GOT ANY BASE !

Now we are talking. Yes, this was to be another trip of getting out of my mind on the finest of what Arizona has to offer.

After having watched many episodes of breaking bad and dreams of cooking up crystal in a field far from civilization, I was all set – but for one small detail. The Italian, better known as Alessandro Mattucci, coach and host of the ISC tradition in cycling winter base (a massive misinterpretation on my part) training camp.

Arriving in Phoenix airport with my trusty bike bag (technically Dave Anthony’s, if you count who paid for it ) and accompanied by Lenny “1300 watts of cat 4 power” Galatti, we were picked up by The Italian and driven to an undisclosed location.

I say undisclosed location for fear that the new strict anti-drug enforcement officers from New York City would pick up on my BH / Comedy Central training log errors, such as: Asked where have you been training, instead of putting riding through the beautiful climbs of Arizona, I put Prospect Park early mornings, dodging getting tickets, mixed up with a little bit of West Side Pathway hit-a-pedestrian sprint drills.

Now we are talking. Yes, this was to be another trip of getting out of my mind on the finest of what Arizona has to offer.

After having watched many episodes of breaking bad and dreams of cooking up crystal in a field far from civilization, I was all set – but for one small detail. The Italian, better known as Alessandro Mattucci, coach and host of the ISC tradition in cycling winter base (a massive misinterpretation on my part) training camp.

Arriving in Phoenix airport with my trusty bike bag (technically Dave Anthony’s, if you count who paid for it ) and accompanied by Lenny “1300 watts of cat 4 power” Galatti, we were picked up by The Italian and driven to an undisclosed location.

I say undisclosed location for fear that the new strict anti-drug enforcement officers from New York City would pick up on my BH / Comedy Central training log errors, such as: Asked where have you been training, instead of putting riding through the beautiful climbs of Arizona, I put Prospect Park early mornings, dodging getting tickets, mixed up with a little bit of West Side Pathway hit-a-pedestrian sprint drills.

This was to be my secret training but if you really must know it was the Homewood Suites by Hilton in Scottsdale.

Walking into the lobby, I noticed a sign with the words, “guest of the day , Phil Penman.” I am sure this was done in haste after the staff saw my skill in taking bags out of a truck, or perhaps I was to be the only guest and the others on my trip were staying at the Four Seasons. Cat 4 Power Lenny and I settled into are new suite consisting of kitchen , living room and bathroom. I realize this is far from domestic pro digs and by staying in this luxury I was in fact being very un-pro (a pro would be to stay in dank basement with rats as friends, staying up all night sniffing embrocation).

Joined by Anthony, Lenny and I ventured out on a short “endurance ride,” to shake off the airline legs. Thank goodness for google maps: As darkness and wrong turn after wrong turn came upon us our endurance ride quickly turned into a race pace / get-me-back-to-our-bloody-hotel-before-a-car-kills-us kind of ride.

All showered up and ready for our first dinner, we were pleasantly shocked to see that The  Italian and Birgit the German had cooked up a feast of pasta and meat sauce for us, and Nate, a fellow cyclist, had the bright idea of bringing two cases of amazing red and white wine for us to sample during the week.

After discussing the weather, or more accurately, the impending doom of death rain coming our way throughout the coming week, we decided to head to Tucson to tackle Mount Lemmon. The chances of getting to the top later in the week would be unlikely. We drove two hours to Sabino Cycles in Tucson and kitted up in the parking lot. I rarely take pictures on my cycling trips but figured that this being base training, a 10-pound pack on my back was probably a great idea. Armed with my trusty Leica, I had the bright idea of taking pictures of the group as we ascended up Mount Lemmon. This climb is no joke. It’s about 25 miles long, starting around 2,700 feet above sea level and topping out around 9,000 feet.

It’s a never-ending bastard of a climb, especially when you’re doing Kodak Moment intervals on it. This would consist of me racing off ahead of the group, quickly taking camera out of the backpack, shooting some pics, packing away the gear, and hauling ass to catch them again.

What struck me is just how the terrain changes on this climb. First you feel as if you’re riding on some moonscape. Then, two Kodak intervals later, snow is all around you. Either I was tripping my arse off from the alleged “honey sandwiches” we were given for the trip or we had to be gaining some serious elevation.

Around 8,000 feet, I required a quick wardrobe change, as I couldn’t feel my fingers (or it could have been the honey sandwiches).

We reached the top and went down a very small road where some genius had a brilliant idea of having a coffee/oversized cookie store. The place was packed due as it was the only food store up there. I strongly suspect the owner was the guy rubbing his hands and laughing, devil-like, as he watched eight weary cyclists pulling into his lot.

“You want coffee and an oversized cookie? Yes we can do that.  It’s going to cost you your shiny Pinarello. Or you can keep just spinning out before you hit the ground.” Well, it was actually eight dollars but seeing as he had the only place I’m sure he could charge whatever he wanted.

Descending took about forty minutes. It started with me feeling like the morning after yet another night of beers back in England, followed by a greasy kebab and fighting with a lamp post and throwing up on myself. But I soon settled down to a “damn this is fast; car move the hell out of my way” kind of ride. After a quick pace line back to the lot we drove back to Scottsdale for more wine and tales of woe.

Day 3 / The Rain Dance Begins

I woke up to see the rain pissing down.  My brain went through the familiar motions: Do I want to ride in that? My bed feels really good right now … If I put embrocation on my face will I get a nice tan?

After a group meeting a few of us headed out. It started with the usual “Well this is not so bad” to “Shit, I can’t feel my hands or feet and I’m soaked through.” We turned back after about an hour and half of riding towards fountain hills and contemplated the day ahead.

Scottsdale has its fair share of bike porn so a trip to the local shop was in order. Now how many local shops have their own bike-specific wind tunnel? Faster, a new bike store, had this, along with special fitting room with enough cameras inside to make any paranoid speed freak worried. This store was obviously aimed at people dropping 15,000 dollars on a bike or bike manufacturers using the wind tunnel for testing their new aero time trial bikes. I bought an inner tube from them and WTF, no discount?

Day 4 / A Hint of Sun

Plastic bags over socks check. Plastic gloves stolen from hotel cleaner’s trolley check.! Now we were ready to head out for another day or hour of riding in the rain.

After about an hour of riding the honey sandwiches kicked in again and in my delirious state it appeared that the  sun had broken through. In this euphoric moment we decided to venture past the confines of city limits and head out to bat country. After three hours we started to ascend Dynamite, a nine-mile steady climb that is essentially one long straight road. About half-way up I noticed a sign saying, “No shooting.” Was this to keep the bats in check or to stop angry motorists from saying “get off my land” while taking pot shots at lycra-clad cyclists?

At this point we had three hours in the legs and the top of climb was in sight when someone upstairs decided to direct the icy hand of death at us by opening up the skies and letting us know that the next hour and half would be worse than doing Route 66 with only a Justin Bieber album for company.

We arrived back at our luxuriously un-pro hotel and decided that another trip to look at bike porn was the answer. You can never have enough embrocation.

Day 5, 100 Miles. Well, 98.9, To Be Exact

The goal today was to get as many Kodak Interval Moments in as the sun was finally out. The plan was to head to Bartlett Lake. I am fairly unfamiliar with Arizona as my training trips are either to Europe or California. What struck me most about riding in Scottsdale and surrounding Phoenix is just how every day feels completely different. The skies are ever-changing along with the surroundings. I don’t think we were ever actually riding on flat ground. It was either up or down. You are doing 13mph or 35 – 40 mph. Today’s ride was stunning. We notched up around 6800 feet of climbing at an average of 18.2mph, well within the confines of base training.

Day 6Today was to be “the B line”  to Mesa , a full-on straight road open to the elements with massive headwinds.

One thing I would say about Mesa is do not leave your bike unattended. After we pulled into a local Speed Smart gas station, I noticed the locals were lacking in the missing teeth/have a bloody shower department. This is not to say everyone there is like that, just the 8000 square-feet  area we were in. I am sure of it.

 As I sat eating my honey sandwiches on the stoop of Speed Smart I felt as though I was being watched. In front of me were two old ladie /blue dye rinse wannabes. They were sat in their bright yellow Scion, casing our bikes. It could have just been me but a fast exit out of Mesa was in order. We pace lined it out and next thing you know we were riding before white mountains and beautiful lakes.Notched up a nice 114 miles for the day.

Day 7

Recovery ride. Everyone’s feeling the pain now, knees playing up , heart rate really low. When your heart rate monitor tells you your heart rate is 119 bpm on a 12 percent climb, it’s probably time to take a rest.

So after 80 miles that is exactly what we did. Armed with 8 bottles of wine and champagne we headed to an amazing Mexican restaurant, proceeded to get drunk, and drove slowly through the town center where all the locals were.

Windows down, car bouncing and “Take me home” by Aha playing on the cheap rental car stereo. This truly was pimp my ride !

Day 8

We all said our farewells and proceeded to our airlines for the ride back to New York.

US Airways was so nice that they took me on a three hour circling tour of the Phoenix skies. It was a pleasant end to my trip when a surprise announcement from the pilot tells us “something is wrong with the plane and we need to start dumping fuel to make a safe landing.”

Safe landing being back in bloody Phoenix. Correct me if i am wrong but I thought the point of a long flight was to take off, fly for a few hours, then land somewhere else.

After a change of plane and waiting for a new crew, I took off again and made my way back to New York. Now all I have to do is wash my endless amounts of black cycling clothing loaned by Michael Rasmussen and hope that no local century road club riders saw me out there.

With all the endless cycle lanes out there, and believe me they are everywhere in Scottsdale, I chose to ignore every one of them. My pedestrian hitting points are simply off the charts right now. Truly results, bro !