Thinking about 19 year old Kevin

We set out in 36°, bundled up for a winter ride, in Tucson. In February. Mike parked the truck in a school lot where we hoped the gates wouldn't shut for the 3 hours we'd be riding. We rolled into the rising sun, blinding. I put Bryn between me and the sun hoping he would find the right line. The air was as brisk as Wisconsin, but the wheels were rolling smoothly on the pavement and the surrounding desert spread infinitely around us. 2000 feet of climbing the day before had this Midwesterner feeling the previous 53 miles.

The destination was McKenzie Ranch Trails Park, a 1700 acre park with multiple trails including 2 mountain bike loops adding up to 10 miles. We finally reached the turn off for the park and faced a mile or two of gravel washboard that pounded the hands and arms and made me think of Paris-Roubaix coming up in April. I hoped this would not be an indication of things to come, as we were surrounded by prickly pear, thorny brush on all sides, and rocks — rocks the size of fists, heads, bodies, everywhere. A wreck wouldn't be just road rash, it would involve extricating thorns from flesh, and we'd already made a pledge riding across Saguaro National Park the day before that if you had thorns you couldn't pull them out until photographed for posterity.

On gravel bikes, we chose the 6.6 mile Kozen trail and hoped our gravel bikes would stand up to the single track.

McKenzie Ranch Trails Park - our route based on my Strava map - the 8 mile ride to the trailhead not shown

The riding was technical for me — truly a single line to follow, and if you chose poorly, those thorns were waiting to prod you. Plenty of times I had the back end and front end of the bike having a different conversation than the one I was trying to have with the handlebars. I dabbed my foot plenty of times trying to stay upright as we dropped into depressions, and my hope was that the bike would roll through it, as a broken collarbone or finishing off my rotator cuff seemed at times highly likely.

Half way through the loop it occurred to me! My travel insurance has medical evacuation coverage! If I crashed and was injured, a helicopter could come and rescue me! That properly cheered me up! My thoughts turned to less injurious scenarios and I absorbed myself in my line on the course and the opportunity I was given.

And after such preamble I get to the subject. Thinking about 19 year old Kevin. And 19 year old Bryn. We'd race our bikes up and down the bike lane on Wright Street in Champaign, sprinting for Altgeld Hall and math classes. Pedestrians be damned. We flew across campus as only a 19 year old with but college worries can. What would Kevin and Bryn of 1990 think of us now, 36 years later, still on bikes, still friends, and still having a grand adventure? I think they wouldn't doubt it for a second, and perhaps find a little confidence in that.

We've been through some things. 36 years will take its toll and you'll have good years and bad years. The freedom we discovered south of Assembly Hall on roads without names and only numbers, the smell of the South Farms, a quick trip for me to the Taco Bell on University. I still have Bryn's college bike hanging in my garage. The Cannondale was raced by Bryn, me and Stephen, too. I still have that Schwinn that raced up and down Wright Street, to FAR and ISR and all over campus. 

I think 19 year old Kevin would be pretty happy that things turned out differently than he ever imagined. I think he'd be happier still to know that a lifetime later, he would still be going out for a ride with Bryn and feeling that same stupid satisfaction in the pain and immense joy in just being alive on a Saturday morning in February in Tucson in 36°.

I have to give a special attribution to Fair Wheel Bikes in Tucson near the University of Arizona Campus. I love bike shops, but will say this one, with their collection of 80's cycling ephemera and bicycles is pretty special. If you're visiting Tucson and need a bike rental, you cannot go wrong with the service and shop here. Thanks, guys! My Trek gravel ike ran flawlessly for 76 miles.