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

The Tyranny of Expectations

Bikes are fun.  Riding bikes is more fun.  Racing bikes is really fun. If you are stubborn, like me, and ride and race long enough, eventually you start thinking you might actually be good at it.

So as races approach on the calendar (why did you sign up? because of this) you start to look at historical results.  You look at the cut-offs.  2 hours?  3 hours?  8, 9, 10?  What's possible on this course?  Do you recognize a name on the results sheet?  Can you be as fast as that person?  You wonder if this racer who made it around the course in "under X" has a Strava account? Maybe you can compare what they rode to what you rode on a  similar segment.  (This is where Strava is truly evil by the way...makes it so easy to be soooo overt analytical about a ride). 

Since very few people ever get to stand on a podium, the cut-off for "sub-whatever" becomes really important. Sometimes there's a trophy (Leadville buckles...) and sometimes there's a tangible incentive like a finisher's medal or a entry into another race, and sometimes (mostly) it's just bragging rights (any chance someone will beat Conrad at Iceman this year?  No? Ok, how about sub 2:15, or sub 2:00?)

So one goes through all of this math and posing and trash talking about how many beers were or were not drunk in the weeks preceding the event, and through that process a time gets in your head. 

That time represents an expectation of performance. And because you entered a race, it matters. 

So you work hard. You eat right. You train properly.  You wake up and strap a light on the handlebars at 4am. You follow rule 5. You convince yourself that you are hard as a nail and have the capacity to suffer. 

And you begin to tell yourself the lie that you are fast. 

Now the expectation grows. 

That expectation grows and grows until you're (politely) elbowing for a position at the start line. And it grows through the start, through the gun, and it grows as you make the first turn and climb faster than you even believed you might. Oh my god!  You're flying you are A CYCLING GOD!  THE JENSIE COULD NOT CATCH YOU!

And then you cross a mile marker and you look at the clock. You're not as fast as you thought.  You're behind your goal time. You better work. 

And now the race is a little less fun. Because you are working. Hard. Then you remember rule 10.  You start to feel better.

Soon, you're in a little bit of a panic. Will you make your time?  Will you beat your friends? 

The clock only goes in one direction and that average speed is annoyingly refusing to move closer to what you need to achieve your expectation of sub- SOMETHING....

You begin to think. 

Will your family be willing to wait for you at the finish or will you need to bum a ride from someone because you have just become so daaaaaamn slow there won't even be any beer or bacon left when your slug of a marshmallow soft body drags this carbon fiber racing bike you don't deserve over the line?!?

The expectation is shattered. You're not fast. You're not that hard. You're not even sure why you put a number plate on your bars.

But you're in a race. You're not on a ride. You are racing. 

So you keep going.

And eventually, after a bit more suffering. A bit more humility of being passed by a flabby dude or chick on some POS steel machine a bit more elation of passing some on with an IM tattoo, and you cross the line.  

You didn't make sub- whatever. You did likely make the final cutoff. And if you're me, you were doing this in the mountains, in some amazing scenery, with some great friends. And someone has a beer. And it's for you. 

But for all that, you're still disappointed. You had that expectation. You fell for the lie all racers tell themselves, and now it's eating at you. 

After you finish your beer, hose off the bike, hug your friends and kiss the family, reminding yourself how lucky you are to have a spouse and kids willing to let you put on silly outfits and shoes that are too tight to play in the mountains regularly, There's really only one thing to do to fight he tyranny of the expectation. 

Enter another race. 

Group Rides

I Do Not Like Group Rides

I do not like them sam I am

I do not like them on the road

I do like like them with a toad

I do not like them when they are fast

I do not like them when they last and last

I do not like them around the block

I do not like them without socks

I do not like group rides

I do not like them, sam I am

I do not like being dropped

I do not like belong flopped

I do not like dropping riders

I do not like awaiting hiders

Not a fan.  I like riding with friends.  I LOVE riding with friends, but I do not like group rides. I like the idea of the shop ride, building relationships, hanging out with everyone that makes the local bike community the awesome group it is, I just don' tike the pressure of the group ride.

Strangely enough, I like to race

Just and odd bird I guess

 

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. 

Moab

Moab, Utah. 

If you ride a mountain bike, you have heard of it. You have dreamed of it. A place so legendary bike companies name models after the town, and the trails. 

White Rim. Porcupine Rim. Amasa Back. Back of Beyond. Burro Pass. Kokopelli's. Gold Bar.  Slickrock. Hazard County. Portal. Behind the Rocks. Poison Spider.  

Every one of those trails is on a mountain bikers bucket list, and that's about 10% of what's there.  Mountain biking may have been invented on the Repack on Marin, but it's heart is on Moab. Sure, the new school guys are all in Whistler, Vancouver, Revelstoke, Ft William, and other lift served parks. But all still hear the call of Kokopellis flute. 

For me the call is strong. 20 years ago I scraped some money together, signed up with a guide company I found in the back of Bicycling magazine (20 years ago one did not simply Google anything...) and rode the White Rim Trail over 4 days with 3 nights of camping.   I have wanted to go back ever since. 

Finally, through a combination of luck, persuasion and incredibly accommodating families, the stars aligned, and for three days in May, we rode Moab.  Me and five friends spent 3 days and 4 nights riding, drinking beers, talking about riding...drinking whiskey...eating..and that's about it. If you look at pictures, you can see me with a massive stupid grin in every single one. Why?  I was in Moab. On a mountain bike.

Here's an example of the silly grin:

Moab sits at about 4000' flanked by the Colorado and Green rivers to the north and west, and the 11400' Lasalle mountains to the South and East. Snow caps on one side, desert cactus to the other. You get to ride from Alpine glades to the desert floor in one go.  Did I mention it's awesome?

Once we had the trip dates locked in, it was time to figure out what trails to ride.   I really wanted to ride White Rim in One Day.  I proposed this to my riding companions, and there was a healthy debate.  (I am lying.  The debate went something like this): 
   
  Me:  "hey, how about we ride White Rim in one day"
   Friend 1:  "uh, no". 
   Me: "really, it's one of those rides.  It's life defining"
   Friend 2:  "uh...have fun, I have enough definition in my life"
   Me:  "it'll be a great way to motivate ourselves to get in shape over the winter"
   Friend 3: "no"
   me:  "but...there's all--"
   Friend 1:  "no"

That settled, we decided to ride the Magnificent 7, Whole Enchilada and Amasa Back.  I will now attempt to describe riding these trails with my limited writing skills.  I apologize in advance

The day before the riding started, we took a drive out to Mussleman arch while awaiting the later arrivals.  The three guys I drove out there had never been to Moab. It was like being at a fireworks show.  Oohs and Aahs...and wows never stopped.  Obligatory Mussleman and White Rim Road pics:

Mag 7

The Magnificent 7 trails sit on a mesa above Moab and Canyonlands national park near the Gemini Bridges arches.  The system is mostly desert rock, sandstone looking slabs that provide enormous grip for any kind of mountain bike tire.  Riding them is a bit dangerous, because you keep looking up at the LaSalle mountains above or the Colorado river below.  Trouble is, look around like that too much and you put your wheel in a rock.  ouch.

We spent about 2/3 of a day riding these trails, taking pictures, and getting used to our rental bikes.  Our guide from Rim Tours, Dave,  was probably very sad to be stuck with us for 6 hours of riding.  Dave did an amazing job showing us lines, routes, views.  For those in the group unfamiliar to desert-like riding (not me...I'm lucky enough to live 200m from a tailhead with access to 40 miles of desert singletrack) he showed us how to set up the bikes, clear rocks, and generally not break Rim Tours rental bikes.  While his instructions were good, Dave eminently failed on the last point, as we managed to break stuff anyway.

There's about 100 descriptions fo these trails online, so I won't attempt to describe them inch by inch.  These trails really are all they are cracked up to be.  Actual singletrack in addition to slickrock.  Exposures, tricky moves, tough but not insane climbs...really could not ask for a better set of trails.

Our group also shook out interestingly during the day.  Discovered Dave (not the guide) is a heck of a lot faster than he claims, Conrad has even more endurance than we thought, and a few of the group are really scared riding anywhere near a cliff edge.  And a few of the group are scared riding next to Cliff.  Some of us also did not spend a whole lot time getting in shape for the trip, and some of us got in shape for the trip by riding our brains out since January. 

We also discovered what a great time we were having!  Phones were not really used except to figure out if Strava was working.  Anxiety over being "in shape" for Moab was lost -- what we were riding was a whole lot of fun, not a whole lot of lung busting.  You can tell because even in all the pictures, everyone has a gin on their face.  Maybe not as big as the grin on my face, but a pretty big grin nonetheless.

I like this trail sign

Mountains, Trail, Canyon...and a ton of fun

This post was intended to be all about the Moab trip. I got through part of day 1, and finally decided to post it. Will do the other days soon. 

Why Leadville?

I've been thinking about a post-script on Leadville 2014. Trying to wrestle the ups and downs, and trying to put in my own words "why Leadville"?

This.  This is why Leadville. 

http://suncrestdug.wordpress.com/2009/08/17/the-saddest-sight-in-the-world/

Leadville 100 2014 -- Part 4. Of Joys and Expectations.

Loneliness

A strange things happens at Leadville.  You spend the first 60 miles riding with people.  Lots of people.  So many people you're often jammed into a bad line, or stuck behind some slow guy or you're the slow guy that some fast guy is stuck behind. You come down from Columbine (where you've been riding for about 2.5 hours in 2-way traffic), and you pass through 3 full crew areas.  There's a lot of cheering, people pick up something about your kit and call you out.  For me this year it was "Way to go Lifetime!" Because my kit was a big ole Lifetime billboard:

Lifetime Fitness Race Kit.  Price of Entry for 2014

I also got the "Go Bahram"!  I am not Bahram Akradi.  I am not the CEO of Lifetime Fitness.  However, it is a fact that this is a white sport.  Really white.  Like whiter than that kit white.  (There will be a post later on the ill-advisedness of a white mountain bike kit...but that's a different story).  So, if you're a dark skinned guy in a Lifetime Kit at the LT100 in a helmet and sunglasses, people are going to think you're Bahram Akradi.  I offer the pics below.  Be your own judge.

Your Hero

Bahram and Someone Else

Shockingly I have digressed

When you come through the 3 crew areas at TwinLakes and its really pretty amazing.  Screaming, cheering, your own crew (hopefully), and cowbell.  Lots and lots of cowbell.  Cowebells are really one of my favorite sounds, and I am not kidding.

Then, you cross the highway where all kinds of cars are stopped for your passage (yes, Colorado state troopers stopping traffic for YOU Mr or Ms Leadville rider!) up a little hill and you're alone. Your bike is pointed downhill-ish, you can see Highway 24 off to the right, and in front of you in the distance you can see the mountains you have to go over before getting back to Leadville.  And strangely, you're mostly alone.  There's sometimes another rider ahead as a carrot, or some guy with an "L" for "Leadman" on his number plate passing you while eating a sandwich and talking on the phone discussing his next day's 45 mile cool down run, but mostly you're alone.  

On these miles I pushed hard.  I wanted that 10:XX next to my name.  I had refueled on the way down from Columbine, and surely my guts would have processed some of those calories by now.  I found I had some power.  Not huge power, but enough to keep the speed around 12-15mph -- mostly into a headwind.  I kept eating and drinking hoping to put enough juice in the legs for the Powerline and Turquoise Lake/Kevins climbs.  

Friends

I came into the pipeline aid station at 7:30.  I had ridden the Twin Lakes to Pipeline section in the pace I wanted for my 9 hour pipe dream -- this was awesome.  As I pulled up to the aid tent to refill the bottles and GU (yes, I ate a few in the last hour), I got a slap on the back and a "hey!!"  It was my friend Trina from Scottsdale!  She was at the race with her dad supporting their friend on his way to a sub-9 singlespeed finish, and they were hanging around waiting for us as their duties to fast racers were done.  It was great to see a friend who helped get my bottles filled and gave me a few words of encouragement for the miles to the finish.

I got rolling out of Pipeline with a few other riders, but I dropped them on the dirt trail not the way to Half-Moon lake road.  So much for having people to draft with!  When I made the left onto the road, the wind hit me full in the face.  Last year I was going about 8mph on this section.  This year I was going faster, but I was definitely hurting myself to do so.  I was very happy when a fast train pulled up behind me.  As the last rider of about 10 went by I stomped on the pedals and sprinted to catch their draft.  For about 1/2 the run down this windy, soul crushing stretch, I was able to sit on the back of this paceline before they dropped me.  It was all I needed to keep the pace up, and keep my spirits up before the Powerline climb.  I found a couple other guys to work with for the mile up to Outward bound, then it was the left turn onto the Powerline climb itself. 8 hours according to my watch.  a 10:30 or even a 10:00 was a possibility.  Things were looking up -- thanks to the nameless friends who paced me on the road from pipeline.

Just like everyone else, I ground out the first several hundred meters, then dismounted for the slog up the really steep face.  I had been alone for so many miles, all of a sudden, it was a traffic jam again!  Just another strange feature of the race...

Laurel as the Devil

After a few pitches, I was alone (again...so weird), focused on my front knobby and I heard a voice, "heeeeyyyyy....look at that guy in the cute outfit".  It was Bill Simmons.  I have made a lot of fun of Bill (a very handsome man) for attempting to look cool on his MTB and looking silly. He returned the favor - in spades.  Also there on the powerline was the Devil.  Yes it was Laurel Darren dressed as the devil....TdF style.

Bill the Handsome Man (and Laurel)
Don't let the smile fool you.
He has pink Handlebars

I was pretty tired of pushing my bike at this point...actually.  I was just tired, and hugs from Laurel and Bill for me moving again.  Once again, I had friends on a very lonely part of the LT100.

Wheels Off

I made it to the little flat and downhill to commence the real climb.  I accelerated on the downhill with the full intention of hammering the 2.7 miles to the top.  Run across the hot coals, don't walk.  Make the pain go quick.  That was the plan.  Then all the calories I had downed to reduce the calorie defect from not eating the first few hours caught up with me.  My stomach was turning trying to deal with the untold amount of sugar I had dumped into it, and I felt like the best thing to do would be to stick my finger down my throat and spend the next few minutes puking.  But I did not.  I kept moving.  Mostly.  I also mostly walked.  

I did not run across the hot coals.  I crawled across them.  Army style.  

Powerline climb just stunk.  I knew it would be hard, but it took almost 50 minutes to claw my way up the 2.7 miles to the top.  I was back in the dark place...and again, mostly alone.

One saving grace...I never really cramped.  Here or on Columbine.  A few twinges of tightening in the quads and calves, but nothing that could not be worked out.  

I made my way down Sugarloaf/Hagermans pass as fast as I dared.  The Hagerman's pass road is smooth, wide, and just begging for a tuck.  I did not do that, rather choosing to spin the legs and try and get any lactic acid out before attacking Turquoise Lake road.

Riding with Legends

The climb to the Carter aid seemed interminable, but it was do-able.  I made it up there at 10:00.  No way for a 10:something.  I would settle for 11:something.  My stomach had recovered (again) at the aid station, and it wanted salt.  So I gave it a lot of potato chips.  Then it wanted coke.  So I drank one.  And another.  And a third.  Loaded up with water for the final push home, I kicked off from the aid station right behind some Ride 2 Recovery vets.  Legends and Heroes.

On the final steep pitch before the St Kevins descent, I caught Jillene of Fat Cyclist fame.  Legend.

As the St Kevins road turned sharply down I caught Ricky McDonald.  21 time Leadville 100 MTB finisher.  Legend.

On the Boulevard I caught Art Flemming.  70 something years old.  11 time finisher.  Michigan Mountain Biking Hall of Fame inductee.  Legend.

I crossed the line Ken Chlouber whacked me with one of his big mits and said "Great to see you again - welcome home!" Legend.

I got a big hug and my finishers medal from Abby Long, a LRS staffer and a woman I have come to respect for for commitment to the legend...

I had another Leadville Buckle.  I was welcomed home to Leadville by Ken Chlouber himself.  My disappointment of not meeting my expectations was washed away with the joy that comes from riding that red carpet, and coming home to Leadville.  

And the best part? I get to do it all again next year.

See you in Leadville.