C4

Rode the C4 today.  My favorite trails in valley.  I have the privilege of having 75+ or so miles of incredible desert singletrack accessible from a trailhead 200m from my front door, and the C4 trailhead is about 25 miles from here.  

When I'm being serious about training (or feeling sporting) I'll ride there, ride the loop, and ride home. When I'm feeling really sprint I'll try and keep up with the Flat Tire Bikes shop ride.  I have never kept up.  

The trail itself is incredible.  Every bit of the Sonoran desert you could ask for.  Big views, grand old Saguaro, tight twisty trails, rocks, wide open down hills, big climbs...it's got it all.

Best part about riding up there is getting to stop by the Flat Tire after the ride.  Have a beer at Local Johnny's, and just chill

here's the Strava for those who are interested.  I cut off a small part of the race loop, because I wanted to get that beer.

http://www.strava.com/activities/223273050/embed/2543280963b40b5a748bc805448e03a5e6516431

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

Moab -- The Whole Enchilada

Whole Enchilada

If you ride one trail in your life in Moab, this should be it.  Depending on time of year, and luck with the weather, you start the ride at 9000', 10000', or nearly 11000' and mostly descend all the way to Moab.  How do you get up there? Well, you take a van, and since we had the great services of Rim Tours, we had our Van!

There was a very very very short conversation about riding from Moab up to the start of the Whole Enchilada.  I did not even ask the entire question before I was asked (politely) to take my endurance monkey mouth and stick a beer in it.

The very top section of the ride -- Burro Pass and Hazard County -- were closed because of a snowstorm the weekend before we arrived.  So we started the Whole Enchilada ride from The top of Kokopelli's trail.  It looked like this:

Here's the view with 6 dudes in the way:

A trail marker, and map.  look closely the map says "Whole Enchilada".  I was hungry all day

Many many people have written descriptions of this ride.  Find them here, here, or many other places.  So, again, I won't try the inch by inch description.  

I will say that the ride is everything people say it is.  Huge views, huge exposure, all the technical terrain you can shake a stick at, single track, slick rock, alpine glades and desert rocks all on one trail.  

Things I learned on this ride:

• Pinion does not give-way like Palo Verde trees do
• A well set-up dual suspension bike will "roll" some seriously gnarly gnar
• Push-up position is really the best way to go downhill
• My friends are quite acrobatic and can execute summersaults over their handlebars 
• One of my friends is capable of breaking any bike he is on for more than one hour
• Utah really is an amazing place 

If I lived anywhere near Moab, I would start counting the number of times I road the Whole Enchilada in a year, and try and make that number as high as I could.  I would like to go bak and try to ride the entire loop...including the climb.

I did make this video mostly of me riding the Porcupine Rim section of the trail, plus some other stuff. 

Leadville 100 2014 -- Part 2

Riding Really Fast

I've done this once.  I have the hardware to prove it.  There's a lot of writing out there about the Leadville family, the draw of 10,200', the toughness of the  course, and the kindness of the competitors.  And you know, it's all true.

Once you have that 12-hour buckle, it looks big.  Then you see a big one.  The ones that they hand out for being one of the less than 20%ish that can get out and back in under 9 hours.  It is very shiny.  It is very pretty.  Once you have seen it, you must possess a Big Buckle.  

And so it was I came to Leadville in 2014.  Wanting a big buckle.  It would take a lot of luck to come in under 9, but if everything went perfectly, there was an outside chance I could pull it off.

The gun had just gone off, and 90 seconds of toe dabbing and scooting later I was going 25mph down 6th street.  Then I was going 30mph+.  Being very scared of the big crash, I stayed to the left, avoided getting into big bunches, and tried to make sure I always had an "out".  Sure enough, as we made the turn onto 9A for the final long downhill to the dirt, I heard the "BANG!" followed by crunching and scraping just to my right.  Someone had touched wheels at 30mph and gone down hard.  More pileups as heads swiveled around to look at the carnage, and one guy in front of me swerved right following his head around.  I kept my head up, and kept moving, as I figured at this stage (the "Neutral" roll out - HA! ) the downed rider would have no issues getting help.  

As we crossed the train tracks and hit the dirt I was feeling pretty strong. Riders were 3 wide on the dirt road, and sometimes the available line was not perfect.  I moved up whenever I could, tried hard to avoid getting stuck behind the slow guy, and focused on not crashing.  I succeeded, and as we crossed the cattle guard for the grind up St Kevins, I relaxed just a little bit. At least at 5-8mph, any crash was going to be more irritating than painful.

The St Kevins climb was uneventful, my legs felt good, and as I turned left onto the road I was able to power up the speed a bit. I told Marilee I loved her (Fatty says tell Merilee you love her, so I do.  Plus I really do love that lady) as I took the sharp right for the decent to the road.

I turned on to Turquoise Lake road for the long down hill, and I checked my computer.  55 minutes.  6 minutes faster than last year.  10% faster in fact.  Not bad Mr Bery, not bad at all.

Before the road really tipped down, I slurped down a GU (Lemonade Roctane -- YUMMY!  wish I had more than one, the rest were chocolate raspberry.  Chocolate raspberry you are good, but you are no lemonade) and took a swing from the bottle.  For those of you paying attention, you will look at the time I just mentioned, know I've gone about 10 miles, and thought about the number of calories I have so far consumed.  

The next climb up Turquoise Lake road, Hagermans Pass road, and the back side of Sugarloaf were where I planned to make up a lot of time.  I wanted to be 30 minutes faster than last year, possibly 45.   With the day as perfect as it was, and my legs feeling good, I figured it was a possibility, so I added a few gears, and looked for wheels to follow.  

Before I new it I was on the "trail" portion of the climb, and was pretty much alone.  It seemed I had climbed past the folks in the immediate vicinity, which meant I'd likely have a few minutes on the Powerline descent without someone breathing down my neck.  This was good, as I am not the world's fastest descender, and having someone over my shoulder makes me really nervous, mistake prone and slow.

There were only 2 places on Powerline I thought my day was over.  The first was near the top when the forest road-like trail is a little wider, and the dirt a little gabbier.  I had some good speed going and next thing I new I was airborne.  

I was airborne with my weight forward and my bike rotating to the front wheel.  My brain said only one thing, and my mouth said the same.  Starts with "F" rhymes with "Luck".  I said it loud.  Really loud.  And long.  You all know what I mean.

After what felt like a good 6 seconds in the air, but was likely closer to .6, my front wheel hit the ground, my jaws clanged together, and thanks to my Bonty XR2s (hooray Kaolin at the Flat Tire for telling me those are the best tires ever, and hooray Joey at Shadetree for getting them from Kaolin for me!), and a little luck, I kept rolling down Powerline.  

The next time I thought I was going to die was when there was another crash 2 bikes in front of me.  Poor guy had his wheel slip out into one of the massive ruts, and went right over the bars.  I already had both brakes grabbed hard, and my bike was going to keep going the speed it was going.  There were spectators there, so once again, I absolved myself of any guilt of not stopping and continued to move down Powerline's kitty litter covered surface as fast as I could.

I made it to the road breathing as hard as if I had been sprinting for 15 minutes instead of descending.  My heart rate was in the stratosphere -- that's how intense that descent is.  I looked at the computer.  2:00.  Not bad.  I was 30 minutes ahead of last year, but 15 minutes short of where I rally wanted to be for a comfortable sub-9.  Still feeling good, I figured I would push hard for the next 20 miles, and take some fitness risks while climbing Columbine to see if I could get back on pace.  

I managed to hold a few wheels on the way to Pipeline, though one really fast train passed that I could not grab onto.  The Pipeline to Twinlakes segment was again fast, but not nearly as fast as I wanted.  I came in to Twinlakes at 3:15.  Well off a sub-9 pace, but really, well on a very respectable pace.  10:00 or even 9:30 was well within reach.  No reason to back off and cruise through the next 60 miles...

My aid station crew was well prepped. Having done this once, they knew to swap bottles, make me eat a almond butter wrap, hand over a few GUs, and give me a bottle to chug.  Nice and fast -- great to have that awesome crew of my sister, mother, brother-in-law, and of course my 2.75 year old niece.  She really holds the entire crew together if you ask me.  

I saw in the next tent a really nice floor pump.  Remembering my tire was soft, I asked with some urgency and a whole lot of niceness if I could borrow the pump.  Connecting the pump the gauge showed I was down on the rear almost 10 pounds from ideal.  I wonder if that slowed me down?  I also noticed a serious lack of Randy's crew.  Seems there was a bit of a SNAFU on the food bag, and Randy's crew was conspicuously absent.  Hmmmm....walking a 1/2 marathon and leaving the food bag at the condo...a very interesting Leadville 100 strategy from Mr Gunzer I must say.

I clicked in, and headed out for the Columbine climb.  I had a lot of GU in my back pocket.  Really a lot for someone who was supposed to be eating 2 per hour, or at a minimum one every 45 minutes.  I also had the same 3 GUs taped to my top tube that I was supposed to eat early in traffic...

If you sense foreboding, you're right on track.  The climb to Columbine mine would be where I lost the eating contest.

Click here for part 3...
...Click here to go back to part 1

Whiskey Off Road 2014 part 2

Yes indeed, that steady rain was turning white, and as I made the right turn after the start line, it was snowing. 

The route has a lot of everything ... paved road, single track, dirt road, woods, desert.  To help with pacing and all I had the race ahead split into 6 parts.

1. Road climb out from the start. This is a 4.2 mile pavement climb.  It's pretty steep in spots. Key here is to go fast so you are not bottle necked on...
2. Forest single track. About 7 miles, mostly up. Top out around 6800'
3. Descent on trail 220 and forest road connector to copper basin road. Wicked downhill followed by a moderate climb before taking a left onto...
4. 9 mile descent to skull valley. It's great because you know you get to turn around and...
5. 11 mile HC climb to Sierra Pieretta overlook. Pain. 
6. Last 14 miles. Mostly descent from Sierra Pieretta, plus "cramp hill", water crossings and the road home.

I entered this race intending to go fast.  My previous 2 attempts were DNF.  Well, one "full" DNF with a busted derailleur hangar, and one "soft" DNF where I took a lot of aid on course from a marshall and a draft off of a 4-wheeler (I might have grabbed on a few times) to make it up the climb from Skull Valley.  That was 30 lbs ago...

I came in wanting to not only finish by perform.  Sub 5-hours, and hopefully sub 4:30.  The plan was to hammer the first climb full out, and pass as many people as I could.  The single track is always slow, with back ups from the technical sections, so there would be time to recover.  Keep pace through the single track climbs and downhill, then turn the gas on again from the bottom of trail 220 to the Copper Basin Road.  Assess the water situation, stop if needed, and drop the hammer for the descent.  

This plan would put me at the 25-mile turn around in 1:45-2:00.  I'd stop for water, then push hard for the 1:45-2:00 climb up to Sierra Pieretta.  From there, it's 14 fast miles to the finish, with only one 265' climb affectionately called "cramp hill" as an obstacle.  This section should take no more than 45 minutes.  Add it all up, and having a good day I'm home in 4:15.

While I figured I was not going to make my times in the weather, I still planned on a pretty good race.  It had been a tough couple weeks at work, and I had not been sleeping as much as I needed, but I still felt like I should do well.

With that in mind, I made the first turn about 100m from the start, and started passing people.  Despite the driving rain/snow the legs were responding, and I was indeed passing lots of people as we wound through a few neighborhood streets before the longish climb up the road before the real mountain biking began.  The road was quite slick, so I went into the corner very slowly, stayed upright and started climbing again.  Still feeling pretty good, I went for a bigger gear, and decided to stand up or really turn on the power for a minute or so at a time.  I flicked the lever adding a few gears looked down at the watch to check the HR, and....nothing.  Watch was dead.  Evidently it's water proof, but not very cold proof.  The temperature was dropping, I could see my breath and lots of steam coming off riders as the ground up the hill.  My watch was done.  No time, no HR, no speed for me.  Oh well, old school it was...

As I climbed, the rain turned to more snow and sleet with occasional hail. So that was cool.  I made it about 3/4 of the way up the climb really going for it, then had to back off.  The cold was taking it's toll, and I was starting to feel all over tired.  Shivering despite the goretex and the effort I was putting out, I sat up a bit as I hit the dirt road just before the start of the single track, knowing I would only pass one or two more folks before passing became impossible.

So part 1 went kind if as planned, but being really wet and shivering drained the energy. 

Part 2 was all about not dying.  Not running of the trail and down a cliff, not missing a turn and clobbering a rock face, not stopping and letting creeping hypothermia take over...and most important, not letting all the people I saw dropping out, huddling under space blankets, turning down road crossings to get home get to me.  

The snow was coming down hard, and ice was built up on the bars, down tube and rear triangle. I thought about taking a picture or two, but couldn't bring myself to drag the camera out...lots of steep ups with water bars to clear that are hard enough on a dry day...simply not possible for me in the ice and snow. 

There was an awesome moment where some folks had set up at some steep switchbacks. One of the people at the bottom would ask your name, then call up to their friends further up the slope. I got personalized cheers "go ro!" as I worked up the hill. 

Part 2 took a while. No idea how long because the watch was dead. 

Part 3 started when I crested the pass (which by the way is where I broke my hangar last year) and put my face right into a 30-40 mph wind with driving snow. 

Fortunately I was going down. 

Unfortunately it was narrow single track, my hands were frozen so it was tough to brake, and the wind kept trying to blow me off the trail.  

The descent wa a bit slow both from the weather and some significant traffic from other riders also trying Not To Die. 

As we descended, the snow turned to rain, and all the ice and snow on me melted...and I was just wet. 

The decent bottomed out where a forest road intersected the trail.  Some volunteers had started a large bonfire there, and lots of people were pulling over to warm up. I felt ok, so slugged down some food and drink, and kept the pedals turning towards Copper Basin Road. 

This is the only part of the race where I began to dispair. I did not have any pop in the legs to push up the moderate climb, my hands hurt, and my watch had come back  on. The watch said 2:10. I was behind my turn around time already, and I was 11 miles from the turn around!  Ugh. I felt like a turtle. I was passing people again, which gave me a little boost, but I started to hope that after the 1/2 mile steep climb to the road, I would find the coconino county sherif telling us the race was shortened...and I could just turn the pedals and be done in 90 more minutes. I was pretty done. As I climbed up to the road, the snow started again, and the wind kicked up. Pretty much the definition of suffering. 

Much to my simultaneous elation and disappointment the course was open, I had plenty of water, and I turned left towards Skull Valley for part 4...

9 miles down. Average 6% grade, sometimes as much as 15%. Talk about a speed fest!  Unless there's a 40mph headwind. And hail. And the wind is picking up the dirt from the road and throwing it in your face. 

Yes, it was hailing dirt. 

As I rolled downhill picking up speed wherever I could, I was literally being blown around the road. About 1/2 way down the leaders appeared on the left side of the road making their way up the climb from the turn around. My spirits were lifted a bit, as 2 years ago I had seen the leaders much earlier in the ride...even though I felt slow, I was still doing ok I figured 

About a mile from the turn around, the sun came out. Now it was bright and sunny...Arizona sun heating up my cold, wet self. 

At the turn around, an awesome volunteer filled my camelbak as my hands were too numb to open the thing. I asked her what time it was. 1030. Damn. 3 hours. I wanted to be here in 1:45-2:00. So the finish time goal was out of the question...but I decided to finish strong. The legs were coming back, and I could feel my hands again. It had to get better...besides being able to feel my hands and legs, what else did I want?  Only 25 miles to go!  

I downed a couple gels and some water, and started up part 5. 

11 mile 6% average 15% In places 3700' Hors Categorie climb. 

Believe it or not, this is where everything got much, much better. 

Fat Tire 40ish Pics

Race report is coming...in the meantime pics before and after the crashes

Photogs that make me look fast are my heroes

Hammering Home

"Rohit Bery earning his glass....crumpled number and soil samples, but he brought it home.  The Keg is tapped Rohit"

Good announcer

Game on

Acquired a new go-fast machine yesterday.  Carbon hard tail. Carbon wheels, carbon fork. Carbon post and bars.  Damn. 

Feather light, whippet quick in the corners and a goat on the climbs. Slower than the full suss on the descents, but more precise steering and flick-ability of the rear means I'm not getting beat up even in the big rocks. 

Race season is going to be fun