Like all places, Tucson has its downsides. This city happens to be one of the retirement meccas of the nation, filled with people that are coming to the age where they should have their license taken away, and people that are far past the point where their license should have been taken away. As I was out on a brisk morning ride on Wednesday I ran into one of these people (not literally), as 160 year old lady turned at about 2mph right in front of me and I had to slam on my brakes to prevent myself from becoming a hood ornament. There’s something wrong with the idea of a 90-something year old person operating a several ton machine that has the capacity to go really fast in public. Just saying.
But also like all places, Tucson has its redeeming qualities. For one, it has an insane amount of bike lanes. In Chicago it seems that an absence of bike lanes has contributed strongly to natural selection among the cycling population, so that those carrying traits that lead to riding on the right side of the road, wearing bright clothing, staying away from rush hour or riding towards the sun, and stopping when the light turns yellow are more likely to survive and thus are more abundant than their risk taking counterparts. I have theorized that due to the presence of bike lanes, Tucson is more likely to sport risk-taking cyclists with traits such as riding in rush hour/towards the sun, riding 8 across on group rides, or displaying the “I own this lane don’t get in my way or I’ll cuss you out” complex that so many car drivers exhibit.
On Monday I finally moved out of Stacy’s mom’s house, as Mrs. Appelwick all but had to pry my cold stiff fingers off the doorknob of her beautiful, delicious smelling home. I had to travel from North of Tucson all the way to the extreme South end of the city to get to my next home where I will be staying until February 26th. My new home was owned by a woman with a strong Brooklyn accent and her son, and occupied by two other cyclists that included a father from Colorado that was on a week-long vacation in Tucson just to ride his bike and a Canadian that actually pronounced words the way Americans always make fun of them for (who is also a ridiculously strong mountain and road rider I must say).
Tuesday was an off-bike day so I decided to go for a hike in Sabino Canyon, somewhat west of Mount Lemmon. I had never imagined hiking to ever be a “jaw-dropping” experience until I was literally on top of a mountain looking over the side of a sheer cliff. There were switchbacks just to walk up this mountain, and it was truly the ultimate stair workout. Forget a stair machine when you can get both the workout and an insane view of all of Tucson. It wasn’t until then that I actually regretted not bringing a camera to show everyone the 1700 feet I’d ascended (I know because I took my Garmin along).
Wednesday was when I had my run-in with the 160 year old lady and later rode up Gates Pass, which was a mountain route created by a man named Something Gates in the late 1800s that wanted a quicker way to get to his mines on the other side. I just wonder why he had to make his road so darn steep.
Thursday was my Epic Ride. My house is situated South of Tucson, and I pretty much just oriented myself North and rode. And then I rode some more. And 3.5 hours, 64 miles and two cliff bars and a banana later my Garmin computer died and I was still riding. And then, when I thought I couldn’t take it any longer and my power was at about a category 6 level, I found myself still riding. Throughout my ride I watched the sun go from rising in the east to setting in the west. I think I pedaled through time and space and got lost in the Twilight Zone for a few centuries and stumbled upon the meaning of life for a moment. And then I was back at my house in Rita Ranch and it was business as usual as I remembered I had a rider report to write. And when I told Mike Ebert (my coach) of my Epic Ride, he basically said it was about time I put away my solo fun in the sun and find somebody to ride with.
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