The Curse of Spring Break

Spring Break — the Holy Grail of Spring Semester. One glorious week, which if properly planned also encompasses the weekend before and after for up to ten days of fun filled adventure. Every year I make grand plans that include travel, huge bike miles, maybe some rock climbing and time with friends, all the good things in life! And then every year — reality.

Let’s go back to Spring Break 2017, it was close to the real deal, right up until it all came to a screeching halt. I kicked it off with a few days of bikepacking dirt roads around St. George, Utah. I didn’t have much fitness to work with, but I was out there riding my bike all day and sleeping under the stars; life was grand! The final morning of this short jaunt I was packing up from my usual cowboy camping (just sleeping on a ground cloth under the stars) and pulled on my cycling gloves and to my surprise something in the pinky finger of my glove gave me a brutal sting or bite. I screamed and ripped the glove off and tossed it to the ground. Eventually I coaxed this out of the fingertip:

I only had about 15 miles to get back to my car, and with good cell reception, could call for help at any time — both pieces of information seemed relevant as I did not know if it was poisonous. I rode cautiously and monitored myself for signs of anaphylaxis. I was fine and unfortunately this did not end up being the most exciting event of Spring Break 2017. I then drove to Moab to meet up with a friend for several days of rock climbing at the hallowed halls of Indian Creek. We waited out some rain, let the rock dry, and then set about climbing. Did I mention being out of shape? And that I had been away from rock climbing for quite a few years? During a lead fall I managed to get the rope wrapped around my hand and my falling weight crushed my hand — my hand still wrapped in the rope with my body weight hanging from it, ouch! I extricated myself, some good Samaritans helped us clean the gear, and off to the the ER we went! It was a minor fracture of the 5th metacarpal, but the crushing of soft tissues led to damage I still feel to this day. Oh lovely Spring Break, you evil temptress you.

Fast forward to Spring Break 2018. This is the year I am going to stay in shape during my always over-scheduled and committee-laden Spring semester! I am determined to ride the first 300 miles of the Arizona Trail. Two girlfriends from Colorado are going to join me. One by one they disappear, one to surgery recovery the other to the temptations of good snow for skiing. More importantly, my hard earned winter break fitness is also abandoning me. I have no issue with doing the AZT, or most any route, solo, but I *do* have issue with driving for two full days to get my sorry over-weight ass kicked by such a challenging trail. I want to relish the AZT, I want to be feeling good and extract as much joy as possible from this rugged, remote, cactus filled adventure. So as is often the case with me, reason prevails and I talk myself into an adventure closer to home: I will ride the Stagecoach route east of San Diego. I rode a good chunk of it, spent much needed nights under the stars, and destroyed my ass to the extent that only going from no riding at all to riding all day every day can do. I also experienced temperatures from 25F and sleet to 100F and cooking under the desert sun, a typical few days of bikepacking.

I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. I am thrilled to have Spring break, but as any good Buddhist knows, expectation is the root of all suffering, and I continually set myself up for Spring Breaks that fail to meet my expectations! I also apparently don’t learn very quickly . Here we are in 2019 and back in early February I was riding so strong! I hadn’t felt mid-school year fitness that good in years! I started to get greedy, thinking maybe I would actually do an ITT (individual time trial, ie. race) of the AZT300 over Spring break this year. Then the record amounts of rain fall started, and then I got sick for almost three weeks, and then it rained some more, and then I had two good rides, and then got sick again… So yes, I went from the top of the metaphorical fitness world straight back to the bottom. Spring Break is one week away and I got nothing. I think I have finally admitted that I am not going to Arizona, and I am working out alternative Southern CA plans again. Plans where I will kick my own butt, finish break exhausted, bruised and battered, but most likely very, very happy. Expectations be damned.