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??

One Cyclist's Experience: A Switch to a Car-Free Life

Recently, I asked a friend if she would be willing to share her experience as a carless bicyclist. I had intended to use the information in another post, but because I think she shared some great insights, I thought I would leave it as it is and have it stand on its own.

Pati is a really great lady who I have known for a few years now. We met when Sam and I started volunteering at the Farmer's Market bicycle valet several summers ago, and we both just adore her. She is a spunky, full-of-life, happy lady, and it makes it all the better that she loves bicycles. She gave up her car years ago and has been a car-free cyclist for some time, so I thought she might have some great advice to share not only with me, but with others who may be interested in doing more biking and less driving. I haven't had an opportunity to meet up with Pati to take photos recently, so I'm going through my archives to see what I can find of her. But, without further delay, here are Pati's thoughts on cycling.

When did you first start riding a bicycle?
Age 5

When did a bicycle become your full-time transportation mode?
2006

What prompted you to go car-less and use a bike as your means of transportation?  If you had it to do over again, would you make the same decision(s)?
When the price to insure my 1970 VW convertible (for basic, basic) coverage far exceeded what my sister was paying for a 2001 Toyota Camry. I rarely used the car and knew I wasn’t going to buy a new model to get cheaper insurance. I looked at my lifestyle and realized I didn’t “need” a car. I could afford the insurance and/or a new car, but didn’t want to spend $$$ on something I really wasn’t using and was at a point of continuing to downsize my life. If I had it to do over again…..YES, I would make the same decision – wish I’d done it sooner!

Pati with a group of others on a summer ride a few years ago

What type of bike(s) do you ride? Do you have a favorite bike?
Typically, for around town errands, I use a Specialized Sirrus – flat bar road bike – hybrid to some. Snowy days I ride a trike – electric assist – got that a few years after getting rid of the car. In Denver I bought large quantities of groceries at Sam’s – coming home ALL the way up hill. Had originally planned to get a “regular” trike, but found the electric and realized the benefit – it plows through snow like a snowmobile, but without the noise or gas. Favorite bike? That’s a tough one – I truly love them all and they all have their “special purpose”!  

In your mind, do you differentiate riding a bike for sport and riding for transportation? If so, do you dress differently for each, or pretty much wear the same clothes for either?
Riding for sport gets me excited – riding for transportation is just how I get around – although that is NOT to say it’s not enjoyable, because I much prefer riding a bike than driving in a car – ANYWHERE! Clothing – I would say “similar” – for sport, however, the rides are often longer in distance, so on cold days I wear more layers. For transportation I often go heavier on the clothes and am not as concerned about needing to adjust for temperature differences. The trike and one mtn. bike don’t have clipless pedals, so my footwear changes when I ride one of them.

Boy, bet you thought you’d get one word answers – so did I! ha

Pati talking with some folks during a summer concert bicycle valet

What advice do you have for someone just starting to cycle for transportation?
Having more than one bike – it’s inevitable you go to get on the ONLY one and it will have a flat or a mechanical or….you name it. If you have several “choices” you just jump on another one! That would be my advice. Be prepared for anything – weather wise, mechanical wise etc.

However, I think if someone is just starting to cycle for transportation they’ve already figured out a lot – I might offer advice/suggestions if they were on the edge of making that decision.

Any tips for making winter riding less intimidating?
Figuring out the “safest” routes to get to their destination. On the trike I’m not concerned about sliding out/falling over into traffic etc. On two wheels in the snow, I often take a different route than I would with the trike. As for clothing/temps, knowing about how long you’ll be out is a must. The “benefit” I’ve had since going carless is that I work from home. I don’t have to be out with volume traffic or go long, long distances – unless I want to – makes a big difference. For longer distance commuters the obvious accessories: lights, (maybe even backup lights), flat repair, extra clothing, food, water. Obviously around here one is almost always going to be “near” “help”.

If our community could change one thing to assist cyclists or make it more convenient, what do you think it should be?
Get our trail system repaired as quickly as possible [G.E.'s note: Our trails were pretty well destroyed after our September flooding]. I know a number of folks who use(d) portions of that for their work commutes. It’s also a great arena for kids/newbies to hone their biking skills. The Greenway is definitely a huge benefit to our community and I know Longmont is working on getting repairs underway. Having moved here from Denver, I can honestly say Longmont seems to have done a lot to make riding more convenient/safe within the city.

Pati stopping to help me with a bike malfunction on a casual group ride

Anything else you'd like to add?
Being carless was an easy decision for me – because there is only me – well three furry ones too. I do think it could be difficult for folks with kids, but really admire those who do it. Life is busy and “crazy” – in a car it’s even more busy and crazy. I am always much more relaxed wherever I am on a bike. I feel less rushed. When I go where it is necessary to drive a car (snowshoeing, mtn. biking etc.) I am more than happy to pay my way – or more. It’s still much less hassle than owning a car. I truly don’t expect to ever own one again.

In Denver my vet was within walking distance. Here I have a mobile vet – and if an emergency would arise, it’s not far to a vet. If I do get the dogs groomed, I found a lady who is within walking distance. Folks think they need to drive to do those things – no, not really. Being carless does make you think about your “trips” – I am much more efficient when I’m out. I watch my sister go in and out in her car several times a day. Folks tend to do that if there is a car in the garage.

All that said, if I ever “needed” a car I could always “borrow” one. I have a mother and a sister who own cars. I have great neighbors and friends. And, prior to “going all the way” I realized I “could” rent one if I really needed to. There are so many options. Now that my sister lives close-by, if it’s snowing or raining she WILL NOT ride her bike to the pool – if she is going “that” day and drives, I’ll often just hitch a ride – she’s the older one and has a way of making me feel really stupid – and she thinks I’m really stupid to ride in the rain and the snow and the wind and…….

But, the reality……I PREFER to ride a bike in crappy weather than to drive a car – TRULY. I feel safer and I find it to be an adventure – much more exciting riding in a snow storm than driving in one!

I will add that I am no spring chicken – at almost 63, I find being carless a very liberating “achievement”!

Even years ago, when I had “real” offices and/or freelance gigs, I would ride (despite having a spouse and 3 available vehicles) – then I had panniers and carried my sheets home at night to wash and back in the next day to work [G.E.'s note: Pati is a masseuse, so that's why she carries sheets - just to clarify!] – round trip was maybe 14 or so miles, but on unplowed bike paths – at least in the morning – it was a blast – so it’s been many years that I have preferred a trusty ‘ol bike to get me around. Became “easier” when I had my office at home, but much less exciting!

Sorry, this is really getting me to reflect/remember how long I’ve really been doing this and how much I truly love it!

Pati, thank you so much for taking the time to share your experience. I would agree that there seem to be a lot of the needless or ill-thought-out trips made by car for many of us. I know that I've found myself really thinking about what I need to get done in a day when I don't have a car at my disposal, so it's interesting that you've made similar observations.

While I realize not everyone has a similar life situation, I hope Pati's thoughts were as interesting for you to read as they were for me. If you have additional questions or thoughts, I'm sure she'd be happy to offer any tips or advice that could be helpful.

Sam's First Century

I mentioned in a recent post that my second century is now under my belt, but what I didn't share is that the reason for the second so quickly after the first was that Sam was really wanting to attempt his own first 100-mile ride. Rather than spending another post detailing out my thoughts on doing it a second time, I thought it might be more fun to see it through the eyes of another person's first round. I was also supposed to be going after my third this upcoming weekend with Venus de Miles, however, mother nature had other plans. Since much of our area is recovering (and will be for some time) from the damage to roads and bridges, all organized rides have been canceled for at least 30 days... which means, I won't get to do my first organized century this year. Although I am bummed that I won't get to compare the differences right now, I have no doubt there will be opportunities in the future.

I asked Sam if he'd be willing to write something up to share with others because he comes from a different place as far as cycling and other athletic events are concerned. He is really the antithesis of what I am in many respects (especially in regard to athleticism), and I think it's nice to see another perspective. So without further delay, here it is, in Sam's words (with a few interjections by me - because I can't help myself)...

My first century.

Wow, I thought, what a great idea?  Let's do Sam's first century on G.E.'s birthday, since she's already a century vet!

Some background:
I bike quite a bit - fast, far, climbing, mountain, road, casual, etc.  To that point my longest road ride had been 67 miles a couple of months ago, and it wasn't bad.

For the past couple of years, I would lament at the end of summer how I wanted to do my first century, but winter always crept up, there was not time, and many, many other lame excuses.

Enter this year:
G.E. had already randomly done her first century, nonchalantly, on a hot Friday.  A few weeks later, I was clamoring to do it myself, and we conveniently had a long weekend for her birthday, and our anniversary.  We had not planned anything big to celebrate, and it was a bit late to do so.  My thought was, why not ride a century for that "big thing."  Two birds with one stone, right?

She planned and had a route in mind, so it was set.

Ride day:

Riding is the best!

It was a Sunday, a bit cloudy, and not too hot.  We had feared it would rain.  I was sore from some other ride, workout, run... or something, as usual. {G.E.'s note: Since most do not know Sam personally, I should share here that he is a "crazy" person who completes many ridiculous athletic endeavors on a daily basis, including running half marathons "for fun" during the week at 4a before work (and he does this pretty much every week), or taking on long mountain bike rides on a whim (even if he hasn't been on a mountain bike in weeks or months). This past weekend he climbed a 14,000 foot mountain on his bike because someone gave him the grand idea that he should try it. In short, some of us have nicknamed him "Superman," and in quick summary, I suppose I assumed that riding 100 miles would be a relatively easy task for him to undertake by comparison, and he'd be dragging me along with him to the finish.}

We rolled out pretty early, just to make sure we would have time to finish if it took longer than anticipated.

G.E. was injured and I was sore, but I think we started with a good attitude.

I noticed when we planned and actually rode at an easier pace, I was aware of so much more about our surroundings, and in that sense it has changed my attitude since.  Houses, farms, animals, and landmarks were suddenly noticeable on a familiar route, when I wasn't trying to average 20+ mph.

These donkey's (and horse) were so freakin' adorable!

So, things were looking good, we were cruising, I was riding with the old pro {G.E.'s note: If I'm not mistaken, Sam is calling me "old" now. [sigh]}, and the world had suddenly become more focused.

Miles 25-40 pass.  We get closer to 50, and it's starting to grind on me.  Is it because most of my "long" rides, are around 50-60 miles?  I'm not sure, but right about then I think my body had decided to be done. Thankfully, we had a small break for lunch somewhere near 60 miles {G.E.'s note: It was mile 57, to be precise :O)}.  It was needed, and I had thought it would make all the difference.

I was so wrong!  We rolled back out after lunch, and it was okay, but around 70-75 miles, my brain hit an absolute wall, which made my body hurt and nearly give up {G.E.'s note: I had warned Sam that this time would come, but I think he doubted it - likely based on all the feats he undertakes and succeeds at on a regular basis}.  I would say in the 75-85 mile range, G.E. was in tears (she would show later that this is just her time for that) {G.E.'s note: I wasn't just in tears, I was literally sobbing like a ridiculous fool for 10-15 miles, whining that no one should have to be tortured on her birthday like this}, and I had mentally shut down - my legs were merely moving. There was a mental wall I had hit, and hit hard. Superman had not only been exposed to Kryptonite, but it had been rammed down his throat.

At 85ish miles, G.E. wakes up. She's no longer crying, and it's suddenly "easy" again {G.E.'s note: I had about 10-15 miles of feeling sorry for myself and then suddenly realized that Sam was counting on me to get him through. I knew I had to toughen up and help him see it to the end... which somehow snapped me out of my stupor}.  Me, I'm face-planted against the wall, and still moving a carbon bicycle through space with a set of legs holding up a tiny, tiny man.  At this point, I'm getting the encouragement from my better half.  "We are almost there," and "Only 'X' more miles," and so on she'd yell back to me.

This is about the point when mental fatigue was setting in

I'm hard, no question. I can do anything faster, better, longer than someone else can.  You suck, I'm better than you, and it's impossible for you to fight this. With the exception of a 100 mile ride (I'm going to have to find a way to fix this). {G.E.'s note: I think this was a good lesson for Sam... there is always someone better than oneself, or a task that seems insurmountable, even if one has Superman-like qualities.} Five miles seems like twenty, ten seem like fifty. Now we are at 90 miles, only 10 more and we are home.

Ten more miles is easy!  Man, it's not easy, and I really don't care anymore.  Superstar is dragging me along what seems to be the hardest 10 miles of my life, with zig-zagging through our neighborhood to finish, and complete the 100. {G.E.'s note: I seemed to be off just a bit in my planning, so we had about a half mile at the end to make up, which probably felt like more at the time... sorry, Sam.}

Just as my last paragraph was anti-climactic, so was the finish of the 100 miles.  No party, no finish line. {G.E.'s note: Hey, we had cake afterward, so that's sort of a party.} My deepest thought at that point was that I have no reason or desire to do this again. Why would I?

However, as predicted, after I was removed from it for only 2 days and felt better, I started thinking. I could do it again, and maybe better this time : ).

Will I do it again?  Probably.  Would I go more than 100 miles in one shot?  Doubtful.

Do I feel accomplished?  Yes, absolutely, 100%. {G.E.'s note: And, you should! It was tough and you had to listen to me have a tantrum for like an hour.}

What does the future hold?  Maybe an organized century, or something like that.  Support, rest stops.

I don't think my first one could have been better though.  Spending it with my significant other, on her birthday, and our anniversary weekend.  Not many people do things like this, or anywhere close to the things we do. {G.E.'s note: I don't know about all of that, but it was fun... if your idea of fun is torturing yourself and completing something outside socially acceptable celebratory day behavior. :O)}

100 miles, please...  The real question is, how fast can I do 100 miles?  Can I do it on a single speed?  Off road?

It was one of the hardest things I have ever done, and in less than 8 hours.

A thank you to Sam for taking the time to share his thoughts on riding his first century. 

When we were training to run a marathon several years ago, I recall other runners telling me that I would be addicted to running marathons after my first. I had no such feelings at the end, or even days and weeks after. I can, however, liken that sentiment to riding my first (and second) century because after the event is over, I can't help but think... "Yeah, totally. I can do it again." It's amusing how those thoughts of "Why am I doing this?" turn into "I want to do it again, only better!" after just a few hours or days. Perhaps it's just proof that while I am definitely not a runner, maybe there's hope of turning me into a cyclist yet. :O)

Sam did amazing on his first attempt and held it together a lot better than I did. I'm glad he was able to get this completed after so many years of wanting to see what it was all about! Congratulations!!

{Guest Post} Start to Finish: The 2012 Alpine Odyssey 100k

Although it's taken me what seems like an eternity to get this up, I wanted Sam to have the opportunity to share his day at the Alpine Odyssey for those who may have interest. If you happen to be considering participating in this event, I think it's a wonderful opportunity to be able to hear/read about others' experiences. If you don't happen to have any desire to do this sort of mountain bike race, well, let's just view it as another bicycle story. :O)  Without further delay...

Friday

As usual, I needed to be early to the September 15th race day.  I left around 9am from our home in Longmont, and headed to Crested Butte.  I chose the more scenic, but shorter route through Golden, Conifer, Fairplay, and Gunnison.  It was a great, relaxing 4 hour drive.

Upon arrival in Crested Butte, I found myself mildly lost while attempting to find the B&B I had reserved (surprise!). Yes, I get lost everywhere.  Kat (the owner), was there to greet me.  She had to be the most agreeable person in Crested Butte, and within 20 minutes I knew nearly everything about her home, the last 2 days of her life, and it seemed like we knew each other for 20 years.

Kat's house AKA the B&B

The house was both charming and rustic - and had been ransacked by a bear the previous night to include a large bear poop on the kitchen dining table.  This part of the trip was both interesting, and exhausting.  I was able to see Kat’s art studio down the street, and the co-op where she worked.

After the arrival festivities and the rider “meeting” up at the mountain, I came back down, ate dinner, and wound down.

Saturday- Race day 

I was unusually organized for this day.  I got up about 2.5 hours before the race, had all my stuff ready to go, and cooked some scrambled eggs in Kat’s cabin kitchen (cast iron skillet: check).  Afterwards, I cleaned and put everything away. Apparently, I did this so well that she called me at 8:15am to ask where I was, and if I had had any breakfast.

Kat's kitchen at the B&B

At about 7am, I rolled up the hill to the parking area for the Alpine Odyssey 100k.  I took my time, attached my race number, checked out the bike, my gear, and applied a 3 inch thick layer of poisonous SPF 50 sunscreen {G.E.'s note: Sam enjoys mocking me because I tell him the sunscreen he uses has cancer causing agents, and while we have sunscreen in the house that would be better to use, he refuses to use it (sigh)}.

The grey goose, ready.  I received a ton of comments on the number "69."

So this was it; I was ready to go.  I drifted over to the start area just after 8:15am for the 9am start in the hopes of not being at the back (it turns out, this did not matter, but it was cool to be there first).  I also was set to meet up with Chris and Mandy of From the Pavement's Edge, as we missed each other on Friday night due to locations of our stay over.

Base of the ski mountain and starting line

The Climbing Begins

 At 9am, we started, and meandered through the town to the breakaway point, where everyone exploded at approximately 25mph.  This is the point at which I knew I just wanted to finish!

Shortly thereafter, we began the climb that would pull us up 4200 feet in elevation, taking us about 15 miles up to the first aid station, and cause me the most sit bone pain I have ever experienced in my life.  This part of the ride was all fire road, and very steep most of the way.  No matter what I did, it seemed I could not roll over 3-5mph for the entire climb.  It took close to 1.5 hours to reach the pseudo summit at just over 11,000 feet. (Sidebar:  You don’t know what that elevation will do until you get there, I felt “ok”, but not great, I was short of breath, and was feeling a bit woozy when I arrived  - even beyond the rear pain).  To my surprise, I was about 5 minutes behind Chris at that point, so it was cool to see a familiar face "up there."  I proceeded to get off the bike, eat, drink, use the facilities, and get back on the bike within 5 minutes. Chris had taken off at about the same time we had greeted each other, which was a wise move - always ride your own race). At that point, I was thinking that I have never climbed this far or long - ever - and then I thought, "I’m going downhill now, right?"

Sorta Downhill

There was some decent downhill after the first summit.  Not killer, but some rolling hills in-between.  This area, along with the rest of the ride had the most beautiful views I have ever seen, particularly during September in the Rockies.  The leaves were turning, and my body was dying - one pedal stroke at a time.

After the sorta downhill, the ride took me to the opposite side of the town of Crested Butte where we would climb partially through a residential area, back to another up-down fire road route that led to the next area, which would be the “single track” mountain bike trails leading around Mt Crested Butte itself and the start/finish area. This was the halfway mark.

Single track for every appetite

The single track spanned the gamut of what I had ridden:  rocky loose gravel, tree roots with little climbs, and mossy areas that crossed streams and woods.  This was a 7-mile or so jaunt that criss-crossed up and across Mt Crested Butte, and spanned 3 MTB trails.  The absolute worst part of this section was the very end, right before the start/finish line.  At about 1 mile out the route takes riders to a section where we could SEE the start/finish line, but we aren’t there yet!

Midway

I rolled to the base area at approximately 3hrs 28mins; 32 minutes under the 4 hour cutoff time.  I ate everything I touched, had my camelback refilled, and took about 10 minutes to regain my composure.  Luckily, by this point my butt felt normal, and I was generally doing okay.  I thought there was a chance I could finish in around 7 hours total.  Why wouldn’t the 2nd half be faster?  I had already done it once….

The Second Half: my death was high exaggerated

I did not realize how difficult it would be to do the exact same route again.  I started the climb to the summit, AGAIN!  Another 4200 feet of elevation gain, but this time my body was playing the “I want to sleep now” game.  I had been doing a physical activity for more than 4 hours, and I was moving at a snail’s pace up the hill - even slower than lap one.  It seemed like it took forever, and I was alone most of the time, but managed to push on.  There was only one point during the ride where I walked, and it was a very steep section of the climb of about 30 yards.  I reached the summit at approximately 3:15pm.  

Once again, I fed myself, drank, and paid a visit to the little boys room.  I spoke to a couple of the volunteers, and another rider who was contemplating our timing, and where we were.  One of the volunteers suggested that we were about 1:45 away from the finish (this is at 3:15), and I knew the cutoff was 5pm for the 8 hour limit.  I was somewhat panicked that I could not make this time, so I split, and headed down the hill for my second descent to the single track.

Race to the finish

I’m in trouble.  I perceived that I had no time at this point.  On the downhill sections, I do as much as my beat body would allow.  I arrived at the single track just after 4pm with another racer.  We lamented that it was going to be very close, and we may not even make it.  Something triggered in my mind at that point, and I knew I needed to kick it as hard as I could for the next 7 miles.  So there it was. I began the race to the end, and rode through (quickly as I could) the various terrain, criss-crossing, tearing through trees, climbing, descending, hopping, and finally arriving to see that single track view of the start/finish line.

The Finish

During the last couple of miles were mostly descending on the single track.  I had tasted the start/finish and I could hear music and people.  It was approximately 15 minutes to 5pm according to my Droid bike computer (more about this later), and I’m frantic. I hit the turns fast; the dirt is soft, and WHAM!  I went down for the first time that day.  It hurt. I was a mess, but I didn’t waste more than 5 seconds hopping back up, and continuing.  I finally rounded the corner that brought me to the base, and spun to the finish.  I could hear the announcer saying that another rider was coming in (me), but I could not see the time.  I painfully crossed at 7hrs, 31mins (all approximates).  I was dead, but I was greeted by Chris and Mandy, and the support crew that anointed me with my finisher’s medal!

Sam crossing the finish at the Alpine Odyssey

Post Race, and Musings

I won’t bore you with too many detail, as I’m a terrible writer, and I’m sure there are a metric ton of details I have left out or remember incorrectly.  What is only a short musing here seemed like a 7.5 hour lifetime to me.

Post race, we cooled down, I called G.E., spoke to other riders, and hung out with Mandy and Chris.  We all ate whatever was there (believe me, we ate all that was available), enjoyed the awards ceremony, and the lottery for Leadville that followed.

Chris made the lottery, and I was so happy for him. He honestly really deserved it!  Mandy said he’s just lucky that way, and unfortunately for me, I know that I am not.  Luck wasn't on my side that day, as I didn’t get one of the slots in the lottery.  I know Chris must've felt like he couldn’t really celebrate, but the non-lottery for me didn’t hurt my feelings.  I was just so happy for him.  Personally, I could not help but think I didn’t deserve to get in that easily.  I may still get in for 2013, with a little help from my friends, or by shooting for the next couple of qualifying races. Only time will tell.

My bike computer obviously had some things wrong with it, as I thought I was pushing the 5pm/8 hour cutoff, but I managed to come in 30 minutes ahead of it.  I’ll have to figure that sucker out before my next ride, and I'll probably include the use of Strava as well. 

This was, without question, the most difficult thing I have ever done in my life.  For reference, I have run a marathon, I’m an Army vet, I was a high school football player, and I have dislocated both my left elbow, and my left shoulder in the past (among many other difficult things).  I feel like I just keep saying that over and over, but it’s been many days since the race, and I still feel it’s true.  I cannot believe that I finished something so tough.

Seriously, I have to thank some special people in my life.  First and foremost my seriously better half G.E., who has pushed me this year. We have both improved ourselves, and I would suggest that she has worked at least 30% harder than I have.  Without her, I would not have been able to do something like this, or have even bothered.  My friend Will, who was simply around, but provided encouragement in his own way, other friends from kickboxing, and especially my new friends Chris and Mandy!

What's Next?
The Cougar Slayer.  I won't describe it further, but suffice it to say it's a nasty, unsupported endurance mountain bike ride, and I'll be riding it with Chris in less than one week. The bike is improved, and has a new fork (thanks, Craigslist!), my right hand is still a bit of a claw, but my rear is definitely doing better. Will I make it to Leadville? We will see, but if not, I will volunteer and will probably ride the Alpine again.

Crested Butte was awesome.

Sam, thanks so much for taking the time to detail out your day at the Alpine Odyssey. While I am still feeling guilty for not being able to physically be present during the ride, I am beyond impressed with all you've accomplished in what is truly a very short amount of time. Your strength and endurance never cease to amaze me. I know you'll achieve all of your goals. :O)