2018 Silver Rush 50 MTB: Racing for a Better Corral Position

**It's race report time once again, and as usual, both Sam and I have sides of the tale to share. Sam's experience is in bold letters, while mine will be in regular font.

During September of last year, Sam raced the Barn Burner MTB race in Flagstaff, Arizona. It's kind of become a tradition because most people are wrapping up their race season and don't seem to travel to this particular event. Fortunately, Sam was able to get a spot in the LT100 MTB upcoming in August of this year because of racing that event.

However, Sam didn't time as well as he'd hoped at the Barn Burner, so a couple of months ago, he decided he would race the Silver Rush 50 in Leadville with the hope of getting into a corral position that would have him closer to the front. When he signed up to do the SR50, we had discussed the reality that he would be on his own. He was fine with that idea because he knew that he could get up early, travel to Leadville to get his packet, race, and be back before the sun set. 

Of course, as reality sets in, sometimes we all start changing our minds about such matters. Sensing something was amiss, I asked if he would like to reserve a camping spot for the night prior so that he wouldn't have to get up so early. He didn't seem keen on this at all. Though I felt bad that I couldn't be there, with one of our aging dogs (who happens to also be incredibly cranky around other dogs) losing most of her vision and having a difficult time with traveling these days (not that she was ever a very keen traveler), it just didn't seem feasible to do a 15-16 hour day with her.

Then, I started to feel bad that I wouldn't be there for Sam so I tried to plot out how to make it happen. We went over several scenarios, but none of it made much sense. Ultimately, we worked it out so that our older dog would stay home and have a couple of friends check on her, walk her, and feed her during the day and we'd take the younger dog with us (since she doesn't do well being left for long periods of time and actually likes to travel).

Now the only challenge would be getting me out of bed by 3 am. I am not a morning person - at all. It's not so much that I sleep in, but I prefer to just let my body wake up naturally whenever possible, which usually happens between 5:30-6:30 am (dependent on how late I go to sleep). Mix in the fact that my alarm clock has decided that it is permanently stuck on 6 am and I knew it would be interesting to see how the morning went.

Miraculously, I somehow made it out of bed and we were on our way pretty much as expected.

This third time might be the charm.

Things that were different this round:
- I slept the night before the race
- This is the third time I've had a different bike for this race (but my build skills have advanced)
- Instead of single speed, rigid, steel, I rode a geared, carbon frame that has front suspension
- There was no overnight camping this round - instead we drove out the morning of the race
- I decided to use primarily a Camelbak instead of bottles

There wasn't much to worry about the morning of the race. We got up around 3am and headed out. I had prepped everything the night before so that I wouldn't forget anything.

We arrived plenty early, just before 6am.

Since we had arrived early and I had forgotten to brush my teeth in my morning stupor, we stopped by Safeway with the intention of using the restrooms and obtaining a toothbrush/paste for me to feel more human and to not have to have gross morning breath and a film on my teeth all day long.  Unfortunately, Safeway wasn't open, so we waited a few minutes for the doors to unlock, got what we needed and were on our way to the starting area.

We have parked each time for this race at the college just above the starting line and this race was no different. After putting some air in my bike tires, I rode down to the starting area to pick up my race packet and bib number.

While Sam was gone, I noticed the woman next to us getting ready for the race and happened to see that she had a "Leadman" bib on her bike. Of course, being the nosy sort of person that I am, I had to inquire as to how the series was going thus far, despite it still being early [For those who are unaware, the Leadman/woman requires racers to complete the Leadville Trail Marathon, the Silver Rush 50 MTB or Run, the LT100 MTB, Leadville 10k Run (which just happens to be the morning following the LT100 MTB), and the LT100 Run].

The racer shared her nerves about doing the SR50 mountain ride because she had attempted it on other occasions and had yet to be able to finish. Instead, she was viewing the ride as training and telling herself that if everything spiraled downward, she would be able to do the SR50 Run instead. I shared that I would personally fear the running distances far more than the riding (Who runs 50 or 100 miles all at once???? Crazy people, right?), but she was more confident in her running than riding skills (which I can respect - we all have our strengths).

Warming up for the SR50

I rode back up the hill to the college parking lot to prepare for the race. I'm not sure who gets to park down at the main area, but it doesn't seem to be us [G.E.'s note: I think they reserve the main lower parking lot for medical and race staff, as well as those who genuinely cannot get up and down the hill - and it's definitely a hill that I went up/down at least half a dozen times that day.]

I feel like I've ceased to be nervous about these endurance races, but I always hope to be well prepared. G.E. had been chatting with a budding Leadwoman who we hoped would make the cut off time this race and move on to her next level of "torture." I continue to contemplate doing Leadman each year, but haven't quite worked up to actually registering to do it [G.E.'s note: I stand by my statement that the two long runs are the worst of this, I think. I truly believe a 50 mile (let alone the 100 mile) run would break me].

At about 7:30am, I rode down the hill, while our Golden Retriever pulled G.E. down the hill. [G.E.'s note: True story. She does get very excited when there are people, so I kind of expected this of her. On the up side, my core got a good workout from clenching all day trying to keep her from lunging toward others constantly.]. I dropped my bike in the starting corral and went back to find G.E. and Bernie (I needed to have my arm mauled a bit before the race, as most do) [G.E.'s note: mauled by the dog, not me - just for the record - and to be honest, it's really not a "mauling" but more of a just wanting to put an arm in her mouth to hold], and we stood for a bit until the start time got closer. 

Sam's intended times for this race at each aid station/stop.

This year, the organizers decided to do two waves with those expecting to finish sub-7 hours and then those expecting to finish a little later, with the intention to help with some of the bottle-necking at the start (I assume). I strolled back over to the starting area about 10 minutes before the race would begin.

Bernie and I stood quite a distance but within eye shot of Sam so that we (or at least I) could see him take off up Dutch Henri Hill. I was busying myself with keeping our overly excited dog from jumping or annoying those passing by when I happened to look up and have a moment of pure shock. Sam was actually speaking to other humans. I couldn't see who he was talking to, but he was definitely engaged in conversation which was rather shocking to me as he's not normally one to go out of his way to have a chat with those unknown to him or who are just standing around. I smiled and thought it was great that he was stepping outside his comfort zone, but didn't give it more than a second or two of true thought.

In front of me at the start I noticed two familiar faces/helmets and a very familiar voice. Somehow, I had ended up set up directly behind Elden (Fatty) and Lisa (the Hammer) Nelson. Certainly outside of my normal behavior, I introduced myself as the only guy that is shorter than Fatty. We chit chatted a bit and then I spoke to a first time rider just on the other side of me who was nervous about the race. I tried to reassure him that he would do well and that death was not imminent. Lisa appeared highly focused and did not interact much, but I have to say both Fatty and the Hammer both appeared pretty intense - maybe it's just my perception. It was at this point that I thought that once we started, I would try to stick with Elden, knowing he is a stronger endurance rider than me.

Climbing Dutch Henri Hill at the start of the SR50.

The start was the typical National Anthem, flag and gun shot start. At the base of the very steep but short hill, racers prepare to travel on foot with their bikes to the top of Dutch Henri. Some choose to RUN up this hill in the hopes they will get to the top first and obtain an LT100 coin. Fortunately, I already have one for this year, and I like my ankles, so after a mild jog up the hill we were on our way through the start.

After watching Sam and the others take off from the start, Bernie and I headed back up the hill to start our journey for the day: trying to help Sam at the few crew points in this race. The first stop is about 14.5 miles into the race, so we knew we had some, but not a ton of time to get there and cheer for Sam. Frankly, since Sam had expected to go on his own, I figured he didn't really need me to do anything (perhaps that was a bad way to think, but it's what happened).

As we bottleneck at the start, we are released into some mild single track for a couple of miles and then make our way out while hopefully picking up some speed. Really, it's a climb out for about 11 miles from the start. I had Elden in my sights for the first six miles or so and then I got caught behind some groups. Prior to that, I had been picking off riders one at a time. The climbing piece seems to be where I have suffered recently, particularly when I ride geared, as was the case with this race. I just seem to do better on a single speed.

Things were going pretty smoothly as I approached the first aid station at Printerboy. I had no intention of stopping but somewhere along the way I lost the remainder of my GU packs. Apparently, I need to do a better job of securing my stuff in the new Camelbak. I didn't want to stop, but knew I needed to grab some GU from the aid station. One of the volunteers handed me a couple of packets, I saw G.E. to my right, but kept rolling as quickly as I could. At this point, I was about 10 minutes behind my target time.

As Sam arrived at Printerboy, Bernie and I were amusing ourselves - she was trying to beg for and/or steal food from anyone who was willing to give it to her (or not paying attention). What can I say? She's a Golden and loves food in any form.  I attempted to assure others that they should eat their breakfasts, snacks, etc and not give it to our pathetic-acting dog who gets plenty of food. When Sam came around the corner, I yelled to him, but he seemed to be ignoring me. I wasn't worried because I knew that I had a package of GU to give him at the halfway point. When I saw him grabbing packets from the aid station, I wondered what he was doing, but since he didn't stop but for more than a couple of seconds, I figured he was fine.

At the 14.5 mile point (Printerboy), racers are at a low spot and are preparing to climb up again toward Stumptown. This is the turnaround point and the halfway mark. Over that 10.5 mile stretch, I parceled out the two GU packs I'd received at the aid station by stretching eating to every 45 minutes (instead of the 30 minute increments I'd planned on). I knew it would be close to the turnaround, so I just hoped it would be enough. 

During this stretch of the race there was also an insanely large amount of people who decided that they needed to clip out without warning which caused me to crash a few times while climbing. None of them were serious falls, but I really wish people would give some warning before they just stop when we're climbing.

Bernie and I were on our way to Stumptown. Sam has done this particular race three times now, but I manage to forget how horrible the road is to get to the turnaround spot there every time. After attempting it yet again, I decided I would go to another spot that is both easier to travel and would allow me to see him twice in a short period of time. I'd just have to make sure he actually saw me so he would know I wasn't at the actual turnaround.

When we arrived to our spot to wait just before Stumptown, I kept hearing someone yell, "Bernie! Bernie!" I was looking around because I found it amusing that there was someone else there named Bernie, but after a few rounds of this, I realized it was coming from a young lady Sam and I had been talking to before the race started. She and her mom were there supporting their dad/husband and she had quickly bonded with our sweet-though-often-a-pain-in-the-rear Golden. We walked over to where they stood on the opposite side of the course. Bernie was content to roll in rocks there and to get treats, which made it easier to focus on getting Sam what he would need.

Soon after, Sam came tearing through. I yelled to him, but he didn't seem to realize I was there. As he rode off, I said to myself, "Well, I guess you don't need anything." I would find out later that he had seen me, but was just focused and decided to stop on his way back toward the finish line. As we all stood waiting, several racers came down asking for water, caffeine, and food. At first we all thought they were joking, but some of them seemed really angry that we didn't have anything. We tried to tell them that they had just come out of the aid station, but many of them seemed confused.

By the time I reached Stumptown and the turn around, I had run out of GU, water and whatever little liquid I had been carrying in my single bottle. The bonk had begun around 23 miles, so when I reached G.E. a bit after the 25 mile point, she gave me the rest of my GU and filled up my water.

When Sam came back down from the turnaround, he shared that he'd lost all his GU and that he was completely out of water. I asked him if there was water at Stumptown because several people seemed to be out and I was confused because I thought that was where the aid station was. He said that he hadn't seen any water there, so I still am not quite sure what happened, but I think it explains many of the upset racers.

I knew I had given Sam all of his remaining GU, so it would have to hold him for the entirety of the race, but the plan was to make sure I had cold water for him back at Printerboy on his return trip.

It's really difficult to un-bonk yourself once it's happened. In fact, I have never been successful doing this. It's always a downhill spiral and a test of mental fortitude after that point.

But, I was going again, loaded up with GU and water, but pretty bonky (not completely, but I knew I was getting there). We climbed up and down pretty much until right after Printerboy inbound. Immediately after Stumptown though, I encountered Lisa Nelson multiple times. We did some leap frogging. She would pass all the people walking their bikes and then I would somehow pass her on the downhill. Climbing did not go well for me after bonkville, so we swapped like this until around mile 39 when we start to bomb downhill. Climbing back to Printerboy, she lost me once again and I now had no more GU and only drops of water (I do have a better plan, I just thought for this 50 mile ride I wouldn't need it. Pshhhht! Who needs water or energy?).

Even though I knew I didn't have any GU to give Sam, I did bring a jug of ice cold water for me. I always seem to forget to eat and drink while I'm out on these courses, so I wanted to make sure I had water. When I'm riding long distances, I love cold water. I know it's better to drink room temperature water because our bodies process it easier, but it always tastes so good! So, I figured I'd give up my vacuum sealed ice water to Sam when he came through Printerboy inbound.

When he stopped there, he informed me that he was out of water and GU. I told him that I didn't have anymore GU to give him, so I wasn't sure what to do. Meanwhile, I was trying to unscrew his bladder for the Camelbak to add in the ice-cold water. One of the race volunteers overheard Sam and ran over to the aid station to grab a couple of GU packs for him, and as I was starting to pour in the water, another racer crew member came over and helped me add water to his pack from his own stash (I have to say, one of the things I adore about the races in Leadville is how great all of the people are to each other - It really is a place where anyone will help anyone). As I was adding the cold water to fill the bladder to the top, some of it spilled out on to Sam who let out a shriek.

"That's COLD!" he stated firmly.

"I know. I thought you'd enjoy it. I'm sorry... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to spill it," was what came out in the moment. We didn't have time to argue over cold water though, so I sealed him up and sent him back on his way. "See you at the finish!" I yelled after him.

After stopping briefly at Printerboy and having way too cold water poured down my pants, I knew we were reaching the peak of this race and it would start the 10 mile downhill back to the finish line. This is where I performed better than I ever have [G.E.'s note: I'm gonna say it was the extra cold water.]. I went absolutely as fast as I could and had no issues through this area. It was all smooth, wet, muddy, and rocky sailing.

I encountered at least five people who had pinch flatted on the way down and saw one mild crash. I tore through all of this as fast as a crappy down-hiller with a hard tail really could. Sadly, I was now at least 40 minutes off the time I had wanted and really thought I could do. I had been shooting to finish in 5 hrs, 15 minutes, but I was now just hoping to finish in sub-6 hours.

The last part is no longer down hill, but has some climbing through a bit of singletrack, winding around, and for me was just about surviving the bonk that had taken over. A couple of people were passing me and I just gave in and let them.

Up until about a mile out, someone in a white jersey was tailing me. While we're riding the winding portion of the singletrack, you can see each other from a bit of distance. I didn't look very closely, but every time I turned the rider seemed to be getting closer. I really didn't want anyone else passing me, so I gave it all I had and kicked it through this part to the final little dump right at the finish.

Bernie and I waited near the finish line. It's always fun to see the racers come in. Some look as though they could ride the course again, others appear to be near death. I think figuring out the nutrition and water situation is always a challenge, and most of the riders aren't used to the altitude so I completely understand why there's such a variance. I chatted with a couple of individuals who were wondering how long it would be for their riders to come in. One asked if it's all down hill from Printerboy. Even with the downhill stretch, a lot of the riders are tired, so many tend to slow down. This was disheartening to one crew member in particular who really wanted to be done, but I just didn't want her to have too high of expectations and then be disappointed. It's sometimes difficult to know with certainty how long it will take.

I knew that Sam wasn't going to make his intended time of 5:15, but I still had hope that he'd make it in close to that time. It was unrealistic, but I always hold out hope that he'll find a way to do it.

At around 5:42, I heard Lisa Nelson's name announced. I was hopeful that Sam would be close behind her. I know she's a very strong rider, but I knew it was possible that Sam could've been close enough to finish in the next few minutes.

A few seconds from the finish line.

Just prior to 5 hours 52 minutes, I saw Sam's helmet pop over the last ridge with a rider right on his tail. I yelled and screamed because, you know, that's what you do at things like this, and watched as he rode into the finish. As I walked to meet him outside the finish, I heard his name announced, as well as Elden's name immediately following. He had somehow managed to finish just prior to Fatty. I couldn't help but wonder how that happened, if they'd met up on the course and figured out a way to work together, or if they'd planned this, or what exactly had transpired. I would find out soon enough that I was entirely wrong with all of my thoughts.

I finished the SR50 in 5:52:28, somewhere around 34 minutes faster than my last attempt, and approximately 1 mph faster average. Little did I know until after crossing the finish line that Fatty was the one tailing me in the white jersey. I had come in -- somehow -- 5 seconds before him, though I knew there had to be some reason for this. I knew he had to have broken down - and later, I would realize that it happened early on in the race when I wasn't seeing him anymore. He hadn't ridden away from me, he was actually behind me the whole time - and I mean, RIGHT behind me.

I had failed at my mission, which was to move up in the standings. Unfortunately, I'm staying right where I am with that finish time, so I guess my resolve will need to be even stronger come August. The victory came in some improvement, so I'll take that, but it just wasn't what I'd hoped to gain out of this race.

As for learning... For the next race, I'm swapping Camelbak's out at the aid stations (I have two of the same one - G.E. can tell you all about it). [G.E.'s note: Sam's mom and I ended up both buying Sam the Camelbak Chase for his birthday, so now he has two. Even though I was upset about it at the time, I think it will actually work well for him in the upcoming LT100 because I can have the other one ready to go and just switch it out with him.] I have to climb harder and faster. I think near the peak I will burn all but the last of the matches to increase my climbing speed. I was my best ever on the downhill for this race and I hope to stick with that. I need more nutrition, so I'm going to try some liquid supplements in the Camelbak, particularly for the sustained climbing portions. I would love to find someone fast to trail and stick with, but I don't know how likely it is to make this happen.

Overall, I guess it was a good day. The weather was good, though a bit dusty. G.E. only got mild leg sunburn [G.E.'s note: I was so good about reapplying sunblock during this race, but never put it on my legs. Ugh!]. The race was shifted an hour earlier, which was excellent for missing the afternoon rains that inevitably come in Leadville.

I think Sam did well. Taking more than a half hour off his time is impressive. I know it wasn't what he hoped to gain out of this race, but it's still improvement (and there were a few things that would've likely helped him do better - it's always a learning process). It was a good day though and it's always fun to be in Leadville.

Only a few weeks until the LT100 ride, so I know Sam is trying to implement anything and everything he can that will help him improve. We'll be dog-free for that round, so that should help me focus a little better (hopefully) on getting Sam what he needs during the race... and I'm actually pondering doing the Leadville 10k Run that follows the day after the mountain bike race. We'll see if that happens or not, but I figure it could be an interesting way to wrap up the Leadville season this year.

Silver Rush 50, Part 4: The Anti-Climactic End to a Not-So-Perfect Weekend

This has been a longer-than-usual series for me, so I apologize that this drug out a bit more than anticipated. If you missed any of the first three posts in this tale, you can find part 1 here , part 2 here and part 3 is here. As with part 3, this portion of the story has two viewpoints to share. In order to distinguish each of these, Sam's thoughts will be written in bold type face, while G.E.'s will be in regular type. 
***********************
I sat waiting for the lottery portion of the ceremony to begin, hoping (and frankly, pretty sure) that my name would be called. That is, until I suddenly realized things had changed this year. Apparently, the organizers decided that instead of using the computer program to randomize and select from the finishers, they were having people bring up a tag from their bib to put into a hat for a random pull.

The problem? I didn't have the tag. By the time I could get G.E. there with my bib, the drawing would be over, and I couldn't even remember if the piece was still on the bib or if I'd tossed it. For the life of me, I cannot figure out why a bigger deal was not made of this change. Someone had muttered something like, "Don't forget about the 100" when I picked up my packet, but since it didn't relate to the current ride, I thought nothing of it. I think a notice in the packet and/or on the main website would've been beneficial.

The moment that I realized I had no chance of getting in to Leadville this year, I started walking away. I knew I had only myself to blame. Post race, I did search through the packet, wondering if I'd missed an explanation, but there was nothing to be found... simply a tear-off on the bib with a smaller version of my bib number.

Earlier than anticipated, I received a text message from Sam that he was ready to be picked up. I was excited. I assumed this meant that he'd received a slot and we could start heading home while there was still daylight.

When Sam got in the car I asked smiling, "So.... did you get in?!" At which point he made the above explanation to me. Bummer. Big time bummer.

I know Sam was thinking that the entire ride and weekend was a waste, but I don't believe that is necessarily the case. True, he didn't get in to Leadville this year, and yes, the entire weekend had been one of the more challenging weekends in some time, but there is always a lesson to be learned. In this case, as we discussed later on the way home, I think the lesson is to enjoy the moment and not be so wrapped up in what is to come.

I realized that I am such a fool for not understanding that the lottery system had changed, but we were ready to go home. The bike had been perfect and fast. My body was not. I was running on no sleep and I was incapable of pushing myself the way that I should have (and would have) under normal circumstance. I backed off when I shouldn't have and I didn't even try for the coin at the start of Dutch Henri Hill. And, of course, I didn't keep that tiny little piece of my bib for the drawing with me.

As we headed home after what felt like the longest two days of my life, we were both hungry. We decided to stop at a spot for a sandwich and let the dogs out for a bit. We were losing daylight, so I didn't want to stop too long because I fear the dark when driving with no sleep.

Quickly, we got back on the road and on to I-70 which takes us down through the mountains and back in to the Denver metro area. As we were driving, we noticed a sign on the side of the road that said there was an accident about 4 miles ahead. Now, there are always accidents on the interstate, so neither of us thought much about it and assumed it would slow us down a bit, but we'd still be making decent time.

About a mile up the road, everyone was stopped. I don't mean the sort of stopped where we move a bit and then stop again. I mean we were stopped-stopped... as in not moving at all. This can't be good, I thought, but what could we do? My sleep-deprived, barely functioning brain was using all its power just to keep us in our lane and on the path home, and now I had to figure out what to do to avoid this chaos.

Truthfully, there aren't a whole lot of alternatives to getting around something like this. We were coming up to one of the possibilities in a couple of miles, but in the meantime, we had to just sit and wait. And wait and wait.

As the sun set behind us, I knew I was in trouble. We were losing light which meant that sleepy time and yawning were about to take over. I cranked up the air conditioner and hoped it was enough to keep me coherent.

The traffic had begun to move, but at an unpredictable and very, very slow pace. Eventually, we made it to the exit I knew we were approaching and in an instant realized that everyone was exiting here because they had shut down all the eastbound lanes on the interstate. That certainly explained a lot.

It also meant that we were in for a very slow route home - or at least until we got to our diverging point about 20 miles up the road.

I should also explain that there is a reason (beyond the fact that I was beyond tired at this point) I don't like to drive at night. My vision is not the best after dark and I cannot always tell if a car is in my lane or the one traveling in the opposite direction until we are very close to each other. It causes a lot of strain to try to focus well enough to be able to make adjustments as needed, and with no sleep this was feeling worse than usual.

At this point, Sam had offered to drive, but I figured he was probably far more tired than I was and I believed I could hold it together well enough to get us through.

As we continued along our slow slog home, I couldn't help but laugh about everything that had happened. It was comical to me in my state of mind. I was so lost in the idea of the ridiculousness that had taken place that I missed our turn off and ended up taking us entirely off course.

When we were finally heading in the right direction, I believe complete delirium had set in.

"What if this is all a dream?" I asked out loud, half believing it could be true. "What if we're actually asleep somewhere and none of this has taken place... or, what if we're upside down in a ditch?"

Sam is used to my ramblings, but even he seemed to be playing along, which only made me realize that he was in need of serious sleep as well.

"What if we get home and the house isn't there?" I continued. "You know in dreams, when you're struggling to get home and when you finally arrive it's something entirely different and it's so confusing? Maybe that's what is happening? We'll get home and it will be an ice cream shop or a 7-Eleven or something."

I couldn't help but get lost in this idea of being in a dream because, well, it honestly felt like a dream in that state of mind. I pretty well continued on in this manner until we reached home, where we discovered that in fact our home was exactly where and how we'd left it (which should be a surprise to no one because we weren't actually asleep). It had been a long, long 48 hours and it was coming to an end.

Sam stated, "I just don't think the whole thing was meant to be. From start - really before the start - to finish nothing seemed to go right."

I couldn't help but nod along. It did seem that obstacles were at every corner. Even though the dogs weren't that bad (excluding the incident with our Lab snapping at the other retriever early on race day), I realized that together, our two dogs just aren't cut out for adventures on the road and camping.

"Next time," I began, "I think you either need to go alone or we have to figure out another way to deal with the dogs. Unfortunately, they are just all-consuming and it's difficult to focus on anything else."

There has been talk since the ride about what Sam wants to do. There are a lot of possibilities within the region, but I think he just needed a little time to accept that he isn't going to race in the Leadville Trail 100 this year. I know he's disappointed, but I also know he is well trained (assuming he actually sleeps) to do whatever he chooses this summer and wherever he decides to race, I know, as always, he'll put our his best.

What's next? I'm not sure. There are a bazillion events this summer and I will be ready for the next one - whatever it is. Maybe it's an opportunity to try again in Flagstaff, Arizona for the 2017 LT100 and not do as horribly as I did the last time, or perhaps there is something else that makes more sense. I have a little time to figure it out.

Silver Rush 50, Part 3: Let's Ride! Who Needs Sleep?

If you missed either of the first two posts in this tale, you can find part 1 here and part 2 here. For this portion of the Silver Rush 50 story, there are two viewpoints to share. In order to distinguish each of these, Sam's thoughts will be written in bold type face, while G.E.'s will be in regular type. 
************************
After a rough night of being attacked by mosquitoes and not sleeping (well, the mosquitoes were getting me, even if they weren't biting Sam), Sam was preparing to finally race the Silver Rush 50. Even though the mosquitoes didn't really seem to be biting him it was hardly consolation when he was in pain and hadn't slept.

Sam prepared some oatmeal over the camp stove, and after taking a shower, dressing, and packing up the campsite belongings (let's face it, we weren't about to spend a second night fighting mother nature and everything else that seemed to be working against us), we were off to the starting line.

When we arrived to the preparation area, we split up. Sam headed for the start line at the bottom of Dutch Henri Hill, while the dogs and I went to the top of the hill. I've taken photos of Sam at the start line a couple of years ago when he did this ride, so I thought maybe it would be fun to get a different angle. Plus, our Labrador has issues with other dogs and I figured there would be fewer people at the top of the hill than at the start.

I was very wrong.

As we walked to the top of Dutch Henri Hill and found a spot away from any other animals, a woman walked up next to us with her young Golden Retriever. Our Lab gave no warning and suddenly snapped at him. {sigh} It was going to be a long day. I pulled our pup in closer and waited for the group at the bottom of the hill to get going.

Race day! I had been preparing for months. In fact, it's probably the most preparation I've done for any of the Leadville series rides to date. 

Originally, I had intended to race the group to the top of Dutch Henri Hill for an opportunity to arrive first to get an automatic entry into the Leadville Trail 100, but because of the exhaustion from not sleeping, I decided against it. After all, even knowing that I wouldn't place in the top of my division, I knew I'd have a decent shot at entry in the lottery at the award ceremony after the race.

The bike was ready to go, despite all of my changes at the last minute. I was barely alive, but functioning nonetheless. 

Twenty minutes prior to the start, I powered on the Garmin, but nothing was happening. Searching for satellites, and searching and searching. Unfortunately it was never able to connect with the satellites so it became an expensive timer that would tell me when I needed to eat.

Unfortunately, what Sam didn't know is that on a last minute whim, I had grabbed my Garmin on the way out the door at home thinking that if something happened with his, he could just use mine. I physically had it with me at the top of the hill and could fairly easily have passed it on to him, but neither of us knew what was taking place for the other until after the race.

These people decided to walk in front of me as I was trying to get a shot of racers climbing Dutch Henri Hill... Don't worry people, I didn't get here early or anything to get a decent place to take a photo... No, you just walk in front of me and disregard the barriers that the race staff have created. {sigh} I think I need to get meaner with people! :) 

At 9a, we started. I plodded up with everyone else to the top of the hill, being careful not to tweak a knee or roll an ankle. Once we were at the top, we all coasted for a bit because of the bottleneck right at the start. 

Hoards of people who had jumped earlier at the bottom of the hill were now falling over each other. As with the last time I rode here, I was trying to tell people to calm down and not clip in yet. I'm never quite sure why they do this when no one is really moving yet.

But, after all the falling all over themselves and dragging through, we get loose on to a slow but easy first mile or so before we started the 10 mile climb.

There are mechanical problems all around me. Left and right I hear people, noisy derailleurs, dropped chains, but fortunately for me, my gear was holding strong. 

After watching the riders take off, the dogs and I headed off for the first spot we'd be able to see Sam. I was completely exhausted and had no idea how Sam was going to survive this race, but I figured the only thing I could do was be in as many locations as possible in case he needed anything.

I think one of the most difficult things about the SR50, and why some think it is actually worse than the LT100, is that racers start out climbing 10 miles. Most of it is subtle, but it is consistent for that entire 10 miles. 

My first encounter was during that first mile of climbing. I had come in contact with one of the spinning riders who decided to unclip without warning right in front of me while we were all moving along. It was too late for me to unclip, and the guy behind me nailed me sending me off my bike.

I fall and land on a large, sharp rock while simultaneously bouncing my head on the ground. It feels like I have an open wound on my back, just below the scapula. I pick up my stuff, curse a few times, and keep climbing. I didn't have time to lay around and I was too tired to worry about a flesh wound.

There are numerous sections in nearly all Leadville events during which racers end up hiking their bikes. It's very nearly unavoidable. Everyone else starts hiking and there's no ability to pass, so we all have to hike. I find this to be completely torturous walking at 2.5 mph with a bike, in stiff shoes, uphill, with lots of rocks. But, I made it through this relatively well.

My plan is almost always the same with these races: I do my best to methodically start swallowing up groups or racers. Usually, during the first half, people seem to group up and my intention is always to slowly catch them and pass them until all the ones I can pass are behind me. I had collected the last one at around mile nine, so that was good, and I was actually climbing well, considering I was a zombie on wheels.

Around mile 10, we peak and get a well-deserved downhill/double track/fire road, which leads almost perfectly to the first rest stop at about 13.5 miles in to the race.

The dogs and I had been on our way to the first rest stop. I figured it would be the best first place to wait for Sam in case he needed anything. When we arrived, we had a long hike in because of the traffic at this particular area, but I loaded up my backpack with everything we might possibly need and started hiking up the road, two dogs pulling in two different directions.

As a side note, an observer might think that I never take our dogs anywhere and that they never get out of the yard based on their behavior. For the record, we have some of the most spoiled dogs who get to go just about everywhere from swimming to hiking and walking, and more. And, despite my best efforts with training and classes, they just don't seem to understand that I expect them to behave themselves, at least occasionally.

We finally arrived at the rest stop but there were so many people and a good portion of them had dogs. I could feel the anxiety coming from our Labrador. I tried to find a spot away from everyone, but this was no easy task. People with dogs continued to arrive and pretty soon I had nowhere to be that there wasn't another dog.

Perhaps it was just my sleep-deprived state of being, but I couldn't take it as people continued to come closer and closer with their dogs, knowing that our Labrador had already lashed out just an hour or so before. So, we had to hike back down the hill to figure out what to do.

As we walked, I remembered a cross over point on the road we'd just come up, so we went to that spot to wait for Sam.

At the rest stop, I don't bother to stop. I had everything I needed and I didn't see G.E. at the stop. I was feeling okay and seemed to be doing well (or at least I felt I was doing well). 

This is the point when we started to break down into groups with riders who have similar speed and capability. I settled in with them for the most part and kept riding.

It wasn't too long before I saw Sam coming up to the crossing where we'd settled, just beyond the rest stop area. I yelled to him, but I don't think he heard me. He continued along, pedaling his legs off and I assumed he must be okay.

Well, I thought, on to the next spot. Originally, I was going to go to the second rest stop, but after the overwhelming number of people at the first one, I went with my back up plan to go to a spot at the base of the climb up to the turn around/second rest stop.

I was surprised to arrive and find only a handful of people here. Maybe I had missed Sam? I asked one of the people standing around if most of the riders had come through and he explained that only those at the very front of the pack had come through. Perfect, I thought.

I listen to two guys talking about this race in past years and other races they have done over the summer. I watch a young girl nearly get run down by a racer because her parent wasn't paying attention. I help direct racers that seemed to be confused about where to go. Before I know it, Sam is coming down the road.

"Go Sam!!!" I can't help but shout. "Do you need anything?" I holler as he goes whizzing by. He shakes his head at me and I have to say, I'm pretty impressed that he's still upright and smiling. I didn't even feel like smiling and I wasn't riding. I decided to wait until he came back from the turn around not far away, just to make sure he was actually okay.

At the 25 mile turn around, I asked the crew of volunteers to refill my water and whatever the god-awful concoction is they have in their buckets. I swiped a few GU packs, drank a paper cup of lukewarm Coke (Exactly what I didn't want -- who wants warm Coke?) and I was off again.

In this race, the turn around is a bit of a low point so we have to climb to get back out. After I'm out of the dip and back on a downhill, it's time to head back to the first (now the third) rest stop.

The dogs and I watched as Sam came back down the hill he just climbed until he disappeared from sight. Now we'd have to figure out where to go to help him on his way back, if he needed it.

This is hell, and the lack of sleep is now catching up to me. There is a three mile stretch during which there is at least one more mile of hike-a-bike. I crashed two more times due to people who wouldn't move or that didn't warn anyone that they were going to stop in the middle of the course. During the final crash, I bent my already noodle-y rear derailleur which caused my shifting to be off the rest of the race. It wasn't enough to keep me out of the gears I needed, but enough to be a nuisance.

I headed back to the spot we'd waited in after having difficulty after the first rest stop and waited for Sam. I was trying to calculate how long it was going to take him to finish. He had trained so hard for this year's ride and I knew he wanted to finish somewhere in the early 5 hour range, but that was simply not going to happen. Finishing at all in his current state would be nothing short of a miracle in my mind.

Before too long, I saw Sam coming our direction. I yelled to him, but yet again, I don't think he heard me. He looked okay though, so I knew that all I could do was wait at the finish line and hope he would make it in okay.

At mile 40, I swear it seemed as though it took forever to get back to this point and would be more of a downhill portion of the race. On my way, I encountered a fellow who was having cramps, literally standing in the middle of the road. I asked if he needed anything (not that I had anything to really help, but I felt the need to ask anyway), but he said he just needed to rest for a bit. Even though he looked like a pro rider and as though he was prepared, he also looked like I felt. But, now I finally had my 10-miles-to-go marker and it would be down hill.

In case I haven't mentioned it in the past, I am lousy at down hill. 

During the entire second half and the downhill, I was either behind or in front of one individual with an Ironman tattoo on her calf. We spoke briefly and laughed about how badly I suck at downhill. I must have seemed crazy with my fully rigid bike (Yes, you will get hammered going down hill... something I should perhaps reconsider in the future). My hands were cramping often and horribly during this portion. It was wet, rocky, and it was now pretty hot for Leadville. Somehow, I have managed to avoid rain every time I've ridden in Leadville. 

I continued to chase "Iron Lady" as best I could and continued jack hammering myself on the rocks.

With about three miles left of the race, the route designers like to have some fun with the racers and bring us around right next to the finish, just to tease us, and then make us ride three more miles of single track. We can hear all of the people at the finish line and it's like a last little piece of torture. Ugh.

The dogs and I had been near the finish line for awhile now. I know how bratty and spoiled it sounds, but I'm trying to be honest here... I was really sick of standing around waiting for Sam to finish. I have no doubt that having two decent sized dogs pull me around all day, getting more mosquito bites throughout the day, and not getting sleep myself was not helping my mood. I gave myself a little pep talk, and reminded myself that we were here for a reason, but the heat was getting to me and I truly just wanted to just lay down and take a nap.

In my calculations, I figured Sam wouldn't make it in until about 6.5 hours, but there was still that part of me holding out hope that he had kicked it into high and would make it in before that time.

Without much fanfare, I came in around 6:26. It was okay, but certainly not great and definitely not what I would have expected with the training I've completed this year.

This hill is right at the finish line. As a side story, one guy came around the corner as Sam is in this photo and yelled out, "Oh, $#!^! I can't get down that!" and stopped dead in his tracks. Those of us at the bottom couldn't help but giggle, but warned him others were coming so he could get out of the way. Eventually he made it down, but not without saying to those of us watching, "No one saw that, right?" I just found it amusing that he thought that was the worst thing he'd encountered during the ride.

Despite my internal, child-like tantrum, I was excited to see Sam coming in at the finish line (and hey, my calculations weren't that far off, surprisingly). I felt bad that he wasn't going to get the finish time he'd hoped and trained for, but I was so glad that he'd made it in at all.

Right after the cut off time at 8 hours, the organizers start the award ceremony and lottery pull for the Leadville Trail 100. 

Because our dogs had been behaving so badly throughout the day, Sam and I had decided that I'd wait for him away from the award ceremony, just to keep anything from happening with them (well, one of them) and any other dogs. Sam headed over while I fed the dogs and tried to keep them occupied for a bit.

There were so many fast, amazing finish times in all of the age divisions. I was truly impressed! In my division, there were 20 regular coin slots (without dipping into the lottery). So many people had declined the coin that I actually thought I might have a chance to get in straight up without the lottery, but they finished just before calling my name. 

No need to worry too much though, I thought. There were a total of 50-75 coins to be given away randomly to finishers for entrance to the Leadville Trail 100 in August. 

**We're leaving off here for this installment, but the last in this series will be ready soon!

Part 4 is now up and can be found here.

Silver Rush 50, Part 2: Mosquito Pheromones Dripping From My Pores

If you missed part one of this post, you can find it by clicking here.
********************
As you will recall from the last post, we were on our way to the campground. I am not the best person when it comes to obtaining directions if I am at least somewhat familiar with a city. If I have a few anchor points or landmarks, I always figure that I can find my way just about anywhere. I'm not sure when it started, but for many years I have simply trusted my instincts when looking for a particular spot.

Occasionally, this doesn't work for me and I end up lost and completely confused as to how I got myself so twisted around, but as a general statement my directional instincts are pretty decent. Sam is the exact opposite in this regard. He could nearly get lost in our own backyard, so when I shared with him that I wasn't exactly sure where we were going in regard to getting to the campground, I sensed his concern.

Fortunately, my senses held up this round and we were on the right path, so finding the site was really very easy and not far from town at all. The roads, contrary to what I'd read in the reviews before leaving home, were actually quite nice. We had no problems traveling any of them and I wasn't sure what the reviewers had been talking about in this regard.

When we arrived, I went inside the main office to get registered and everyone was cordial, informative, and they even took the time to personally walk us to our site. I was convinced that the dozens of reviewers were completely crazy, or that they had been reviewing the wrong campground. Everything seemed great and I was excited to get to camping.

There were a lot of people on the grounds and some of the spaces seemed more cramped than others, but we were on a tent site and our neighbors were at enough of a distance that we didn't feel completely on top of each other. True, we could hear each other talking at regular volume levels, but that's to be expected when sleeping in a tent at a campground, I think.

We let the dogs loose on some attached-to-a-post cables so they could sniff around and still be within sight if we needed to pull them closer. As we started to take out all of the gear, I saw that a swarm of insects were following me. I was lightly brushing them away from my face when I suddenly realized these were mosquitoes.
These weren't little mosquitoes either. I have seen larger ones (not quite as large as Mosquito the movie - of course, those were infected with alien DNA), but these were definitely not the average sized version that we see at home... and they just wouldn't leave me alone.

Now, I get bit at home if I'm not wearing some kind of mosquito repellent, so I came prepared for such a situation, but I was amazed at the quantity of mosquitoes that were constantly landing or flying around my face. I doused myself in spray from head to toe a couple of times just to make sure they'd leave me alone, but they just kept biting.

I looked over at our Labrador and the mosquitoes were all over her face and legs. I use a Deet-free repellent that is made from oils and other extracts so I figured I'd put some on her as well as they were biting her. I sprayed her down, but they just kept landing. Neither of us could escape these little flying nuisances. Within a matter of no more than a couple of minutes, I had at least a dozen swollen, welting bites that were visible.

I decided I needed to distract myself and help Sam with getting the tent set up. We managed to get the tent upright, but I was swatting and slapping at mosquitoes the entire time. I kept saying out loud, "I don't know what to do. They won't leave me alone," but Sam didn't have any suggestions to offer.

As I glanced around the campground, wondering how everyone else was dealing with these pests, no one seemed to be mad swiping or even experiencing the mosquitoes. What gives? I couldn't help but wonder. Meanwhile, the mosquitoes were eating me alive. I couldn't even stand outside of the car without having dozens of them biting at me, and our Lab didn't seem to be faring any better.

So, we left Sam to fend for himself as the insects didn't seem to be biting him like they were us, and the dogs and I got in the car while I wondered how we were going to survive the night.

Sam had been busy bustling around the site, getting things together. We were doing our best to avoid the nightmare of bike races, camping, and dogs we'd experienced in the past and we really wanted everything prepared by the time the sun dropped below the mountains. That part was still going okay. Sam had gone into the tent to attempt to inflate our mattress and get the sleeping bag set up.

He had been in the tent for quite awhile when I started to wonder if he was okay. I really, really didn't want to exit the car though because the mosquitoes were everywhere just waiting to attack again. I had just decided to give it a few more minutes when Sam emerged from the tent.

He looked displeased.

As he strode over to the car and got in I asked what was wrong. He said that the air mattress wasn't inflating. We had brought a new set of batteries because we were pretty sure the ones we'd used the last time would be dead, but even the new ones weren't doing anything.

"I've tried everything," Sam stated with a look of defeat on his face. "I guess we're sleeping on the ground... or not sleeping on the ground more precisely."

My initial thought was to try and use the bike pump to inflate the mattress, but the connections were all wrong, so that just wouldn't work. Then, I thought that perhaps we should just go home as this really didn't seem to be going well. If we left then, we could be home at a somewhat reasonable hour, but then we'd have to be up again by 4a in order to get back up with enough time to prepare for the ride. Of course, that felt entirely wasteful and it just didn't make sense.

There aren't a lot of retailers or stores in Leadville. The population is small and doesn't require all of the typical stores available to those who live in moderately small cities all the way up to very large ones, but I thought maybe there was another option for us. I ended up pondering aloud, "I wonder if Safeway would have something that would work as a substitute? We might as well go and take a look. It can't hurt anything."

Sam agreed and we were off to see what we could find. We ended up at a dollar store that just so happened to have one air mattress tucked away in the back. Lucky us! With purchase in hand, we went back to the campsite.

On our way, I wondered if we should just set up sleeping quarters in the back of the car rather than in the tent. I was getting really concerned about these killer mosquitoes because I knew I wouldn't survive the night with constant bites. After attempting this, we realized that the back of our hatchback is simply not conducive for a queen sized air mattress, so we ended up going back to the tent to set up sleeping arrangements.

Sam had me go inside the tent to prepare the mattress and sleeping bag to get away from the bite-y creatures. I seemed to be safe once inside the zipped tent, so I was pleased to discover that I would not be eaten alive. Although, in many ways it felt too late as I was now covered in little itchy spots all over my arms, legs and back.

We were both pretty exhausted at this point and ready for bed. We didn't even care if we changed clothes at this point because everything seemed to be working against us. It was still fairly early (about 8:30p), but we both agreed that getting rest was important, especially with a tough ride the following morning for Sam, so we decided to call it a night and go to sleep.

It was a bit early for me personally to go to bed, but I really was tired, so I thought that if I counted sheep in my mind or told myself stories silently that eventually I would drift off. That did not happen.

Our tent seemed to be on a very slight slope and I continued to slip down toward Sam and he was getting pushed off the edge of the mattress on to the ground. Additionally, our dogs, who were nestled on top of us, refused to budge making readjustments nearly impossible. We were both frustrated and annoyed.

A new arrival to the campground had just drove in and they were attempting to set up. For what must have been an hour and a half (at minimum), we listened to the sound of stakes being hammered into the ground and people laughing and talking loudly. We realized it was still not horribly late, so we did our best to ignore it and hope that we'd drift off.

Then, just as the camper noises began to fade, the various dogs around the campground began to bark. It started with the dog two sites away from us and spread around the grounds until even our dogs were barking. This continued on until about 3am. Just as we would think we could drift off to sleep, another round of barking dogs started. At one point, some coyotes could be heard howling in the distance and that started the campground dogs barking as well.

Through all of this, we had continued to slip off our sleeping spot and poor Sam ended up half on and half off the mattress (which was not holding much air at all, so we were really laying on the ground regardless).

The night and early morning had become quite cool. We were down to about 38F/3C, which, while not technically a freezing temperature, is awfully close when one is not covered completely and/or is in an already uncomfortable situation. Our Lab had begun to shake uncontrollably, so I pulled her up to me, trying to keep her warm. As I pet her, she relaxed, but couldn't stop shaking. I tried to wrap her in part of the sleeping bag, but it was twisted in such a manner that neither Sam nor myself seemed capable of moving.

At about 5a, we gave up on trying to sleep. We both realized it just wasn't going to happen, so we decided to get up and get ready for the race. The camp/bike/dog trip we'd hoped to not replicate seemed to be happening regardless of what we did. Sam was in some pain. His back was not doing well from the position he'd laid (though not slept) in all night. I knew he was hurting, but the only thing I could do was tell him that I'd support whatever decision he made. If he wanted to ride, I'd do whatever I could to help him, and if not, we could go home.

His response: "If I wasn't going to ride we would have gone home and slept last night. I'm riding... Oh, I'm riding."

Okay then, I guess Sam is riding, I thought to myself, and we got about the morning.

**That's it for part two of the Silver Rush tale. Next time, we'll get into the actual ride (finally, I know). 

Part 3 is now up and can be found here.

Silver Rush 50, Part 1: No Escaping That Feeling of Impending Trouble

We returned just a few day ago from another trip to Leadville, Colorado because Sam was competing in the Silver Rush 50, as a potential qualifier for the upcoming Leadville 100 MTB race. Sam has his own tale from the race itself that will be incorporated into this, but the couple of days that should have been a non-event (other than the ride itself) somehow had a way of turning into what felt like an epic disaster. So, for your reading pleasure, I thought we'd share the tale start to finish... because, what fun is a disastrous weekend if you can't share it with friends?

The plan was simple enough. We were going to leave on Friday morning to head up to Leadville with plenty of time to mosey around the city and settle in before the race on Saturday morning. Then, after the awards ceremony, we would spend another evening in the city enjoying the peacefulness (and the much cooler weather) and take our time coming home Sunday morning.

A trial run with mounting the bike to the car's roof basket

The original plan also included having a friend dog sit for us so we could be care-free and know that the pups were being well cared for at home. This friend has watched the dogs in the past and she does an excellent job, so when we come home the dogs are happy, relaxed, and don't feel as though they've been abandoned. We could take them with us, particularly as we were planning to camp, but it's a lot easier to do things when two dogs aren't attached at our hip. Additionally, one of the dogs is quite cranky about having dogs she doesn't know come up to her which has created some hairy incidents in the past, and since there tends to be a lot of dogs in Leadville at the races and also at campsites, we decided asking our friend to watch the dogs was probably our best course of action.

As the event date grew closer, I started to wonder whether or not we should have our friend watch the dogs though, or if we should just take them with us. If Sam was going to do the LT100 ride, we'd have to have them with us (as we had no one to watch them), so maybe it would be a good trial run to see how things went?  I ended up telling her not to worry about it and that we'd just take them with us.

But, as things sometimes go, when we hit the week prior to the Silver Rush 50, I started to rethink that plan. Did we really need a trial run? Wouldn't it be nice to just have a couple of days away and be able to enjoy without worrying about what the dogs were doing or what to do with them to keep them entertained? We have very needy dogs and I wasn't sure I wanted to deal with them.

When I inquired again with our friend as to the possibility of having her watch them, her plans had changed and she was now going to be occupied that weekend. Completely understandable, I thought, and so, we went back to the plan to take them with us. Yes, we may have been able to talk someone else into watching them, but summers are difficult to find people to do this sort of thing as generally people make plans for the weekends well in advance of just a few days prior to needing someone.

Although I wasn't thrilled about it, I did still believe that it would be a good, short opportunity to test things out with the dogs and be able to modify whatever we needed to for the next round. Maybe it would be a good thing after all.

As we got closer to the time to leave, I started to have a bit of anxiety, but figured it was just fabricated, unlikely scenarios taking place in my mind; but, as Thursday evening rolled around, the ball of yarn began to unravel.

"What'cha working on?" I asked Sam as I passed through the bike work space area of the house. "Just tuning up your bike for the ride?" I could see the look of frustration on his face, but I let it go, thinking it was a temporary moment of annoyance.

"Yeah," was his short and to-the-point response. I decided it was best to leave him be and just continued on my way.

Unbeknownst to me at this juncture in our tale, Sam had switched out the wheels and cassette on his mountain bike just the day before. I had wondered what it was he'd been "testing" the day prior, but it all became clear when that information was finally shared later.

So, as Sam stood tuning the bike at 5:35p on Thursday evening, the evening prior to our departure, I began to get concerned.

"What if you just ran over to the bike shop to see if Paul can help you get it sorted out?" I began. It's SO handy to have a bike shop so close by. "Sometimes a second set of eyes helps when you're frustrated. The shop doesn't close until six, so if you go now, it may be quiet enough that he can help you figure it out."

Sam looked at the clock, looked at his bike, put on his shoes and walked out the door with bike in tow. I was relieved because I knew he was frustrated and hopefully they would find quick resolution.

At about 10 minutes after 6p, Sam walked back through the door without his bike.

"So, how did it go?" I asked. "Did you get it fixed?"

"I'm going to go back over in the morning when he opens. Paul had to leave, but he said he'd try to get in a little early so he can look at it before we leave tomorrow," Sam said.

Now, I am not a bike mechanic, but generally speaking a quick tune up seems to go fairly easily from what I've observed. Sometimes things just don't shift well or there's a broken part, but it seems that resolution - in whatever form it comes - tends to be pretty fast. I wasn't sure if I should be concerned or not, but I let it go.

The following morning we decided to go and have breakfast out early before people were out taking care of business or headed to work. It was quiet and calm -- What I hoped was a good omen for our impending trip. I was relaxed. Sam was relaxed. I was even ready to tackle (not literally) the dogs and their needy tendencies.

Speaking of tackling dogs... we had chatted about wearing them out before getting in the car to drive up to the mountains. They seem to do much better when they're a bit worn out, so the plan was for me to go and walk them and attempt to tire them out and Sam would go over to the bike shop and retrieve his bike. We assumed by the time I finished with them the bike would probably be just about ready, which would be perfect for our traveling-with-tired-and-therefore-quiet pair of dogs plan.

So, I went to work throwing tennis balls to play fetch with the dogs and then had the girls drag me around the city for a few miles. It's amazing how much work goes in to tiring out a couple of dogs. As we were headed back home, the dogs and I stopped off at the shop to see how things were going.

Paul had Sam's bike up in the rack and they were still fiddling with and musing over various possibilities. Sam was trying to stay out of the way and let Paul do what he does. There were theories at this point about what was going wrong with the shifting, but they were still trying to get it right. After chatting with them for a few minutes, I headed home with the dogs thinking that they needed water and it would give the guys a little more time to sort through the issues.

While I was home, Sam came back to the house to pick up another wheel and cassette. They had decided to switch things out to see if it would resolve the problem, so I said I'd walk back to the shop with him.

Truthfully, I felt bad for Paul. I knew we were putting unnecessary pressure on him with our very short timeline and I hadn't expected this to be such a difficult fix. He was doing everything in his power to get the bike perfect because he knew Sam was heading out to a race, but the bike just wasn't cooperating.

Meanwhile, time was ticking away. There was nothing we could do about it. Sam and I had anticipated leaving town by about 10a. We figured if things got delayed, we'd be gone no later than noon which still gave us plenty of time to get Sam's race bib, set up camp, and so on. It seemed like a reasonable timeline, but we were coming to understand that time was not our friend this day.

I was getting antsy about leaving. I knew we had time and there wasn't any rush, but I couldn't help but feel as though we would run into problems along the way and I really just wanted to go.

After several switches and fixes at the shop, we ended up leaving town closer to 2:30p, which wasn't ideal, but still gave us time to get to Leadville with daylight remaining and set up camp for the night. We thanked Paul for his help and Sam seemed to be satisfied that the bike would now do well.

The drive to Leadville is about two and a half hours (less depending upon traffic), but because it was a Friday afternoon, the normal traffic of weekenders getting away had begun. The sheer volume of cars was slowing down our travel speed, but eventually we were able to break free and we arrived with enough time to spare. Sam went to get his packet of information while I walked the dogs around the city for a bit.

It was nice to be back in Leadville. It was cooler (70F/21C) than down at the base of the mountains where we'd been experiencing temperatures in the high 90s F. It felt restful, relaxing, and I was ready to set up camp.

As we traveled to the campsite, I told Sam that I'd read some reviews about the site just prior to leaving and not many had much of anything nice to say about it. There were several complaints about the road leading to the camp stating that the terrain was nearly impassable, that there was no space on the individual camp site plots, and that the owners were quite rude.

"Oh, good," Sam mused with sarcasm dripping from his lips, "That sounds promising."

** That's where I have to leave off for today, but I'll have the second part prepared soon and ready to share.

Part 2 can be found by clicking here.

Leadville: Silver Rush 50 MTB - Part 3

This is the final installment for the Silver Rush 50 posts. If you're just beginning to read, you may want to go back to part 1 and/or part 2 of these posts to catch up if you haven't already. To somewhat avoid confusion, text in this non-bold font was written by G.E., while anything written in this bold font are Sam's thoughts.

I get rather giddy toward the end of any great accomplishment. It was no different watching Sam during this Silver Rush 50 race. As I headed to the finish line, there were several supporters lined up, yelling and ringing bells as riders rolled in to the finish. I arrived just as the race clock was turning to 5:00:00, and believed I'd have about 30-40 minutes or so to wait for Sam to cross the finish himself. In the meantime, I chatted with others waiting for friends and family to cross, learning where they'd traveled from and how often some of them had done this race.

This would be one of the last two sightings of Sam before the end of the race. He seemed to be doing well - smiling and all!

One woman I was standing next to told me that she and her friend were from Nebraska. When the friend eventually crossed the finish line, he told me how difficult the ride had been for him, and after having done the Leadville 100 MTB race in prior years, he thought this 50 mile ride was much worse. It made sense to me from the description - meaning that the organizers basically packed everything difficult into half the distance, so I can see why and how it could feel quite intense. This riders' thoughts also gave me a bit of concern for Sam, but I know he is capable and trained, so I continued to watch and cheer as racer after racer crossed the finish line. Time kept ticking away though and we were now at about 5:45:00. I hoped nothing had gone wrong.

These two were cracking me up as they seemed to have the same reactions and look in the same directions each time a rider came in. There were lots of dogs roaming the finish line though, making it a little easier to be away from our own pups.

At mile 31, I noticed that my chain tensioner looked as if it had been getting loose. I turned a small corner, ran through a puddle, and the entire tensioning wheel, shaft, and bolt fell off, and my chain fell off the rear cog.  CRAP!  The whole time I had been smirking about all the tech problems people had along the way, and now I just got nailed.

I stopped quickly, and found the tension wheel right away.  Not far from it, in a puddle, I found the shaft for the wheel/bearing (If not for finding this, I would have been toast for sure).  For the life of me, I could not find the bolt that held the whole thing together. It had to have fallen in that puddle, and been run over.  I spent about 15 minutes looking for it, but then resorted to bicycle cannibalism.  

I started with the screws on the bottle cage... too small... and then continued to scan the bike for the right size screw/bolt to piece my Franken-bike back together.  Suddenly, I realized that the screw that holds the top cap on might work.  I pulled it, along with the cap, and it worked.  However, the screw was way too long, so I had to use the cap itself as a spacer to temporarily make it fit. It was still wonky/wobbly, giving me only enough chain tension to keep the chain from kicking off completely.

At this point I was about 3 miles from the aid station, which would put me at about 13.5 miles from the finish. Thankfully, it was downhill.  I knew I would make it there, so I kept rolling.  When I arrived, I figured the mechanic at the site would have something to replace the screw in the tensioner.  I was wrong. His answer: "I don’t think I could have thought of something that good, and I have no screws with me."  Ack!  

Waiting at the finish line was a bit unnerving. I was fielding emails from Sam's mom (since I had a phone signal once again), who wanted to know if he'd finished yet and how he was doing. I assured her that he was fine (even though I really had no idea), but told her that he had yet to cross the finish line. Truthfully, I was a bit worried myself. Time just kept slipping away and I wondered if he was at the last aid station, unable to finish the ride. He'd seemed in good spirits at my last spotting of him, but that was still about 15 miles from the finish line. A lot can happen in even a few miles... in the mountains... with no cell phone coverage.

Loved watching these two tandem ladies throughout the race! They seemed to be having so much fun (and they were one of only two tandem groups riding).

I continued talking with people around me to distract myself from the crazy thoughts that were starting to enter my mind. I watched the tandem women pictured above cross the finish line. Because I'd seen them right near Sam most of the race, I assumed he'd be coming in any second.

The next part would be the climb back up to descend Powerline, and a good part of it (the whole last part before the peak), was another hike-a-bike.  I really hate hiking with my bike, it’s so much better to ride it!  The loose chain kept my attention, but I made it, and hiked all the way back to the peak where I knew we would be doing somewhere in the range of at least 8 miles downhill, and some mild climbing once back to the finish.

After so much mashing and grinding on my single speed, my quads were Jell-O. I was ready to go downhill, and let everyone pass me.  Powerline is scary downhill, rocky, and steep, so you can imagine what this does to your hands when constantly braking like I do.  Spin, spin spin, for around 8 miles.  The chain was not happy, but it was compliant and hung in there.

Getting fidgety as the clock was over 6 hours now, I wasn't sure what to do. Every rider that came down the hill to the finish line had me certain that Sam must be right behind him/her, but it wasn't the case. There's a cap at 8 hours to finish, so there was still plenty of time left, but I'd just expected to see him earlier. I kept waiting and distracting myself... and then... Hey, it actually was Sam!

I was (probably overly) excited to see him - and still riding. As he crossed the finish line, I actually cried. Yes, I'm a crier anyway, but it was just so thrilling to see him complete something that I knew was a tough ride.

The descent and the ride into the finish were pretty uneventful.  I was exhausted, but it was awesome to finish... and in 6:19.  The sick part was my rolling time was 5:09, so I killed over an hour somewhere out there, and I will take that lesson with me. (G.E.'s note: Not surprising to lose some time, especially having a bike malfunction that required some thinking and experimentation to resolve.)

As I went to the finish line to greet Sam, he seemed to have disappeared into the crowd somewhere. Then, I saw him off in the distance, waving. I could see that he was quite tired, but he was smiling, covered in mud, and still standing, so I figured that was pretty decent considering what he'd just been through. To be honest, I don't think Sam needed me there. There is, of course, a difference between "need" and "want," and it's always nice to have someone around, but I think he was able to deal with everything that came his way. Nothing I could have done would've made things any easier for him. With that said, I was extremely happy to be there, even if I felt somewhat useless. Just being able to cheer for him and the other racers was quite an experience and I'd do it again in a heartbeat. I even found myself wanting to get on a mountain bike... which, is definitely not something that would generally cross my mind given my brief, melodramatic history with mountain biking.

The awards ceremony was to be held 30 minutes after the 8 hour cut off time, so I took Sam back to the hotel to change, grab some food, and come back to wait. Remember that rain that we'd been hoping would stay away? It had done just that, and we were very grateful, but just as I was thinking those thoughts, the clouds began to roll in. As the awards ceremony got underway, a light rain began to fall. We both commented that it actually felt good because despite the high temperature only reaching the mid-70's F, it actually felt quite a bit warmer. 

The leaders got through the top finishers in each category pretty quickly and gave away the first half of the available coins that would confirm spots in the Leadville 100 MTB. The rain began to pour. And when I say pour, I mean that it reminded me of flash flooding as water was pooling and people rushed to get under the few canopies available. A lot of people decided to leave. Lightning and thunder were carrying on closer than I'd have preferred, but I was ready to wait it out. Sam, however, was wanting to leave, believing that all of the coins had been given out. The coin process at the ceremony seems a bit confusing to me personally, but as I was adding up rough numbers of what had already been given out and subtracting from the total amount to be given to riders, I was fairly certain there were still a few coins for qualification to be given away. 

Thankfully, we did stick around and Sam got his coin for the Leadville 100, which will take place in just a few short weeks. Whether he'll choose to ride geared or single speed remains to be seen, but I was thrilled to see him accomplish a goal he set years ago: to be able to compete in the Leadville 100 MTB race.

This squirrel was making some very odd, non-squirrel noises... but, he seems appropriate for the "nuts of wisdom" Sam is about to share.

Since I’m a poor writer, I’m throwing in my thoughts and observations here at the end.  

So many people seem to not take care of their equipment, and then don’t know what to do with it when something happens. I am glad that I have the ability (at least most of the time) to fix things that go wrong.  

If given the opportunity to spin, a lot of riders will do so. I have to wonder if this is just human nature because I do the same when I have gears to use.  

I had my ass handed to me by 2 women on a pink tandem, who were playing/singing pop music the entire race. They were simply awesome.  (G.E.'s note: I couldn't agree more - they were fantastically fun)

Single speed is hard, but easy.  

Eat.  Drink.  

This was so much more fun knowing G.E. was there with me, unlike past events.  

Be prepared, take extra screws and stuff, chain links, tubes, and anything else you can think of because the weight will be worth it (and you can help others who aren't prepared).  

D.B.’s are everywhere.  

Spectators and volunteers are awesome.  

Encouraging riders climbing while you are descending is amazing, and it keeps everyone going.  

Leadville is cool.

The only tip or offer I would make is for riders who have someone watching for him/her, and that would be to wear something (whether helmet, jersey, or something on his/her bike) that stands out from the crowd. While typical bike jerseys often seem very colorful on their own, it is amazing how many look similar in a large group of riders. Things that stood out a bit easier from the crowd were neon helmets, unusual jersey patterns - like argyle or big polka dots, and honestly, jerseys that were completely devoid of lots of different colors (as in solid black, white, etc).

As Sam stated, Leadville is an interesting place, and I'm looking forward to a return visit in August to watch Sam compete in the next round of these rides.

Have you competed in the Leadville Silver Rush 50 (or other qualifiers)? What did you think of the event(s) and/or what was your experience? What other races or organized rides (mountain or road) are you competing in this summer?