Unsupported racing appeals to me on many levels. But none more basic than that it is unsupported. Yes, incredible insight I know. We live in a world of excuses. A world of finger pointers. Even a world where a village will blame a corporate conspiracy for bad weather.

We blame marketing campaigns for our children being fat. We blame the President for high gas prices. We blame video games and movies when a kid guns down his peers. We blame referees, umpires, doctors, teachers, cab drivers, politicians, our mothers, our pets and our old crappy cars for all that troubles us in this world.

But nobody wants to blame themselves.

Can you see now why the philosophy behind unsupported racing is so appealing? It is a wave of fresh air in a world gone stale with rationalizing away it's failures. In a self-supported race there is nobody to blame when you can't finish. Nobody to yell at when your bike breaks down. No bad course markings. There is no corporate conspiracy.

You are the one responsible.

This is why I still get steamed about the BLM dishing out a fine for the 2007 KTR. They stuttered and stammered trying to come up with a legitimate reason for fining us. Safety was continually cited. Safety? Safety? Really? Paying a fine will increase our safety in a 142 mile mountain bike ride? I don't need the government telling me what is safe or not. Let me be the judge of that for myself. Let me decide if riding solo across the desert and into the mountains is something I can handle. If it's not, then let me be the one to get myself out.

Something that determines which candidates I vote for more so than any other thing, is the principle of dependency. There are countless programs and initiatives designed to keep people dependent on the government. I believe that the Katrina aftermath could have been largely avoided had people been prepared to take care of themselves in such a situation. Instead too many men and women waited for someone, the government, to come and save them. Some of those people may have not had any other choice. But our culture of dependency is raising up a generation of people who have no idea what it means to be self reliant.

"I predict future happiness for Americans if they can prevent the government from wasting the labors of the people under the pretense of taking care of them."


The Tour Divide, and the Great Divide Race, The Grand Loop and all the rest are small but significant movements. They represent the idea that we can be successful on our own. That we don't need a road paved with gold, cleared of all obstacles, and sanitized with parental connections, corporate string pullers and ivy league credentials to make a life for ourselves. They teach us that failure is an inherent risk. And that in facing it we will all be better off.

What we do need to be is prepared. It does nobody any good to set out in the wilderness (or into the real world) with no map, no fitness, no idea. Don't be Chris McCandless. These races encourage and require us to be self reliant. Today the Tour Divide racers will set out on an epic adventure. Indeed, the epic adventure. No doubt each of them will return, successful or not, better off for taking a risk. Together, yet alone they put themselves out there, with only their wits, fitness, and maps, (electronic or otherwise) to get them through to the other side. It's an endeavor that much of the world would look at with ignorant condemnation. But to me, these sort of expeditions are an echo of that great American spirit. The spirit of independence.

And that is a beautiful thing.

Labels: great divide race, solo, unsupported

“You should not see the desert simply as some faraway place of little rain. There are many forms of thirst.”

--William Langewiesche--

Saturday left me as a dried reed. I am thirsty, and worn out. I have broke down a little bit since then, and find myself fighting off a cold. But as I put the day into perspective I am reminded again, of why I do long mountain bike rides. I've said it before, but each time I find myself alone in the wide desert, or high on an exposed mountain ridge, the idea is hammered home once again.

Experience.

As I wound my way along Rockin' A the sun fought through the clouds, creating a surreal scene over arches. What tourists in Moab that day saw that?

Photo from Jeny



Climbing 313 cars whirred by me, oblivious to where I had been, and where I was going. To them, I was just another pedal biker. But I knew. I knew where I was heading, and what I was doing.

Just before the KTR in 2006 I wrote:

I am looking forward to the isolated pain of an endurance race. The world shrinks, becoming just the size of you and your bike. Pain and fatigue grip your thoughts, and life itself becomes a bitter battle between pressing forward, or falling over.

That holds true. I still look forward to those isolated moments, those times when the entire universe seems only to consist of wether or not you can progress. And it seems, progress is a product of experience. Or as B.H. Roberts put it, "progress or perish".

Saturday held a small victory for me. I shut out the quit demons and pushed on through the mental urgings to do otherwise. Despite the highly persuasive nature of the demon and his argument. That was important for me. It was mojo in the tank, to be used down the road when again the whispers of failure creep up from the sand, enticing me to turn back, sit down, or never start at all.

The quit demon does not see what I see. He only knows failure. He does not experience the beauty of the blowing sand, or the heat of the desert sun. He does not hear the sweet sound of running water. He does not smell the high alpine air. He only knows the dark silence of defeat.

And so today, I am still thirsty. Physically, but figuratively as well. I am already longing for that next moment of clarity, isolation, and yes, even delusion. It is those moments that purge out the distractions of an ever increasingly distracted world. And as that world descends into the chaos of the rat race, I am content knowing that "out there" I can reconnect with myself, and remember and appreciate that indeed, "there are many forms of thirst."

Labels: endurance, moab, solo