Quick recap of the Pierre's Hole race the weekend before last.
Aside from plate #1, which signifies that either 1 - you've earned it and are the designated guy to beat, or 2 - you were more anxious to sign up for the race than anyone else at the start line, (only the former applies here), the most sought after plate number in the field is this one.
....and I was handed this number at the check in under the oath of representing it the way your supposed to - by riding with the strength and gumption of 3 men, a six pack of balls if you will. So how'd I carry the banner......
I cut it off half way through, had run plum out of fun and didn't have the head to keep grinding. That's not to say that the course and terrain aren't fun - they are, very much so. 100 miles on it was just more than I had the fitness or the gumption for. Annie had been warned earlier in the week about the high likelihood of that scenario, so her bike made the trip up as well, and despite the extra mojo bestowed by the race plate, I pulled the plug and we swapped pedaling and kid duty and let her go out for a lap that would be more enjoyable than had I gone out for another.
However - there were a few men who rode with six packs, and who made the fun and excitement build all afternoon as they kept knocking out mile after mile.... check it out below.... it was a pretty electric scene as they finished.
Congrats to Brandon and Gordon - huge respect for those rides!
Will try to be brief in saying how great I thought this race was. Burke is on to something really, really good here, and I hope he ride's the wave he created into adding another date or two next year and putting together some kind of series of these (Moab/La Sals is first to come to mind but that may be hometown bias, regardless, plenty of mountain ranges in Utah or even just across the state borders in a few directions). And if he does do more, I hope he can bring the same crew of volunteers to them, they were the stars of a knock it out of the park production that Burke put together. Type of people you wanted to stop and get to know. I'm taking tips to hand them next year - they were better and more attentive than any waitress I've ever had. The pre race buzz was exceptional with all the puzzle solving going into bike choices. I think people loved the chess match that took place before we even toed the line. I was a little late being able to commit to the race so missed out on a lot of that, and had a quick process of elimination that landed me on the Mtn bike at the line. The big post race question has been did we choose the right bikes? In hindsight, the Mtn bike was exactly the bike I needed to be on that day. Were I to line up with a little more preparation both with bike set up and conditioning, I think I'd make a few tweaks to the CX bike and give it a run, but it would have been wrong for me at this years race - I think.... see that.... you seeing the magic in this puzzle of a race course Burke's created? It's rad.
So the race started in Beaver, with Bruce setting the tone for one hell of a day with one hell of a countdown - never seen anything like it... not sure I will again without significant intoxication - it was great. I'll get brief with a few highlights from here. Felt great through the first 40 miles - the first climb went by quick, felt like I paced it right for what I had in me that day, and enjoying the heck out of racing on dirt roads up in the mountains. The day started to get long for me not far out of Circleville. Was by myself on that windy flat stretch of road, and that's where the fading started ever so slightly, then when we turned back on the dirt road, the fading began in earnest. Had felt good enough earlier in the day that I'd fueled maybe just a little light, but the time between stations had been quick enough that it was going just fine. That being said, I learned a serious lesson about bonking at last years Park City point to point, and have since been fairly attentive to catching it early if I get a little behind. By the time I got back to the intersection where we doubled back, I was needing to get some more fuel in me, not desperate, but in a less than ideal state, with nothing to correct it. I spent that stretch of pavement leading to that monster of a climb thinking about how best to approach it. By the time I hit the beginning of the dirt, I knew it needed to be a walk if it get's strenuous type of thing, I couldn't afford to rev it very high. So, about that strenuous thing.... between the pitch and the wind, I did a lot of walking, like damn near the entire thing. And it was slow walking.... I turned the music off for that section of the video to help give a good picture of what that was like... the signature climb of the race, and I was off the bike walking. Pathetic, but necessary to make sure my day extended beyond that climb. By the top I was getting a little more desperate - i'd done what was needed to keep the exertion in check, but the course had been exposed and hot for a while, and I had taken a long time to get up there. I felt some things similar to the park city lesson, and shut it down. Found the first shady spot I'd seen for a few hours, sat down, then lied down. Then I heard someone holler at me - Jon James rode by and shouted J-dub. I opened my eyes, sat up and said hi and told him he was looking strong, sat for another minute, then jumped on the bike and got moving again. Didn't think I'd been there for more than a few minutes, but John had probably saved me a lot of time by waking me from what was as best as I can tell from my race data, about a 15 minute nap. I was still in bad shape, and was fortunate that the roving support was bringing drinks back towards the KOM. Got a coke from them and proceeded to the last aid station before the home stretch.
I spent about ten minutes at the last aid, the first five piling in food, the second five catching up with Sam and Jamie, and then we were back off. Jamie made it 50 yards before he started puking. For me, the resting had worked, I'd gone from the brink of a point of no return bonk, to feeling as fresh as I had all day for that last 10 miles. Leg's were good, head was in a good place, rode with Sam whom I hadn't seen for a while so it was good to catch up with him... was just back into a real good place to enjoy the last stretch. Have never gone from so bad to so good in such a short period of time before - continuing to learn lesson's the hard way about staying ahead on the sustenance, but learning them none the less. Only hiccup of the day aside from the poor management was a random flat while rolling across those golf course like meadows - that's the origin of the tube ornament I'm wearing at for the finishing clips in the video. Shannon come by during the pit stop on her way to a 2nd place finish. A support truck also came by with Jamie sitting in front, I was heartbroken for him that he'd fought that far only to have to get in with just a few miles to go, then the truck pulled over to let him out for more hurling, and it was obvious he needed to not be trying to finish. Just as we were flipping the bike back over Joe came by. We jumped on with Joe and the three of us rode the rest of the way in. There's a little joking left in me at the end, but my favorite is Adam - you'll see him at the finish when I rolled through - I want you to pay attention to his expression when I say he's probably been there for two hours... turned out my two hour guess was within minutes of being correct, but he was too humble of a guy to affirm it. He rode a great race, along with numerous others. Also on the vid are the Zeph, Banks, and Gordon finishing up. Gordon rode the Crusher with a pretty serious shoulder separation, and get's my tough guy award for the day. Enjoy - and if you missed it, you need to make sure you don't miss the Crusher next year - it's absolutely a can't miss format and race.
Did the Crusher in the Tushar this weekend and my head is swimming with stuff from that race that I want to get up, but here's a quick post on the PC50 - also a fantastic race and a significant day for the White clan. Annie and I both went up to this one, and it would be the longest Mtn Bike ride she'd ever been on, not to mention it being a race, along with a whole bunch of climbing thrown in the mix - makes for quite a bit to bite off for a first go round with endurance racing.
Quick recap of my day: It was fairly uneventful. Got about what I could get from what I brought to the game that day, no mishaps, flats, or any other problems with the bike. Brief fueling deficit a bit past mid way that I recognized quick and nipped in the butt by sitting down for a few minutes and putting in what food I had, felt good the rest of the way in. It was hard, but fun.
Annie's day went a little south early on. She had two flats early in the day that required some assistance and consumed enough time that it nixed her chances at being in the mix at the front of her group. Huge thanks to Lyna Saffel and the Bike Fix crew that offered her some help - it was a less than ideal start to a hard day, and their kindness helped salvage a race that otherwise would have been really disappointing for her. But alas, it wasn't. Annie's got a head for racing - and the legs I might add - but she's very efficient in managing herself above the shoulders through the various peaks and troughs of a race. After the slow start, she got settled in, worked her way through a course that's was a little rougher and more technical than anything she's ridden more than briefly, fueled herself nearly perfectly, and finished her first endurance race. 50 miles is a long way, and covering them by riding up and down bumpy ski mountains on her mountain bike isn't a "testing the water" kind of way to do it for the first time. I'm telling ya, I think there's some significant racing in her if she keeps having fun with it - and I think she will. Here she is wrapping up her day - man I dig this chick!
Best outing yet for the Suncrest gang - everyone got er done, a feat that's evaded the group numerous times in the past. Kingdon got into a similar situation to what I got into last year on those same mountains - bonked to the point of no return early in the day - hat's off to him for grinding it out - takes a lot to do it when it gets like that. And Banks, what can I say man - think I was happier for your race than I've ever been for one of my own... way to rip it man!
After leaving the Ironhorse Classic in Durango, we dillydallied our way towards Vail where Annie and I would partner up for some racing there the next weekend. In between, we hit up a few places that we hadn't been before, a few nights at the Pagosa Hot Springs resort, Great Sand Dune National Park, a few nights camping, and then wrapping it up with some R&R (racing and relaxing) at the Marriott Vail Mountain resort for the weekend's events at the Teva Mountain Games. Will detail the in between stuff in a later post. In the meantime, here's the detail and footage from the Teva Games. I suckered Annie into doing the trail run, making a solid case that it would be best for the team - she'd seen me running around without my shirt off at the hot springs resort the few days prior, and quickly agreed that yes, it would indeed be best for the team if I didn't do the run.
Kayak - This went smoother this year, in large part to having done one prep outing on the Green River with some of the guys a few weeks back and having to execute a few rolls in some fairly large rapids on that trip. Wasn't near as sketchy as a few years ago, and had some confidence that I could keep it upright, and even if not, could get back up right without having to bail out. The only problem with the kayak leg this year was fitness. I've mentioned on here before that unlike some of the endurance type stuff where you get some decent crossover of fitness from discipline to discipline, the only way I know of to get into decent paddling shape is to paddle, a lot. I paddled hard for about 5 minutes, and was blown, completely, shoulders and arms. It was to the point of being concerned near the bottom end of the course that I wouldn't have the strength to paddle away from holes/obstacles if something came up that needed to be avoided. You'll see the soft paddling at the bottom of the course in the video, my strength was reduced to the consistency of wet bread. Side note - the Stand up paddle boarding seems to be catching on fairly rapidly, lot's of them there this year. I have since entered my first paddle board race - coming up this weekend....
Mtn Bike - They had to keep us a little lower on the mountain this year due to snow, which cut out some sections of both the Mtn bike course and the run course. Among the sections cut out of the bike course was most of the more technical downhill stuff, and some climbing mileage that they seemed to consolidate into a nasty pitch that capped off the climbing each lap. The kind of pitch that required you to slide up and put your seat tip right where the sun don't shine, and try to keep momentum just high enough that you don't stall out and tip. Missing or hesitating for even half a pedal stroke on those steeps meant you were off the bike and walking. I was actually able to race hard that afternoon, and the race was short enough at 3 laps just under 5 miles each, that the lack of training and fitness didn't get a chance to manifest itself to the extent it had the week previous at the Iron Horse. Came away fairly pleased and a little surprised.
Trail Run - Despite this course also staying a little lower on the mountain, I'm fairly certain they had that same guy, you know him from last time... yep, that one, the bastard - set the course again. It went straight up real early, just like last time. As in redline walking efforts straight up. Annie nailed it though, ran a great race that included running across and down snow banks, mud, double track, singletrack, and no track - everything a trail race should be, and did so quickly. Her motivation? To hammer my time from a few years back, which she did easily. I told her it was because the race didn't go as high up the mountain this year, but just between you and me, I know better.
Hill climb TT - Very similar time to last time I was out there, which translates into being a little slower this year given my legs hadn't had to do that run a few hours previous. Rode the first 6.5 miles real well, but didn't have the gumption to keep going hard once on the upper section of the route and faded some. But again, was somewhat surprised and pleased that it hadn't been worse. I also enjoy TT's, at least once they're over. Really the truest measure of oneself on the bike, both physically and mentally.
So, once it was all tallied together, team Wasatch Pilates (sponsored by Annie's little Pilates biz) finished 4th of 10 in the coed division of the Ultimate Mountain Challenge. More importantly - it seemed to light a little bit of the spark that's been missing from the motivation this year. We'll see if we can parlay that into some better focus and effort going forward. We're hooked on the team racing - its' a blast to team up with Annie for this kind of stuff.
Spectating - this was the kids first year out there so we made sure to catch a little bit of everything. They didn't get near as excited about the climbing or the slopestyle riding as we did. They're fascination - the dog jumping..., they could have watched it for hours.
Overall it was a great trip - great to get away with the family and just screw off for a while, these kidlets just keep getting more fun every year.
Video hightlights:
1 - my buying a gopro camera, with the kayak race specifically in mind for it, only to reach up and turn it on, I mean off, just prior to going in the water - no on board race footage, notta, nil, zilch.
2 - Brock having a hard time getting going on the kids race. Kid's race was also brutal for the little tikes, hard course for their little legs to climb up, and they all grinded it out - proud of them.
This annual post always starts out the same..... rave, rave, rave about how fun the Iron Horse Classic is. I'll get to that.
As has become tradition, I raced it again this year, but fairly miserably. I began to wonder within minutes of the start, when the pace was already in my brain - Geez, Are we going faster this year, this is causing more distress than usual this early? Hung on to Shalona Hill, then had my answer when I fell off the back rather abruptly. Went really slow for the rest of the race, I mean really slow. Insights? Yes, I have one. Slower is harder. When your going slow in a race, it's generally not because your trying to race slow, no, it's because your genuinely slow - but the effort to go slow isn't any less than the effort to go fast - your just stuck out there longer when the effort generates less speed. It was the slowest and hardest one I've done, with nothing to blame the day on other than my own limited capacity, indeed it was a perfect day for a mountain race. Despite the slowness, I enjoyed the heck out of the classic route from Durango to Silverton.
Mixed it up this year, skipped the other road Omnium events to do the Mtb race Sunday morning. And, contrary to what I expected, had a little more snap in the legs for that race. Finish was still poor, but slowness wasn't the sole factor, this was an important course to preride, and I hadn't. Critical sprint section going into the final stretch of downhill 1track, and here's another insight - when your the last one to know it's a sprint, your not gonna catch it. I realized I'd made a mistake the second the wave came up when we hit the pavement, and there was no catching it by the time I tried to accelerate. Was happy with how the legs and effort felt though, for the first time this year I felt like I was managing and thinking during a race vs. barely hanging on. Small positive from a punishing weekend.
So back to these Iron Horse organizers. Mentioned they added a Mtn Bike race to the mix this year. Good course, nothing great or spectacular......... until the pro race. That's when, after coming down off the mountain section, they moved the fences inside the restaurant, ran a ramp through a window, and detoured the course through the Steamworks Brewery..... check it.....
Course entered through the front window.....
Here's the exit ramp..... Deadly Nedley in hot pursuit of the 16 or 17 year old kid that won the race.... Ned had his day the previous morning when he won the road race... again.... The kids races were awesome again... Brock's the Spiderman dude in blue, head down and charging like a bull... Chesney's into the standing pedal lately, and spent a lot of her race out of the saddle... Along with Kylie who also came out of the saddle to hammer the short climb. Racing is only half the enjoyment of the Durango trip - simple stuff like setting out nickles and pennies on the tracks to get flattened by the train, and skipping rocks in the river from the railroad tracks are also among the enjoyments. We always love this trip. In Silverton after the road race... one positive about riding slow is that you don't have to wait as long post race before they open the road back up to return to Durango.
This was the first of two weekends of racing in Colorado, with some touring of the rockies in between.... more to come.
We'd been pretty cold for a while...... somewhere out on Stucki I got cold enough that I thought getting off and walking might not be a bad thing to try and warm up my feet and hands, and it was effective. It was on my walking hill that some of the travel group came back together - Gordon came by, then Banks and Kingdon, and I jumped back on, wanting to make sure good company remained part of the equation the rest of the way in.
Cold is hard to manage on a bike, there aren't a lot of options to try and mitigate it, so you don't manage it, you just deal with it. Annie had my rain gear out at the 2nd aid stop, and I declined when she offered to swap it out for the windbreaker I had on. Would have done that differently had I had another 30 minutes of hindsight available. Soaking wet and cold is a little harder to manage on a bike, and not unlike plain old cold, there also aren't a lot of options to mitigate it, so you also just deal with it - you deal with it a little harder.
That's where we were at the top of Stucki - soaking wet (really, you can't picture how soaked we were), cold, and "dealing" more than racing - but we'd topped out and were headed back down which wouldn't help the cold, but would help progress feel a little faster. That's when we hit it - or it hit us - the mud bog, the first of many, but to give it it's due, this first one wasthe mud bog. Took 10 yards to gain 30 pds of the stuff on the bike and shoes. It was immediate pushing, then, when the wheels wouldn't roll anymore, it was dragging, carrying, or a number of other techniques I saw to try and get one's self and the bike through the mud bog and the short but steep hill it crawled up. It was here that we started to laugh a little bit, between the cursing that we all conceeded seemed to be more frequent than usual - laughing was the only thing to do really - there are days that are memorable because a trail was great or you felt particularly strong that day, and then there are days that are unforgetable because of the conditions and the amount of "deal with it" required. This day was quickly becoming one of the latter - a day you'd never get yourself in the middle of on purpose, yet there we all were, a raceful of us caught out there in a hard, cold, desert rainstorm, grinding it out.
I thought the cold started to let up a bit, was able to recover some from feeling nothing more than stubs on the end of my arms that couldn't shift or brake without guiding the contact points there with your eyes - but the rain didn't let up, and however poor the condition of the riders at that point, it was those trails that were getting the worst of it. I don't know how long it will take them to be good again, but suspect it will be a long time, they were ravaged. We rode and pushed and laughed and limped along till a race staffer informed us it was over and to pack it in. So we turned and rode back to the finish.
The days race turned out to be one against the weather, and only the select few uberfast guys beat it. Hat's off to them. To the rest of us that stayed out till they were pulled off - no less respect, I thought the guts to grind in those conditions was a better satisfaction than anything a results sheet could have provided. I fall into the camp that thought the race promoter did one hell of a job in a situation where it was impossible to make the right decision for every racer out on the course. Have some friends who came out on the short end of the decision, but think it was the best for the most - kudo's to Cimarron and crew - thought they executed really well.
Photo's in no particular order...
The day made for a great commercial for the Look Quartz pedals - use them for both MTB and CX - waited to have a problem getting in/out of them all day but they were extremely efficient in clearing mud - never had an issue.
Don't know if I can attribute the saddle sores to these dirt clods I didn't know I was sitting on, or the lack of saddle time I took into the race, but I've got a few more than a few that I'm "dealing with".
Tyler and his crew along with Banks. Tyler had the toughest go of any of us - snapped his rear derailer off in the mud.
Kingdon - dude rode strong.
Banks and Super Crewer wife Karee. Banks rode strong and kept me positive Post race - Gordon-who also rode like a bull, Kingdon, Banks and myself - it was fun and merited smiles, it was just a unique fun.
The ill fated ride away from the 2nd aid stop from where my wife took this shot - while holding my rain jacket that I'd told her to keep. Less than 30 minutes away from conditions going real south real quick. Next up for me will be Cortez, and have a pretty dramatic amount of bike fitness to gain if that's going to be a good outing.
Few shots from the day before we get back to the story...
Pulling into the Park City aid station, real bad shape at this point despite the smile, but it would only get worse.
Dug and I leaving Silver lake...
At the Silver lake 2nd stop, coming to grips with how the rest of the day is likely to be given the hole I've already dug.
Pulling into Silver Lake 2 - no hole is so deep that it doesn't feel good to see your kid waiting with open arms.
OK, part 2.....
Think we left off with me having just stuffed numerous large rocks in both my jersey and shorts to make the Bald Mtn climb - or at least with me starting to move at a pace that resembled dragging a sack full of rocks, which I think is what my ass had become.
That walking that had started near the end of last post, well, it lasted pretty much the entire Bald Mtn climb. I had nothing, and the nothingness had hit 5 minutes too late to have tried to repair the damage/get back ahead of it at aid #1. I knew I was in trouble. Any positive gradient meant dismount all the way up to Nail Driver, at which point it became faster to sit on the bike as it rolled downhill than it was to push it, I know - yet another elite level race strategy you've come to expect from this blog. The death spiral of breakdowns - not the mechanical type mind you, no, the bike worked perfect, absolutely flawless, all day, despite me trying to chew that new rear shock off at one point - nope, we're talking the physical and mental imploding type breakdowns, went like this....
The smallest, most insignificant hills became punches in the gut. It was near the end of the Flagstaff loop that Dug came riding by. This was the highlight of the loop between the Silver Lake stops for me. After catching each other up on who we'd seen and how they were doing, I made the comment to Dug on a little roller type up that those little midget hills were starting to kick my behind. He acknowledged and affirmed as much by letting me know that "yes, your transitions are less than desirable" - he may have even said they sucked. And he was dead on. I was too spent to make the small momentum building efforts to go into even the smallest hill, one of the first of the pain compounding breakdowns of the implosion. This was only mitigated in part by Dug's good company and watching him descend, the guy is just smooth and fluid.
Disconnect between the brain and the body. I'm a moderate in regards to getting caught up in data, but here's a curious observation from the day. Percieved effort went completely out of whack relative to actual effort if heart rate can be relied upon as an objective/neutral marker. I noticed this not long after leaving Silver Lake stop 2 and making a couple of short efforts to try and stay with Dug (unsuccessful efforts, had to watch him ride away). I'd dig until I felt like I was revving to high, and look down to see my heart rate acting like we were on some liesurely ride. I don't know enough physiologically to know if that disconnect is due to the body shutting down a bit when in a hole or if it's the brain making it seem worse than it really is - let's call that being a puss. Pretty sure I don't want the answer to that piece of trivia. Either way, the shortest of efforts would shatter me, over and over and over, it was a relentless pattern of wanting to get going, trying to, and failing, every single time.
Already mentioned transitions, but that issue and my being too weak to correct it paled in comparison to overall deterioration of bike handling ability. There was more than a few times where I'd be riding along one of the MM sections with steep slope on both the upside and downside of the trail, and was apparently really concerned about catching a pedal on the uphill slope, since that would be a catastrophic error. That's the only reason I can think of for why I came so damn close to riding off the steep downhill side into the oak brush several times, and by that I mean more than a few. It was like that dangerous daze you get into when driving tired, and something happens to give you a jolt of adrenaline - and the realization of how close you were to having something bad happen scares the hell out of you - but I'd be back in the daze within a few pedal strokes. I won't even go into the narrow, rooty, twisty section through the quakies - but my shoulders were made to resemble a ping pong ball as I bounced between trees going down that technical luge run. Bike handling skill was nearly reduced to needing training wheels.
Self destructive behavior. You ever have the experience of watching a friend or family member go into a downward spiral with their life in general? What starts out as a poor situation for whatever reason, gets compounded by bad decision after bad decision that you qualify as self destructive because they seem so obviously bad from your seat? I kind of went into that pattern with fueling. For as much of the day as I spent running on empty - I could never make myself eat anything with some nutrient density in it at the aid stations. It was always an Ensure (which actually has great nutrient density, but apparently not enough to dig out of a hole), coke, coconut water, energy drink, and maybe an orange wedge or half a banana. Despite knowing I needed to take in more to dig out of the hole, I refused to do it. Even once I'd finally gotten to the Park City stop and sat down for a bit, refused to eat enough to recover in the slightest, and I continued to pay. I'm actually fairly convinced that once in the hole that bad, there's no getting out of it.
Giving up - after sitting down for a bit to try and put myself back together with Annie and the kids, Dug and Kim, and Erik and Jess at the PCMR stop (Erik was green with stomach problems and Dug was periodically locking up with cramps - although they merit sympathy, it is pretty comical watching pals cramp, Dug was no exception). Dug and I left together again, and riding with him would be short lived, again. Going up Spiro I had to fall back to the practice of walking when the gradient rose above 0, Dug would stay on and row his way up. I'd come around the corner and he'd be leaning on a tree, no question he was waiting. I'd tell him to quit waiting, he'd say he wasn't, then he'd go wait again around the next switchback. He finally rode off. I was reaching the the give up stage of implosion at this point. Don't take that the wrong, not talking about giving up and quitting. No sirree. But I am talking about giving up at trying to do anything well the remainder of the day. I was going to finish, I had just gotten so deep in the hole that I was no longer concerned about doing it with any dignity or respectable effort. Let's just call that being a puss.
That's it for detail on my implosion process, wish I had different insights from my day but it is what it was. Home stretch.....
Ran into Dug again at the Red Pine stop, he was getting ready to head back out as I pulled in. I thought about him on his rigid bike as I came down the MM reroute, kept me from feeling too sorry for myself getting beat up on my squishy bike. I drank a bunch of coke and started the home stretch. Mid Mountain right there around Red Pine is that real nice buff stuff that's a lot of fun to ride, even when tired. Especially once you finally topped out and hit the ripping fast stuff heading back down. Then it got real bumpy again and agitated all the little achy spots. Then, after all the suffering and walking on the climbs looking forward to the downhill stuff, I found myself desperately wanting that downhill section to be over. There's just no pleasing a dude that far gone.
Went around the corner where you got a glimpse of the finish and started the final climb back up the canyon a bit. Not too far on the way up, a break sounded nice, so convinced myself I needed to pee. Got off, stepped off the trail to pee, then stepped back up to the trail and stood there for a minute. Can't remember why I was just standing there, was maybe trying to remember where I'd set my bike down, not sure? Came back to my senses when I hear "Jdub", and look down the trail to see Eric pedaling up. Man, it's good to see a pal in that situation. He pulls up and tells me about his last 18 or so miles, and I'm in a stupor as I half coherently start piecing together what he's telling me, then I look back and see his seat sitting in his top tube, completely sidways. I was too embarrased to say my day had felt hard after seeing his situation, so we got back on and started pedaling. I laughed for the first time in hours when I watched Eric pedal his new setup. With that low seat he looked like a kid lowriding in spandex on a bmx bike that was missing it's pegs on the back wheel, and everytime he'd stand his seat would spin back and forth between his knees. Got to hand it to that guy for finishing that course having dealt with that for so much of it. We cruised down to the finish and I was glad to be done. Nothing more, nothing less, I was just glad to be done, and to see my wife and kids and pals.
Couple of shots from the finish.
Dug wrapping up his day. Credit his smooth riding for his getting home in one piece given a yet to be discovered circumstance.
Eric aka Low Rider and I rolling in.
My oldest with that "good night you took a long time" look on her face.
Plenty of stories of this race being done a whole lot better than I did mine found here......
Readers digest version: The Park City Point to Point race was the absolute polar opposite of the Butte 100 in how it played out for me. Butte was a day where I felt good but didn't get it done. Point to Point was a day where I got into a dark, deep hole, and drug my sorry behind to the finish. It was a really hard combination of distance, climbing and technical beat the hell out of you type stuff. It broke me, but not to the point of quitting. There were some pretty impressive rides by friends. Mine, not much impressive about it, but I was proud to get it done. The foolish/ironic spin of the story is that my only real goal for the day was to manage myself correctly, knowing I'd be prone to collapse if I made one too many foolish and vain efforts. Detailed version how it went down below......
Start to Silver Lake #1 - Felt really good, in hindsight, maybe too good. Round Valley was really a nice way to start the day - too many people with too little room to do much but just be in line, and the pace was comfortable. Only challenge here were the moments where we literally rode blindly due to the sun-was at the mercy of the trail staying straight at those moments and fortunately it did.There was a bit of an acceleration between the end of the Round Valley lap and the next section of single track - the skid row climb. I came close to earning dips*^t of the day here. It's a flat section and I came up on Sam who was spinning out on his single speed, put a hand on his back to say hi and try and give a little push, and then came real close to going down and taking Sam's rear wheel with me. The guy behind us started praising the save, saying he thought it was a for sure crash, that I was practically sideways. Sam laughed, letting the guy know I was good at those - and I laughed, making sure the guy understood Sam was talking about my skill at getting sideways, not the saves.
We turned off onto Skid Row, and the climb from there to Snow Top was great - felt real good the entire way and was even thinking how great I was managing by not chasing situations early on that I thought were beyond capacity, including watching Sam ride off into what would end up being a really strong day and finish time. Quick praise to the builders of switchbacks up the Pipeline trail - absolute best cut uphill switchbacks I've ever ridden, and one of my favorite sections of the entire day - like that deep woods feeling buff stuff, right up till you see the monstrosity that is the St. Regis. Keyes, Fatty, Jonny J, all came by and rode off around the Pipeline climb, only mention that to admit my lack of sorting capacity at the start line. In the moment, I thought I felt reasonably well from the St. Regis up to aid #1, but in hindsight am suspicious that that's where I started digging the hole. Wasn't fast to aid #1, but was about where I thought I should be for my day. The Draper wives were crewing in force, and had bottles swapped out in no time. I left aid #1 still feeling good, and hit the short steep road leading to the Bald Mtn switchbacks with a little go get em'. That lasted no longer than 5 minutes, and permanently tipped the scale from being ok, to not being ok.
I've blown myself up plenty of times, cyclocross being the arena of choice for those learning efforts where in trying make a selection you ride your legs and lungs into catching fire and blowing all capacity out of them - finding that line of what I can recover from and what I can't is part of the process of finding and extending limits, a part that I struggle with, a lot. But Bald Mtn. wasn't like that. It wasn't an effort that cooked my legs, I could take as deep a breath as I wanted, but over the course of just a few minutes I went from pedaling hard but well within limit, to soft pedaling, to stepping off and walking a bit, to staying off and walking a lot - I had cracked in a bad, bad way - and while there would be a few brief moments where I regained some focus and ambition, I never regained capacity, and the rest of the day was for the most part a long slow spiral downward from an already bad place. The bigger problem was that at that point, the rest of the day meant most of the day.....
Let's get the ugly fact out of the way right out of the gate - I didn't finish, not even very close, little over 20 miles short. No excuses and no regrets, a few hindsight items that I'd change up. In fact, aside from the overall letdown of not getting it done, I was pretty encouraged about how my day went and how I felt during/post race given the circumstances.
Breakdown of the good/great, and the ugly:
What went well:
*Maybe a foreboding to some stuff below, but while putting the front wheel on my bike before the race, noticed the pin that holds the front brake pads in was missing. Found a regular old twig and stuck it in there, and it worked like a charm all day. *Energy/Nutrition - hesitate to say that I've got it figured out and completely dialed in for these long days, but on this day I did. Never had or approached that real bad place called the bonk. Managed pace with energy levels real well all day. * Portions of the course, with a 2nd emphasis on portions. There is some fantastic terrain in Butte for a race like this, and we got to see a lot of it. Bob talked about doing two 50 mile laps in the future, but I really like the setup of a 100 mile race that doesn't duplicate miles or run as an out and back - know it's logistically more difficult from the organizers seat, but it's a superior layout if you've got the terrain, and Butte does. Thought that from Nez Perce all the way into aid station 5 was good, with some being exceptional. Highlights being the CDT, a creek crossing that you realized was a small swimming pool crossing only after committing to it with no room to alter course, rut/endo hill (my unscientific survey was running about 80% of folks going down on that one 50 yard section of the course). The back half of the course also had some exceptional stuff, at least through mile 83/84 which is as much as I saw. It was hard, but fair, with the exception of a few sections that were maybe a little silly that made the other list. *Riding in the backcountry in a good, loud, thunderstorm. This one's a matter of opinion as I know some of the guys didn't appreciate it, but I dug it. Lightning was noticed but didn't get threatening, plenty of thunder, got a little chilly, thought it provided a nice little sense of serenity and isolation to the overall day and anything to liven up the senses that late in the game is good for the mindset. *Flirting with chicks - rolled into the 1st aid station and several of the wives had driven out to do some crewing and offer encouragement. I still had a few things in my pockets that I hadn't used, so when Holly asked what she could do, I, completely oblivious, asked her to pull out my banana. She and Jess cracked up, said that didn't sound very appropriate, and then pulled the banana out of my jersey pocket and even offered to peel it. Told her to give Sam my apologies for flirting with his wife, and was on my way. Thanks to them for the laugh, anything that makes you smile during one of these races is a bonus. *Sun Sleeves - had picked these up the week before and tested them out on the Great Basin ride. They're made for sun protection, but their utility goes much further than that. They were most useful on the Whiskey Gulch section which got downright hot (my Garmin had it at 95* there), sprayed them down with water and they almost act as air conditioners on your arms, especially if there's any breeze, and could stuff ice into them at the aid stations. Seriously, they were really great, swear by them. *Neon dots - read some complaints on the race web site about difficulty finding feed bags. I try to find some way to let the kids feel like their part of the race other than just being neglected when I go for rides. For this one, that included putting neon stickers all over my feed bags, which made it easy to pick them out from the others right away each time I pulled into a station. Simple triathlon trick of finding something, usually obnoxious, that makes your stuff stand out and easy to find. Thanks to the kiddo part of the crew for doing that. *Annie - aside from being able to read me dead on during a race and knowing what to say and do while crewing, the real work is the time she affords me before the race to go try and train for this kind of crap while she stays home and manages the parent duties. She indirectly puts a lot of work into these races, and I think about that a lot while out there and am driven by it. She's pretty great, and at one point during the day she got in my ear a bit when she thought I wasn't hustling as much as I could/should. Turned out she was right - hell of a partner and teammate.
The ugly: *Want to start by being clear that this is not an excuse for not finishing, just a circumstance that led to a puzzle that I couldn't figure out how to solve for the last 20 or so miles of the first half of the race, and that put me into more difficulty than I could afford to get into that early in the day. I've always been in the camp that thought the guys running shuttles with their downhill bikes were a little soft, that they should ride uphill to earn the downhill. The downhill Gods brought me to my knees and forced me to repent of my nievity at the Butte 100. Those of you familiar with the rear shock system of a Specialized Epic will see the challenge right away.For those not, there's a piece that's of some importance that somehow came off.
As a little salt in the wound, that shock is about 80 miles fresh off of a rebuild that wasn't cheap. Not sure exactly how it came off, assume it happened when I let a front wheel slide into a rut and endo'd on the aforementioned hill, but the loss of it changed the bike from a stiff XC ride that climbs great, to a loose squishy that bottomed out with sag with even the slightest bit of torque/power applied to the pedals on even flat ground. I spent the next 5 miles experimenting with every gear on the bike trying to find something that would feel more than 50% efficient, it literally felt like half the work I put into the pedals went to making the bike bounce, and half went to the ground to make the bike go. It was a puzzle I couldn't solve. Got a little panicky in trying to minimize the damage to my overall race that was occuring, ended up settling on spinning a real light gear as any torque only enhanced the bouncing and was counterproductive, but the silly high cadence and silly looking bobbing absolutely sucked the life out of my legs. Couldn't quite tell if it was me humping the bike, or the bike humping me, but I got 20 miles worth of it, and wish I could say it was more pleasant, but it was miserable - felt like working twice as hard to go half as fast. I had resigned myself to being done at the halfway point by the time I got there, knowing there was no way I could pedal that setup another 50 miles, even if they'd been flat miles, and being fairly certain that my shock pump was back at the hotel room vs. in the car with Annie, and not even being confident that one would put a band aid on the situation. To you downhillers, I will no longer question your running shuttles and not pedaling those bikes up hills, I've come to a new understanding - it's flat out stupid. There is a happy ending to this, Riessen, whom I should have expected this from, had a shock pump at the aid station, the shock held air despite the missing cylinder, and I was able to get it rideable again, which would at least buy me a few more miles. *Portions of the course/lack of details provided to racers - may be a function of my legs being overdone by the time I got there, but for me, way too much hike a bike between aid 6 and 7, way too much. Went from thinking we had a cushion to running out of time on this section, which was just really slow going. It was somewhere in this section that I turned to the Zeph and told him I was starting to get pissed. Think I refer to this leg as "silly" in the video below. I let the lack of course details get to me a little at two places: First, looking for aid #5 to be around the 50 mile mark. Again, may be a function of the hurt I was in during that leg, and really just a head game I didn't manage well, but it was discouraging for me from mile 50 to 57 when it finally arrived. Second, finding out that the extended mileage it took to get to #5 wasn't credited to the ledger on the back half. This revelation came at aid #6, where we found out that aid #8 was around mile 92 vs. 84ish and that the race was 106/107 miles vs. around 1oo. Again, me not managing my head well, but having these details up front is useful in managing one's day from a pacing and feeding standpoint. I didn't have a problem with marking as others, many others, did, but having surprises about distances to important checkpoints (aid stations/cut offs) mid race was less than ideal for my fragile brain.
*Low cut socks - had developed a nasty blister fairly early in the race where my socks had crept down below the collar of my shoe, another self inflicted annoyance to learn from - luckily had a longer pair to change into at 5, but the damage was done.
*Location of aid #2 - had they moved this one just another 20 yards down the trail, the volunteers would have been treated to a morningful of entertainment watching the crashes that were going on there. We'd been told exactly what would happen there the night before at the race meeting. Uncanny how many of us it happened to, despite being told exactly how it would happen.
Some photos in no particular order and video of myself, Zeph, Tyler and Brandon finishing our day at aid #7.
Despite not finishing, the kids were still proud of us, or felt sorry their pathetic dad's, can't be sure which. Rolling out of aid #5 Brock helping with bottles at #5
Me and my savior, Erik Riessen at aid #5, his having a shock pump there and Cicely finding it for me (maybe it was the zeph's pump?) extended my day by almost 30 miles. He and Sam were the only two from our travel group that finished the 100. Kenny finished it in what I would call a real fast time. Shammytime Aaron finished 8th in the 50, despite riding a bunch more miles than 50 to get to the finish line.
Not sure what the joke is here, might be that nice rug I'm showing off which I've posted for you to admire.
We pulled into Cortez a little before two, stopped into the bike shop for race check in, hit the local biker (as in Harley's) bar for some lunch, then headed out to preride the course they call Phil's world just outside of town. Home base for the race was at the fairgrounds, a place I had been in my younger years to do some team roping and calf roping on the high school rodeo circuit.
It was a bluebird day and here are Eric and Tyler, getting ready to head out and see what ol' Phil had in store for us. This is the only photo I've got of anyone before the race.
The preride was a riot - the trail is an intense one in the sense that it requires almost constant attention to handling. Banks is expressing his appreciation for a section of trail known as Tuffy's Rim.
This is me after lap two or three. Bill Twinting from the Porcupine club was a few tents down and had come down in between laps and made some passing comment about salt on my face that I didn't pay much attention to. Then Eric told me my face looked like it was peeling off from lepracy. Not sure if that's a function of the XL gas station burrito I had for my night before the race dinner, or a body that hasn't transitioned to working in summer weather yet, but I do believe that's the saltiest crust I've ever worn. Last of the pics I've got from post race and then we'll get to race details...
Here's Banks at the end of the day. Here's Tyler, who, given the face he's making, might also be mid sentence in describing his fond memories of riding Tuffy's on his rigid single speed.
So, race details:
The Lemans start was a crack up - reminded me a little bit of cyclocross starts at Wheeler farm. Bunch of bike dudes and girls in cleats trying to sprint for the hole shot, even though there wasn't one. I saw one guy go down hard on the run, 15 yards from the start line - would have been a little comical to see how long he had to stay down while people jumped him before he could get up safely.
Weather was absolutely ideal, could not have been better. Trail conditions were also ideal, maybe the buffest 1track I've ever ridden.
I started the day thinking I wanted to get 100+ miles in, which would mean needing to ride 7 laps. That lasted until after lap 3, when I had 50 miles plus some change on the Garmin, and I was not the slightest bit dissapointed at the revelation that 6 laps would get me the mileage. I'd timed heading out on 5 to leave a half hour cushion to take a quick break and get out on 6 before the cutoff. The idea of doing 6 lasted until just over halfway through #5, at which point I commited to not doing a 6th.
My on the bike pacing was actually better than I expected - laps (riding time) weren't really tight, but tight enough for my first solo effort - Net of pit stop/lounge time, fastest one was the first at 1:34, and the slowest were 3 and 5 at 1:48. Felt fairly good for the first two laps. Encountered some fading at various points on the latter 3. The most bipolar lap was #5, the first half of which I felt the best I'd felt all day - thought I'd really broken through a barrier in understanding my longer distance endurance capacity by feeling that good that late in the day. But you know what they say about endurance efforts - if your feeling either good or bad, don't worry, it ain't gonna last. Well, the 2nd half of lap 5 was my lowest point of the day, I faded fast, and badly.
My off the bike pacing probably needs work. I came in off lap 2 about 45 minutes ahead of pace and wonder if I made a mistake by starting to take long breaks that early. It was that stop that I pulled out the anti-gravity recliner chair and put my feet up for a bit. Don't know that I'd do better if done differently, but am curious if I might be better off just making quick stops and riding until I can't anymore... may be a better strategy than shutting it down all the way and then firing it up again over and over. Don't know one way or the other, but maybe an area I should try and do it a little different next time?
The course was demanding and fantastic in various ways, in it's flow, in it's mix of short hard efforts rewarded with ripping downhill, in it's capacity to deliver physically shattering rugged sections (Tuffy's Rim) then have you giggling out loud minutes later with what must have been more than a miles worth of the biggest pump track I've ever seen - known as the rib cage section. It was also amazingly capable of handling a race that size without getting offensively congested. Even the first lap with the obvious shakeout that needed to occur was better than I would have thought, and by the later laps, it was wide open. Traffic was never more than a minor issue.
I have never been more sore after a bike ride than I was after this one. It wasn't the longest ride, but think I'd call it the hardest I've done. My lower back was completely shot, which I'll blame on the rugged terrain moreso than the short climbs. There is also minor scabbing in unfortunate spots that I thought had escaped being open sores. I was beat down pretty badly. Tyler rode it on a rigid singlespeed, can't post the right comment for what that must have been like.
Takeaways:
These 12 hours of whatever/wherever races make for fun roadtrips with buds. There were people there who had come alone and I'm just not that hardcore I guess - I wouldn't make that type of trip/effort by myself. Going it solo for the first time was a good experience, and I'll do it again if either 1 - I feel I need an unusually large day on the bike or 2 - I hate myself. As for fun, it was riding a bike, which has some fun factor built in automatically - but it was sufficiently hard that fun would not be the proper descriptor for the day. For fun, I think a 4 man team is the way to ride these. That being said, suspect I'll be riding solo at this one next year just to try and exploit a few of the typical hindsight items that one always has after a race.
Before the injury last year, I thought I was ready for the summer's big race, Leadville - had no questions about finishing and had an ambitious goal that I though was within reach if things went well. This year, the big summer race is Butte, and after Saturday, I've got some serious concerns about not just a respectable time, but flat out finishing. Can tell you right now that if that course requires the same amount of handling work to manage technical terrain that Mesa Verde had, along with the additional climbing, then I'm in both 1- trouble and 2 - over my head. Hoping it's feature's consist of more long, steady climbs which would suit my current condition a little better. Mesa Verde required some different components of conditioning than what I've got or get on the stuff I ride a lot-something I'll look to address some the remainder of the year.
Hell of a trip with the guys once again. We haven't solved the economic crisis yet, but we're getting closer, and we always have a heck of a time.
Weather conditions - went from brutal winds last year to near perfect this year. Ironically, this year felt like it was a little tougher for me.
Avoided pitfalls - namely, the ridgey rock sections. Made extra effort to stay off of them all day, and it made for a much more comfortable ride. Note I said more comfortable, which is a far, far cry from meaning it was a comfortable ride.
Familiar course - yep, this helped in knowing to avoid the slickrock stuff. But, it backfired on the psyche. The bluff I was pretty sure was the one that was only a short straightaway from White Crack and the lunch spot at Vertical Void just a little further up the road, couldn't have been much further than only being half way there - which made for a long 2nd half. It was a real grind for me from mile 45 to 60-65 - mostly due to false hope, expectation, thinking I knew what lied around the next bend. Way too many times it was just the next bend.
Tried to do it self supported - fell well short of carrying enough fluid.
Struggled more on the back half of the ride this year, vs. earlier in the ride last year. Still learning how to manage eating and trying to maintain energy levels on rides that long.
Banks made his virgin run around the course and broke in a new pair of shoes, and rode it like a champ.
Tyler rode it on a single speed, and went fast all day - give him the ride of the day out of our travel group. We rode down and climbed back up horsethief when we pulled in Friday evening, and I put my bike in a singlespeedish gear for that climb out and kept it there, just as an act of sympathy towards him. Pretty sure I would have been brought to tears at that prospect at that point on Saturday. Singlespeeders are a different breed, and Tyler's got some of that bloodline in him.
Some things were the same:
Bright expelling large volumes of gasses, this time fueled by what I think was Subway Meatball Marinara, which made it irrelevent as to which end he fired from - potency was equal and the windows went down either way.
Tasty Brats and bread the night previous, courtesy of Kenny and Elden - along with plenty of funny stories from the group of good folks - probably highlighted by the education on chinese massages.
Sore hind quarters post ride, highlighted by literal throbbing that lasted till Green River. Much better morning after feeling though.
The hammy cramp struck again at Ray's, triggered by the exact same motion of pushing my chair out from under the table - only got one leg this year though. I considered laying down and flopping on their floor briefly during the episode.
All in all, as is the case with all road trips with the cycling crowd, it was a great time with great folks, and always a great feeling to ride across the cattle guard back into camp having put in a really big day of riding. Or at least a great feeling within a day or two....
....and I was handed this number at the check in under the oath of representing it the way your supposed to - by riding with the strength and gumption of 3 men, a six pack of balls if you will. So how'd I carry the banner......
