Reflections On A Triple Crown Summer
At 3 am on Halloween this year, I was stepping off the Grand Canyon’s South Rim to continue down to the Colorado River, across the canyon’s South Kaibab Trail, and up and out to the North Rim. I was carrying my disassembled bike on my back and eating fettuccine noodle takeout from a plastic baggie. This wasn’t a scenario I’d spent much time imagining or anticipating, but the absurdity of it was energizing and exhilarating at the time. This Grand Canyon hike felt like a notable step closer to the finale of my Arizona Trail Race effort. Rolling up to the finish line at Borderline Campground would wrap up my 800-mile journey through Arizona, which would then put a wrap on the summer that gave me the chance to spend more time on my bike, covering more ground than I ever had before.
Prior to this loaded Grand Canyon hike, I started spring at home in Alaska, raced the Tour Divide for much of the month of June, and gave a go at the elevation and thunderstorms of the Colorado Trail in August. In October, I started pedaling north from the Mexican border on the Arizona Trail. In the end, these races all totaled to about 4,000 miles of moving over 37ish days. That felt like a considerable amount of riding time and plenty of time spent thinking about whatever the heck came into my mind. In all those miles and hours, there are moments worth glorifying and there are pieces I don’t really feel the need to experience again. It offered a lot of opportunity for introspective reflection, personal challenges, and reflecting on and appreciating community. For me, the continuous forward movement of bikepacking racing provides physical goals and a clear mental focus.
During the Arizona Trail Race, I aimed to start my days before the sun was up. After about four hours of sleep and likely a few snoozed alarms, I would peel my eyes open and peel off the warmth of my sleeping bag to try to jump-start my day. I’d try to down a quick snack (a bottled protein shake or a pastry were my morning favs) and cram my things into stuff sacks and bike bags. Everything had its own spot, which helped me mindlessly pack up and get moving in my sleepy state. Despite warm temperatures in the daytime on the southern part of the route, the nights got chilly. My layers and sleeping bag sit-ups kept me warm enough at night in below-freezing temps. Throughout the day, my body would warm up and adjust to riding in the 80s and 90s. The stark contrast and adaptability of my physical body felt surprising every time I’d layer down from my puffy jacket to a tank top.
Each morning, I was eager to see how many miles I could cover before the light of sunrise was bright enough that I could turn off and pack away my headlight. Often starting a bit achy and craving more sustenance than convenience-store food could supply, my muscles and joints would eventually get back into the routine of pedaling by the time the sun was up. These Arizona sunrises glowed bright pink, purple and orange colors, and that vibrancy, paired with pop music, sometimes felt magical in countering the fatigue building in my body. Salsa gave me a bright pink Spearfish for the ride, which blended perfectly with many of these sunrises and felt just as dreamy to ride! The brightening sky lit up all of the prickly cacti outside of my headlight beam and gave a glow to the desert’s red dirt. It was so beautiful and always worth the anguished wake up.
Despite its beauty, the Arizona trail was relentlessly technical. I started with fresh bike shoes and cleats and ended with completely shredded soles from so many hours of hike-a-bike. Navigating rocky trails, downed trees, and extended cacti kept me literally on my toes, touching down to hop on and off my bike often. Throwing a leg over my saddle to dismount became as automatic and swift as shifting on a climb or braking on descents.
The AZT route felt surprisingly quieter and more remote compared to the Tour Divide and Colorado Trail. As the race went on, I found myself wavering back and forth between being in awe of the places I rode through and feeling really lonely out there. After a certain number of solo, dark, and fatigued hours alone, I sometimes felt like it was all a pretty absurd effort. At times I questioned myself: why am I out here racing? Why am I spending so much time alone? Why am I pushing my body to feel this level of worked and sleepy? I realize now that these kinds of questions are natural when my mind and body are both exhausted.
Getting to this point and working through these questions helped me remember why I value the challenges that these long bikepacking races provide and why I value this activity. I thought of bike rides with my parents and brother growing up. I thought about riding my bike to school, the ocean, and the grocery store at times when biking was my main mode of transportation. I thought about short day rides and longer bike trips I’ve taken with friends. I thought about helping organize the Anchorage GRIT (Girls Riding Into Tomorrow) program and riding around Anchorage’s bike trails with a group of energetic middle-schoolers. I thought about and viscerally felt how riding my bike any distance helps me develop a healthy trust and appreciation for my physical body. Getting to use bikes as tools of mobility and connection to other people is the best part! I appreciate the way bikes offer people independence in getting places, how bikes offer connection and community through shared activity, and the versatility of experiences you can take on while riding a bike. Reflecting on these reasons that I enjoy and appreciate riding and bikepacking reminded me why I wanted to be out there on the AZT. These things energized and motivated me to keep pedaling forward.
Topping out at the Grand Canyon North Rim about 14 hours after starting down into it, I peeked down for a final look at where I’d just come from. I stuffed my face with snacks, reassembled my bike, and hydrated before starting the final 70 miles to the AZT finish line. I rode in all my layers, following my headlight beam and playing a friend’s playlist out loud on repeat. My goal was to ride through the night to get this thing done! Sleepy waves hit hard and forced me to lay down for a few naps. I wasn’t picky about where to nap; I lay down on top of the snow and tucked into my sleeping bag with my shoes on to treat myself to a few minutes of snoozing. In the past, I’ve been really afraid of being in the dark alone, but I learned this summer that there is a lot of comfort, calm, and relief in being able to lie down and rest in quiet woods. Sleeping outside each night was a treat and my eyes shut pretty much instantly, even if I was on a slope or in the snow.
Another sunrise kept me awake and alert for my last day on the AZT. The final 20 miles to the finish felt surreal in how close I was to the finish and in how near I was to closing out a summer that let me ride more and further than I ever had before. On each ride this summer, I saw places totally new to me, challenged myself in new ways, and met folks who have become encouraging and supportive friends. I’ve begun to learn when to push myself and when to listen to my body’s needs for rest or refueling. I’ve learned to feel more confident and capable with the goals I want to take on.
Rolling up to the secluded AZT finish line, I was greeted by the handful of friends who had finished before me and who were following the race. I felt relieved and proud to be there. I was so happy to see the faces of these friends who had just gone through the same challenges, rather than just their tire tracks and shoe prints in the dirt and snow. Sharing stories and comparing wrinkled, blistered feet reassured me why these challenges are so special.
Some good friends drove hours to pick me up at the finish and take me back to Tucson so I could sleep before flying home. People’s interest, encouragement, and support on both ends of these races is really what made these summer events achievable for me. I certainly couldn’t have ridden so much this summer without help and enthusiasm from numerous friends, family, good folks at bike shops, and having a flexible job. I feel super dang lucky!
After the AZT, I came home to winter in Anchorage. I really appreciated the opportunity to spend so much of this past summer riding my bike, but it feels so good to settle into the different routines of winter. Regular movement and sharing time outside with people are always the best ways for me to gain mental clarity and connect with others. In winter, I get outside on skis and fat-tire bikes, and I’ve been learning the ropes at a new job. I’m doing my best to reflect on what I experienced and learned from a lot of bike time this summer. I’m eager for more of that to come at some point. For now, though, I’m ready to adjust to the rhythm of the season and focus on some of my favorite parts of bike riding: the surrounding community, the confidence and independence riding offers, and ways to share the opportunities of bikes with others.