2018 Leadville Trail 100 MTB

**Sam raced in Leadville, Colorado again this year and below is the tale for 2018. His words are in bold type, while my rambling can be found in regular type.**

The Leadville Trail 100 mountain bike race has become a kind of tradition for us. Although it's not a very long tradition (Sam first raced the 100 in 2014), the second weekend of August has become synonymous with a visit to the two-mile-high city of Leadville over the last few years.

When Sam raced last September in Flagstaff, Arizona, he hoped to get a spot in this year's LT100 MTB, and it did not disappoint. The great thing with getting his spot early is that he would have lots of time to plan and train. The bad news with so much time to plan and train is that it can be a bit of a challenge to put the plan/training into action early, especially as we rolled into winter.

Fortunately, we had a very mild winter and although most of our riding time was spent on the tandem, rides were happening and Sam knew that spring and summer would provide more time for mountain training specifically. Still, time was definitely slipping away as spring came and went and summer was very quickly in full force.

Over the winter, we also picked up a little project in the form of a 1960 camper trailer that was being prepped for use as a chicken coop. The former owner of this camper decided that there were better choices for a chicken coop and then had a hunk of aluminium he wasn't sure what to do with... Which is where we entered the picture and took this project off his hands for an absolute steal.

It didn't look too bad from the outside, but certainly in worse shape when standing face-to-face with this project.

Since we tend to be project people, it was just one more thing to add to our list of things to accomplish. Plus, we are always up for a bargain on something we can use. So, despite this option being an absolute wreck, we were willing to take it on with the hope of creating something that would make these bike race trips (and just camping in general) a little more pleasant.

You may recall my personal battle with mosquitoes on a former bike race adventure in Leadville, and I was not very excited about the prospect of being ate alive again in a tent. We figured having a more enclosed space might help with that somewhat, and not having to sleep on a slowly deflating air mattress seemed like it would make for a better race day too.

(left) After insulation and paneling was partially pulled out; (right) nearing the end of fixing up this camper.

The camper was full of wet fiberglass insulation from years of leaking and the paneling wasn't going to be salvageable at all, so we knew that we'd be gutting the insides, sealing up holes, and hopefully reusing anything that we could to keep costs at a minimum for this project. Ultimately, it came together pretty well and although we still need to paint the exterior and make a few screens for windows, it was ready to use for this trip.

In the weeks leading up to the Leadville ride, Sam was hoping to get in some high altitude training. Unfortunately, there was a disaster at his employer and he spent the few weeks prior to the race working 16+ hour days and didn't get a day off at all during that time. It certainly wasn't an ideal racing situation to be off the bike for so much time prior, but sometimes life happens.

This year, leading up to my fourth Leadville 100 mountain bike race, some unintended work issues arose and I was unable to train/taper like I should have. Without going into detail, I was never able to train above 7k feet, nor did I ride further than about 60 miles leading up to the 100+ mile event.

Things would be a little different this year. We decided to travel out to Leadville a day earlier than usual pulling our recently fixed up camper. In many ways, it was great to be there a day early and to be able to use the camper. It was definitely cheaper than a hotel room (if you can even obtain one) and way more comfortable than a tent.

We arrived Thursday afternoon, set up, then went and picked up my race packet. It was very chill and easy to be there an extra day early. We were able to relax in the camper and hang out Thursday afternoon and evening. I was also able to get my stuff set up, checked out and ready to go.

We had decided before leaving that I would bring a bike along too since we'd have an extra day and hopefully we'd be able to do some riding during our stay. The dogs were being cared for at home, so we had no responsibilities. The hope was that once we were set up and parked we could just ride instead of drive the places that we needed to go.

On Friday morning, we rode the few miles to the racer meeting, which didn't seem like a big deal but became more so after doing it (for me, not Sam). Apparently, I am a giant climbing wimp because by the time we arrived, I was panting more than I would've liked. When we got to the meeting (about 45 minutes later) I said to Sam, "And you're going to do a hundred miles of worse climbing than that? I would never survive!" The downhill back to the campground was awesome though!

The meeting hadn't even started and Sam already looked annoyed. 

Friday was the super awesome race meeting during which the organizers run through the same stuff that they have during prior events, tell you things to know, and roll out people that have been around for awhile - oh, and remind you to drink water, but only if you're thirsty. This lasts about two hours (or more) before we are freed and can go about the day. We were already hungry for lunch so we took care of that and then walked around the event tents a bit, checked out some things, but beyond that, the day was pretty uneventful. 

On Saturday, we arrived at the corral area at about 5:15a when the area opened up to racers. This year (as has been the case for the most part in the past), I was in the purple corral, which is probably about the exact middle of the field. I was one of the first there and forgot no less than ten things, which G.E. was kind enough to repeatedly walk back to the vehicle multiple times to retrieve for me. There was some talk with other racers, first timers, and we saw some familiar faces, like "Pink Taco," the tandem duo of ladies who always seem to be around me any time I race in Leadville. This year, they were lit up with lights (both themselves and the tandem). 

Not the best photo, unfortunately, but it was still pretty dark out at this point, so at least the lights on the bike can be seen.

For me, some things had changed this year. I was going geared (1x11, figuring my knees could use the break from single speed), I was using a Camelbak instead of bottles, and I was using some new-to-me nutrition (which, unfortunately, I never had the opportunity to test out before race day) called Maurten, which I would use specifically for the Columbine climb.

At 6:30a, we roll. It was a very uneventful start this year. No crashes or tie ups, oddly. At any rate, I was rolling and getting up to the pace I wanted through St Kevins. Probably my best pace yet to that point. Getting through the first aid station and continuing through was again, uneventful. 

At the first real "road" section, I hooked up with a very large and very fast group. We were probably averaging about 28mph and working like a peloton. Things were getting better.

At the base of Columbine, G.E. and I agreed that this is where I would stop on my way up. The plan was to swap out my Camelbak Chase for the second one. This would be the "climbing up Columbine" one that would have the Maurten supplement and about 640 calories of liquid. The point was to be able to drink instead of trying to chew and feed myself on the way up the mountain. 

Sam came through at the base of Columbine pretty fast. I was surprised that he'd made it to that spot a little sooner than I'd expected, but it was great because he hoped to get a sub-10 hour finish this year, and this was looking promising. Luckily, I had just finished mixing up his Maurten mix in the Camelbak so I was ready when he came tearing through.

The swap went smoothly and I was on my way up. Once again, I was doing well, riding it as though I had been riding single speed instead of geared (trying to keep it in a harder gear) and passing people.

Waiting for Sam to come back down Columbine has become less stressful to me at this point. I know it always takes longer than most seem to think it will, so I know I have some time before I'll see him again. Usually, waiting is entertaining as I have the opportunity to talk with other racer's crew and families. Sadly, this year people really didn't seem as friendly as they have in the past. There were a lot of people who thought their racer was the most important person on the planet, and while I can respect the fact that individuals want to see their person do well, I don't think this should come at a cost of respect or enjoyment to everyone else who is around. To put it bluntly, people were on the rude side this year, and I truly haven't experienced that in the past at all.

About half way up the Columbine climb, the traffic backed up a bit. We slowed, and suddenly I could hear two familiar voices behind me chatting. Unfortunately, one of the familiar voices was not paying attention and ended up hitting my rear wheel, which knocked me off balance. I couldn't clip out quick enough and before I knew it, I landed on a pile of rocks. Over I went on the same shoulder I hit a year and a half ago (that has never returned to normal), cut up my knee and mildly bonked my head.

The two helped me up and asked if I was okay, at which point I insisted it was no big deal and that I was "fine." I didn't want to rattle anyone, but my shoulder had definitely seen better days (just as recent as the day prior). 

I continued to the hike-a-bike section of the climb that we all struggle through right around mile 50. This was as slow as it usually is, but we managed to get through it and moving helped my jacked up shoulder feel a little better. I rolled through the turn around earlier than I had the previous year and bolted down the hill. At this point, I had consumed nearly all of my Maurten and was moving as quickly as I could to the base of Columbine.

By the time I met up with G.E. again at the base for the Camelbak swap out, I was not feeling as well as I had been on the way up. I was struggling to shake the "high altitude" feeling, and normally that isn't a problem. 

After the Camelbak switch with Sam on his return trip, I headed out to Pipeline in case he needed anything for the last 25 (or so) miles back to the finish line. When he arrived there, I knew he was slowing down and frankly, he didn't look good. Other than his first year, I don't think I've seen him look as bad as he did and this time may have even been worse than that. He didn't need anything other than a couple of sips of Gatorade and he was back on his way, but I could see in his eyes that he was not feeling well.

I continued with a pretty good run through the next section and hooked up with another fast group as we headed up to everyone's favorite walk: power line. 

Power line was as expected, steep and HOT. It was extra hot that day though and not a bit of rain in sight. The day prior had hailed as we walked through town, but that wasn't even a glimmer of a possibility on race day. Despite the heat, everyone seemed to be doing really well. A bystander even sprayed cold water on me (requested) and we hit the top pretty quickly. Then, on we went to the false summits.

At about 80 miles, I hit a nauseous wall. I was insanely dizzy! I was still climbing, but I began to stop about every half mile. I would hit a shady spot and stop, wait a few minutes, and then start again. I just couldn't shake the nauseous feeling, an unusual thing for me during this race. I was pretty well convinced that I was experiencing heat exhaustion and it felt like there was no way I was going to make it to the end. All that I could think to do was to keep stopping and to try to make my way to the last aid station at Carter. Then, they would be able to drive me back to the start for my DNF (did not finish).

I kept checking the race app on my phone, expecting to see Sam come through the final check point, but it was taking an eternity. I knew that most people would slow down the closer they get to the finish, but this seemed to be taking an extraordinarily long time for him to get there. I knew that Sam didn't look well the last time I saw him, but I also know that he will push through anything to finish. I continued to update the app, hoping to see him come through the check point, but it just wasn't happening. All that I could do was to wait.

I worked my way to the down hill portion and was starting to feel a bit better once air was blowing against my skin. I was still dizzy, but trying to move quickly. At the approximate 90 mile mark (the last check point), I decided that I would attempt to finish the race. At this point, I fully realized that I would not be making the sub-10 hour goal I had set pre-race and that I would probably do worse than my last finish.

Finally, I saw that Sam had made it through the last checkpoint and decided that I should head to the finish line to wait for him there. I was in an extraordinarily bad mood. People's rudeness, my lack of food/water for the day, and the heat had all got to me and I really didn't want to be in Leadville anymore. This little town had been invaded by too many people and we were all guilty of various atrocities.

Standing at the finish line, all that I kept saying to myself was that I did not want to do this again.

The rest of the race was as smooth as can be expected, but mostly painful. There was the climb up the back of Kevins, then the down hill, which was great, and then the final four miles after the 100 mile mark, just to mess with our heads. 

And then, I made it back to the finish line. Officially finishing at 10:26:29, which was not my slowest, but definitely not even close to my goal time. But then again, I hadn't thought I would finish at all this time.

On this side of things, I feel bad that I was so cranky at the finish line. I know that this is a huge, exhausting race for the participants, but the day had just got the better of me. I'm pretty sure the same thing happens every time Sam races here: I swear at the end of race day that I'm not returning to Leadville, and by the next morning I've changed my mind. It is the wondrous, magical, mystery of Leadville, I suppose. Or, perhaps it's just that I had water and food so I felt more like myself again.

I was truly concerned about Sam after hearing what had happened during the race, however. I was pretty well convinced he had either experienced a concussion from hitting his head when he fell earlier in the race or that he had heat stroke (or at least heat exhaustion). Later, we would learn that the Maurten may likely have been the culprit in all of it. After speaking to some people after the fact, we learned that the side effects for some people (dehydrated feeling, despite drinking plenty of water, nauseousness, etc) are exactly what Sam experienced, so he learned that this is not the product for him. He was unfortunately not able to test it out prior to race day, which is a lesson to take in to the future.

What did I learn this round? Don't try new stuff without vetting it first. Don't skimp on training you plan to do. Don't worry about how awesome your bike is - it probably doesn't matter as much as you think it does. Camper > Tent, without a doubt. 

In all of this I realize I'm not a great story teller/writer. I have left out tons of details - some important and some just "meh" stuff. Often I look at it like taking a GoPro on a bike ride... you just see the same stuff over and over and it's not really all that much fun to watch, so, in this case, why would it be fun to read?

As with every year, I'm not sure if I'm going to do this again, or even try. If I do try, I want to hit Flagstaff coming up soon in September, because it's the best way for me to gain entry. It does become easier to think about doing it again though every day I'm removed from the torture, so who knows?

I know I had talked about possibly doing the 10k run the day after the 100-mile ride, but we were definitely ready to get out of Leadville Sunday morning and the run just wasn't going to happen. We've toyed with the idea of me racing too if Sam goes to Flagstaff (I would just be doing 1-lap of the 4-laps possible, as I have no desire to race in Leadville), but we'll see if any of that comes about. It's all sneaking up quickly though and after my pathetic attempt at riding 3 miles up hill, I'm not sure I'm cut out for that sort of thing - but it's always fun to test those limits too.

Overall, we were both a bit disappointed this year in Leadville, specifically with the lack of enthusiasm both among the racers and spectators. Generally, riders are great at encouraging each other as they pass and spectators are happy to help anyone along the race route, but that didn't seem to be the feeling for the majority of the race. We have hypothesized that this could be due to the fact that the race continues to grow and take on more racers. It's hard to keep that family-like feeling when there are so many people. Even over the few years that Sam has been racing this event, it's easy to see that things are changing and evolving. We both hope that it doesn't become just another event like any other, but there was definitely a different feeling this year, which was a bit sad.

Only time will tell what is to be for the future of Sam's Leadville racing. I know he is still debating his desire to head to Flagstaff, but he'll have to make a decision soon. In the meantime, he should have some time to get a little training in and decide what makes the most sense for his personal goals.

Leadville Trail 100 MTB: The Tale of 2017

Leadville has become a bit of a tradition for us over the last few years. You may recall that Sam was unable to participate in the 2016 Leadville Traill 100 MTB because of a misunderstanding during a qualifier last year. When the time for the race rolled around last year, I think he was disappointed that he wouldn't be racing, but we both kind of figured it would be a nice break and give Sam time to train for 2017. 

We never stop to get this photo... but this time, we managed to get the iconic Leadville photo.

Sam knew that he'd be racing in 2017 very early as he obtained his spot in September 2016 during the Barn Burner in Flagstaff, Arizona. I can say with certainty that he rode more this year than in any year in the past, so I knew he was ready to do his best when August rolled around. I think he actually pushed himself more this year because of missing out on 2016's race. Perhaps that extra push was the right sort of motivation?

Originally, I wasn't going to attend the race with Sam. As has been pointed out in past race tales, taking our dogs along for these adventures has proven difficult at best and nightmare-ish at worst, and because we didn't have anyone to watch them, Sam was planning to go alone. Fortunately, we had a friend who was able to put her plans on hold and stay with our four-legged kids at home so that we could travel together.

So, without further ado, here is Sam's tale of the LT 100MTB for 2017...
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I'm back for my third installment of single-speed pain in the "Race Across the Sky."

You might recall that I qualified nearly a year ago in Flagstaff. I have been hammering since then in preparation for this race.

About a week out from the LT100, I received an email with the athletes guide. Monkey wrench. For some odd reason, everything related to the timeline for packet pick-up and the pre-meeting had shifted. Packets/race bibs could be picked up on Thursday, all day, and then Friday from 7a-10a only, which would be followed by the "mandatory" racers meeting at 11a. In the past, packet pick-up has been available until the afternoon with the racer's meeting taking place late in the day, which allows us to take our time driving up.

No such luck this year. Instead, we would have to leave prior to 6a on Friday in order to make it up in time. I assume that this is a maneuver to get and keep racers around the city of Leadville for an extra day. For out-of-state individuals, it's not a big deal, but when living within a reasonable driving distance, it's unfortunate to not have more time to doddle in the morning at home. But, I digress.

Ultimately, we arrived on Friday pretty early, making incredibly good travel time (likely because of the early hour). I picked up my packet, medical bracelet, and discovered that they had aged me an extra four years. Apparently, this happened to a number of people. I made a comment to the volunteer that it didn't matter for me anyway. He looked confused and asked why it wouldn't matter, to which I responded that I was riding single speed, which removes me from the age division categories.

A full auditorium for the racer meeting

Fast forward a bit to the (mandatory) racer meeting after we'd spent a few hours walking around Leadville. The meeting, I have found, is largely pointless and mostly consists of boosting the egos of the special people, meaning the professionals, the people who are heads of the sponsor organizations and so on. Then, we are all reminded by Ken Chlouber that we won't quit during the race. Ken and Merilee Maupin seem like very sweet, caring people, but beyond them, there is little I find beneficial, essential, or motivational in this meeting that couldn't be expressed in the athlete guide.

Don't get me wrong. I appreciate this duo and the team that created this event and the idea of helping out this small, former mining town. I just get worn down with the meetings and the hoo-rah for others. [G.E.'s Note: Sam spends a good chunk of his work days in meetings (which he doesn't love, especially when nothing is accomplished), so it shouldn't be surprising that he's not thrilled to have to sit through a meeting in his off time. I will also add that I get a bit restless toward the end of the meeting too. It just feels like something that could be shortened a bit. Of course, I don't actually have to be there, so perhaps in the future I'll find something else to do during this time.] Even as I type this though, my mind is wandering, thinking about Flagstaff and racing in the Barn Burner again, potentially getting to ride Leadville again in 2018, despite my loathing the long, drawn out, high school gym meeting time.

Eventually, what feels like five hours later, we finish the meeting. [G.E.'s Note: The meeting is not five hours, for the record. It usually lasts about an hour and a half or so.] We had a bit of time to kill before we would be able to check in to the Airbnb house, so we made a decision to drive back down to I-70 to find lunch. While there, we were met by the worst Taco Bell ever. I hadn't been to one in about ten years, and this one definitely motivated me not to go back. Ever. [G.E.'s Note: We were looking for something better as we don't generally eat fast food, but we exited in the wrong spot and ended up with a couple of very poor options. Sadly, Taco Bell seemed like the best choice... but we were wrong. Very, very wrong.]

After surviving the horrors of The Bell, we headed back to Leadville, checked into the Airbnb, walked around the city some more, and then settled in. The house was actually a very cool old place. Once a bed and breakfast, the current family lives in the back house and uses the front as a rental through Airbnb. It was a great, (relatively) inexpensive, laid back option in a fantastic location that was very close to the start line of the race, but tucked away well enough to not be too loud from street noise.

The evening was quiet. I believe everyone staying in the house was racing, but we (myself and G.E.) weren't particularly social that evening because I wanted to try to get to sleep early to be rested for the following day.

Our bunk for our stay. The room was small, but cozy. We'd definitely stay again.

The room we were staying in was intended to be just for me. We had reserved it months prior, knowing that G.E. would likely not be coming along, so when we arrived, we discovered that our room had single sized bunk beds. G.E. immediately proclaimed, "You're in the top bunk!" and laughed. [G.E.'s Note: To be honest, I have a mild amount of fear when it comes to heights, so it was just instinctual.] Ultimately, we ended up both sleeping in the bottom bunk, as it was wide enough to accommodate us. At about 8p, I forced myself to sleep, and so did G.E.

Somewhere around midnight, I began to wake up every hour. Finally, I got up at about 3:30a, deciding that I just wasn't going to sleep anymore. [G.E.'s Note: I am not the best sleep mate, I must admit. I like to sleep diagonally across the bed, so the fact that we were sharing a single likely didn't make Sam's sleep time very enjoyable. When I'd wake up occasionally, I'd realize I was infringing on his space and move back to keep Sam from falling off the bed, but it's not easy to fight natural tendencies.]

Line up starts at 5a and continues until 6:15a, so it gave me plenty of time to prepare. I shuffled around, ate something, stretched, and finally got dressed at about 4:45a. I said my goodbyes to G.E., knowing that she would see me over at the super awesome, middle of the road, green corral shortly. I did some sprints up and down one of the streets nearby, then drifted my way over to the start area. I was nice and warmed up... ready to stand around for an hour.

I was the first person there in our corral, but was quickly followed by a few others. We chit-chatted for a bit, which helped pass the time. A tandem team, that I believe got on the podium at the end, was there, and there was a woman from northern California who was doing this Leadville ride for the "first and last time," as she stated. She had injured herself just before arriving, but she seemed in good spirits and ready to tackle the challenge. She asked a few questions about what to expect and we passed the time. G.E. had arrived at this point as well, which gave us plenty of time to shiver a little bit (it was cold, as always, in the early morning hours of August).

At 6:15a, the organizers moved us all forward to cross the main boulevard (Harrison), so now we were all crammed together. [G.E.'s Note: The organizers had kept the main road open to allow those staying out of the city to get to the start line. Fifteen minutes prior to the start, they removed the barrier separating the green corral from the red, which then blocked Harrison until after the start.] I think it's the most fun part because those who believe themselves superstars try to move up through the pack, believing that the five feet they just gained is going to somehow make a difference or give them an advantage.

The national anthem was played by the guitarist from Sugarland, who was also racing this year, and then it was time to go.

104 miles to plow.

The race gun was fired and we took off. I was spinning my single speed gear as usual, and those with super high hopes and $6k+ bikes were already crashing less than a mile down the boulevard. One sad racer was walking back toward the field very early on, with twisted/broken carbon handlebars and a bent front wheel.

In these early moments, I spotted another single-speed rider who I nicknamed the Power Single-Speeder. He was killing it on the boulevard, heading out to St Kevins. I could not touch him; he was so, so fast!

In almost every photo of Sam racing this year, it looks like he has a bulging stomach. For the record, he does not. We've tried to figure out if it's the jersey, the colors, the fact that he has stuff crammed in pockets, or some other reason, but have come up empty.
*Photo courtesy of CenturyLink

The Leadville course is largely climbing and it starts pretty early on. I was doing well, passing the slower spinners, feeling good and fast (at least for someone with only one gear).

At about mile 18, during an attempt to pass a slower rider, I was cut off and went down on a very large rock. My left kneecap and head broke the fall nicely. Nothing was broken, but I had to do the rocking back and forth OWWWWEEE warble for about three minutes before I was able to get going again. I knew stopping would only allow my knee to freeze up, so I had to keep moving forward.

I was well stocked with Gu and water, so I didn't stop at the first aid station at mile 26 at Pipeline. I rolled through, knowing G.E. would be at Twin Lakes at just about mile 40 with a bottle reload and Gu if I needed it. Plus, a familiar face (which is always nice to see).

This was the group of leaders when starting up the climb to Columbine.

There is an open road section between Pipeline and Twin Lakes Dam, and I was able to lock on to a few different pelotons to break the headwind. This seriously helps, even though I had to push hard to hang on. The single speed decision definitely reared its head. I rolled to Twin Lakes pretty well and had that familiar feeling of thinking that was where G.E. was supposed to be, but after going straight through and not seeing her, I thought I had missed her somehow. I'm pretty sure I do this every time. I think she'll be at Twin Lakes, but then end up seeing her at Columbine.[G.E.'s Note: The night prior we had a discussion about where I would be. We had decided that waiting at the base of the Columbine climb made the most sense because I could refill anything before Sam went up and when he came back down, if needed. Sam insisted that I was referring to Twin Lakes and not the base of Columbine, so it's not surprising that he thought he'd simply passed and not seen me while riding. I had actually attempted to get to Twin Lakes, but the traffic was so ridiculous that I opted to continue to the originally discussed location.]

G.E. waved me down at the base (duh, where she was supposed to be), swapped a bottle and threw in 3-4 Gu packs. The stop was short and sweet; no more than 45 seconds, and I headed up the eight mile climb to over 12,000 feet. [G.E.'s Note: This is where I was informed that Sam had fallen off his bike and messed up his knee (at the time, he failed to mention that he also hit his head). He didn't have time to explain what had taken place, but he looked to be in pain, which was concerning since he was getting ready to head up the highest elevation climb.]

Besides the sick feeling I get every time I go somewhere over 11,000 feet in elevation on a bike, it was going great! I was passing others and chugging along at about 5mph (Don't laugh.. It's actually pretty fast). The sad part is that reality quickly sets in and at about 48 miles into the race, everybody starts doing the hike-a-bike portion. It's not that the terrain is that steep, but it is somewhat narrow and washed out in the middle, so many riders stop and get off their bikes to walk. In addition, by this time in the race there are now super fast, leader group riders coming down the mountain, so it simply isn't plausible to continue to ride. So, we're all stuck walking for about a mile.

This year, the walkers seemed extra slow, walking at about a 1.5mph pace. This was terrible and it was taking an eternity, which was, of course, killing everyone's time. Eventually, we got through it and mounted bikes for the last 1/2 mile to the top. Normally, I don't stop at the top, but I needed to take care of some relief business, so I did that and ate a quarter of the worst PBJ I have ever eaten. [G.E.'s Note: As someone waiting at the bottom of Columbine, I will confirm that other racers coming in were saying the same thing -- that people were really slow walking this year.]

Heading down off of 12,600 feet always amazes me. Once we get about four miles down the hill, that sick feeling goes away and I just feel beat up from riding about 50 miles and about 5 hours in the mountains.

At the base, I met up with G.E. again for a deja vu stop. She swapped one bottle again and gave me a bunch of Gu to get me through to our next meeting. She asked how I was doing and told me she would see me again at Pipeline inbound. I took off, knowing the worst hike-a-bike's were to come, along with another trip through the windy flats. Unfortunately, on the return trip, I'd have trouble finding help from a group.

*Photo courtesy of CenturyLink

Through the flats, I saw a familiar person... a person with one gear too. Boy, was he struggling! I offered to let him draft, but he didn't want to come along (I'm still not sure if he was angry or if he just didn't want to slow me down). So, I proceeded, mind filled with thoughts about the next of the four hike-a-bike sections I would encounter.

I won't bore you with all the walking, but will tell you that the Power Single-Speeder from the start line and I jockeyed for position so many times you wouldn't believe it. His obvious strength was downhill, but mine is climbing. Over and over we would repeat the same equation: he would nail the downhill, and I would lose him on the next climb. At the time, I had no idea what our positions were, but in my mind I was convinced we were first and second place in this little universe I'd made up.

We came up on the last hike and then the last serious downhill on St Kevins inbound. He nailed it again, and I didn't even see him, and then he was literally out of my sight. All I had been thinking was that I needed to hold him off because it was all I had in the moment, besides the searing pain in my knee.

Between mile 95 and 100, it gets very lonely and spread out. It was looking like rain and massive thunderstorms, which didn't help my mental state. I had tried to hang on to a small group, but they were too fast and I was too tired and in pain from my crash.

Mile 100 might be the most demotivating portion of this ride because the organizers put riders through four more miles and one last climb before getting back to the small climb up to Harrison and the finish line.

With about two miles to go, I hit the last dirt road climb, slogging my way to the end. I knew I would not make sub-10 hours at this point, but I had hopes to at least beat any of my prior times. [G.E.'s Note: Waiting at the finish line is the worst part of this race to me as a crew/spectator. Of course, I want my rider, in this case, Sam, to finish in his best possible time, so I always head there early, hoping that he'll be able to push through. Standing there, waiting, is just excruciating for some reason.]

To my surprise, who do I roll up on? The Power Single-Speeder. During the last dirt mile climb, we had chatted and he shared that he was from North Carolina, how many times he'd finished this race, and we both complained a bit.

Last push to the finish line.

Once we hit the pavement and the final mile up the boulevard, I knew it was made for me. I slowly moved away from him, knowing he wouldn't make up the distance with the mild uphill at the finish. It was my sole victory in this race, which landed me an exhausting 13th place in the single speed division, with a finish time of about 10:12. [G.E.'s Note: There is nothing as exciting as seeing Sam finish this race. I find myself constantly looking and thinking that he's coming, so when it is finally him, it is a moment of pure elation and pride to watch him roll through to the finish.]

I'll skim over the rain, the pain that night, a pretty decent burger for dinner, and a tough night's sleep, and skip ahead to the 7:30a meeting on Sunday. God, I do love meetings. [G.E.'s Note: In case it wasn't obvious from earlier comments, this is sarcasm.]

Again, we all attend the after meeting so that we can hear more about the awesome people... the pros, those who've done this 10 years, 20 years, the last ass (the last person to finish in the time constraints of the race). Basically, we are all held hostage until the end when we are finally released to collect our finisher belt buckles and custom finisher sweaters. This year was absolute chaos. The buckles and sweaters were on site at the gym/meeting location unlike past years and nobody listened to the instructions and instead nearly everyone got up the moment they heard the buckles and sweaters were ready, and stood in the doorways and hallways.

Choosing to try to follow instructions, G.E. and I sat (along with a small handful of others) and waited for the crowd to disperse, all the while becoming more hungry and agitated. I cannot state this strongly enough: I do feel it's important to recognize people, their achievements, all of us; however, it gets tiresome when people don't listen and the meeting drags on.

Eventually, the lines died down and we got up to stand in line. G.E. had a raging headache at this point, and mine was coming along too. It had also become quite hot (as is typical with so many people in an enclosed space). We drifted through the confusion and after being in the gymnasium for about three hours, I finally get to the front of the line and give the representative my name.

Someone is shuffling around behind the rep who then hands me my sweater (unfortunately, it was the same color as 2015 - I was really looking forward to a different color), and then the representative states this: "Here's the thing, we ran out of small buckles." He smiles as he says this, which just stings all the more. My only response is to lower my head. He then proceeded to snark at me, "What? It's not like you were going to wear it today."

I responded, "So, I guess I waited here for nothing?" I started to say something else, but then decided to just walk away.

Eventually, the buckle will supposedly be mailed out to those of us, however many didn't get theirs, who finished in time but hung around for no real reason. We'll see if it actually happens. [G.E.'s Note: I find this to be a terrible thing - both the interaction with the worker/volunteer (I'm not entirely sure which he was) and the fact that they ran out of buckles. The buckles don't change from year to year, so why not have some extras available and keep them for the year following? I realize that Sam has other buckles and it seems like a silly thing to be upset about in some ways, but when that is the "prize" for completion, everyone should either get them at the end of the race, or send them out to every finisher afterward. Following instructions definitely didn't pay off in this instance.]

I try not to get agitated by the little things, but this was difficult when, for all of us, we put so much into this event for an entire year. The planning, the training, the money, the sacrifices... only to be slighted in the end.

As I said though, in the time I've been typing this I've also had a browser tab open for the Barn Burner registration. What is wrong with me? It's as though I keep getting pulled back in.

One of the art galleries in Leadville always has fun bicycle art.

Through my training this year, I found that I did not become particularly faster. I need to figure that one out. Perhaps it's because I should be on my geared mountain bike instead of doing this on my completely rigid single speed. I did certainly become much, much stronger.

There were many, many great people out there - participants, event staff, and volunteers.

Later on Saturday, we ran into the woman from Northern California who was racing her "first and last" time, and found out that she crashed at mile 80 and called it quits. I felt bad for her, but hope that she'll come back and try again. She seemed in relatively good spirits when we chatted at the end though.

When we returned to the Airbnb rental, another racer was in the hot tub. It was his first time out and it thrilled me to know he was able to make it to the finish on his first try.

As always, a special thanks to G.E., your awesome author of this blog, and of course, my lovely wife! [G.E.'s Note: I am pretty awesome. <laughing> Seriously though, it's always an adventure in Leadville and I'm glad I was able to come along.]

And, I can't leave out our fabulous friend who was willing to put her life on hold to watch our two crazy dogs either. It was great to be able to have G.E. with me in Leadville once again.
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I don't know that I have anything of much significance to add to the end of this 2017 tale. A couple of items come to mind though. 

First, Sam had a second fall later in the race that he failed to mention, but I think by that point he just wanted to get to the end so it seemed less significant. I know he was disappointed to not finish quicker than he did, but all things considered, he still improved and even finished being injured, which is nothing to take lightly.

I'm also always amazed at the amount of walking I do during this race. This year I wore a pedometer because I was rather curious to see how far I actually walk with all the picking up and moving to a new spot. Even though I know pedometers are notoriously imprecise calculators, it marked me at just over 12.5 miles for the day (I joked near the end of the day that I should go walk down the boulevard just to make it a half marathon). I had no idea it was anything close to that, but then again, I'm a horrible calculator of distance, usually far underestimating the distance I've traveled both on bike or foot.

I am curious to see if Sam will race in Leadville again. He seems to improve each time, so I think it's possible he could get under the 10 hour mark if he were to give it another go. The Barn Burner in Flagstaff will perhaps give him that opportunity, if he decides to go and race there. We shall see!

A 2015 Leadville Trail 100 MTB Experience

As promised, Sam has written up his thoughts on the recently finished 2015 Leadville Trail 100 MTB. It's always an interesting place to be - on the other side of an event like this - as a spectator, having opinions and experiences of my own. But, I've definitely given my side as an observer on events like this in the past, so this will mostly focus on Sam's experience as a racer in the event (though I'm sure I'll put in my two cents occasionally).

I will share though that this is now my second year of silently and (honestly) unintentionally stalking the Hammer (aka Fatty's wife, Lisa) in Leadville. It happens so innocently in such a small community -- really. I just find myself standing at a tent behind her and then I just happen to be standing in front of another display where she is also present. I'll admit, it does sound stalker-ish.

There is slight fear in me that there will be a restraining order filed at some point, which does cause some concern - especially because my quick snaps seem to be getting closer, but maybe one of these days I'll actually try speaking to her instead of just silently observing. Truly, I am harmless though.

This was a three-for: Purple Arrow (hard to make out, so you'll just have to take my word for it): the Queen of Pain herself, Rebecca Rusch; Blue Arrow (even more challenging to identify as he's behind someone): Fatty; Red Arrow: the Hammer

There's just that part of me that doesn't know what to say to someone I admire or look up to; so instead, I just look like some goofball, quietly taking photos (how does one have the reserves to stay calm when a crazy person standing five feet away is giggling and snapping pictures??). I've just never been that person to walk up to someone and disturb what they're doing, and so, instead, I watch and figure maybe somehow being near her will cause her amazingness to rub off on me? Maybe?

But, anyway, it wasn't all Hammer sightings for this trip (I was actually very close to Rebecca Rusch at one point too - so close I could've taken a moment to say something, but I didn't). In fact, we were there for a purpose. Sam was trying to crush his finish time from last year and complete the race for the first time on a single speed. It wasn't going to be easy, but it was worth a shot.

So, without further delay, here is Sam's replay of the happenings on race day in Leadville this year.
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In 2014, who knew where I was headed. It was a dramatic year, quite busy with moving, renovating, and changing jobs - and then coming back to the previously left employment position. I'd also completed the early qualifier for Leadville by racing the Barn Burner in Flagstaff. Which, brings us to the present: the Leadville Trail 100 MTB.

Very early in the year I had decided to do this race on a single speed - 104 miles, one speed, and no suspension. It didn't sound like a bad idea, so I figured, why not?

The weeks leading up to the race itself were highly dramatic and stressful. I swear I had the flu 4 times, then a cold. I had also started a new job the week before the race and had a family member fly in who was supposed to be coming to watch our dogs while we were gone, which ended up blowing up in our faces just hours before we left. [G.E. note: Yes, it was a bit stressful trying to figure out what to do with our pups, but thankfully we have awesome friends who volunteered to help us out.]

August 15: Oddly enough, on the big day I felt pretty damn good.  I had trained like crazy since winter, riding fast, fast, fast road rides, chasing faster riders, lots of single speed, but per usual not much actual mountain biking. [G.E. note: True story. I will attest that Sam did lots of riding this year, but oddly didn't seem to be on the mountain bike much.]

This being my second year riding Leadville, I did not have the same nerves I did last year, so the morning rolled around, and I was pretty calm. The bike was setup well, and I even tarped it the night before so moisture would not collect on the metal bits. [G.E. note: And, because it tends to rain in spurts in the mountains without much notice.]

I had an oddly unbalanced breakfast of half a bagel, some fruit, and a small blueberry muffin. Meh, I wasn't overly concerned because I'd be pounding a GU pack every 30 mins for the next 10+ hours, so who cares?

By 6 am, I was nicely settled next to the containment rail in the orange corral [G.E. note: riders are separated into corrals based on prior series finish times], already needing to pee, but not wanting to break the seal (I would wait at least 30 miles to do that).  G.E. was there, camera in hand, having eaten half a banana, and ready to go. It was oddly warm this year, already in the 40's near start time, so it was looking good (seriously, why was I not nervous?).

Around 6:15, Dave Wiens kid sings the national anthem [G.E. note: Ben Wiens], some rhetoric bellows out of the speakers, then some music, and at 6:30 we are off!  Slowly.

It was highly uneventful at the beginning, as it's a rolling start out of town and it was impossible for me to be too frantic with only one gear. It's probably the most demoralizing thing when everyone initially blows past because you spin out at about 16mph/25kph.  Needless to say, we made it to the base of Saint Kevins (pronounced: key-vins).

The march had begun and I was feeling good with my 33x17 gearing, my carbon, rigid fork, and custom G.E. painted frame. [G.E. note: The paint job was not great considering the time/tools used, but it was colorful.]  About 100 yards into an early climb, I spotted a fellow rider, frantic on the side with his chain in hand and yelling for help.

Ugh. I stop. I don't want to stop because I know that I need to keep moving, but how could I ignore someone asking for help?

This guy is shaking as he tells me that he "chain sucked," and then proceeded to break a solid link in the chain with his tool instead of using the king link that is there for this exact reason. He is now attempting to re-insert the pin he took out, which is NOT intended for re-insertion.

Sadly, I have done exactly what he was attempting to do in the past myself [G.E. note: Yes, and I was the "benefactor" of that mistake - but that is all in the distant past and a tale for another time and place.], and here I was riding this huge event and knowing that I had to try to help him.

As I started to hold the chain for him, a couple of nice women near the end of the passing riders offered an extra king link they had with them. I was grateful that one of the riders had a link because neither he nor I were prepared for this sort of fix.

It took about 10-15 minutes, but we got him back riding again, despite his concerns that he was now not going to be able to finish the race. He continued to talk about how much training he had done and was quite upset, but I told him he just didn't have the luxury of stopping or screwing around. He would have to ride hard to finish. I wished him luck, and pushed him on his way.

This crew members shirt said it all.

This was a dark moment. A moment of realization. I was now in last place - literally. The sweep crew were on their 4-wheelers, sitting behind me in silence.  I knew the chase was on - just me and my one gear!

I proceeded to hammer up Kevins, and for about one mile I did not see anyone. Then, pay dirt. I started swallowing up riders - one, two, ten, 100 - until we peaked Kevins.  I knew at this point that I would not stop much at all. I no longer had that right to stop, just as I had preached to my broken-chain friend.

After Kevins, I rolled down hill, which for a single speed really is a roll because once in the 20 mph/32 kph range, there's no point in even trying to pedal.  This would also roll me up the Sugarloaf climb a bit.

At this point, I had realized my sweet spot on a single speed seems to be in the range of a 2-4% grade, at which point it's easy to feel like superman compared to other riders. It's just the reality of being on a single speed though - when there's only one gear, I have no choice but to push, so I would pass riders as though they were still.  I hammered up the climb, then carefully flew down the Powerline as best I could without suspension or a reasonable gear to get some speed.

After descending Powerline, the path leads into Pipeline and then Twin Lakes. I saw G.E. at the Pipeline aid station, snapping pics. We had already agreed that I would not stop here unless it was absolutely necessary. She yelled out, asking if I was okay, I nodded and proceeded on through. [G.E. note: Sam was smiling here as he rolled through, but it's always a little interesting as someone waiting. You wait and you look and you hope for your rider to be coming around the bend or over the hill, and then suddenly it's over in a flash.]

Pipeline is its own challenge as it is totally different from other areas of the race.  It's nearly all flat pavement, and jeep road all the way to the dam. Then at the base of the Columbine climb we've hit about mile 40.  Last year I was able to hook up with some other riders and make a small peloton so we could break each other. This time was different because of my gearing. I tried to latch onto a couple of riders, but they were maintaining more in the mid 20mph range, and I could not force myself above 19-20mph, so it was tough all the way to the base of the big climb.

At the bottom of Columbine, I did not stop. I had kept going through the Twin lakes aid station, knowing I had enough food to hit the 52 mile crest on top of Columbine at about 12,500 feet.  To this point, I was physically feeling great compared to last year, and the bike was doing great.

[G.E. note: We had discussed me being at the base of Columbine before Sam went up in case he needed anything. Last year, I'd thought it had taken me so long to get here because I'd been waiting for other crew for another rider; but this year, even after rushing to get there, I still missed him. I've determined that the ride for racers between these two spots is too short and the travel for crew members too long to be able to connect here it seems - at least on the way out. I kept waiting to see Sam coming around the corner, only to soon find that there were no more racers coming - as time had been called at the check point.]

My upcoming struggle became sitting behind people who had the ability to spin at about 2.5 mph. My gear ratio would not allow this, so instead I stood and pedaled in slow motion. There was a lot of this happening the entire Columbine climb, as it isn't always easy to pass.

I was doing better though than last year. I was faster and passed when I needed to and was able. I also didn't get the sick altitude feeling until about three quarters of the way up (which was an improvement from last year).

There are a couple of sections during which, for regular folk like me, we walk. I walked them just like the rest of the riders around me. When I rolled into the turn around at the top of the climb, I spent one minute getting water refilled, and grabbed all the GU that people were handing out.  I was on my way home!

I love seeing all the different types of bikes and riders during races. These "chicken helmet" tandem riders seemed to be smiling a lot during the race.

The descent was pretty fast for me, but I'm a really, really bad descender. Compounded with that is my rigid front fork, which began to destroy my hands as the day was wearing on and I continued to drop down the mountain.  It went as smooth and as fast as I could have imagined, and I had caught and passed two other single speeders that I had briefly spoke to on the way up.  My goal at that point was to keep them behind me, by continually moving.

[G.E. note: At this point, Sam's mom had been emailing me nearly constantly, asking if I'd seen him. Then, she said that she saw he had just crossed Pipeline via a Twitter update. I was so confused because I hadn't seen Sam come off of Columbine yet and I knew he didn't have any GU left. Eventually, we figured out that she was receiving late notifications and that it had been from his first pass through on the outbound trip. Argh.]

At the end of the Columbine descent, I met up with G.E., who was standing across from a Specialized tent. The guys were there, offering quick fixes for anyone in need. G.E. hooked me up with my second half of the GU ration, more water, and some very quick photos. [G.E. note: It is not easy to be single-person crew and single-person photographer for the same rider, I have to say. Thank goodness for the help of the Specialized guy across the way!]

The Specialized guy pulled trash from my back pocket and tried to help G.E. who was a bit flustered in the moment. I told G.E. that I had lost one of my water bottles going up Columbine.  I'm so damn short that my frame won't allow two water bottles inside the diamond, but I do have a lower mount beneath my down tube which allows me to carry two. When I had pulled the bottom bottle at one point, I skimmed my hand on the front tire, and  dropped it, so I was now down to only one bottle.

Sam's send off from Columbine. I thanked this guy again and again as he was super helpful in my moment of trying to figure out what I was supposed to be doing for Sam.

A quick push off from the Specialized tent guy and I was moving again. [G.E. note: I feel badly that I didn't get his name. All three of the guys here were fantastic though!]  I had all the food I would need for the rest of the miles, so I was back on my way quickly.

I continued my travel back toward "home." All those road miles - something some wouldn't expect for a mountain bike race. This time it was different. Once again, I was doing a bit better and I came up on the back side of a large 30 person peloton and took refuge. About three minutes in, I could see the front guy trying to signal someone to come up and lead, but nobody would take it.  I lurched to the front with my one gear rolling at about 15mph, and decided I would lead.

Sadly, I was pulling away from this group, but I couldn't slow for them and many seemed to be dropping back. Another guy hooked up with me who was a self-professed terrible climber.  We worked together until we reached the single track area.

The single track became a track of frustration.  Once I reached this point, I got stuck behind some more Sunday pedalers, drifting along at their own fantastically slow pace, and I was nearly riding up them the whole way.  Somehow I still PR'ed this whole section, so I must have been really slow last year.

At the inbound/return to Pipeline. I could see Sam was getting tired, but he looked much better than last year at this same spot in the race.

Even though they aren't far apart from each other, G.E. managed to meet me back at Pipeline before I would head back up to Powerline. This would be our last meet up at about mile 72. She hooked me up with a water refill, and I had picked up a new water bottle from one of the aid people handing out GU/Roctane liquid about 100 ft. before I saw her. She is my "crew." One person crews don't get any credit. There is actually quite a bit of hiking in some spots and carrying lots of stuff around, sometimes worrying, and other times some photography. Sometimes I think it might be as challenging as the ride. [G.E. note: Um, I don't think crewing is anywhere near as challenging as the ride, but there's a decent amount of hauling stuff and walking for sure - especially when moving around to different locations.]

At this point, I'm now headed to Powerline.  I walked it last year, and I surely knew I would this year with no spinning gear to power me up it. It's a long, hot, frigging walk up to mile 80.

There wasn't much eventful to tell here. It's hard, hot walking, super dusty, and a few brave folks trying to ride very slowly up it, but it was generally failure.  I continued to walk, and walk some more.  Finally we crest and can get the hell out of there. With somewhere around 24 miles left to ride, I'm beat. When I hit the mid-70 mile marker, all the good feeling had gone out of me. The cramping had begun in my quads from the extreme single speed mashing effort, I was tired, full of GU, and all I wanted was water and to finish the race.

Finally, I reach the Sugarloaf downhill before climbing up the back side of Kevins. There's still some hike-a-bike here and there, but we are moving well, and I'm seeing a ton of my group that I had seen most of this half of the day. The climb was not too terrible, and we were finally starting to get out of there.

The last twelve miles includes the decent of Kevins. It is rocky, but as a rider, you simply don't care anymore. I went as fast as I could and got clear out into the plains, which lead me to the 100 mile mark (will this ever end?), then to a road crossing, where the route puts racers through one more single mile climb in the dirt.

This last dirt climb puts riders out onto the pavement for a couple of miles, after which we turn a few times and make that final right turn onto the boulevard. It's such a great feeling to be here, but it also inflicts one last CLIMB to the finish for a half mile. [G.E. note: Why does every race do this? It's as though you haven't been punished enough during the ride, so the organizers put that last climb right at the end, just for good measure.]

Sam approaches the finish line, after passing a couple of other racers.

I was determined to pass everyone in that last section on my pathetic single speed, and I did. [G.E. note: Waiting at the finish line is the most painful part of this race to me. Not only are crew tired themselves from the length of the day, but Sam had wanted to finish the race in sub-10 hours this year (last year, he finished just under 11 hours). It seemed a lofty goal, especially given that he was geared last year and went single this year, but I had high hopes too. As time kept ticking and we closed in on that 10 hour mark at the finish line, I still hadn't spotted him. It was almost as though I could feel the disappointment for him. However, I also realized that he may well have given up his sub:10 hour finish by stopping to help a racer in need. Honestly, I couldn't have been more proud that he chose to help a stranded rider and give up his own goal, rather than achieving his own objective and knowing he'd left someone who needed assistance.]

With a finishing time of 10:29 and some change, I was about 24 minutes faster than last year, and feeling a bit better all around. It leaves room for improvement too, so I suppose I can't be too disappointed in that.

Some additional notes that have no specific place within the tale of the ride itself:
- The bike was flawless, which is fantastic.
- Every other comment was about the frame paint job (kudos to G.E.!) [G.E. note: You asked for late 80s-early 90s inspired paint, and you got it. :O)]
- Most other comments were, "Single speed - Go single speed!"
- There were several mutterings of "Look at that little guy."
- I never saw my confused, broken chain friend again, but I hope he finished.
- No possible way that I could have done this without G.E.'s support, both throughout the year and during this event. [G.E. note: I'm not sure I actually did all that much this year. It's amazing how inept and entirely un-useful I started to feel toward the end.]

An aside:
We were discussing the let down in the aftermath of such a big event like this.  After coming home, we both felt as though everything is more dull. I think the reality is that we haven't really gone anywhere in a long while, and this was an exciting, stressful and fun 2 days of pseudo vacation for us. I honestly plan on going to this race forever if I can, and convincing G.E. to compete in the women's single speed (there was only 1 this year). [G.E. note: Good luck with that plan. I have to get over my terror of rocks first, then we can talk.] Will I do single speed again? I'm not sure.

Thank god I took Monday off!
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Many thanks to Sam for sharing his experience again this year. It was easy to see as an observer both years that he was far better off physically this year than last. Even at the finish he was still smiling, when last year I knew he couldn't wait to just get over the finish line. I was aware that he was tired, but it was nice to see that he wasn't completely dead at the end.

One of my personal goals after this race is to try to figure out a way to get photos of riders I end up with on my camera to those who would appreciate them. I take so many as tests and to make sure I have a decent spot (usually this fails me anyway and I end up with horrible photos at the end), but I'd love to be able to share extra shots with the people who were racing and with their friends/family. I'm not entirely sure how I plan to do this, but the idea wheels are turning.

I think it's also important that crew members take care of themselves during the race. This is something I have not yet been successful doing. I get entirely focused on the rider and then realize toward the end of the day that I've not had water or food myself. Somehow, my half of a banana did not sustain me well through the late afternoon hours, and being at higher altitude, water is an important component too. One of these years, I'll have it all down. At least this year I remembered both sunblock and mosquito repellent.

As always, we enjoyed our time in Leadville and it was entirely too short, but we look forward to the possibility of going again to future races.

Race Across the Sky: A Leadville Trail 100 First-Timer Story

On Tuesday, I shared my personal hunt for the Fat Cyclist duo, but what is vastly more important was the real reason we were in Leadville over the weekend (which, sad as I am to admit it, wasn't to get a photo of Fatty or the Hammer). I did ask Sam if he'd be willing to share his LT100 experience from over the weekend. I know that sometimes race reports can be long, but I think it's interesting to get the perspective of a first-timer at a race. This one was pretty intense and I now clearly understand why people wear their belt buckles as a badge of honor - even if I didn't participate in the ride itself (but, of course, that won't stop me from throwing out my random thoughts). If you have ever wondered what it might be like to participate in the LT100 MTB, perhaps this will provide a bit of insight... or, maybe you'll wonder why people sign up for this race at all. So, without further ado...

The first thing that comes to mind is, "Why am I doing this?"

During the 10 days prior to the Leadville Trail 100 MTB race my back was hurting. It had been months since it had been this way, so of course it would pick this moment to start the pain again.  I had been riding/training like crazy.  Well, crazy for me.  I was doing over 150 Miles per week between my mountain bike and my road bike.  I had gone single speed for the Silver Rush 50 a few weeks prior, so I decided to swap some things and go back to a geared version.  I was worried that keeping it a single speed might handicap me, since this was my first attempt at the LT100, and I had concerns that I wouldn’t finish in the 12 hour time frame.

It begins.  We rolled out very early on Friday the 8th, so that I could make the 7-10am packet pickup in Leadville. It was a mostly uneventful morning. Practically everything was ready, and we made it to Leadville around 9am, where I picked up my packet, got my medical bracelet, and we proceeded to get an early meal before the 11am "mandatory" briefing at the gymnasium. [G.E.'s note: I swear, I think higher altitude makes me more hungry... of course, it didn't help that I hadn't had breakfast at home because I woke up late.]

Friday's expo before the race.
Sometimes when out-of-state family/friends see photos of Colorado they ask if the sky is really that blue. The answer is, yes, it really is that blue - unless it's storming. :O)

We decided to park the car, and ride our bikes to the meeting. There was a small group of expo vendors, but I just wasn't in the mood to mess with them, or attempt to get some free stuff (I never seem to be in the mood on those days). We strolled up, picked up my t-shirt, and we found a seat on the floor of the gym.  We had decided that G.E. should just join me for this, since it was the last thing I needed to do, and why not experience it since she was already there? [G.E.'s note: I had grand plans to go on a nice, long, leisurely bike ride through the mountains during Sam's meeting. I had brought along the Hillborne with a big front bag attached thinking that I'd take some photos, but after riding Sam over to the gym, I sincerely thought I might die on a road somewhere.]

Picking up race t-shirts before the medical meeting

It was insanely crowded, hot, and noisy.  I already felt like I was coming down with the flu, and the right side of my back was totally killing me.  Bad omen number one.  I think the whole deal took about 2 hours. Various local biking celebrities spoke, an F1 driver, Jason Seahorn, Ken and Marilee, lots of talking, clapping, etc. [G.E.'s note: There were actually several touching things said in this meeting. I actually teared up more than once listening to the founders and others' experiences. It was a good reminder to always work hard, dig deep, and go after the things we want in life. That said, I can definitely have the patience/attention span of a toddler, so I was ready to be let loose again.]

Everyone waits for the meeting to begin... this is one packed gym!

We were free!  We rode back up the hill into town from the gym [G.E.’s note: It was actually uphill both ways, if we’re totally honest - and yes, I know that seems weird, but it's true - but it seemed worse coming back into town for some reason], at great expense to our lungs (omen #2?) [G.E.'s note: Um, I literally couldn't breathe. Sam was asking me questions as we were climbing and I had no ability whatsoever to respond, making me acutely aware that I am not in any shape for the sort of riding the folks were getting ready to do when I can't even climb the hill back into town.], hung in the room for a while, then walked over to one of the best little hole in the wall Mexican restaurants in a small mountain town I think we have been to. Good stuff and cheap (this may be prime motivation for us to move to Leadville). [G.E.'s note: I think we were just really hungry. The food was good, but I don't think it's quite reason enough to make a giant move to Leadville. :O) ]

It was still dark out... definitely earlier than G.E. likes to be up. Even Sam was looking tired here.

Really, that was about it for day one.  I wanted to get to sleep early, so I could get up early.  I really felt sick, and my back was killing me, and I probably slept about 4-5 hours, 20 mins at a time for the entire night.  I got up at around 3:45, showered, then went over to the 4am continental breakfast to "carb up", came back to the room, woke G.E. up, and drug us out to the car where I pulled the bike off the car, checked the tires, myself, etc.  I was actually feeling good, the flu symptoms had subsided, and my back was merely achy (yay!). 

G.E. released me to my corral, while she went back to the hotel to get some food that would be insufficient to fuel her for the day : ). [G.E.’s note: I am not very smart and somehow believed that 5 pieces of honeydew melon was going to get me through about 12 hours. For the record, it wasn’t, and delirium definitely set in by mid-afternoon.] 

Waiting to go

The line up and the corral was surprisingly easy to deal with compared to descriptions I had read prior to the race.  I think I was there about 40 mins early, and there were only a few people with me.  I recognized some of them.  A woman who works at a local bike shop back home, a pair of tandem riders I had gone back and forth with during the SR50, and a guy from MA that I had a short conversation with in regard to Leadville (his 4th trip).

Time moved quickly.  Local champ, Dave Wiens’ son sang the national anthem, and then we were ready to go! Oddly enough, I was not nervous at all at this point; I was very relaxed.  I think something has changed in me as I’ve aged.  I could not say the same for some DB's up in front of me, as they immediately chose to ignore the warning about going slow off the start and endo-ed into each other (and then spastic-ally tried to get righted). All I could think was just calm the hell down. 

And... they are off!

We rode downhill out of town for a few miles, and at a pretty brisk 25mph pace all the way to the dirt road where we would meet the first climb, St. Kevins, which is a 5.1 mile climb.  It was pretty narrow and everyone was moving pretty quickly (no walkers yet). It was almost impossible to pass from the position I was in.  Once peaked, we had a short downhill and then proceeded to climb the back side of "Powerline" for approximately 5 more miles.  

Unfortunately, there was a small bit of walking on this one already, as we were backed up at least 40-50 deep.  After the peak, we had spread out a bit and were able to actually ride "free" down Powerline and start to break into the more "roadie" open part of the course from about mile 20-40.  To this point, I had seen about 1/2 dozen flat tires, a few dropped chains, and a guy whose crank sounded like a wooden lazy susan spinning around and around.  All in all, I was feeling pretty good.   

Sam rolls through the first aid station

Then, the left side of my back locked up, without warning.  My answer to that was, “screw you.” I would save my anger for later.  

Back in the "flat area", at approximately mile 20, there were a ton of paved flat areas where I managed to latch on to a peloton that was rolling at about 30mph like a road group.  This brought us most of the way to the first aid station "Pipeline", where I saw G.E. cheering for me and my fellow riders. I briefly stopped (30 seconds), to grab more GU packs to satiate my 45min GU consumption habit. Miles 26-ish to 40 were more up and down, just not super dramatic, with some single track riding thrown in.  I was beginning to fatigue from the effort and the pain in my back, but then at mile 40 and Twin Lakes, the aid station finally arrived.  I did not stop this time. I went through and continued to the base of Columbine, where pure pain and suffering awaited me, and the slowest, longest part of my day would happen (Did I mention how great the weather was?  It didn't rain!). [G.E.'s note: It didn't rain, but it looked awfully stormy, and some intense wind set in for the second half of the race.]

The red arrow marks where racers were headed up Columbine

At Columbine I would discover the stuff of legend, movies, articles, and word of mouth.  It's 7.4 miles up, all the way to approximately 12,400 feet, and the turn around point of this 104 mile trek.  Long, long fire access roads up Columbine, I was using the local bike shop woman mentioned earlier as my carrot, and trying to stay with her up the mountain. This lasted about 2 turns, at which point she totally lost me.  Shortly after this, I started to see the leaders come down the hill, followed by "Fat Cyclist" himself, then the "Hammer" with Rebecca Rusch in tow, who was shouting encouragement to her, almost willing her to complete what would be the Hammer’s best finish ever.  

A short way up Columbine, I started to feel dizzy and nauseous, probably from the extreme altitude.  This caused me to go pretty slow (4mph), and I had to focus to keep from losing it.  Near the top, we all had to dismount due to a log jam of riders. Then we mounted again, and rolled into the turn-around.

At 50 miles in, it was probably about 35 degrees, but sunny at 12,400 feet.  I felt sick, dizzy, and my left leg was not working well.  I decided this would be my longest stop, but still under 10 minutes.  I had my water refilled, and my go-juice bottle [G.E.’s note: We call our energy drink “go juice”], then I picked up a few more GU packs, ate 2 chocloate chip cookies, half of a bananna, and some random flavored GU (Did I tell you that I actually don't care what flavor it is out on the trail?  Weird, I don't have a favorite.)  I had a short conversation with a volunteer, while I was attempting to pull my left leg over the bike.  His words, “The next 30 miles are ‘recovery.’” Somehow, I was highly doubtful.  I smiled, and gingerly headed back down. 

Sam didn't even notice me (and I almost missed him entirely) coming down Columbine -- of course, I hadn't helped matters by wearing all gray. Lesson learned.

What took me 2 hours and 12 mins to climb, took 30 minutes to descend, and I'm pretty slow on the decent, as my front tire (bad choice), really wanted to wash out on the corners.  It was still pretty fast, and I could feel the nausea going away as I headed back to 10k feet of elevation.  My god, get me the hell out of there, and on to the 30 miles of recovery!

Back to Twin Lakes, again.  I rolled through there and did not stop, I just wanted to get to the Pipeline aid station. We were back at around mile 60, and some flat areas, where once again, I was able to find some others to work with on the way, which made it a bit easier to get to the Pipeline aid station. 

Sam rolls into Pipeline

Pipeline, again, at about 73ish miles.  And now I was dead, but oddly, my back felt better - and I'm not dizzy. Perhaps a second wind?  I saw G.E. in the middle section of the pipeline crew area, where we very briefly spoke, she hooked me up with an estrogen bar [G.E.’s note: Sam likes Luna bars, and someone once told him that they couldn’t believe he would eat them because they have estrogen in them. For the record, Luna protein bars do not have estrogen in them, but the nickname kind of stuck.], and took a filthy picture, which you may have already seen [G.E.’s note: Maybe. But it's up here again.].  I can't tell you how good it was to see her at this point. I was really drained mentally, and I was about 30 miles out, and some nasty climbs away from the finish. [G.E.'s note: I was glad to see Sam, too. I had been on a several-mile hunt for him with no results, so to see him roll up was fantastic!] Seriously, thank god she was there because I think I would have just rolled through, and not rested at all.   

Sam wasn't really this cranky, but he was chewing when I took the shot... sorry Sam!

Next was the return to Powerline, but this time it was the bad side.  At about mile 80, it was time to climb Powerline. Prior to this, I had worked with a few people to make the 7 miles in between a bit easier, but it hadn't helped much. Everyone was getting slow.  When we all reached Powerline, it was once again backed up.  What sucked is that I had the energy to actually climb it this time, but we all had to dismount.  Including the super tandem duo, riding on a beach cruiser, shirtless, and ringing a bell.  Two guys can walk up a hill with a tandem way faster than I can! God, it took forever to walk up Powerline, I can't tell you how bad my feet hurt in biking shoes, walking with my bike!  Then, we got to go downhill for a while. 

Two guys on a tandem beach cruiser... they looked to be having fun. Definite props to these guys, who killed it - in cut-offs even!

The backside of Kevins?  My god, more climbing!  Then, Peak Kevins and we were at mile 90-ish. This is it; I'm on the way home. No more climbing, and about 14 miles left.  Back at about mile 80, my back did a turn around, and I felt 100% better, but the last 14-15 miles of the ride was probably the worst time besides Columbine.  It seemed like that last bit was a false summit, then another false summit, then one more, and then finally a 2 mile climb to the finish. [G.E.'s note: Yeah, this was the same climb we made coming back into town after the medical meeting the day before. I didn't enjoy it and I hadn't been riding 100 miles before completing it.] Who thinks of these things? [G.E.’s note: Crazy people… like the people who actually do this ride. :O)]

I think Sam's face pretty much sums things up in this photo right after the finish line

I finished strong, even with the hill at the end: 10:52:38. Sub-11 hours, and probably as good as I could have imagined doing it for my first time.  All I wanted to do was sit down and weep. I was filthy and tired, but it was worth it.  G.E. walked me back to our car so I could get rid of the bike.  Just like the SR50, I would not and could not have done it without her. [G.E.’s note: Ahh, that’s sweet. Honestly, I think he would’ve been just fine without me, but I was happy to tag along.]

Indeed!

Some aside thoughts.  I keep thinking I may have been faster on my single speed.  I think I ate nearly enough, or at least close, especially considering how bad my program has sucked in the past.  I don't think I want to wear my Camelback again. It only provided me water and the rest was just 10lbs of storage on my back.  I have certainly not done anything this difficult before.  True "high altitude" is something to be reckoned with. We live at around 5k feet, but it's nothing compared to 10-12k. My lungs still hurt.  Maybe I will be back next year. It’s hard to make that decision so close to having finished.  The Barn Burner in Flagstaff is coming up in a few weeks. Maybe I’ll get an early start on next year??