What an experience! Congrats to all the finishers.

       I was lucky enough to have my bro and all-time hall of fame shuttle master Z. Bunch co pilot my rig to the Mexican border, for the start of the Arizona Trail race 2018. We meandered south, by way of the Great Sand Dunes Nat'l Park and Flagstaff. Eventually we cruised into Bisbee,AZ. a wild bohemian art community tucked into the strangely verdant hills of southern Arizona. A large open pit copper mine sits directly in the middle of the little town. Odd place, but so interesting. With a whole day to relax and get ready, I was so set. Until, I noticed I had several broken spoke nipples on my rear wheel. I had just fixed a couple spokes with the same ailment, and quickly realized that the spoke nipples themselves were defective and breaking like crazy. I knew they wouldn't make it to Utah, 750 miles of desert savagery away. Now my time seemed strained, I called the number on the door of the Bisbee Bicycle Brothel, a legendary bike shop and museum in downtown Bisbee. Ken, the owner answered on the third ring.
I explained my predicament, and he agreed to open the shop and meet me. We proceeded to flail for the next several hours to replace all my aluminum spoke nipples with brass. nipples what? you say. met a rockstar who sells soap. he busted out his compressor for me.
After battling that, and arriving at the border at dusk to be greeted by friends old and new, my front tire was not holding air. More wrestling insued, with the help of Max Morris. A dramatic last minute KLANG! from the bead of my tire at sunset set the tone for what would be a battle from start to finish. I was lucky to have Zach along that day. He kept me calm, brought me food, and reminded me that
"This race ain't gonna be easy" he said.
"you're going to have to want it"
Oh how right he was.
3.2.1...go. 7AM start. way too fast a pace I thought. Then I'm ok with it. Pedal up to the front. Say hello to Kurt. Compliment his mullet. turn onto the singletrack. THIS IS HAPPENING! Max catches me and its on. We start going race pace. passing a few of the 300 racers. getting hot.BOOM Max Morris is gone. Why cant I hear anything? absolute meltdown. ears ringing. lost in Patagonia, 40 miles into a 750 mile race and Im dead. rolling on the ground cramped. Frankenstein legs. called Karla. out of my mind. "did I just blow my race?"watching riders go by. cramped. Hey there goes Ben! Ben Hanus, my spiritual Guru, who should be miles ahead, is there, like an angel. We slow pedal to Sonoita, stopping to smoke roadside dabs. like, real dabs from a glass bong. All the way high.I love this race. Ben drags me along into the surreal Santa Rita sunset. are we really here? dreamtime. Im recovering! I cant believe it but Im going to live! Ben zooms away into the night after a powerful high five. brothers! 10 minutes later, I'm feeling amazing, covering ground and smiling. trouble is, Im off route. 5 bours or more until I realize my mistake and get back on route. Almost run over by a truck sleeping in the road. no water. so much for recovery. Morning comes. down towards Tucson. dry as dirt. dead legs. everyone is in front of me. lost my hash smoking device. devastated. phones dead. no GPS. buy one from a racer for $100 without getting off trail. mo money mo problems. try to eat a burger at Saguaro Corners. can't. drink a gallon of ice water. didn't make a dent. Pedal ALL THE WAY to base of Reddington, forget to fill up. Its over half a day to the next water.
"SHIT!"
pedal back, looking for friendly house, spigot, something.
Fill up at an anonymous house with maybe people home maybe not...praying to not get shot. Back up Reddington. the most epic sunset that goes on and on and on and on. nuclear holocaust over Tucson. magic.
swamp ass. so gnarly. stripped naked pushing my bike for hours up Reddington.
Up at 1st light. on to Lemmon. takes FOREVER. a Gila Monster!! a little contrived HAB. wubs wubs. too hot. "I was afraid I was going to die."
"and then I was afraid I wasn't"
Summerhaven! well named. Salmon BLT. Beer. Pie. Gatorade. I drank a jar of pickle juice. I felt it hit my legs like ice water in the viens. Oracle Ridge. Windy. spectacular. frustrating, but only a little. sandy wash bivy with fear of Rattlers. wrong turn to start the day. backtrack to Oracle. Amazing bagel with lox. two bagels with lox. phone charge. life giving donuts.
Now. we come alive. mile after mile of twisty desert singlertrack. bunnyhop two rattlesnakes. fears allayed. "they react like youre no more than a hawk shadow." Stomping pedals up Ripsey in the twilight. Legs are back from the dead. Music pumps through my headphones." I love this race!" Pizza at Kelvin Bridge. drink 2 gallons of water. 2 gatorades and 3 cokes. power into the gila canyons at night. quick sleep. PICKETPOST!! carbondale boys show me love. They look so happy to be done. tempted to quit. GOTTA MOVE! queen valley bullshit. hotter than the devil's ballbag. Ice cream. Apache Junction singletrack. where the hell are we? Jack in the box. Jacob's crosscut trail in the dark. rocky. cursing. happy. great bivy. smoke the undercarriage in a 7 minute fire.
Tortilla Flats sunrise. sitting in traffic. Salt canyon lake looks soooo inviting. keep pedaling. Roosevelt Lake! Butcher hook burger! stopped at Jakes Corner for a beer. Hot climb to Payson. my wife is in payson. I have to call her and ask not to meet. I miss her too much to ride past. tears are shed. keep pushing.
PAYSON! wendy's. e-cig from chevron that will burn my hash cartridges. new man. shower. clean kit.
2:30 alpine start. wet kit underneath down jacket, smells like downy. pine for breakfast. gaining steam. hiline trail. "wow there's spring water in Arizona."
hike yer bike. ride yer bike. cosmic supplements. ride yer bike more! hellish push up to the mogollon rim.
"now who's feeling frisky?"
pine tress. windy ribbons of singletrack. power sliding in the needles. ripping and roosting like the good ol days. My legs are risen from the dead like Lazarus. ride until midnight. Flagstaff for lunch. making time now. Retail therapy at REI. prep for the Grand. the big ditch. the homestretch. Amazing riding out of Flag. aspens. wrong turn. "goddamn it". cursing. tantrum. apologies. another profoundly lovely sunset. cold wind. icy headwind. creeping downhill. mountain lion country. sleep anyway.
lay there all night and shiver. Brad rides out and I reluctantly follow. wearing everything Im carrying. shivering. Icicles on my water bottles until noon. headed to the south rim. try to drop Brad but he's always there. no reserves now. I can feel a single almond hit my stomach. eating everything.
Tusayan.Wendy's. power an obscene amount of fast food with more to go. Catch Adam at the trailhead. Bike on the back let's do this.
oh welcome to the Grand Canyon. 6pm drop in. Bhutan death march. make the river in great time. up we go! 30 minute shifts. walk. sleep.walk. sleep.
Cougar 6 yards from the trail. unblinking yellow eyes. death sphinx. mutual respect and wonder? walk backwards for an hour with the hair on my ass standing up. 3am sleep until 5. 2 sour patch kids and Im off." Theres Dan and Paul!"
good morning. stomp the north rim trail. screaming at rim to rim runners. feeling unstoppable. shouting in gratitude. mountain legs. years of slogging on skis and carrying bits of metal into the mountains has brought this power. I could walk forever. but now I get to ride again. props from all the runners. roll out. Kaibab plateau. beauty. cold headwind. almost home. look back. too often. 4th place!! tears of joy. of pride. of gratitude. middle fingers up too. earned my spot. all the emotions at once.I love this race.
Cookies at Jacob Lake. in a hurry now. drop into epic buffed pine racetrack singletrack. hero's finish. so close. my lady. my legs. don't crash. almost crashed! Hike a bike NO! insulting. 4 miles to go. more hike a bike. "you rude son of a bitch, let me out!" finally draining to the Red Rock. Utah is there!
twisties to the end! hero's welcome. my love. some friends.
a beer.
And just like that..........

     Hats off to all the folks I got to meet and ride with in the CTR. It was super wet, slow and treacherous riding, mud and all that other fun stuff. I got rained on 4 out of 6 days. The worst of it was in the San Juans, and on my day 5 in the Tarryall detour. Brad, Max, Dana and I left the Tarryall Saloon about 12:30 pm and couldn't have timed it worse. A storm bore down on us hard. The rain was lashing and I blew right past a critical turn. I was blissed out, riding with my headphones in and well on my way to Kansas, had Dana not mashed it to catch me and turn me around. An act of selflessness I won't ever forget. I had ridden with Dana after he caught me in Leadville, and I really enjoyed his company. The rain soaked us to the bone and the weather looked to stay grim all night. The road quickly turned to peanut butter, and were riding in total silence. Brad pulled up and said his race was over and his knee was blown. Dana and Max and I continued but soon the boys got too cold to continue and I offered to make us some hot soup and mull it over (I was the only one in the group carrying a stove). I couldn't come up with much to say to convince them to keep going, and the soup just wasn't enough. I watched them pedal off while I clutched my soup inside my jacket and nodded off sitting on the side of the road. I was physically shaking from the cold but I knew I had a dry sleeping bag, and a shelter in case it got worse that night. I sat there a long time. When I finally got moving again, I had to walk my bike downhill, just to get warm enough to ride. The rain let up, and later that night I ran into some kids camping who offered me a beer and a hotdog and a few minutes next to their fire, they sat staring wide-eyed at the drown and muddy figure, while I recounted some of the previous days adventures. All this fun on my 39th birthday!!! I finished at 11 the next morning after about 5 hrs sleep on the side of the trail near Buffalo Creek.

See you all down the trail

Justin DuBois