In sparwood

Arrived in sparwood at about 10 am after a great first day and a nice long rest in elkford. i'm feeling super strong so far. I'm still going to take it easy for a few more days. Headed out for the reroute 100 miles of strange trail with no services and only a cue sheet to follow. I'm a little nervous about this section, and will be happy to cross the border.

Sent on the go from my Peek

Going on Tour

Well, it's officially less than 12 hours until I head out with the Tour Divide with the hope of pedaling along 2,700 miles of the Great Divide Mountain Bike Route. Canada to Mexico. It's an impossible concept to swallow right now, so I hope to find the strength to bite it off in small but consistent chunks.

I met a few of the people who will be riding the route, but most of the Tour Divide racers are still strangers to me. I hope to become better acquainted in the next week or two. The fellow crazies and their stories are one of the main reasons I'm here now, along with the scenery, the challenge, the flow and the opportunity to do something for myself. I'm in this for the experience. That's probably obvious to most who read my blog, but if you're waiting to get caught up in the forward-drive "race" of it all, don't expect miracles from me. :-)

A bike mechanic in town graciously gave my bike one last once-over and everything's good to go. It's not ultralight, but it's comfortable and strong, and the things I'm taking keep me comfy and happy. I feel good about it, and anything I get sick of hauling I can always throw away later.

Against the advice of most fast GDR and Tour Divide veterans, my race strategy is to have no strategy. I have a few tentative goals for the first couple nights, but my plan is to be completely flexible. If I push myself to hit rigid goals, I'm going to end up pushing too hard and will likely end up frustrated and burnt out. If I only make it 30 miles one day because I got a few dozen flats or hid from a hail storm, so be it. I plan to start out at a really mellow pace and, after a few days, make adjustments once I start getting "in shape." I plan to eat as much as I can put down and recover every night with lots of sleep. If I can stay healthy, there will be plenty of time later in the race to go fast if the old body and mind will allow.

I don't feel like I'm going into this with a strong race mentality, but that may crop up later if things go well. There appear to be three other women in the Tour Divide besides me. One is riding a fixie; another is riding tandem with her husband; the third is on gears (she's super nice. I met her tonight.) But in this race, which is technically an "individual time trial" event, the main competition is the record. The women's record from border to border (about 2,500 miles) is 21 days, 23 hours, 47 minutes, set by Trish Stevenson in 2005. The women's record for the full route is 28 days, 16 hours and 40 minutes, set by Jenn Hopkins in 2008. Both records are certainly a possibility if things go well (the border-to-border record would have to go really well.) But it's certainly a tasty carrot to reach for. (However, I'm not even going to glance that way until at least the first week is comfortably behind me, so it's pretty unlikely I'll reach it.)

I plan to update my blog occasionally along the trail via my Peek. Coverage has been good so far, and as Elden the Fat Cyclist mentioned to me recently, I'll never be able tell my story if I can't remember most of it. So the on-trail blogging will be my way of taking notes. But there are plenty of other ways to follow the race:

Tour Divide homepage: http://tourdivide.org/

Leaderboard: http://tourdivide.org/leaderboard

My individual tracking page: http://tourdivide.org/leaderboard/2009/individual?name=Jill%20Homer

Racer call-in reports: http://mtbcast.com/wordpress/

My individual call-in page: http://mtbcast.com/wordpress/?page_id=743

Bikepacking forum, where there's sure to be spectator chatter: http://www.bikepacking.net/forum/index.php/board,2.0.html.


Thanks for reading. By grace go I into the Great Divide.

Paradise in a bubble, part two

Right now, I feel happier than I have in a while. I credit both having finally made a definite decision about riding the Divide, and the stunning scenery of the Canadian Rockies. The word "healing place" is overused, especially in the context of the most photographed spots in Canada, but there's a reason these places draw so many people. They really do mean something.

I set out on Leslie's cruiser this morning to check out the first few miles of the Spray River Trail, where the Great Divide Mountain Bike Route begins. I actually meant to go on a few errands, which is why I had the cruiser in the first place, but the trail was in such great shape that it didn't even matter. The weather again was gorgeous - just cloudy enough to block the sun, but warm and dry.

Then, instead of going on my errands, I veered off on some horse trails and ended up at the hot springs, where I parked the bike and set out on foot up the Sulfur Mountain Trail. You can take a gondola up to the top, but the walk is much more fun - about 6 kilometers with 2,500 feet of elevation gain. There was snow at the top. New snow. Not to mention a whole lot of people wearing flip-flops.

But regardless of whether you walk or ride, everyone gets to look at the same scenery.

And the best part about walking to the upper terminal of a gondola is you can have a fountain Diet Pepsi and a $5 brownie at the summit before heading back down.

I spent the afternoon actually doing my errands. It's bad to start a big event in a town with all kinds of outdoor gear stores, because I end up second guessing all of my stuff and buy new, untested things. I switched out gear hours before both Iditarod races, and for this ride I decided to buy a new rain coat. It's probably a good thing. My old one was a soft-shell pullover with no hood, and I don't know what I was thinking. I'm going for the seam-sealed, pull-string bottom, fully waterproof jacket with a hood. Bring on the downpours.

In the evening, Leslie and I drove out to Lake Louise for more hiking. I hiked Sulfur Mountain a little hard and was already feeling it in my quads, so I was hoping for an easy evening stroll. But Leslie is a distance trail runner, so for her easy is 10 kilometers and 1,700 feet of elevation gain.

Probably not the best taper strategy. But, really, is it best to relax before a big push, or is it better to get fired up?

I'm gonna go with fired up.

I have to say, since the only thing I accomplished was buying my food and a new rain coat, which I probably didn't even need, and let more than 4,000 feet of direct impact pound my legs, which they probably also didn't need, that this has been a most unproductive day. And yet I feel so revitalized right now, that if I could go back to this morning, I wouldn't change anything about today.

Thursday is the last day before Tour Divide begins. I hope to do that thing I've been actively avoiding, which is a round-up blog post about the race. But since I also have to do that other thing I've been actively avoiding, which is prepare for the race, I'll have to wait and see if I can find the time. But stay tuned!

Paradise in a bubble

We arrived in Banff on Tuesday afternoon. I met up with locals Leslie and Keith, who kindly offered me a place to stay during my time in town. Keith took me up to an overlook to survey the lay of the land. "Banff is a town in a national park," Keith said. "There are no scars on the mountains, because there's no mining or logging here. The town is as big as it's going to get, because it has a set footprint and it can't develop any further. We have this great law called the 'need to reside clause,' which means you have to work here to live here, which means there are no million-dollar second homes in the hills. Because of tourism, we're stocked with all the dining and retail options of a good-sized city in a town of 8,000. The biking is incredible, but the trails aren't mapped so they're not crowded. We ski tour all winter. We trail run all summer. As long as this is a national park, nothing is going to change. That's not the real world down there."

"So, basically, it's paradise in a bubble," I said.

Keith smiled. "Exactly."

We toured the town on a tandem cruiser. It was my first time on a tandem bike. Before we climbed on, Keith gave me a stern warning - "You can't steer and you can't brake. It's definitely not for control freaks." I quickly realized that literally the only thing I needed to do was spin my legs, and the rest of me could gaze around, snap photos and daydream to my heart's content. Really, that's my kind of riding.

I only have two days to explore this little bubble of paradise before I head back into the real world, in a sense. Keith showed me pictures of a hike he and Leslie did this morning, through a couple inches of fresh snow (it fell last night!) By the time I arrived in town, the weather was sunny and mild, about 15 degrees Celsius with almost no wind, and looking to stay beautiful for at least the next few days. It seems every time I travel through Canada, I hit the ideal weather windows. I have this theory that Canada loves me, at least in the short term. Here's hoping that love affair continues.

In Canada

We just crossed the border into Alberta after spending the night in Great Falls. The weather has been cool and cloudy with lows in the 30s and the snow line low on the mountains. Currently, we're out of sight from the peaks. The rolling prairie reminds me of the simple joys of life on the bike. I'm starting to feel much more excited about the prospect. I love the paradox of fast touring. Life is never so simple and at the same time never so hard as life on a bike. To me, it's the ultimate way to live ... Moving in the open through open space, breathing clear air, drinking fresh water, consuming all the beauty and joy and pain that a body can possibly absorb, through the filter of fatigue that so effectively removes all the white noise and gray emotions of that other kind of life, real life.

And then there's the race. I'm getting more excited about that, too. There's a post in my sidebar under the heading "Some of my better posts" called "Dear Canada, Fear me." I wrote it a year ago, but it remains relevant. :-)

Sent on the go from my Peek

Testing remote blogging

I'm currently traveling up i-25, just north of Casper, Wyo. I had a fun visit in Denver. My aunt mapped me out a scenic bike ride in Castle Rock that ended up following a century that just happened to be going on at the same time. Toward the end, I passed a few people who seemed completely wrecked plowing into a 30 mph headwind. The sky was nearly black, with swirling clouds that threatened tornadoes (i found out later that one touched down nearby.) One lone roadie bent over his aerobars looked at me with bloodshot eyes and asked me what I had in my bags. I told him ... Camping gear, food, rain clothes. "Why so much?" he asked. I shrugged. "You never know." He shook his head. I think he was bummed that a severly overprepared mountain biker caught him. I should have told him I wasn't even riding the century. I was 40 miles into a fairly lax ride with only another two miles to go. But then I wondered how I would feel if our roles were swiched, and I was a wrecked Divide rider being passed by fresh century cyclists. I'd really just rather not know.

The road trip with the Pleskos has been fun. I get to ride in back with the bikes. Kim looks like a hog next to Chris's singlespeed. He weighs his chapstick! I feel more intimidated than ever, but I'm just going to let it roll.

Sent on the go from my Peek

Enjoying the last days

My sister came out today and helped me box up my bike. As we hoisted it into the truck, she said, "Are you going to be able to carry this across the airport?" "I better," I said. "After that, I have to carry it across the country."

We started down the road as dark clouds billowed over the Oquirrh Mountains and a swirl of dust obscured the valley below. "Are you nervous?" she asked. "Kind of," I said. "I mean, it's not like this is it. I'm just flying to Denver. But it feels like this is my last chance to bail out. Once I get on a plane, it's going to be a lot tougher to back out."

The past few days in Salt Lake City have passed by in a blur. I've spent a total of an hour riding my bike since I returned from Heber on Tuesday. There just hasn't been time. I've had too much to do ... get a few last-minute things fixed on my bike, sort and re-sort my gear, track down charger tips for all of my miscellaneous electronic devices, print out map notes, and wander around REI looking for that secret item that will fix all of my problems. In what little time I wasn't muddling through preparations, I squeezed in the things I wanted to do before I left Salt Lake ... lunch in the Avenues, a hike on Mount Olympus, shooting engagement pictures for my baby sister, my first post-breakup date at a humorously bad baseball game, touring the Oquirrh Mountain Temple with old friends, a big sushi dinner and a late-night heart-to-heart with my sisters. To my sisters, especially, I want to say thanks. It was eye-opening to realize that even though we lead very different lives, we're all fighting similar battles and yes, we're all going to be OK.

So I'm spending Sunday with my aunt and uncle in Denver, and on Monday I head out with Chris and Marni Plesko en route to Banff. I'm going to spend a few days in town and then my plan - hope - goal - is to roll south on Friday with the Tour Dividers.

I have several reasons for opting out of the Great Divide Race. First of all, the GDR starts June 19. Despite the extra 200 or so miles of Canada, starting June 12 still gives me a better time window to actually finish the thing. Second, the Tour Divide has about 40 people on its start list.
Even though I’m likely to end up riding most if not all of the race on my own, having other people in the periphery - just knowing there are other nuts out there working through the same challenges - can be beneficial. Meeting these nuts is also a big part of why I like to participate in organized events such as the Divide races, as opposed to embarking on my own fast tour. The Great Divide Race has no published start list. I would guess a majority of people who plan to show up for that race are dedicated racer types, going for the record. The clock would start, they’d shoot off the front, and that’s it. All alone. For most of a month.

And finally - and this is the rule I did the most soul-searching about - is that silly cell phone rule. Tour Divide allows the use of cell phones. GDR does not. No cell phones in a race setting actually makes the most sense. It is easy and probably very tempting to use them to arrange outside support - either calling ahead to make hotel reservations, order a pizza, or tell your friends to show up at this intersection at this time with a spare tire and cold drinks. So GDR banned use of phones. Tour Divide organizers argue that racers are responsible for their own ethics. It’s a solo “time trial” anyway. If you want to cheat, nothing is going to stop you. I’ve always been fine with the non-use of cell phones. In fact, I didn’t even own one until early February. But now I feel like my situation has shifted. Going almost-completely-out-of-touch solo doesn't appeal to me the way it used to. This summer has been tougher than normal. I’ve had random periods of time where I slip into that dark, lonely place that’s so hard to climb out of. In these situations, I’ve usually been around my family and friends, who have helped me cheer up and put things into perspective. I recognize that a cell phone is only going to work about 5 percent of the time on the GDMBR. I realize that I’m always going to slip into that dark, lonely place when I’m the furthest from cell phone range. But, to be perfectly honest, just having the knowledge that at some point I’ll have the ability to call my mommy or my sisters and let them talk me off the ledge is very … comforting. Call it an emotional crutch. That’s exactly what it is.

The GDR is a solo-driven challenge. It’s a racer’s event. I respect everything about it. I’ve just, over the course of deciding what I really want out of this ride, realized that GDR goes deeper into the racing aspect of the Great Divide Mountain Bike Route than I’m ready for. It's a freakin month for crying out loud. I really need to approach this as a bike tour - one in which I actually will have occasional fun and not suffer the whole time - if I’m to even have a shot at succeeding. My goal is still to complete the course in less than 25 days. I recognize that there’s still an ideological divide between the two races, and by choosing one, I’m essentially choosing sides (which I hate to do. I have deep respect for the pioneers on both sides of the border.) But I have to do what’s right for me. In the end, I’m the one who has to ride it.

So that’s where I stand right now. The pilot just turned on the fasten-seatbelt sign, which means I’ll soon be landing in the city where I was born, which means it’s time to stop typing. But I’ll try to keep up with the posting en route to Banff to talk about a couple other things - LIVESTRONG fundraising and the ride in Seattle; final gear choices; the awesome community of endurance cyclists, etc. Thanks again to everyone who has supported me, and thanks for reading.