that idea. The legs were a bit weak and sometimes prudence is the better part of valor.

Sterling climbing the first big hill.

As I write this I feel more drained than I have any right to be after having only ridden 67 miles with 2600 feet of climbing. I think going short was a good idea. I'll go long next week.

Just me and my shadow right after getting dropped.

Me just outside the Phoenix Mountain Park visitor center on the west end of trail 100.

Since Friday's lunch ride goofed up my Saturday ride I suppose I should write a little about it. I got into work early and figured I was good for a 90 minute ride over lunch. Why would I be tempted to ride a little to much on Friday and risk spoiling my legs for Saturday? Well, the postman was nice to me on Thursday night and brought the parts I needed to put my v-brakes on the fork I bought off a guy on the MTBR forum. You can't install new equipment without testing it right away, it's a law or something. If the next day is a near 70 degree sunny day and you don't do it I think it becomes a felony. I had to do it don't ya know.

The bike with the new fork, look at all that shockalific fork!

I stupidly decided to test my fork on the section of trail 100 west of the dreamy draw. That section has a lot of climbing and some rough trail. Not anywhere near as flat or easy as the other sections of trail. That being said, it was a great side to see the beauty of the new fork on.

Mmmmm mmmm good, look at all that new travel!

The fork does have a lockout for climbing which I found nice on the 10% + climbs as the shock fully extended tends to make me do wheelies. It's amazing how much easier some obstacles become with a better fork.

Me on the eastern end of trail 100 on Wednesday.

The bike in a desert gully between two buttes

The commuter in front of Arizona falls on the way home on Tuesday.

(it's a manmade waterfall on a canal in case you thought it was something exotic, sorry to disappoint you.)

If I can just hold on until......

The coy mistress at the finish

Today was the Southern Arizona Randonneur's 200k. It's been a few years since I rode this route. As a matter of fact, I last rode it on my recumbent. I should apologize up front for the lack of photos. Truth is it would be a day of holding on to giants and I really didn't have the spare energy to pull off the back and snap a photo, it was all I could do to stay on and take a pull once in awhile.

The day began around 1 am with the customary dream where I wake up at 8 and miss the brevet. Fortunately I was able to get back to sleep and get out of bed at 5:30 pretty well rested. I figured if I got up early I'd be able to get ready at a comfortable pace and not forget anything. It worked mostly. I forgot my wind vest but fortunately I had a spare wind shell in the jeep so it was all good.

The start line was kind of funny. I was just telling my wife the other day that I don't have that many friends, I think with 4 kids I'm too busy and I do a lot of solo training is the reason. Anyway, right after I signed in someone said my name and then there were like 5 or 6 people coming over to say hi. Kind of cool, guess I have friends after all. It was really cool getting to meet up with everyone again. I missed the series last year which was kind of a bummer so I hadn't seen some in a long time. I'm going to miss the 400 and 600 this year but at least I get to do the first half of the series though. I digress, back to the ride.

There was really quite the mob out this morning. there had to be 40 or 50 cyclists starting out. I figured I'd work my way up a bit towards the front so as not to get gapped. Turned out everyone stayed together until the hill so I didn't have to worry about it (although there were a couple of stoplights that split the group up a bit). The hill is where the pack breaks up usually. The front guys (well the front guys not including a small group of superhumans out ahead) were pushing it a little hard for me but not too bad. I knew if I held on we'd be together to the ruins.

Around in here Wayne Churchman (who I would ride with the rest of the day) filled me in on all the other things this part of the course had been used for over the years. Wayne goes way back in the cycling world of the east valley and Arizona in general. He was one of the founders of the Red Mountain Cycling Club which was the predecessor of the Red Mountain Brumbys. He also happens to be the mileage winner over at bikejournal.com for last year with over 20000 miles for the year, he's a strong rider. Last time I rode with him was way back in 2000 with the Red Mountain Cycling Club and 60 miles was a long ride too me. I had trouble keeping up then, hmmm, I guess not much has changed, other than the distance :) .

We got to the ruins at 10 after 9 just a few minutes behind the 3 or 4 people at the front. I tried to get in and out as fast as I could but in retrospect I should have held up for the group but in all fairness I expected them to catch me fairly quickly and I didn't want my legs to cool down. If I had to do it again I think I'd wait.

The rider who left the ruins just before me and I caught up to Tom Baker not too long coming out of the Ruins. We figured we wouldn't pedal too hard as the group would be along shortly. It was a beautiful morning out. It was warming up into the 50's and there wasn't any wind to speak of. We managed to catch another rider before the gang caught back up with us just before the community college.

The group held together all the way to the bike shop. This stop was a little longer for me as I had to refill bottles and put sunscreen on. Wayne and Bob were already on the corner when I got there so we waited for a minute or too for anyone else but we ended up with Tom and one other guy to go brave the vast empty spaces of the reservation. We took it slow heading across town but the pace ratcheted right back up once we were over the tracks which seemed to be giant canyons waiting to dent a rim of the unwary.

The interesting thing about randonneuring and riding with older guys in general is realizing what is possible after 40. I realize I'm not a kid but among the several groups I rode with today I was the youngest. I wish I could say I was the strongest but that would be a lie. All the guys I rode with today were faster than me. I'd say I'd be glad if I could ride like that at their age but frankly I'd be happy to ride like that now. I did manage to keep up, barely. I took my pulls but I have to say my pulls were not as long as some of the others and I was a lot more blown at the end of mine than the other guys appeared. Around the interstate Tom dropped off the back. I was at the very edge of the envelope myself but I was surviving.

Just after getting onto the reservation we started to catch up to another rider. I noticed the orange and yellow jersey and remarked how funny it would be if that turned out to be Gerry Goode. Yep it was. We were now 5 again. We held it at around 20 -22 mph most of the way out with several sections a lot faster than that. I think we had a bit of a tailwind. Every time these guys would hit a hill it was all I could do to hang on. I knew if I made the top of the hill with them I'd get a little bit of a rest again as we went down the other side.

I'm embarrassed to say my drivetrain started squeeking through here. Not only did I have a mismatched jersey (got my brand new super randonneur jersey and really wanted to wear it, my only clean shorts were the yellow brumby shorts though so it was pretty bad), now I was the dork with the squeeking derailluer. The guys put up with me though, thanks guys.

I don't think I have ever gone across the reservation so fast. Just before the Border Patrol checkpoint I started to fatigue and figured I'd probably get dropped soon. I managed to save it though. I knew the lunch stop was only a few miles past the checkpoint and made it a goal to hang on until then.

About a mile and a half from lunch we saw Mike Sturgill and 2 other riders coming back. They were about 10-15 minutes ahead of us we figured. Roger Peskett was just leaving the stop as we road up and Carlton Van Leuvan was still there. It was just after noon so it really was a lunch stop. A lot of times these are more of a afternoon snack stop for me.

I had doubts that I'd be able to hold the guys all the way back but figured I'd give it my best shot. First thing we found was that we had in fact been enjoying a tailwind the last bit. I was a bit cold at first too. We head a wind that sometimes masqueraded as a cross wind. But we held it up around 20 much of the way back. We lost Gerry a ways out of the lunch stop and I figured I'd follow soon but I kept one moring myself.

I kept getting pulls just before hills which was pretty tough on me but I manged to hang on. My turns were getting shorter through here and it seems like when I was pulling I was slower than everyone else. I was pretty blown though. Wayne and Bob went off the front for awhile but when we dropped into the last big valley they waited up for us since we knew how to get back. It's good to have the cue sheet. So Wayne was the captain, and I was the navigator. Climbing the hill out of the valley we lost one more so we were down to 4. I gave it everything I had to get up that hill because I knew if I held on I'd be able to stick with them all the way back and it looked like we were on track to beat 7 hours.

At the edge of the res we caught Roger Peskett so we were back to 5. Maybe it was me but it seemed like we were all a bit blown except for Wayne and Bob. They just kept going. I guess 20000 miles in a year might give you a little endurance. In any case we rolled back into town with plenty of time to beat 7 hours and ended up pulling in at 20 after 2 for a time of 6 hours and 50 minutes. That beat my fastest time by 24 minutes. It was pretty tough but I managed to hang on.