Leadville Trail 100; MY race.

Race day 4:15am,  I’m awake and making breakfast; oatmeal with yogurt, hemp seed, blue-berries and raspberries; two hard-boiled eggs; a large bottle of tasty beverage[various juices along with some Perpetuem, hemp seed and ground flax seed] and one half cup of strong black coffee.  By 5:40am I’m dressed, my gear and bike are all ready and my meal has had about an hour to digest.  5:45am I put-on the thick over-mitts I borrowed from Kimberly and my down jacket for a light twenty-minute spin around town to get warmed-up.  It’s also a chance to focus on my breathing while trying to silence the jitters.  It’s about 40 degrees with clear skies, a welcome change from the cold and rain of the past two weeks.

By 6:10am I’m lined up in my starting coral with several hundred others….wayyyy at the back of the over 2000 participants.  “Wow,” I think to myself, “there are so many more people here than I’d imagined.” At 6:30am the gun fires and the race is underway.  I stand there, feet on the ground straddling my bike, along with everyone else, not moving.  After about 90 seconds, Isabelle and I start to inch our way forward, crammed like sheep for the slaughter; it would be a recurring theme throughout the day.  Two minutes and fifteen seconds after the gun fired, I have crossed the start line and can finally start to turn the pedals.

BANG!!  I attack!  I’m off the saddle and sprinting, weaving between people like I’m riding in down-town Toronto rush-hour traffic.  Who knew that was actually training?  There are others doing the same but most riders are starting out slowly, knowing it’ll be a long day and they don’t want to go too hard too early.  For a long race, typically that’s a good strategy; not today.  With the huge volume of riders, I knew every climb would be clogged full of people, many of them slower than myself.  So, I applied the lesson learned by others who’ve come before me: “There will be lots of slow people.  Pass them all.”  I’m not sure how many people I passed along that four mile stretch of road, but I’m guessing nearly a thousand.

After a few miles of smooth fast dirt roads, we hit the first climb of the day–up St. Keaven’s Road–where the pace dropped significantly.   The sheer volume of people made it impossible to ride with any sort of speed, even for a climb.  I actually think the colours of the leaves on the trees were changing faster than we were riding.  The bottleneck of people made it very frustrating but nobody really seemed too inclined to do anything about it.  In hindsight, I should have got off my bike and ran along the side of the trail to pass more people.  It is a race after-all!

Summiting that first climb, we descend along some fairly fast double-track for a little ways before hitting the road.  There, we make a right turn and head down-hill for about three miles.  Strategy; I had been instructed to use this road descent to take on as much water/fuel as possible.  It would pay-off four to six hours later.  While most people were in a tuck position bombing down that hill, I took advantage of those recovery miles, drinking a full bottle of Perpetuem-enfused water and eating some food.  I stretched on the bike and even pulled-over for a quick nature break.

Following a hairpin turn at the western-most point of Turquise Lake, the climbing resumed as the black-top turned to dirt roads to rocky double-track.  Again, slow-going with all those people but I was able to pass several more before reaching Sugarloaf Pass–roughly mile 20.  There we were treated to about a mile of pretty fast–yet not too steep–downhill riding before the short’ish climb to the top of the infamous Powerline trail.  Riding it about a month earlier, I knew Powerline was a very technical descent that could easily ruin someone’s day.  I was careful but also confident, passing people and opening it up whenever possible.  You know, having fun.  It is mountain-biking after-all!

The next eleven miles were boring and uneventful; mostly flat asphalt followed by mostly flat dirt road.  Here, road riding experience came into play.  I got myself into a fluctuating group of four to seven other riders to form a tight pace-line.  We maintained a pretty fast clip along there while conserving energy by sharing the work-load.  I would see most of these guys on-and-off again for most of the day.
After a couple of dirt-road switch-back climbs, we hit the only piece of single-track on this out-n-back race course, just 1.5 miles long.   I was looking forward to it very much.  Sadly, my enthusiasm was curbed as I found myself stuck behind a very slow moving fellow who just didn’t seem to care that his turtle’s pace was slowing down about a dozen riders.  It was frustrating.  I’m pleased so say, however, that I didn’t vocalize my frustration with quite the same colourful language as some of those behind me.  But come on man, let the faster riders by.  It is a race after-all!

Knowing the crewing-zone was close-by [mile 40]I pushed on, finally spotting Reilly’s white Sprinter-van with he and Kimberly cheering my arrival.  Skidding to a halt [skids are cool, don’t listen to your parents, they don’t know anything] I immediately told Reilly about the minor mechanical issues I was experiencing.  He threw Isabelle onto the waiting repair stand and got to work.  Kimberly replaced the spent food items and water bottles with new fuel asper the instructions we’d gone through that morning.  I also had labeled baggies ready with certain food items contained; one bag for the ride up Columbine and back to the van; a second bag for the food I wanted from there to the finish.  Done with the bike, Reilly then fed me water, vitamin c and salt tablets.  My support team were so amazing; I felt like a Formula 1 racer in the pit-zone!  Having a small, knowledgable and fast team providing such stellar support helped enormously.  And being cheered-on always feels great.  A couple of quick hugs and five minutes later, I was back on the bike, sprinting towards that big ole climb.

By this point I was just over three hours into the race and I knew I wouldn’t be able to break nine hours.  Although I felt strong, was taking on lots of fluids and continually passing people, I now set my sights on nine hours, thirty minutes.

At the three hour and thirty minute mark, just before the Columbine climb, I spotted Earl from Absolute Cycles driving the pace-motorbike towards me.  That meant the leaders were right behind him.  That also meant they had ridden up and down Columbine by the same time I was about to start climbing those 3,700 vertical feet.  “They’re going to break the record,” I thought to myself as three bikes flew by.  And they did; Alban Lakata took it in 6:04:01, beating Levi Leipheimer’s record by over twelve and a half minutes.  Second and third also came in under the old record.  While I wasn’t there to win the race or break any records, I felt strong and was going to give it everything I had.  This is Leadville after-all!

Climbing the dirt roads at Columbine’s base I met Shawn Gillis, owner of Absolute Cycles on his way to becoming an 18-time Leadville finisher.  Yes, I’m impressed.  We chatted for a few minutes while some of the really fast guys came hurtling downhill.  While those going uphill usually have the right-of-way, here on race-day, you get out of their way!  Shawn was feeling good though admitted he’s not too strong on the climbs.  After a couple minutes, it was time for me to chase down more of my fellow competitors; I was riding well and wanted to pass as many people as I could before the trail became even more narrow, rocky, and loose as it would near and above the tree-line.  Around this time I developed a really uncomfortable pain in my right knee[as opposed to all the various knee pains I just put-up with].  Not wanting to deal with it while hiking my bike up Columbine, I took a 1,000mg of ibuprofen which took care of that pain quite nicely.  [it never returned]

Looking up towards the 12,550′ summit, all I could see was a line of spandex pushing $10,000 bicycles uphill.  It was a solid line, no deviation, just forward, slowly, like a casually meandering snake.  It looked as if each person had stepped onto an escalator with their bike and simply advanced at the exact same pace as the person in front and behind.  No body was passing!  Talking to many before the race, I was warned it would be like this, worse the further back I began at the start-line that morning.  Well, I wasn’t about to shuffle along with the rest.   I would identify gaps between riders while watching for people coming downhill.  When the moment was right, I’d run around that person or those few people then jump back into line, just in time to avoid being run over.  Soon enough, I was at the top of Columbine, the half-way point.

Reaching the top of that mountain I began shovelling food down my throat while the most amazing volunteers filled my water bottle and held my bike.  Seriously; they asked what kind of food I wanted, even offering soup.  A few days prior to the race, Craig advised that at the top of this climb I consume several hundred calories since I’d have about an hour’s worth of descending to let it digest.  Great advice!  Quickly consuming the two hard-boiled eggs[pre-shelled the night before] I’d brought along for this leg of the ride, I also ate a PayDay candy-bar, a handful of dried apricots and some Heed power-gel.  Resting for about seven minutes, I drank a bunch of water, got back on the bike and settled-in for the really fun part of the race;  flying down-hill!

Back at the Sprinter-van[mile 60] the ever-effervescent Pat Zimmerman had joined the support crew.  Such a welcome addition!  Well, except when he talked smack about the amount of gear I had with me on the bike, but I put him in his place right proper.  Just kidding; it really made me smile to have his support and contribution.  He’s a racer, he gets it, he knew how I felt and what I needed to push on.  Thanks for coming out pal.  He and Reilly tinkered with the bike while Kimberly swapped-out bottles and food as before.  Seriously, Ferrari could learn a thing or two from this crew.  [around this time, my stomach started to ache, a feeling that lasted until the finish and beyond.  Not until I could relax, hydrate and refuel did it subside.  I think I was lacking in sodium.]

By now I’d been on the bike for six hours.  I felt amazing, honestly; I just wanted to go and go hard.  I really felt as though I’d not been able to ride as fast as I’d wanted to during the first half of the race and could now turn on the jets.  That said, I knew I’d have to be smart on the flats if I wanted to ride well on the two big remaining climbs.

Along the flat dirt-road section heading north, I joined a group of others and we worked well together for several miles.  Coming across another support zone, they all stopped but I continued on, joining another group for the wind-exposed road section to Powerline.   Without that team-work, we all would have been crushed by the strong cross- and head-winds we had to contend with while out in the open ranch land.

After eighty miles, we hit Powerline.  When I came here about a month ago and with fairly fresh legs, I was able to ride most of it but even that required a monstrous effort.  Here, I’d been on the bike for an intense seven hours of riding.  The first 1/4 mile of Powerline is nice and easy but then it makes a left then a right, delivering a steep punch that quickly forces you off the bike.  All of a sudden, friends Francois and Kimberly from Canada appeared at the side-line, with big smiles and loud cheers.  Although, in my tired state, it took me a moment to figure out who these friendly faces were.  It felt wonderful to have the support of friends at that crucial time.  Merci François et Kimberly!

With all those people and that late in the race, most of Powerline was being walked.  Again, I took to the same strategy as Columbine; accelerate past everyone I could when the terrain–and my heart-rate–permitted.  On that deeply eroded, rutted-out, grit-covered rock climb, the chances of falling or twisting an ankle were high.  But sometimes you just gotta take a few risks, push the limit a bit.  At times we fail, but at others, we succeed.  This is when it mattered, this is when I knew I had to push hard.  And I did.

Reaching the top of Powerline I knew I had just a short plateau and descent before the climbing would continue on up to Sugarloaf Pass; elevation 11,071′.  Folks at the top handed out Cokes and water, some even gave the riders a push to help get started again.  It was wonderful, it really made me smile.  Although, not quite as much as the long descent back to the road at Turquise Lake.  During that time, I took on fuel and finished my water while relaxing for a few minutes.  When last at the Sprinter-van, we decided the pit-crew would meet me with provisions at the intersection where the dirt road hits the black-top.  This was not a part of the original plan but it turned out to be a really good idea.  While I’d been drinking water with Perpetuem to get take on calories, the hot sun was compelling me to drink plain water faster than anticipated.   Stopping for barely ten seconds, they swapped-out my empty bottle for one full of cold water.  I charged on, still feeling strong and looking forward to the three mile road climb that was just around the corner.

On the flat section approaching the climb up route 9 to the Carter Summit aid station,[elevation 10,714′] I again got on with a group of riders, ones I’d seen during the day.  This time, however, would be the last time I’d see them.  As soon as the road went up everyone slowed down, their bodies bobbing back and forth, their heads hung low, their cadence labouring.  With a lot of time spent climbing the mountains of Colorado on my road bike over the past two months, I was looking forward to this climb; it was mine.  And let me tell you, I crushed that hill!  I was the dragon-fly; strong & powerful, deliberate yet graceful.  I must have passed thirty to forty people, I could hardly believe it; nor could they. Truly one of the most satisfying moments of my day.

Beyond the aid station–which I didn’t stop at–are two little climbs before the final big descent down St Keaven’s and Tennessee Creek Road.  You know, I’m not sure how much of that hill my tires actually touched, ‘cuz I was flying and soaring, drifting over rollers with trees flashing by on either side.  My smile nearly consumed my helmet and I’m sure the cries of joy could be heard for miles.  This is mountain-biking after all!

With about a mile to the finish-line, someone at road-side yelled “zip your jersey, head up, look proud as you finish!”  Dutifully, I did what I was told then hammered on home.   Crossing the line with a time of 9:40:08, it was over; I had completed the famed Leadville Trail 100 Mountain Bike Race in under ten hours and felt great doing it.  My body was tired, but not shattered.  I still knew my name, where I was and could identify Reilly and Kimberly as they ran up, showering me with congratulations.  But honestly, all I could think was “damn, it felt good to get off the bike!”

Within about ninety minutes, I was showered, changed and dining at the Tennessee Pass Cookhouse  looking out over the same mountains I’d ridden just a few hours earlier.  [a big thanks to John and Ty for making that happen; such a grand way to finish the day]  As the conversation meandered from subject to subject, we soon found ourselves discussing the next ride and the next race.  We are cyclists after-all!

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/357332790

Oh the crowds

Going down Powerline

Passin’em through the corners.

Climbing Columbine

At the top of Columbine

Haulin’ ass back through the 1.5 miles of single-track

Grunt grunt grunt!

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Feelin’ jacked at the finish line: 9:40:08!