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Ten on Zen – 2025

It all came unraveled in a spot that I wouldn’t have otherwise even mentioned. It’s on Lower Zen. There’s a slickrock ramp that if you hit with speed takes nothing to climb. At the top of the ramp, you hang a slight right over a couple of big, flat rocks and then there’s a small move right after you turn left to finish the up. It’s at that last spot that I came to the end of my thread.

The day started in as good of conditions as can be hoped for the first weekend in January. The sun was shining, it was mostly clear and there was no wind. It was cold, but above freezing and was forecasted to be in the mid to upper 50s. I crested the hill to drop down into the trailhead a few minutes before 8 and was surprised by the amount of cars in the parking lot. It was already full. I had a sudden jolt of anxiety as I realized it would be a push for me to be ready by 8. Delaying my own event is not something I am ok with doing.

I parked at the far end of the row of cars, let Winnie out and rushed to get my shoes on and the bike ready. I didn’t look down at my watch because I didn’t want to know that we were a couple of minutes late. You know with my time anxiety and all, it’s best for me not to know. I rolled up to the sign, wrote down my name, fist bumped a few peeps I hadn’t seen in a while and then we rolled.

Or at least some of us did. Mostly, it was the So ‘Tah Singlespeeders that went out with none other than the Mayor of Gooseberry leading the charge. I brought up the back of the group and immediately began to struggle to keep up. The Mayor was on a mission. I settled into a rhythm and soon was warming up as we made our way up the climb. At some point, Kenny stopped and I ended up in the front slowing everyone down and allowing for some conversation. Everyone was in good spirits as we hit the Jacker Stacker and then made our first run at SOB Hill.

It is my custom to give the first roll at SOB Hill everything I got cuz it’s most likely going to be the only time I have any semblance of a chance to make it up. With gears grinding and knees popping, I cranked toward the hill making it through the momentum suckers and hitting the slickrock. With one more push, my front and back tires make it up above the hump but still a couple feet below the top. I stop. Regroup rotating my pedals to where they need to be and then hop, once, twice, maybe it was three times, before rolling over the top.

One and done.


If you’re new here and you’re scratching your head asking yourself, “Self, what the hell is Ten on Zen?” Well, let me try to break it down for you.

Ten on Zen is the Alliance’s yearly celebration of both the Zen Trail and the act of self-flagellation as a way to obtain enlightenment. It’s rather simple really. You get ten hours to ride as many laps as you can on Zen. We roll at 8 AM, mostly sharp and you must start your last lap before 6 PM. Truth be told, most folks start late and check out early. It doesn’t take too much searching on Zen to find enlightenment.

Or at least for some.

For others, it’s a turn yourself inside out for as long as you can keep the pedals spinning hoping to find that mythical place in the back of the pain cave where your brain decides to disconnect from reality giving you a roller coaster ride of euphoria, darkness and hallucinations.

All in all, it’s a great little party that everyone loves to attend. We hope we are able to keep it rolling for many years to come. If you haven’t yet, sign the goddamn petition.


Our small motley crew of singlespeeders eventually makes our way to Hell Hole and inevitably stops at the Honey Hole to inspect the stock levels. Kenny pulls out the bottle and takes the first pull making him the official winner of Ten on Zen.

I make promises for future laps and the three of us roll back into the start area. As I mentioned, Kenny is on a mission. He says something after a very brief stop and heads right back out with Drew following or leading closely by. I don’t recall who went out first and it doesn’t matter. At this point, there are a full gaggle of Ten on Zenners milling about in different states of readiness or inebration. JT and I refuel and head back out.


The year of SIX.

Not only did we have more attendees, participants, pilgrims, whatever you want to call them, attend this year, it was a record breaking number of laps that went down. And more importantly, it was a record number of people who knocked out six laps or more.

That mission I keep mentioning for the Mayor, yup, six laps. Drew was also on a mission and if memory serves, he finished up 9 laps. Pierce, I don’t know how to get out of bed on time, Kettering came and laid down 10 laps in 8 hours claiming that those are the fastest 10 laps yet. He’s almost certainly right, but I’m not motivated enough to validate it. We’ll just trust him on it. Mr. Wilson also came out swinging and put down 4 full laps running which is at least equivalent to 6 laps of riding, if not more.

I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention the one record that was broken. Shirley came out and added one more lap to the female record for riding.


JT and I rolled back in after lap five together. The party has clearly begun. There are a myriad of folks rambling around, eating and drinking. There are a few still crankin’ on the pedals and you can see it in their faces that it’s starting to hurt. As inviting as the group is, I find myself at my truck refueling. I was feeling pretty good and was shooting to push my laps to 8 or at a minimum ride for the whole time.

After refueling, I roll back over to the party. JT is eating and I know if I stop, I’m done. Without saying much, or at least, I don’t remember saying anything, I roll out solo for lap 6.

The climb is what would be expected, tiring but manageable. I enjoy a stop at the overlook by myself and finally fully commit to the recesses of my brain and the thoughts rattling around in there. I’m on the home stretch of Lower Zen, above Hell Hole, when I roll up on Sara. I stop and chat for a minute and then head out feeling good and ready to just keep pedaling.

Mere minutes later, I come rolling up on that slickrock slab climb. I hit it with speed not expecting anything out of the ordinary. I roll over the two big rocks and then make the left to hit the last little grunt over the rocks at the top. Just as I crank to make the last move, my chain pops off and I fall into my top tube and then roll down onto the ground. This was the start of the end. I gather myself and bike and then begin trying to re-fit the chain. Riding a singlespeed should be easy and absolutely fucking not this. Sara catches up to me, I mutter something along those lines.

By the time things are riding ready, I’m done. Like done, done. Stick a fork in me done. Get some butter cuz I’m toast done. The puzzle of winding a chain that doesn’t want to be wound through a tensioner that doesn’t seem to work worth shit, has broken me. Before I even hit the trailhead, I know my number is six.

My shit has officially unraveled.


And then the best part of Ten on Zen, sitting around sipping on whatever your preferred poison is and shooting the shit with your friends. Talking about the whats, hows and whens and witnessing as those turning themselves inside out continue to crank even past the 6 pm cutoff.

Until next year…

Photo borrow without permission from Pierce Kettering. Definitely not stolen.

Embrace Chaos. Seek Discomfort.

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