Fear

I was scared. I feared I had done something terribly wrong. Not a "was that donation of an old cost worth $250 or $50, and is the IRS going to catch me?"  This was shaking me to my core as a person

I believe in helping others, as much as possible. I'm not so noble as to live as an ascetic monk and give away all my stuff (I like my stuff) but I always hope that when a call came I could do my best to help. 

During the 2015 Leadville 100 I passed a couple riders in trouble on Powerline. I was in a bit of hurt myself, but I was moving  forward. I called out to some, others I just rolled past. Sometimes people don't want you to say anything.  They are in their own personal hell of bonking and cramping and feeling queasy. I have been that guy (more than I would like) and truly, not having to say, "I'm ok" is a blessing. 

At mountain bike races, there are some basic rules.  

1. Help people who need it.  Racers are the first responders.  
2. Don't litter 
3. Be nice 
4. Don't quit  

Rule 1 basically trumps all the others.

Sunday morning, I found out a man named Scott Ellis riding about my pace had died of a heart attack on the Powerline climb. 

I was immediately paralyzed with fear. Had I passed someone I could have helped?  Was I such an asshole racer that I let a dying man suffer in the woods as I pedaled on?  

For days I did not check his splits. I was consumed with the fear that I had indeed failed to help when help was most needed. 

I finally checked. I was ahead of Scott Ellis by nearly 30 minutes at the previous checkpoint. 

While my guilty fear was relieved my heartache and self-preservation concern was not. People are not supposed to die in a race. Especially people who are fit, have done the event before, and "know what they are getting into".  True, the medical statics say if you take enough people, sit them down, and stare at them for 10 hours, someone will have a heart attack.  Over 25 years, something like 20,000 people have ridden Leadville, and it took (most) of them 10 hours or more.  Therefore, someone was going to have a heart attack.  

That doesn't help.

Riding around the following week, making some hard efforts I felt my chest tighten up.  Difficulty breathing.  I'm back in the desert...was it the dust?  Was it lingering fatigue?  Did the fact that I don't really care what I eat anymore (I simply can't eat enough) finally catch up with me?  Then it happened again, JRA (Just Riding Around).  It was hot though.  Close to 100. 

I have a lot more to live for than 2 wheels on dirt and the occasional start and finish line.  What am I doing?  I ride fast enough now, that even JRA and sticking my wheel in a rock and going over the handlebars could kill me.  

Of course, so could standing on the corner waiting to cross the street in New York when a garbage truck misses its turn and squashes me.  Or waiting at a traffic light when some texting fool slams into my car.

Somewhere in the recesses of philosophy and lessons absorbed over the years I was reminded.  Fear has no power when faced head on.  Face the fear, and it becomes the truth of what you are made of.

I won't stop.  I will ALWAYS ask.  Always.  They can curse me later.

Leadville 2015

  

Check out my composition...Mt Massive in the background!

Preamble

This is the 3rd time I have had a chance to race Leadville.  Clearly I have a mental defect.  My amazing family continues to put up with the training, the travel, my constant talking about bikes and training and more bikes.  I'm truly a lucky, lucky guy.  I manage to keep getting in, and with  the kind of support I have at home...who can lose? (btw, here's the 2014 story and the 2013.  They spend more time talking about the course and the race vs what's in my head)

I really enjoy Leadville.  The chance to play bike racer for a week, soak in the atmosphere of a world class event, hang out with amazing people, and test myself on a iconic race course.  Besides -- Colorado, around the Continental divide, in August...what could possibly be better? 

The drive to Leadville is one I look forward to each year.  It is amazing.  Driving across the Sonoran Desert, Monument Valley, 4 corners area, Moab, Fruita, Grand Junction, Glenwood Canyon, Vail, and finally up the hill to Leadville.  It is the American west in all it's glory.  It's also completely maddening as I drive within 30 minutes of about 20 bucket list bike trails and ride none of them.  This year I smartened up and activated the satellite radio in the car, which made the entire trip go by in a flash.  I highly recommend satellite radio if you're driving for a 12 hour period by yourself.

Due to bad fate, I had no lodging in Leadville this year. Instead, I was down the slope in Copper Mountain.  A soul-less, if clean and comfortable condo.  I did sleep better being about 1500' or so lower, but I missed out on the Leadville atmosphere.  Waking up and walking over to the City on a Hill for coffee listening to race chatter, talking with friends met in person and online...all with Mt Massive and Mt Elbert as a backdrop is something I could do every day. But not this year.  I did get to hang out with Laurel Darren-Simmons, one of my personal inspirations who was working medical for Leadville and for the Trans-Rockies run, and one of her buddies, Matt before the massive waves of cyclists rolled in.  It is nice to have friends at 10,200'.

I did manage to participate in a couple of pre-race festivities happening in PbVille.  The Fat Cyclist and Rebecca Rusch hosted pre-rides, a brat-roast for WBR, and generally shared their awesomeness.  

Fatty and Rebecca have some amazing stories that you can read in their books and on their websites.  The battles they have fought with sickness and personal tragedies, the victories they have achieved on the race course and what they have given back to the world are pretty amazing.  They have lived full lives, and are willing to share with the rest of us.  For that I thank them.  Their impact on many people, including myself is hard to appreciate. Heck, I probably wouldn't even have contemplated Leadville in the first place were it not for Fatty's writings. If you're looking for some good inspiration, or good mountain biking advice, or stories, or humor check out their books and websites.  

I only managed to make it to the barbecue, and do one pre-ride, but I did make the most of it.  Here's a picture of me with Fatty:

Fatty has great advice on how to suck in your gut properly for pictures

and here's a picture of me with the Queen of Pain:

Tiaras are for Princesses.  The Queen wears rainbow stripes

CONCLUSION:  I am GIGANTIC.  Seriously.  Look back at those pictures   

Here's a shot of the group listening to Rebecca Rusch share knowledge. I think it's pretty:




I did one serious pre-ride.  I rode the Powerline climb on Wednesday to prove to myself that I could ride the "normal" part of that climb at pace.  And I did.  Even stopping for people bombing downhill I rode the 2.5 mile section from the steeps to the Sugarloaf summit in 35 minutes.  This is where the race has fallen apart for me the past 2 years.  I wanted to ride this section on Saturday, and ride it properly.  Proving to myself on the first day at altitude I could just go on up without hurting myself was key to my mental prep.  

At packet pick-up I connected with Abby froth LRS team.  She's awesome -- one of the people that makes the entire organization special.  More friends at 10,200'...always makes me smile.

Thursday night rolled around, and I picked up my race crew:

Mom as Race Crew.  How Awesome is that?

Friday was the meeting.  I'm pretty convinced that there's a group of people that sign up for Leadville 100 events so they can hear Ken Chlouber go into full preacher mode and minister to the assembled masses.  His speeches are moving, he has the gift.  I did not take pics or record.  If you're interested, someone did a great job of setting his speech to scenes from the 2014 race here.  It really is special.  Each year I've taken a little piece away as personal motivation.  This year, Ken talked about "how" and "why" we are all out here in the mountains.  "the how is easy" he said.  "Put your head down turn the pedals, don't quit".  He went on, "They why is much harder.  They why is all the sacrifice not by you, but by your families, your spouse, your kids, your parents, your job so you can be here..." True words indeed.

Race day 

I came into the week in some of the best shape ever.  I set some truly aggressive, perhaps pipe-dream like goals, but figured, what the hell.  I'm here, it's too late to go home, might as well go BIG. So far everything had gone perfectly, and that would indeed continue...

Staying at Copper was relatively easy for not being in town.  30 minutes from condo to Leadville, so 4am wake up, 5am departure.  Sure, I could have slept until 5am with an in-town place, but it worked. I was there in plenty of time for start line pic with my awesome crew:

That's my crew!

Selfie Mode!

  

This year, thanks to some miracle of effort at BarnBurner last year, I was in the RED corral for the start.  This means the people in front of me had previously gone sub-8 or were honest to goodness pros.  Like previous World Champions.  And the American Champion.  And last year's winner.  And the winner from the year before that.  Behind me was 2/3 or 3/4 of the field.  I am naturally very self-critical, but I did let myself puff up a bit.  Red means "you're fast Rohit", and I would hang on to that thought for much of the race. Because when this race gets hard, you need every bit of encouragement to keep you moving forward.

That's the start line.  The collective Quads and Gastrocs belonging to people in this picture are truly phenomenal

Start to Pipeline Outbound

Last year, I lost the eating contest.  I was in calorie deficit before I even started the 2nd hour of the race.  This year, per Fatty and Reba's advice, I started eating before the race started.  One cookie-like thing from the grocery and one package of GU watermelon chews.  210 calories before the gun went off.  I was ahead of the game in the eating contest.  

Pro Call ups, call-outs, Thunderstruck, Bulls on Parade, Ben Wiens singing the National Anthem, one more "love ya" from Ken and Marilee and the shotgun went off.

Unlike the previous years, I was rolling from the gun.  Maybe 15 seconds passed before I was clipped in and rolling.  30 seconds later I was in my biggest gear, and spinning easily up the little rise on 6th street.  I stood up to take in the hill, and never had to drop into a lower gear.  Cresting the hill, it was full speed ahead...no jostling, no screaming breaks, no people flying up or dropping back...just that tie fighter sound of 600 knobby tires on the road at 30 mph.

Going fast in a qualifier is really really worth it.  

As we hit the dirt road leading to St Kevins the confidence was bubbling up.  I had just ridden the first few miles of this course much faster than I ever had previously, nearly all of it in my biggest gear.  No huffing, no puffing, just laying down the power and making the bike move.  On the dirt, the magic of the Red start came through again.  I could actually ride my pace, allow my legs to warm up and take in the race experience.  I saw a bunch of Phoenix area jerseys from various shops and clubs.  Even had a few people call out my own Shadetree jersey.  That's worth more than you might think to keep you motivated.  

Just before we hit the cattle guard signaling the start of the Kevin's climb, I passed The Hammer.  Aka, Fat Cyclist's wife.  I called out "Nice Shorts Hammer!" (because I was wearing FC shorts ya know).  Since she does not know me at all, when she looked over her right shoulder to see who was calling out to her, and it was this big Indian dude, her look showed "What the F??" vs "hey cool".  For me personally, knowing I was riding close to the Hammer was a great indicator that I was going the speed I needed to meet my goals. She is one fast lady, and I figured she would be a good person to mark my progress.

We climbed Kevins uneventfully.  The tempers were starting to pick up a bit with a few folks yelling about keeping lines and whatnot.  I kept Rebecca Rusch's words in mind, "your body does not distinguish between types of energy...it just burns calories.  So don't waste them being mad".  As always, I climbed at the pace of everyone around me.  This year, that pace happened to be quick vs plodding.  HOORAY RED!  I was topping the fist hard effort of the course, and I was not feeling one bit of tiredness...only total excitement.  That's new.

As we approached the big left turn there were a couple guys camped out on the road.  One was Doc Wenmark, the other appeared to be Ricky MacDonald.  Ricky MacDonald?  21 time finisher?  sitting on the side?  I must be hallucinating.  I was so stunned, I didn't even give him a shout out.  ah well, I'm sure he won't miss it.     

As the race rolled along the Carter summit I started to feel the pressure of the clock.  I wanted to be at Turquoise Lake road in 45 minutes.  I kept thinking, "the Carter Summit aid must be around the next corner" but it kept not showing up.  I was maintaining a good pace (I thought) and keeping up with the Hammer.  Keeping pace with someone as fast as the Hammer gave me a lot of confidence, as well as reminding myself where I was...riding in the clear due to the fact that I had started in RED...because I was fast. (see...it's all in your head, or my head as it were, is, something)

I managed not to panic with the elapsed time, and came to the road in 50 minutes.  Not bad.  And a good 10 minutes faster than I had made it in previous years.  Down Turquoise Lake Road as fast as I dared.  I tried to stay off the brakes, after all, this was a paved road downhill...what could go wrong? 

The road tilted up and I was feeling strong.  Again, the Hammer was my marker, and I was (mostly) keeping up.  That is until I took a minute to take a drink and down a GU.  I looked up, and she was gone.  I felt a little deflated as my rabbit had gotten away, but that was OK, it was time to work up Haggermans.

That's the fierce face.  This road is not flat

Heading up Hagermans I could not find wheels to follow. I was not being passed, and I was not catching people in front of me (Based on this picture, I should have looked behind and flicked this guy through...).  So I put on "fierce face" and put the bike in 1-harder gear than felt comfortable. Doing so added about 1.2mph, without putting me in too much difficulty. Magic! This year, I was RACING the Leadville 100!  I was racing a clock, but I was really racing it.  Another luxury I allow myself in a bike race that I don't really get to explore in daily life -- I was one of the (smaller) group of people that got to perform ..not just survive.  This part of the race the sweat and the effort in the legs just generated more adrenaline  and more speed.  It was euphoric.    

Taking the turn onto the Surgarloaf climb I started to get a little huffy and puffy.  We were crossing over 11000', so it was expected.  I slowed a bit, and again, did not panic even though the clock seemed to be moving against me.  I topped Sugarloaf at 1:34.  I had gained one of my 5 minutes back!  Feeling awesome (I'm RED baby!) I started down Powerline, willing myself not to crash.

That's Terrified Face.  Evidently I wear the flag of Arizona now.

I made the descent in record time, managed not to crash, even though I was in a 2-wheel slide at one point.  

The pavement after Powerline is a place I collect myself for about 2 minutes before laying on the gas.  The descent really is terrifying.  It's so steep, and rutted, and lose, and rocky...I really need that time to breathe a bit.  Yeah, it a race famous for it's insane climbs, I was most relived at the bottom of a descent.  That's not really conventional wisdom, but conventional or wise I am not.

Rolling past the fish hatchery I looked ahead to see a good size group forming.  My brain said "catch the group!  save energy"  But, rather than sprinting up, I did something smart.  I looked back!  Sure enough, there was a bigger group coming up, and they were moving fast.  About 20 riders went by before I saw a gap in the line.  I jumped over to the left and sprinted to catch up... now I was at the back of a 20 person paceline going 25mph, and I was soft-pedaling.  THAT is an amazing feeling.  Sure enough we swept up the group I had thought about catching, and there I was flying down the road towards the Pipeline spun out in my biggest gear. Beautiful!

One thing Leadville attracts are idiots on bikes. I do not know why.  I had seen one back on St Kevins trying to take his jacket off, no hands, on a trail.  He crashed.  Now I saw a guy riding inside the pace line, 30+ mph, no hands, taking off arm warmers.  I tried hard not to look at him, and breathed a huge sigh of relief when my part of the pack went by him.  He could have taken out 30+ riders with a small rock or bobble.  People are just strange.

Having avoided sure disaster 3 times (2 idiots, plus the Powerline) I rolled into the Pipeline aid at 2:08.  IT WAS LOUD!  perhaps there were more spectators, perhaps I was just earlier so they had more energy, but the tunnel of noise was amazing.  Talk about a launch pad for the next few miles!  I had lost 4 minutes to my goal time, but I was feeling good, and there was plenty of time left to race.  8 minutes on 2:00 is not bad at all...and 2 hours for 28 miles on a MTB is fast no matter how you cut it.  A great volunteer filled my empty bottle, and I was off for Twin Lakes!   

Looking for Friends on the Pipeline

The Pipeline is anything but flat (though people refer to it as "flat", people are weird).  It does lend itself to road tactics -- pacelines!  However, I must have done something wrong or used up all my RED energy, because I was alone.  I could not find a wheel to follow, and I kept catching riders going much slower than I was.  I did not really have a group to work with until I was descending the singeltrack, and back on a road the last 3 or 4 miles before Twin Lakes.  I was very happy to find some friends here, as it's a hidden hard part of the course.  It's just neighborhood roads, much of it paved, but the hills are just long enough to be painful.  I played leapfrog with someone from Phoenix in a Vassago kit riding a sweet Ti Vassago singlespeed.  I let him know he was riding my dream bike.  He let me know indeed, it was a nice bike.  I was happy we agreed, and my gears carried me forward a little faster than the singlespeed could maintain.  

About 3 miles out from TwinLakes I hit 2:45.  That was the time I wanted to be in TwinLakes, and I was feeling the pressure of being behind my goal.  The RED magic intervened again. As I was starting to despair a bit, I topped out the last rise before Twin Lakes, and started the nice long paved downhill to the dam.  

The crew area at Twin Lakes was louder than I ever remember.  Just like the Pipeline, but LOUDER.  cowbells, vuvuzuelas, viking horns, and cheering.  WOW!  Three people even knew my name in places I was not expecting.  THAT was a massive boost for me...people in Colorado at the Leadville 100 yelling "GO ROHIT!"  Talk about a heady feeling!

I crossed the dam in 2:58.  I had lost a little more time, but chin up -- I was still moving faster than I ever had by nearly 30 minutes.  I was 13 minutes off the goal, but putting in a strong effort on Columbine could make up some of that time.  It was time to put all the preparation to use.

Columbine

Mom set me up awesomely with fresh bottles, GU, and a new set of electrolyte capsules.  Mom really is a great crew!

They say the Columbine climb is 10 miles up from Twin Lakes.  It's really more like 7 miles up after 3 miles of rolling hills across a ranch.  I started my attack right out of the aid station.  Both prior years my legs had started to give out, and even cramp, on the rocky climb out of the aid station.  Not this year.  This year it was time to pass folks, provide some words of encouragement to people suffering, and try and get in a draft for the flatter sections.

Coming onto the doubletrack leading the final crew area before the climb proper I was behind 3 Ironmen.  I could tell they were Ironmen because of their little "M with Dot Head" tattoos on their calves.  I figured "awesome.  here's 3 guys who think this is a short race.  They are built like swimmers with broad torsos...let me see if I can tuck myself behind them and get some free speed for a mile or two!"  

Unfortunately, they were not moving fast, so soon I was looking to pass them.  As I was spinning up, all three of them were sucking down some GUs.  Then they did the MOST irritating thing I have seen so far at Leadville.  THEY THREW THEIR WRAPPERS ON THE TRAIL!!!  This is a HUGE no-no.  This was not the trying-to-put-the-wrapper-in-the-back-pocket-and-missing drop.  This was a flat out, throw foil wrapper on the trail.  I had to say something.  I yelled "Hey Ironman, you really going to throw that wrapper there??"  I got no response so I said it again, "Dude.  this is not Kona...we take care of the land".  Gah.  Those guys were wasting my energy.  So I added a gear, and accelerated past them.  Wish I had their race numbers.  

I digress.  

So I'm climbing Columbine.  It long, its pretty steep, and it never seems to end.  I was significantly buoyed by the fact that I made 2 switchbacks before the lead moto came through, followed by the men's pros.  World Champion Stripes, former World Champion Stripes, Swiss Champion, US Champion...WOW.  Those guys are fast.  But you knew that.  What you don't know is that I was seeing the pros well up the slopes of the mountain.  Both prior years I saw them much earlier on the course.  Again, feeling RED!

I was working hard on my "fast climb" cadence.  50 standing revolutions, followed by 50 seated.  Just keep doing it.  A lot like my daughter climbing Sleeping Bear dunes this summer, just a variation on "one foot in front of the other".  At one point, I tasted blood in the back of my throat.  YES!  YES! I was making this hurt and I was climbing at a pace I had never done before!

Until I wasn't.

The taste of the blood was gone.  My legs were tired, but not cramping. I had been eating and drinking effectively, but I was not able to make it hurt more after a while. I had the fitness, but I was losing the mental game. I thought I was in a good, even great mood, but clearly, more was needed. I started cheering other racers.  Guys who were seriously struggling I reached out and patted on the back.  I cheered for guys bombing downhill.  I saw Fatty, "GO FATTTTYYYYY"  Fatty said "nice job guys". He sounded casual.  Like he was having fun, or perhaps he was just happy he was no longer one of us going up.  I kept climbing.  

Reaching the rocky section I stacked up behind other riders and dismounted to walk -- but the downhill traffic was not too thick.  If I could have made the hurt come back, I could have ridden.  But there was no hurt to be had.  So I kept walking.  At the treelike Ken was in his usual spot watching the race.  He teased us, "it's faster if you ride...you'd be surprised".  I yelled out "I won't quit Ken!" Then I got one of the truly big boosts of the race.  Ken Chlouber growls back, "I've seen you before Arizona.  There's no quit in you."   YEAH BABY!!  

I ground it out to the top of Columbine emptying my bottles and most of my GU on the way.  I knew I had a friend at 12,600', and I was looking forward to it.  

Friends in High Places.  A LDS hug will get you moving.  
Photo Credit:  Laurel from her FB page

My friend Laurel Darren Simmons was working medical at the top of Columbine.  It's nice to see a friendly face at the top of the world!  I got some water, took 20 seconds for a selfie, and started coughing.  It was time to get down the mountain -- STAT.  

I made the turn at 5:10.  I was 25-40 minutes behind my goal.  The 9 hour pipe dream had dissolved on the slopes of Columbine.  However, I was still a full 45 minutes ahead of where I had ever been previously.  No regrets.  Time to get down this mountain, see mom, and reset the goals for a glorious Colorado day.

I bombed the downhill as fast as I dared.  I was looking for friends like Bonnie Moebeck, anyone in a jersey I could recognize, anyone who looked like they needed a cheer.

As I was headed down the goat trail and the rocky section of road, I was again puffed up about my performance.  I saw plenty of gold, silver and red race plates still climbing, and I saw A LOT of people.  More than I ever had...well, duh, I was going faster than I ever had.  Joey at the Shadetree had changed my tires out 2 weeks before the race to wider, higher volume tires.  Perhaps a risky move, but those tires were paying massive dividends now. Those things were letting me fly down the mountain. (Joey and his team are fantastic.  You'll notice I'm wearing their shop colors...if you have an opportunity to let them lay hands on your bike when in Phoenix, I highly suggest it). I was going fast enough I could not make out anyone specifically in the line going up, so I just cheered for everyone.  I love this part of the race.  Hopefully I don't sound like a jerk, cheering for everyone, but it does make me feel good.   

By the time I reached the ranch it was HOT.  I needed to get rid of the arm warmers, ditch the trash, and get some cold drinks.  Time to make this whole thing hurt again.

Coming over the ridge from the ranch to the Twin Lakes aid.  Fierce face is back

Paceline on the Pipeline

Mom was ace crew again.  I was a little antsy, perhaps petulant.  But mom dealt with it.  That's what moms do!  In less than 90 seconds she had me rolling again, full of GUs, sans arm warmers, and ready to turn in a fast last 40 miles.  I left the Twin Lakes Aid at 5:45. I rode through the crew area, and there were many more cheers, Matt PNut Laney gave me a high five...life was good!

As soon as the climb through the neighborhood was done, a pace line starting forming.  Hallelujah!  Not a very efficient paceline, as the guy on the front was just drilling it, and not moving over for anyone to take a pull.  It was however, fast, and took us all the way to the singletrack climb.  During this transition I was able to load a few more calories, and think about where I was.  My real goal was out the window.  No way to make 9.  So I started doing the math.  I was sitting at about 11.2 mph.  hmm.  If I could keep this above 10.5...I could go sub 10!  so, 9:something.  That would be awesome! I glanced down at the Gamin and seemingly at that moment, the average speed ticked up.  11.3!  Whee!  I could do this!  So 9-something was the new goal.  Love life under the beautiful (but hot) Colorado sky, and go as hard as I could enjoying the Leadville 100!  RED WAS BACK!

The pace line pretty much survived in one form or other all the way to the Pipeline aid.  My elapsed time showed I had just done Twin Lakes to Pipeline in 1:05  That was well within my original goal for the segment...and that felt awesome.

I reloaded water and headed out of the Pipeline bound for the Powerline Climb 

Blowing up and Finding the Will

This is the part of the race where I find out I'm not a very good paceline rider.  Because I'm not really a roadie.  So when I turned onto Half Moon road into that brutal afternoon Rocky Mountain wind, I just turned up the power as far as I could go without going completely into the red zone.  After a few minutes I saw the shadows on the road -- I was pulling 3 guys.  So I skipped left, gave a flick of the elbow, and they pulled through.  The three of them took good pulls and we were moving.  When I rotated to the front, something in my head said "make it hurt".  So I did.  When I rolled off after exactly one minute, 2 guys said "nice pull" and I struggled a bit to grab the back of the train.  When my turn came again, I burried myself for one minute.  I was doing my part!  When I rolled off, the guys said, "NICE FREAKIN' PULL DUDE!  WHOOOO!!!"  Yeah it was.  I had just given those guys such a sweet pull I couldn't grab the back of the train.  oops.  

Fortunately for me, I have been working pretty hard this year, and I was able to recover after a few minutes.  My average speed was still above 10.5, and I was doing better than 11mph by myself on the road.  But I was burning valuable matches to keep the pace.

Just before the turn onto the Powerline climb I passed a Specialized Factory rider.  Yeah baby.  This guy had his name on his jersey, his bike, and his helmet.  Might have been 20 or 21.  He was wearing a factory team kit, and I passed him. He laid out a tale of woe about what a terrible day he was having.  Whatever. I passed a pro. Add one point to the ego.

The steep part of Powerline was the steep part of Powerline.  I rode until the big right hand turn, then got off to trudge up the steeps.  It looks like this:

It's really steep.  You can see the Factory rider behind me.  Yep That's a gold number.  

Along the way there were people with water hand ups (THANK YOU) and Mr Pizza was there as I have become accustomed.  I also saw bRAD Keyes the man behind CarboRocket.  I love CarboRocket and I think I would love Brad if I knew him better.  As it is, I like him a lot.  He was out of water and CR, but he still had smiles to give away.  I took one, and kept on moving.

I reached the part of the course that I had pre-rode Wednesday.  40 minutes.  It should be 40 minutes of hard work, and this will all be done.  It's all rideable, and I can do it at 4-5mph, even though it is steep and somewhat technical.  

That was the plan anyway.  Then I got hit in the mouth, proverbially.  The cramps kicked in, and I got real tired.  I could not make the go happen.  Bonked.  I was done.  The number of GUs in my pocket said I had fallen behind on calories, and I was now paying the price.

So it was a slow trudge up to the top of Sugarloaf.  I watched the average speed dip below the 10.5 mph I needed for "9 something" and began to be pretty unhappy.  I tried to keep myself going by reciting some of the endurance mantras -- run across the coals, don't walk,  Keep moving,  Make pain your friend.  I tried resetting the soundtrack in my head.  "Bullet with Butterfly Wings", "Bulls on Parade", "Renegades of Funk", "Brainstew".  yeah, none of it was sticking or working.  So I was back to counting steps or pedal strokes.  I did sit once, waiting for the electrolytes to kick in and relieve some of the leg cramps.

Then it was over.  I was at the top and going down.  Fast.  Then faster.  Bouncing off rocks I would normally have braked for or gone around.  I was a bit too fatigued to choose a good line, and I was really hoping the tires, wheels, fork, and the rest would hold up to the abuse of a badly executed descent.  

I made it, and once on the dirt road I did my best to keep pressure on the pedals, keep the hands off the brakes, and make up some time.  23, 24, 27mph.  I was willing the average speed up, but it was not going to move very fast.  

Homestretch

I gave the 2.4 miles up Turquoise Lake road everything I had.  I stood, I spun, I sat and applied big power, I stood again.  The road required little concentration, so I put everything into leg mechanics.  Drop the heels on the down stroke, shoulders down, rock against the down stroke, shift forward to reduce pressure on the quads...shift back to relieve pressure on the hamstrings..maybe I have that backwards. Whatever.  Just keep pushing. The tang of blood was back in the back of my throat and it did wonders for my morale.  I was back working as hard as possible again, making it hurt. That. Was. Awesome. 

I reached the Carter Summit at 9:15. I had gone up Turquoise lake road in 30 minutes. 15 Minutes faster than I had previously. Even with that, only a world-class finish would bring me in sub-10.  So I reset the goal.  Sub 10:20.  I was going to make that last little goal...maybe even pull a 10:15.  2 cups of coke, 2 of water, new water in the bottle, and it was time to hammer home.

The final steeps on Kevins were not pretty.  I clawed my way up them.  Now, pretty much totally riding alone.  The downhill was terrifying, perhaps more terrifying than the powerline descent because I was going much faster.  I could see the dips and ledges coming, and the loose sand.  I tried to time the weighting and unweighting of the wheels and the brakes to make it all happen smoothly.  I must have plowed into some big stuff, but I managed not to go OTB at 30 mph.  Not sure how I did it, I was pretty much on auto-pilot.  

Off the steeps and across the valley to the railroad tracks.  Just kept it turning, pushing as big a gear as I could muster.  There was a big group of volunteers at a road crossing where the odometer crossed 100 miles...I cheered.  They cheered.  I cheered.  

I came to the Boulevard, 2.3 miles of steady uphill.  It's a nothing climb.  An easy spin.  Unless it's miles 101-103.  Then it's insanely painful.  I tried to call up the same mode I had on Turquoise Lake Road.  I wanted to taste that blood again.  I ate my last GU, downed the last of my water (no more than 20 minutes left), and put everything in.  I caught myself with my eyes closed a few times, which I guess is good? I was finished. My awareness was narrowed to my legs pushing and pulling. I was vaguely aware of steering, I saw some lightning (confirmed later).  I could not call up any songs, motivational speeches or mantras. Push-pull..that was it. I knew I was going to make it home, but there would be no victory sprint, no wheelie, no salute.  

The Boulevard ended, and dumped me onto the road.  One final uphill, which I managed to stand for.  There was the blood again...I crested at 10:15. I missed that target. 10:20 it would be.  The crowd at the finish line surrounding the red carpet was huge!  One biker-width only with kids hands out for high-5s...I think I gave out a few.

I was emptied. A truly amazing feeling that I simply don't get to have in my day to day life.  I didn't even see my mom wave and run beside me the last few meters, but you can see her in the picture!  Most of you have seen what I put on Facebook about this picture.  I love it.

I crossed the line, and crumpled onto the handlebars.  I was aware Mom was there.  I told her I was OK.  I got my finishers medal on my neck. Someone asked me if I was OK.  I told them I was.  No hug.  I was missing my finishers hug.  I was promised a hug from one of the amazing people that make the LT100 what it is.  I got no hug.  Mom hugged me after a bit.  Yeah mom!  I collapsed onto the courthouse lawn and laid there for about 90 minutes.  I wanted to get up and cheer the folks coming in -- all those people who refused to quit, bit I couldn't get up.  Instead I congratulated those around me, knowing each of them had turned in something special today.

Post Race

So I made it to the awards ceremony to pick up my hardware and my jacket.  A slight tinge of regret that it was "only" a silver buckle.  But heck, that Colorado silver sure does shine bright in the morning sun!

The usual question is, "will you do it again?"  Well, depends if they let me in.  But I do have a plan to get that last 1:17:22 off my time.

UPDATE:  Sadness

RIP Scott Ellis #1249.  Scott had finished the race 18 times, and died of an apparent heart attack on the top of Powerline.  The LRS has retired his race plate.  That's the 2nd time in 2 years someone has died at a race I was in.  The first was Iceman 2013.  It's common for people to say "at least he died doing what he loved".  Maybe.  But you never think "I might die" when you put that knobby on the start line.  We'll be thinking about you and your family Scott.  Ride in Peace.

Humbled and on a Mission

I am humbled today.

A friend (who I've never met...that's the internet for you) posted this on FB:

I've never thought of myself as an inspiration, and I am honored that Hans would consider me one.  I'm just a guy trying to get his daughters to grow up right, be healthy enough to be around for a very long time, and be the best father/husband/son/brother/friend I can.  Oh, and make time to ride as much as I can.  

But Hans has laid it down.  I'll consider that label of "inspiration" as a challenge as well as an honor.

I take on this challenge.  Get Hans across that finish line at 6th and Harrison in Leadville Colorado the 2nd Saturday of August, 2017.  According to my computer, that's the 12th.

As of today, I plan to be putting my knobby tire on the line myself.  If that plan does not work out, I'll be there to captain the crew.  

In the meantime, the rest of my Leadville peeps have some work to do.  Between Randy working for a buckle in 2015, Laurel saying she wants one in 2016, and myself going for a big one...that's a lot of miles to share with friends.

So, Hans...get those cranks turning.  Randy...figure out how to eat 400cal/hour without causing issues.  Laurel...be a rockstar.  

And I'll see you all in Leadville.

Barnburner 104 -- 2014

Why am I doing this?

This report starts in a funny place.  I really don't like this race much.  There's 100 things wrong with the BarnBurner.  The entry fee is expensive.  The race organizers provide very little in the form of aid stations, support, or swag.  The venue practically requires a 4x4 to access. The venue itself is in a great part of the state, but is not awe inspring.  And the course.  The course is nearly 100% dirt road.  

And the vibe is all wrong.  It's not an Arizona mountain bike race with world class racers wrapped in an insane party vibe and like The Whiskey.  It's not a resort race like the Tahoe Trail. It's not a local race with shop owners and people you see at the trailheads.  It's not a quirky local race all grown up like Iceman...and it ain't no Leadville.

Despite all that, I entered because BarnBurner is a tool.  It's a Leadville qualifier.  It's a tool to get and entry, or secure a good starting spot.  

One very nice thing about the BarnBurner is the staff from the LRS that comes to town and the volunteers they wrangle up (with one exception -- who I will call out later).   As I've gotten to know a few of the folks in the LRS -- like Abby Long -- it's a great chance to see them.  They really are family, and their presence can make up for a lot of crap.  That Leadville family thing is really starting to come through for me. 

There is hope for this race....just needs the RedRock Co, Landis, and the LRS to take care of it a bit.  I'll save the loooong list of specific improvements for anyone from those companies that wants to hear it.  Hopefully they will before next year.

As I said in the complaints section above, BarnBurner is tough to get to.  It's 20 miles Northwest of Flagstaff, which necessitates an overnight in Flagstaff for me and my gang of girls.  Having learned from last year's single hotel room fiasco, we got a 2-bedroom suite at the Embassy Suites in Flagstaff.  I think we were most excited by the free breakfast, of which I would only partake once, which made me a little sad.  

Flagstaff is a fun town.  We were there for "first Friday" which is a big party on the town square (shockingly) the first Friday of every month.  We met the mayor, saw some bands, ate Bigfoot Barbecue, ate chocolate, met some forest rangers, won walking sticks by answering questions wrong, met the NAU Lumberjack...enough fun to keep the kids from going completely bonkers and making my wife completely insane.  We also did some window shopping in the funky shops in town.  Here's some pics of us having a blast:

Lumberjack and walking sticks

Big Foot BBQ.  in the basement of a clothing store...

Gallon size flask.  might be big for the jersey pocket

Enough of the editorial.  Time for a race report.

Preliminaries

BarnBurner is 104 miles, 7100' of climbing at 7000' of altitude.  If the Whiskey is a 1/2 Leadville (50 miles, 7000', at 5000') BarnBurner is like a 3/4 Leadville.  What all those numbers mean is that it's a tough ride, if you chose to make it so.  The ride is emotionally tough, because it's 4 laps.  So, as you head out for miles 53-78 and 78-104, there are lots of people showered  eating, drinking beer, and chillin'. And you've got miles to ride.  

Race morning worked fairly well...thanks to my friend Ehfad riding the relay version of the race, and fortuitously staying in the same hotel, I was able to bum a ride up to the race site.  Even more fortunately, Ehfad drives a 4x4 Pathfinder.  With all the rain over the past week (you maybhavecseen the pics of cars up ton their roofs in water), the last mile of "road" to the race site at the C&C ranch was a total disaster.  Cars and Trucks stuck in mud so deep it covered the wheels of F150 size trucks. There were massive mini-ponds (way too big to be called potholes) along the way.  The Pathfinder handled the obstacle course well...and at about 5:45am, we parked and began to unload all the stuff we might need for the race.

I looked for Randy and Trina, two more riding buddies from the valley, but thanks to our slightly late arrival, couldn't find their pop-up sites. Randy was riding the full distance, Trina and Ehfad were on 50-mile relay teams. The area for the pits was somewhat muddy, and also covered in cow and horse crap.  Fan-freakin tastic if you ask me.  After setting up the pop-up, it was getting very close to start time, and I made a little bit of a hash of setting up my supplies...kind of just a big pile (hopefully) out of the horse and cow poop.

I grabbed myself my 3 GU packets, 1 bottle of CarboRocket, 1 bottle of fresh water, and headed for the start line.

Thankfully, the absolute worst part of the race -- the running start -- had been eliminated.  I detest running starts.  Running is for criminals.  The reason for removing the running start was all the mud and standing water from the rain...so that was a good omen for the conditions of the course.

I jumped in line about 2/3 of the way to the front, hoping to get out quick and get myself in a pace line for the first lap.  Most of the course is very road-tactic friendly, and if I wanted to go fast, and make my goals, a draft for as long as I could get one would be very very needed.

Goals you say?  What were my goals?   Last year, I did this race as part of Leadville prep.  It was June 1st, dusty and hot.  It was my 1st 100 miles off-road, and the 2nd time in my life I was riding 100 miles in 1 day.  I had no idea what I was doing.  I managed to get around in 10:20ish...and on that day having numbers instead of DNF was a real accomplishment.  Pros, bike shop owners, guides, ironmen, and more had all bailed on the race, and stubborn old me finished.  That sub-11 earned me an orange coral at Leadville, and showed me I was tougher than a lot of people who do this sort of thing.  Yeah me!

Well, since we all know racers lie to themselves, I told myself I could make 8 hours on this course. Come in sub-8, earn yourself a silver coral spot in Leadville.  Yeah, right.  Really I was going for 8:30.  This was very do-able with some effort.  The 8 hours was a bit of a pipe dream, and do-able if I found a group of 4 riders willing to let me sit 5th wheel all day while they cranked along at 15mph+.  Basically, I was going to make this race hurt.  Remind myself what its like to leave 100% on the course, because I seem to have forgotten what that feels like.

Dig deep speech, thank-yous to Ken and Marilee, praise for the land owner of the C&C ranch, Thunderstruck and a few more rev-ups, Star Spangled Banner....shotgun blast and we are racing!  

Lap 1

As you can see from the profile below, a whole lot of time can be made in the first 7 or so miles of the lap.  It's a long, shallow, steady climb, which means drafting wins.  Plus, there's a ripping downhill that follows which builds so much speed, you're pretty much spun out, and can recover.  Miles 13-26 are 2 painful climbs and white knuckle descents.  Time can be made there as well, but they are hard miles.  

My strategy was to build as many miles in the "average speed bank" as I could before the 2nd half of the course, where I knew the 2 stiff climbs would have be averaging 5-6mph, perhaps 10mph over the 2nd half.  So in the 1st half, to get my 8.5 hour time, I really needed to hit the 16mph range (more if at all possible).  

At the gun I went for it. As soon as I could, I found my way to a dry line in the 6" deep mud, and stood on the pedals. moving through tall grass.  I passed 40-50 people this way, ducked a tree, and jumped onto a single-tracky section of the course that led to the main road. 

Now on the long climb, I added some gears, bore down on the pedals, and leap frogged my way through the field, settling in behind a slower train for a few seconds of rest before accelerating again. I was looking for a fast train to pass that I could grab on to...and get some speed over the next few miles.

I eventually got onto the wheel of 2 Cloud City Wheelers setting a 20mph pace. 3rd wheel.  Perfect.  I am not ashamed to say I sucked their wheels for 8 miles, and as soon as a longer train of fast riders came up, I jumped on their wheels and chased their lines down the 5-ish mile downhill.  25mph easy.  On the dirt.

Lots of miles per hour in the bank.

I got to the bottom of the big climb, the Strava challenge segment, averaging 18mph, feeling fresh.  I remembered to enter the eating contest, and downed a GU (lemonade!) washed down with a few swigs of CarboRocket.  The climb felt great -- it was early, but I was thinking this would be a good day.

The next downhill section is really fast, and really scary. 30mph+, somewhat loose gravel,  and the occasional big rock.  Then there's the 2 miles of insane rocky downhill where you're hanging on and hoping you don't break a spoke, or your face.   I cried just a little, because I was scared.  Then I cried a little because it was over.

I managed to get through all that maintaining good speed, and not breaking my bike or my face.  My heart rate at the bottom of the decent was higher than it had been at than at the top -- that's a wicked descent!

This is where the course gets pretty brutal.  4.5 miles of up.  Starts on the road, turns onto a trail, and gradually gets steeper the whole way.  Basically, my idea of a really fun segment.  Early on the climb I pushed a big gear.  I was making some good time, and passing a lot of people.  I heard a guy grunting behind me.  Glancing over my shoulder I realized I was pulling a train of like 10 riders! 

I gave the universal elbow flick to get someone to pull through. No one pulled through.

I slowed down and moved out of the good line.  Nothing.

I move way over on the road.  Long chain of guys moved over.

I turned, and said "hey, someone want to pull through?!"  Nada.

So I did the only logical thing.  I ate some more, took another drink, added 2 gears and left those f-tards in my dust.

Climbing on the trail now, I was picking people off steadily.  I came up behind a recognizable figure on his bike.  Baggie shorts, Bicycle Ranch jersey, very nice bike...Markus Zimmer owner of the Bicycle Ranch!  Markus was suffering.  Did I offer words of encouragement? Sort of.  As I passed him, I looked over my shoulder and shouted, "Sur la Plaque Markus, Sur La Plaque!"  I am sure he appreciated it.

I continued (mostly) to pass people on the climb.  Definitely an awesome feeling.  If your legs have it one day, I highly recommend it.  Topping out the climb there's a ripping downhill to the start/finish and the Barn.  This is a little less white knuckle than the previous section, as there's a pretty well defined line through the crud.  

As I pulled up to the Barn (which you have to walk through) I glanced at the Garmin.  1:45.  I was moving.  I was happy...and I was worried I had burned the matchbook on lap 1.  I was also pissed off.

Why? 

I encountered the most enigmatic creature at a bike race.  

The MEAN VOLUNTEER.

I will now digress from this story to write a letter to the MEAN volunteer

Dear Mr. Mean Volunteer,

You do not know me, and I suspect you do not care.  For the record, I was the cyclist in the "Speedy Bike Club Motor City" jersey at Barn Burner.  I came up to the barn at about 1:45 in the race, having laid down some serious effort for the first lap.  

You clearly noticed me as I rounded the last turn towards the multiple chalk stripes on the ground indicating the zone where cyclists were to dismount before crossing into the Barn, as you zeroed in on me like an eagle that had spotted a big fat salmon flopping upstream.  I must have really had your attention, because many riders passed you on their bikes beginning their dismounts just past the first chalk line and finishing as they hit the second chalk line.  

Actually, was your job to maintain the chalk lines?  Because they were a little blurry.    

As I came to the line, I unclipped one foot, and began to swing off my saddle.  Also as I came to the line, you started yelling at me, "get off the bike!  GET OFF THE BIKE!"  At this point I could not help but notice the cyclists passing me on their bikes.  This is when you, Mr. Mean Volunteer, reached out and grabbed my handlebars. 

The next actions were quite shocking.  You said something unintelligible about being a vet.  You also told me if I pulled "that" again I would be DQ'ed.

I was already shockingly impressed your meanness and now I was even more impressed by your utter ignorance, especially for someone with so much life experience   

So mean volunteer, you may not know this but I vowed to ride directly at you on the next lap, until you yelled at me to GET OFF THE BIKE again.  I figured this way I would not have to look at the multiple chalk lines and figure out where to dismount, your mean, ignorant, very loud body would provide my braking mechanism.

I hope you are happier today Mr. Mean Volunteer, because you were very unhappy last Saturday.

Sincerely,
Bad Dad

Lap 2

I passed the bike shop pits and those of the more organized, and came to our pit area.  I was hoping Ehfad would have sorted things out a bit...no such luck.  So, I rummaged through my pile, noted I forgot to put ice in my cooler of bottles, got my CarboRocket, bottle of clean water, downed a few GU electrolyte capsules, pocketed 3 more GUs, and headed out.  13.3 mph after the stop...still had a few MPH in the bank!

Thers's a trail-like section from the Barn area our to the roads where the race course is.  As I headed out, I hit that truth of endurance racing.  Even with 100s if not 1000s of people at the start, you're often riding alone.

With no rabbits to chase, and no sticks chasing all I had for motivation were the numbers on the Garmin.  More importantly, there was no one to draft.

That is until....and there's always an until...until a train of guys with green and yellow bandanas came up beside me.  My bandana was an orangy-red like color.  This meant I was a crazy person, riding 100 miles myself.  The greens and yellows were some flavor of 1 or 2 lap riders -- either riding 2 laps solo or they were part of relay teams.  So they were moving fast.  I knew my time on this section was dependent on getting in a good paceline, so even though they were really moving, I added a gear and mashed the pedals to grab onto the back of their train.

And man were they moving.  20mph+.  No rotations really.  There was a guy on the front just hammering away and about 5 or 6 of us just hanging on.  About 10 minutes in, 2 riders pulled out in rapid succession unable to match the pace as the road tilted up a bit.  Soon, it was just me chasing Mr. Really Fast Man in a black jersey.  Then I got dropped.  My HR was hitting the top of my comfort range, and even though I wanted this ride to hurt, I was putting in too many sprinting efforts just to keep up.  So I backed off, and went back to staring at the computer, hoping to keep the average mph number as high as possible.

The Part Where I thought I would Die

I made some pretty good time -- though not nearly as fast as the first lap -- on the downhill, and ground my way up the Strava climb.  As I hit the top, I knew it was time to fly...the long dirt road downhill where you could top 35mph if you tried.

So I tried.  A little to hard.

There are signs on the course that have the universal XXX DANGER on them.  They mean "SLOW DOWN YOU CRAZY PERSON".  I did not slow down.  Instead I tried to see if I could take the sweeping left hand corner really fast.  30ish MPH, on loose gravel over hard pack, and I realized I was in the corner all wrong.  I was not going to make the apex, and was headed straight off the right side of the road into rocks, cactus and badness. 

I screamed a little.

Then I locked up the rear wheel, threw my weight back, and hit the front brake.  Not enough.  Still sliding off the road, I sat back up, laid off the front, headed right off the road and into the wide rock-filled trench.  Somehow, by some miracle, I managed to stay upright, bounced off a few rocks, and got myself back on the road.

I peed a little.  I admit it.

A pair of riders behind me had slowed down, and told me they were ready to stop, because they were sure they were calling an ambulance for me...and then complimented me on my recovery.

I figured it must be my day.

I came in for Lap 2 right at 4 hours.  It may seem like I lost 30 minutes, but according to Strava, it was only 15 min.  I must have burned 10-15 in transition, and riding the goofy little part of the course out from the Barn to the road. 

Still, I was on track.  Not a lot of extra time, but there was some time in the bank for an 8:30 finish

Lap 3

In most endurance events, most racers begin to despair at some point.  For me, it was lap 3.  At about Mile 54 on the Garmin, I had to pull over for an ambulance.  Another racer had taken a header...and unfortunately had to get evaced.  I heared he was OK.  I lost about 10 minutes of race time, but that downtime let the doubt creep in.

My average speed was drifting below 12.5mph, and I was getting tired.  Fortunately, it was right about when I was feeling "done" that I hit the long downhill, and let loose to see if I could gain some time.

My average speed startd going up!  12.6...then 12.7

I knew the 2 big climbs were coming, so I had a new race.  A new carrot.  Get that average speed up so I could withdraw from the bank on the climbs!

I hit the bottom of the Strava climb with the average speed showing 13mph!  I was back on an 8hr pace!  I thought I was done, but by finding my rabbit, and riding a bit smart gaining as much speed as I could on the decent, I was back on pace. 

I cleared the Strava climb and the average speed was down to 12.7mph.  For lap 4, i knew I would loose another .3mph on that climb.  I hit the final climb at 12.9mph, and cleared the top at 12.4, so I knew I would loose .5mph on that climb as well...

I ripped into the barn completing Lap 3 feeling pretty good.  No cramps, and I had hope.  I also had not been laped by the winner, which was a huge boost.  I think I was lapped by one or two of the relay teams based on staring at the finish times and doing math, but only 1 or 2...not bad really.  My transition was a bit slow, but I still got out with the average speed at 12.3mph.  A little slow for the 8:30, but there was hope.  It was 1:27pm on the clock.  My first lap was 1:45, next 2:09, and 2:20.  If I could make this hurt, the 8:30 was in reach.

Lap 4

I made the last lap hurt.  I played the game with the computer willing the average speed to go up. It was not going up fast enough.

As I made the first long descent to the Strava climb, the storm clouds gathered and the temperature dropped -- refreshingly.  As I strated the Strava climb, the sky opened up and it was a full-on downpour.  I was riding in little streams up the climb...and progress was slow.

I took it easy on the nasty downhills, not wanting to crash and the fingers slipping on the break levers. 

The last climb was hard...and I made sure to put 110% into it, but as I approached the top, and the timer clicked over to 8:30, I had missed my target bout about 15 minutes.

Nevertheless, a sub-9 hour finish was easily in sight, and nothing was stopping me from hitting that target.  The last 3 miles barely felt like work, and I crossed the line at about 8:50.

Ken and Marilee gave me a Big Barn Burner belt buckle, and I told them I loved them.

Great News

After some recovery and a chat with Jeff, I made my way over to the beer garden.  Abby Long was handing out beer tickets.  Abby is in charge of waves, and racers, and about 100 other things for the Leadville Race Series, and she is awesome.  She's everything that is good about the races in one person.  So great for the LRS to find her.

Abby told me that due to the Ambulance coming in and everyone needing to stop, they were crediting times 30 minutes towards start coral positions for 2015!

RED!  I was in the elusive Red Corral.  This is the sub-9 corral.  This means that next August I line up WEST of Harrison.  I line up right behind the pros...and have the best possible chance to bag that sub-9

So in the end, all that work getting to and racing BarnBurner was worth it.  Kids got to see Flagstaff, I got to race, we did not get stuck in the mud...what esle do you want?

2 months to iceman

Me

Race plate 

Ehfad

That's a lot of mud