2016 Chequamegon 40

The rain through the summer in northern Wisconsin made the Chequamegon course wet.  The race organizers announced the course would be changed slightly to reroute a section off the Birky trail.  This was the same route as was used in 2014 when rain and storms forced a reroute.  Based on this information I knew a sub-2.5 hour race was possible (based on my 2014 finish), but also knew a wet trail could be slower (as was the case in 2015).

On Friday, after we were settled in the condo, we completed our mandatory pre-ride of the last 5 miles of the course.  We found the course wet, but it did not feel slow.  There were a few drops of wet mud which flicked up, but nothing overly concerning.

I was excited because this was the first Chequamegon on my new Trek ProCaliber bike.  I was upgrading to 29 inch wheels, no rear suspension, only a double chain ring, all at about one and a half pounds lighter than my old bike.  I was excited to see how my back – and entire body would hold up without rear suspension on the rough Chequamegon course.

The forecast for race time on Saturday called for a slight chance of rain, with the chance of rain increasing in the afternoon.  The roads were dry at the start and the temperature was in the high 50’s.  I was thinking at the start, the conditions were perfect for a good mountain bike race.

The first few miles are always a very nervous time for me as we are packed handlebar to handlebar across the hard surface road and the speed is high.  I always try to draft off other safe riders all the way to Rosie’s field where we say good-bye to the hard surface.  However, the start was uneventful, I saw no crashes as we made our way through Hayward. 

As we began riding the trail I learned it was slightly soft and fairly muddy.  Even in dry years the Chequamegon 40 course has puddles, many which stretch from side-to-side.  I was working to stay out of the muddy water but these lines were adding a few seconds with each puddle.  As the race continued I began to notice the dirt on the exit side of the puddles was getting saturated.  It was getting more difficult to control your bike if you were trying to change direction in the slightest.  I also noticed my glasses were getting quite splattered making it difficult to pick a fast line every time I was in low light.

Shortly before the OO crossing I caught up to Jeff.  As we crossed the blacktop I saw Jeff pull off.  He had picked up a stick in his rear derailleur and needed to pull it out.  I said something as I passed him, but he was talking to a spectator and did not hear me.  It did not feel right to overtake him in this fashion, but racing is racing.

I needed fresh glasses badly, but I did not send anything but lenses worthy of a sunny day with my great support crew.  I decided I was better off with the glasses I had.  I grabbed a fresh bottle without stopping and continued on my way for the remaining 24 miles.

The trail conditions became the main obstacle through the rest of the race.  I successfully completed so many two wheel slides I began to expect one as I exited each puddle or wet section.  I am sure my speed was not as high as it could have been because I was a bit tentative in anticipation of slippery conditions.  Around mile 25 I decided my glasses were limiting my ability to see in low-light conditions and subsequently my speed for large sections of the course.  On a flat section I put my glasses on my helmet and decided I could see much better.  Within a couple minutes my right eye received a splatter of mud causing me to ride with one eye and blink quite a bit.  I eventually recovered and was able to raise my speed.

The Fire Tower climb was crowded as normal.  I shifted to my smallest chain ring so I could maintain a high cadence no matter how low my speed would get.  Frequently riders will bobble causing riders behind them to adjust their speed or stop.  If you are unable to slow, yet maintain an adequate cadence, you will also be off your bike and forced to walk.  Walking is not horrible, but it burns more energy per minute and is slower than riding.  My formula for successfully climbing Fire Tower is to maintain a one to two bike length cushion between myself and the next rider ahead to provide time to adjust to mistakes made ahead of me.  There is clearly a best line to the top.  There are other lines, but they are more rock and root covered with a higher chance of spinning out and being forced to walk.

I made it to the top, but was forced to stop once.  I was able to remount and start pedaling again, so the time loss was minimal.  At the top I was tired, but still feeling good.  I gave the spectators a small wheelie which made them erupt in cheering.  Making it over Fire Tower climb is a big milestone for several reasons.  The first reason; there are 10 miles remaining, time to go harder if you have anything left.  Another reason, this is the last big climb of the race.  Lastly, there is a long rocky downhill over the top, so you have to work to get a drink.

In a few miles there is a very loose right turn where you join the Short and Fat course.  This is the part of the course I pre-ride every year, so I know it well.  It also contains a long fast downhill which is fun.  There are a few rolling hills and then you turn left onto a gravel road.  This road also contains quite a bit of downhill, so it feels fast as well.  When you make the right turn off gravel back onto forest service double track you know there are only a couple miles remaining.  You also know this section contains several uphill sections which feel slow.  I am usually going as hard as I can and flirting with muscle exhaustion cramps.  I normally pass riders who are totally blown and rarely get passed.  Quite likely, I save too much for the last 10 miles.

There was a group cheering riders on the last hill while I was out of the saddle pushing as hard as I could.  My effort was rewarded with cheers from the crowd.  I heard someone say something about me not being dirty.  I was not paying attention, but was surprised to hear this comment because I could not see through my glasses since about mile 25.

 

I pushed my tired legs all the way to the finish.  As I rolled across the finish line I was tired but relieved.  My finish time was 2:39:25  This was slower than my goal, but (I was trying to tell myself) not bad considering the conditions.  As I was trying to reconcile my feelings of disappointment I saw Jeff roll across the finish line not far behind me.  I was happy for Jeff, but still not happy with my performance.  After eating several donut holes and banana halves, I began to come to terms with my finish time.  Jeff took the opportunity to go and print out our results.  To my surprise, my results showed I finished 9^th in my age group.  This is the highest I have ever finished in my age group, and the first time I have competed in the 55-59 age group.  Apparently, growing older has a few perks in bike racing, if you are still able to throw your leg over the top tube.

Brad and Jeff at the finish.

2016 24 Hours of Cumming

First, let me describe the race format.  The 24 Hours of Cumming is not the standard 24 hour race, where the winner is the racer who completes the most laps or distance and is declared the winner.  The 24 Hours of Cumming consists of four unique 100k (62 mile) loops.  There are divisions for 100k, 200k and 400k solo as well as 2 and 4 person 400k relay teams.  The 100k race seems a little short for me, the 400k solo is too long for my fitness and ability.  I have been part of a two person relay twice in the past with good success, but decided to try a four person relay this year for something new and different.

Our team discussed and debated at length the order which each of us would ride a loop.  We eventually decided on me being the first rider because there were two sections of “B road” and I was riding a mountain bike (good mud clearance) with mountain bike width tires (float over mud better).  We decided to have Shawna ride the second loop because it contained no “B road” and this loop would be ridden in the daylight.  Matt and Trevor were fine with the dark loops so we decided Trevor would ride the third loop and Matt would ride the last loop.  I decided to ride loop two with Shawna in case she needed something (navigation, mechanical, encouragement or hydration).

We arrived at the venue (Cumming Tap) for check-in and were able to learn there were five total four person teams (three from Kansas).  In years past there had been very few teams, so it was good to have some competition.

The race was started on-time at 11:00 AM in perfect weather.  There had been quite a bit of rain in the week leading up to the race so everyone was expecting the “B road” to be muddy and unrideable.  My goal was to ride competitively, but within my abilities.  I wanted to leave something in the tank for loop two.  My plan was to conserve energy whenever possible.  Initially I was able to stay at the back of a couple small groups to draft.  The pace felt comfortable, but fast.  I asked a person I was riding with and he indicated our average speed was greater than 18 mph (too fast for a 200k or 400k race).  I was sure there were racers ahead of us, but did not know how many (not that it mattered).

I was anticipating the “B road” and dreading the need to walk / run the mile of mud.  Much to my surprise, I was able to ride the first part of the road.  The last time I road loop one there was a big puddle of mud and water about a half mile in.  I was very surprised to find the puddle missing, the first “B road” was 100% rideable.  At this point in the loop I was riding by myself and questioning if my pace was too high.

The second “B road” was only a few miles from the first.  I remembered the lead up and was thinking it could be worse than the first.  I was happy to find it with puddles and ruts, but again, 100% rideable.  Now the goal was to get to the finish without blowing up.  As I was watching my pace I could see I would finish the loop before the time I told Shawna to be ready, by 15 minutes.  I decided I needed to let her know and thought a text message would be best.  At 40 miles in I got my phone out and tried to unlock the screen and open the text application, but I could not get this done while bouncing along on the gravel.  I decided the benefit was worth the time to stop and text, so I did.  I had been riding ¼ mile behind another racer on a singlespeed bike for several miles and knew stopping would mean I would not likely see him again. 

I had the text sent in 30 seconds and was on my way.  The rider ahead of me was now ½ mile ahead, no chance of catching him again.  As I was about to cross highway 92, I saw two riders turn off the hard surface and rejoin the gravel route.  They were not very far ahead of me but were lost or had taken a detour to get liquids.  I tried to pick up the pace, but again I did not want to spend too much energy.   After the first turn I could see we were catching the racer who pulled away when I was texting.  If we could all get together, and work together, we would be much faster.  I was fading slightly and was not able to join any of the other racers all the way to the end of the loop.  We all arrived at the finish within two minutes of the same time. 

As I was finishing the loop I was composing a list of items I wanted to complete before going out on loop two.  There was such a rush to get ready to ride.  I completed most of the important items, but did forget a couple small items.  Within a few minutes Shawna and I headed out on loop two.  I quickly found myself working hard to stay with Shawna.  I knew I would need time to warm back up and Shawna would be fast at the start, so I thought the situation would take care of itself.  I was able to ride faster after a few minutes, but I was concerned I was holding her back, and I was likely to slow throughout the rest of the loop.

We were riding with a strong 400k solo racer (Larry) and working together to hide from the wind.  We passed a couple 200k solo racers and were eventually joined by the singlespeed racer.  At some point we were overtaken by a vehicle and Shawna started telling me one of her contacts was having problems in the dust.  She blinked the problem away without stopping.

We came to a large downhill with an immediate uphill about 15 miles into the loop.  I was ahead of Shawna at the top and my Joule GPS was signaling a left turn.  Shawna’s GPS device had been telling her to turn in the middle of each intersection, so I started to turn to signal the correct turn.  We were going slowly through the corner as I pulled alongside Shawna.  At that moment she hit a washout rut in the road at an angle and started to lean (or maybe fall) my direction.  For some reason all I could think to do was put out my hand in an attempt to push her back upright.  Because I was slightly ahead of her my hand found its way to her handlebars.  Luckily, my ineffective push connected with her GPS device which simply rotated on her handlebars.  I am sure we did not actually bump into each other, and by some miracle we both stayed upright.  Through the entire 2-3 second incident Shawna was saying something like “Oh crap!”  When we were safely separated and the shock of the near miss was starting to set in Shawna said, “I think I am going to throw up!”  We both had a good laugh which helped keep my mind off my tired legs.

At about 25 miles into the loop Shawna, Larry and the singlespeeder got ahead of me on a long climb.  I was giving all my tired legs would give, but was fading further.  I was so dehydrated I was starting to have difficulty eating (not enough saliva to chew up a bar).  I knew my situation was getting worse.  I needed to convince Shawna to go on without me.  The main reasons I was riding was to help with navigation, provide mechanical support if any was needed and for moral.  If she could stay with the other riders (which seemed to be possible) she would get help with navigation.  If she had a flat or other mechanical issue, I would eventually come along to help.  Having her ride on was the best option for the team.

I eventually convinced her to ride on and she was off to catch her new buddies.  I tried to settle into a sustainable pace so I could finish the loop.  While I was dehydrated and thirsty, I tried to ration my fluids so I would have something to drink through the remainder of the loop.  At about mile 45 I began to develop a stomach ache.  I knew this was one symptom of dehydration and tried to stay on my pace (fluids and speed).

As I began to see familiar landmarks indicating I was nearing the end of the loop I noticed a racer ahead in the distance.  I also noticed my stomach was beginning to feel a bit better.  I began to think I was catching the rider ahead, but was very cautious with my pace.  With about two miles to go I did catch the racer ahead of me.  I asked him if he was Ok as I passed him.  He indicated he was fine so I pushed on.  He looked to me like a solo 200k racer, however I am not sure what characteristics a solo 200k racer might have.

As I started up the last straight flat gravel road leading to the finish line I noticed the sun was still visible in the sky.  I was wondering how far Shawna was ahead of me and how Trevor, the third racer for our team was doing.  I thought he should be able to complete roughly an hour of his loop in daylight.

I pulled into the Wrecked’em camp and continued to drink and eventually started eating.  I learned Shawna had finished the loop about 20 minutes ahead of me and without incident.  I was even more convinced it was the right thing for her to ride on.  Shawna found her contact towards the back of her eye, so she was racing with mono-vision for most of the loop. 

We all had a fun fireside chat (minus the fire) as Matt was starting to get ready to ride the final loop.  To pass the time we studied the four person team standings.  We were in second place by around an hour, but the third place team was less than 30 minutes behind us.  Unless there was a mechanical or a crash it was unlikely we were going to catch the first place team.  We did need to ride well and without incident to stay ahead of the third place team. 

Around 11:30 PM Trevor rolled across the finish line to send Matt off into the darkness.  Trevor’s loop was uneventful, but he did mention he was singing to himself to pass the time.  This signaled the end of the fire side chat as there was not much going on in the Wrecked’em camp until Matt returned around four hours later.  If Matt had an incident he could reach me by cell phone which would work fine if my eyes were closed while I was in my tent. 

Matt rolled in from his uneventful loop around 4:10 AM.  He texted me his status and confirmed we finished in second place.  He decided to drive on home to try to get some rest.  I decided I did not need to get up and rolled over to sleep into the morning as much as possible.  By 6:00 I could not sleep any longer and started to break camp.  Everything was wet so it all got stuffed into my trunk.  I drove to the Wrecked’em camp and started putting things into my truck in the proper sequence.  Steve, the race director, stopped over and confirmed our placing.  We had things packed up and were on the road shortly.

Other than my dehydration issues on loop two, the race went well for our team.  In some ways a race without any notable events is boring, and makes for boring blog entries.  However, a race with too many significant hurdles to overcome makes racing very difficult.  I suppose life is like this as well, some days are routine and some days are full of challenges.  Too many of either makes life boring.  We need variety to keep us healthy.

2016 Leadville Silver Rush 50

The only other time I raced the Leadville Silver Rush 50 (SR 50) was in 2011.  I vowed I would never race it again because it is so hard and does not suit my skills.  The SR 50 is like the Leadville Trail 100, except there are no flat sections.  In the SR 50, we started at the elevation of Leadville (10,150) and climbed above tree line three times on the way to the turn-around, and three times on the way back.  If you weren’t trudging foot over foot on the way up (because there were too many rocks and it was too steep), you were trying to bomb down a steep rocky descent.

In 2011, we drove from Newton to Frisco (west of Denver) on Friday, and I raced on Saturday.  This year my work schedule had me in Denver for a meeting on Wednesday and Thursday.  We stayed with friends and hiked in Rocky Mountain National park on Friday.  We drove to Leadville Friday afternoon and checked in to the race.  We met Matt and Sandy at High Mountain Pies for a pizza and to catch up.  Matt was driving out and was hauling my bike and a bit of gear.  The fact we would get a chance to hang out in Leadville with Matt and Sandy and they were willing to haul my bike were the main reasons I broke my vow to never race the SR 50 again.

I was expecting my new lighter bike to provide a benefit on the steep climbs.  I checked my time in 2011 from the application I use to download data from my Joule GPS cycling computer and saw 5:29 recorded for 2011.  My goal is to improve my time from year to year, even though I get a year older each year.

The low the night before the race was 47, but by race time it had warmed to above 60.  This is truly mountain weather.  Skies were bright blue, there was no chance for rain in the forecast.   The weather looked perfect.

The race starts with a 100 yard very steep climb.  It is so steep no one is able to ride it.  There is a prize for the first male and female to the top.  Everyone else tries to catch their breath in the tight dusty trail which starts just after the ascent.  On a short tight descent Jeff went flying by me with a polite hello.  I was very surprised I made it to the top of the foot hill ahead of Jeff. 

Matt, Brad and Jeff at the start line before climbing the first hill.

Within 20 – 30 minutes the first long climb starts.  This climb will take me 1.5 hours and top out over tree line.  The climb was hard, but I felt as good as I expected.  I still had not seen Matt, and was thinking I may be ahead of one other flatlander.  Once at the top there is a wide gravel road descent with patches of exposed rocks.  Matt (and what seemed like everyone else) flew by me on the descent.

On the third climb above tree line I started meeting the leaders on their way back.  Once over the top, the descent is very steep, rutted and rocky.  I was trying hard to ride because I knew riding was several times faster than walking.  There were a couple times I nearly crashed as I was descending, but was able to pull it together.

As the descent started to flatten out I knew we were nearing the turn-around where I would see Jenni and get two full bottles.  There was something a bit different about the route at the turn-around, but soon I was able to stop and grab fresh bottles because I had drained both in the three hours it had taken me to get to the turn-around.  In my foggy mind I was able to complete the simple math to subtract 3 hours from 5 and one half hours to get to two and one half hours remaining.  I felt a sense of ease because I was past halfway from a time standpoint.   How bad could the remaining race time be?

As I was climbing a slight grade I encountered a car on the mountain road.  The car was actually on the course and was pulled over to yield to oncoming riders.  Because the car was taking up over half the course I could not pass.  Luckily, it started moving quickly and pulled off so I could safely pass. 

I knew the climb back up the first big mountain pass was steep from my recent descent.  I was very tired and likely dehydrated.  I rode as far as I could, but was forced to walk to the top.  It was a long distance and quite steep.  It felt like it took over an hour.  I even stopped a couple times to rest my body and get my breath.  I noticed a couple times my PowerTap Joule cycling computer had gone to sleep because I was moving so slow.  It is hard to believe pushing a 21 pound bike while walking uphill can be so tiring for your entire body.  Maybe being at 11,000+ feet of elevation has something to do with it.  At least the view was spectacular!

One of the spectacular views on the way back down to Leadville.

Each climb on the way back was difficult.  I finally came to the last long climb up a wide gravel road.  I knew it was long, but I thought it would not be so steep.  I started grinding up this climb and tried to get into a good rhythm.  There was no shade in sight and I was going through my fluids.  With each twist in the road I would discover I was not at the top.  Finally, I made the last corner and could see the top.  It had flattened out some, but since I was above tree line, there was no going fast.  I made the turn to start down the long descent without walking any of the gravel road.  Now to bomb down the several mile descent without crashing or flatting.

I made it down the descent to a flat section near the finish.  Several racers passed me on the way down.  I was able to keep one in sight once we were on the flat.  As we approached the finish I realized the finish route had changed.  I was able to follow the course and made it to the finish line.  I crossed the finish line at 6:32 and Ken Chlouber put a finisher’s medal around my neck and handed me a silver glass.  I was both elated and disappointed.  I was happy the pain would stop, but disappointed with my time (63 minutes longer than 2011).

When I looked at my Joule computer I saw a much different time.  I recalled it had gone to sleep because I was moving so slowly it thought I was stopped.  I quickly understood the time on my Joule would not match my race time.  It did not dawn on me; the time I had looked at from 2011 was the time from my computer, not my actual race time.  When I compared the actual race times I learned I finished in 6:09 in 2011, so I was only 23 minutes slower in 2016.  While this still was not where I wanted to be, it felt much better than being over an hour slower.  Life is about perspective; being 23 minutes slower sounds good compared to 63 minutes slower.

For the record, I am never doing the SR 50 mountain bike race again.  This time I mean it and you are all my witness!

2016 Lutsen 99er

The forecast on Tuesday called for a chance of rain the Saturday of the race.  I told myself things will likely change by Saturday.  There were a few dips in the chance of rain, but on the morning of the race, the chances were good for rain by 10:00 AM. 

The race started at 7:30 on dry roads.  I was hopeful we could escape the rain.  The soil in northern Minnesota is sandy and drains well.  However, there are always large puddles, even in “dry” years.

I was concerned I was not in top shape because my important large effort two Saturdays before the race was shortened by rain.  Without significant testing there is no way to know for sure, so in the last week I was trying to tell myself to ride my race and not worry about my fitness.

The race starts with a neutral descent of about 5 minutes, turns onto a flat road (highway 61) for 5 minutes, then turns back north and climbs for 20 minutes.  I held myself back a bit on the climb so I would not burn too much energy in the first 30 minutes of the race.  In the three prior years I have finished the race in just under 7 hours and was holding to the same goal this year.

I was able to ride at a reasonable pace on the initial climb.  The rest of course to the first aid station contains several miles of rough doubletrack.  I made it to the first aid station a couple minutes behind my goal pace.  I was not where I wanted to be time wise, but I was holding a reasonable pace and was telling myself I was better off to conserve early so I had energy towards the end.  There had been some thunder prior to arriving at the first aid station, but no rain.

Near the start on dry roads.

 

The first aid station marks the beginning of a 17.8 mile figure eight in the course, which is ridden twice.  The figure eight contains approximately 7 miles of rough mowed trail and 10 miles of gravel road.  I meet Jenni (my superb crew) who is stationed just as the rough mowed trail ends.  In the rough mowed trail someone passed me and said my name.  I was not sure who it was, but I suspected it was Steve Cannon.  I stopped to grab a new bottle and something to eat.  It was sprinkling lightly, which was of no concern, I was actually happy to have a bit of moisture to settle the dust.

After I left Jenni, the rain picked up significantly.  There was lightning striking the trees all around me.  It started raining so hard I was actually getting cleaner.  On the first couple miles of gravel road after I left Jenni I was unable to hold onto the back of a draft line.  I remembered from years past, there was a large descent with a turn at the bottom.  As I was descending I noticed I was catching the group I was unable to hang onto earlier.  I glanced to the right and saw a racer standing up in the ditch.  Apparently he was caught off-guard by the descent with a corner at the bottom.  I was able to rejoin the group and work with them all the way back to the first aid station.

By the time I reached the rough doubletrack the rain had slowed.  The double track was still rough, and now greasy and soft.  Not long after hitting the rough doubletrack Steve Cannon passed me again.  I was able to hold onto his wheel and he was a good pacer, plus it helped to see his line through the rough rocks.  Between breaths we were chatting which helped pass the miles.  We commented how we were working harder to go slower.  I stopped to load up on supplies when I met Jenni, to head out for the remaining 37 miles of the race.  I said good-by to Steve as he rode on.

Within a mile after passing the 3^rd aid station I spotted Steve up the road.  I caught him and we rode together without saying much to each other.  Steve and I slowly began to get further and further apart.  He was riding stronger, and / or I was fading.  I had to stop for a “nature break” and Steve was able to keep going.  Within approximately 7 miles after the 3^rd aid station I noticed the roads were getting dryer. 

By the 4^th aid station the roads were dry and dusty again.  I was hanging onto the back of a strong group and working hard to stay with them.  The miles consisted of mostly gravel roads with a few miles of doubletrack.  At one point we were descending at close to 20 mph on a good doubletrack, or maybe it was a sketchy gravel road, I heard the vibration of disk brakes a couple times.  Next I observed a rider pull off to the left and do a somersault in the ditch.  He popped up, so I knew he was OK.  I never learned the cause of this issue.

I left the last aid station all alone.  At this point in the race I like to ride with a group to help pace me to the finish.  After several hours it is very easy to lose focus and find yourself pedaling easy as if on a joy-ride.  I was able to catch a couple people, but was also passed by a couple.  I was not riding very strongly, but I was not creeping along either.  I was pushing myself hard as we entered the singletrack which makes up the last few miles of the course.  There is no need to save anything at this point.  The course descends a small hill, crosses a bridge and goes up a short hill with a boardwalk.  As I was working to get myself lined up for the small uphill I realized there was a cyclist stopped about 1/3 of the way up.  I was able to fly past on the left without incident.

Passing the stopped rider near the start of the singletrack.

I saw another racer (possibly in one of the shorter races) in front of me crash in the tight singletrack.  I continued pushing as hard as my tired legs would go.  In the back of my mind I knew there was a long and steep climb to the finish, but I was trying not to hold back too much.  I completed the short descent to the river, rode along the river, and then started up the finishing climb.  I was able to pass a couple racers who were completely out of gas.  There are so many emotions at this point in the race; spectators cheering loudly, you know you are nearly finished and your legs are screaming in pain.

At the finish with my legs screaming in pain.

I finished in 7:20, several minutes slower than my goal.  I was disappointed, but as I have had time to think about my race and preparation, I now know why I was slower.  The items impacting my race were: I was getting a chest cold, the thunderstorm made the roads and trail softer and I was forced to shorten an important long training ride two weeks prior to the race.  Unfortunately, I will never know the level of impact each of the above items had on my time.  I had very little control over these items, so I just need to move on with the rest of my season.

2016 Almanzo 100

 

The forecast was calling for a cold (start at 35, warm to 50) and windy (start at 15 mph, raising to 20+ mph) day.  I was carefully watching the forecast and knew the weather conditions would make the race difficult.  There is something about riding in the cold with extra layers, I never ride as well as on a warm day.  I blame it on the extra layers of clothing causing increased wind resistance and resistance to leg movements.  I was telling myself, the wind will help as much when going with it as it will hurt when going into it.  I know this is a lie, my average speed is never as good on a windy day as on a calm day.  These were the little tricks I was playing with my analytical mind to ensure I made it to the start line of the Almanzo 100 in Spring Valley, MN on May 14.
On race morning, the sun was out, but it was cold.  There was a 15 mph NW wind at the start.  Luckily, the ride to the start line was SE, so I could continue the lie to trick myself into starting this 100 mile gravel beast.  One thing I tried to remember, everyone races in the same conditions, so the weather conditions favored no one.

I have historically done a poor job of pacing myself in this long race.  The excitement and pack riding in the first third seem to beg me to work too hard, which causes considerable pain in the last half of the race.  In my humble opinion, pacing yourself is one of the best uses of a power meter in events longer than a few minutes (this finding is supported in the book Training and Racing with a Power Meter – 2^nd ed. By Hunter Allen and Andrew Coggan).  My power meters of choice are the reliable and accurate devices available from PowerTap.

Near the start in Spring Valley, MN.  Image courtesy of TMB Images.

In the first 25 miles I was riding with a couple guys on Cannondale bikes.  They seemed more than willing to pull through the sections where we were going into the wind, so I stayed on their wheel.  My reasoning was, I may be working slightly above pace, but I was able to go much faster into the wind.  The pace was correct for the sections where we were going with the wind.  At about mile 30, while I was climbing a long hill, I noticed a couple racers had stopped ahead.  When I rode by them I could see it was my buddies on the Cannondale bikes and they were eating.  I was surprised they thought they needed to stop to eat so I asked them if everything was OK.  They indicated they were fine, so I rode on.  I could not help but think they may have been riding above their 100 mile pace as well.  I saw them once more, when they were stopped, and then never again.  Suspicion confirmed!

 

From about mile 50 to mile 66 I rode in a group of about 10 racers.  By this time the wind had picked up to a 20+ mph force.  I was not able to ride above 10 mph into the west or north wind.  With the group I was able to ride at 11 to 12 mph.  They were a great help.  As we entered Forestville State Park they all turned off to their support crew.  I pedaled on looking for new friends.

To my surprise, the river crossing at mile 81 was dry.  I have crossed this river when it was waist deep, but usually it is shin deep.  I found one or two people to work with but there were no large groups by this point in the race.  I needed something or someone to keep my mind off my tired legs.  By this point I was very tired and unable to generate much power.  I did notice my fluid consumption had increased.

 
My nutrition and hydration plans were to consume a large bottle of Hammer Perpetuem (1/2 strength) and a Clif bar in the first 39 miles, in miles 40 – 75 and from 75 to the end.  I also consumed ½ a PB&H sandwich and a banana through the race.  This would have provided ample calories to get through a 7 hour race.  Planning for the proper hydration is more difficult.  On a cold ride I don’t need the same quantity of fluid as a warm ride.  In training I have easily ridden 3+ hours on a single bottle on a cool day.  In the first 40 miles I was not sweating much, so did not need more than a single bottle.  As the day warmed I was not shedding my warm clothes and began to sweat more than I realized.  At the end of the race I was not able to weigh myself to confirm my state of hydration.  Based on the way my power faded and how thirsty I was for several hours after the race, I am sure dehydration was impacting my race.

A late race climb.  Image courtesy of TMB Images.

Despite my dehydrated state I was able to set a Strava Segment PR on the large climb at mile 90 named Oriole road.  This is a beast of a climb covering ½ mile and gaining 250 feet.  A guy I was riding with said there were sections where the pitch was 20%.  I attribute this PR to a new lighter Trek ProCaliber mountain bike.  The last 25 miles contained about 23 miles into the wind.  This was demoralizing to say the least.

I finally made it to the finish line in 7:02.  This was my second slowest time ever and a bit disappointing.  I continued to remind myself how average speed is slower on windy days.  When the results were posted I learned I placed 80^th out of 504.  My opinion of my effort improved as this was a higher place, relative to the field size, than last year when I was nearly 30 minutes faster.

Start of 2016 Races

Humbling Race

I have already completed a couple early season races in 2016.  These are “for fun” races, but I am sure I take them more seriously than I should.  One should not have high expectations for so early in the season.  Every winter I think to myself, this year I have put in the time on the trainer to be fit when I finally start riding outdoors, but every spring I am disappointed with my fitness when it counts.

A promoter has faithfully organized the Iowa Spring Classic gravel race series for several years.  These races happen on the gravel roads in central Iowa, so I feel obligated to race them because they are close to home, and they get me outside in the early spring.  This year the race in Colfax lined up with my schedule.  There were two options, an “A” and a “B” group.  The A’s were racing 48 miles and the B’s were racing 32 miles (6 and 4 laps of an eight mile loop).  I signed up for the A race thinking I typically do better in longer events.  I confirmed there was a small field (seven A racers).

I rode well on the first lap and was able to pull away from a few riders on the long climb.  I found people to ride with so I could share the work into the wind on laps one through five.  I was feeling pretty good about myself on subsequent laps because I was able to lap a couple of the B racers.  On the last lap I was all alone in the wind with my thoughts and tired legs.  I was watching behind myself to make sure there was no one about to overtake me.  When I crossed the finish line I noticed the promoter put away his clipboard.  Could I be the last finisher?

Once the results were posted I confirmed my fears, I finished last.  I was very tired and could not have given any more.  The person who finished just before me finished six minutes ahead.  I don’t think I could have ridden nearly a minute faster per mile, unless I was drafting 100% of the time which would not have been a fair tactic.

I never finish races at the front, but I am not normally at the back either.  Also, most of the races I enter have significantly larger fields.  I was able to console myself by looking at the statistics from my PowerTap Joule GPS cycling computer and PowerCal heart rate monitor.  My average pace was over one mph faster than my pace in other long gravel events.  My conclusion, I was the slowest in a small, fast and fit group.  This is completely different than being slow and out of shape.

I want to remember this feeling to ensure I always give my all on training rides and races.  I made little “DFL” stickers and put them on the handlebars of my bikes.  Hopefully I can turn a bad memory into positive energy and motivation.

 

Windy Iowa Spring

Another early season race I contest every year is the Gent’s race.  This is a 61 mile gravel race taking place on the roads around Slater, Iowa.  The format is unique because you compete as a team of five and must stay together to the end to be counted in the official results.  The race organizers start teams every few minutes from slowest to fastest, so the first team across the finish line is declared the winner regardless of overall elapsed time.  The format is fun because each team must work together to get to the finish as fast as possible.

The forecast for the day of the race was for high winds (25 mph sustained, 40 mph gusts) and cool (low 40’s, warming to upper 40’s) temps.  Race morning delivered the weather just as predicted.  I think each of my teammates was waiting for someone else to say they thought the conditions were too ugly, but luckily, no one did.  In our reluctance to start riding we ended up getting to the start line about five minutes after our allotted start time.  I had a hunch it would not matter.

The first ½ mile in town was windy, but when we made our way to the open road where there was nothing to block the wind, we all started experiencing challenges controlling our bikes.  Within the first mile, one of our teammates pulled over and almost quit.  I was able to talk her into giving it another shot and we were off.  We were battling head and side winds (simultaneously) for the first three miles.  Our pace was not much faster than a snail.  We then turned with the wind and found ourselves able to maintain 18 mph without pedaling much at all.

Luckily, the course had no super long stretches into the wind without turning to give us a break.  Controlling our bikes so we could ride in a straight line was almost as hard as pedaling into the wind.  We worked together to keep the smaller riders out of the wind as much as we could.  I was watching my PowerTap Joule GPS cycling computer and noted we were maintaining a blistering 8 mph pace into the wind (north or west).  It was so windy we had to work hard to communicate on the bike and controlling our bikes took considerable mental effort.  Taking your hands off the bars to grab a drink was very difficult.  It was about this point I began to realize our brains and bodies were starting to adapt to the difficult challenge of riding in the side wind.  We were “getting our sea legs,” controlling our bikes was no longer a full time job.  It is very interesting how our bodies adapt to new challenges.

There was a mandatory check-point at mile 32.  The race organizers transported one drop bag per team to this location.  We were wind-blown, cold, hungry, mentally exhausted and generally miserable.  The contents of our drop bag was not going to remove all the misery.  The route was a modified figure eight, so we were only a few miles from Slater.  The misery factor and ease at which one could quit made the decision not too difficult for a couple of racers on our team, and many on other teams (more about this later).  Three of our team pushed on while two went directly (and happily) to the finish.

The rest of the race was fairly uneventful.  The portions into the wind were slow and hard, while the route with the wind went by much too fast.  I never warmed up (face, fingers and toes) throughout the entire race.  We encountered a five to six mile stretch into the wind with less than 10 miles to go which was slow and difficult.  When we finally made the turn where I knew we had less than three miles to go, all of it with the wind, I finally felt like we were going to survive.

We finished before the cutoff after racing for 5:33.  I was happy to finally be done and at the finish.  There were 63 teams signed up but only 18 teams officially finished plus five who finished with fewer than five racers.  There is no data available on how many teams started the race.

After we finished I was able to check on the weather conditions.  The maximum sustained wind for the day was 40 mph with the highest gust at 50mph (as reported by the National Weather Service).  The high temperature for the day was 44 degrees.

Ironically an article titled “Misery Is a Choice: Developing Mental Toughness in Endurance Athletes” came across my desk the week after the Gent’s race.  It is experiences like the Gent’s race this year which provide yardsticks for measuring other events and conditions.  By comparison, all other winds will seem small compared to what we experienced this year.  When faced with a strong wind in a future race or training ride, I can recall the winds at the 2016 Gent’s race and know I have ridden in worse.  This will help me to be mentally strong and more confident when the conditions are less than ideal.  If you ride and race enough you will have the opportunity to build a rich history of memories you can use to get you through the difficult times.  Reflecting further, I believe this same thing happens in life as well.  Please join me as I expand my basis of misery in order to keep bike riding, racing and life in perspective.

2015 Buffalo 105

2015 Buffalo 105

The Buffalo 105 is a race I organize and promote which starts and finishes at the Newton YMCA.  This race was first held in 2011 on a 72 mile loop.  It has grown into a double race, 55 miles or 105 miles consisting of a 55 mile loop ridden by everyone followed by a 50 mile loop for the 105 racers.  The last Saturday of October seems to have stuck as the time for this race.  My job as a marketer will never take off because I seem to be able to draw only around 20 starters in total.  There is no entry fee and the entire registration is conducted via email.  Marketing consists of Facebook posts, events on bikeiowa.com and ridinggravel.com as well as flyers posted in bike shops.  To say this race is low budget is an understatement; there is no budget (ok, I print about 30 waivers on new paper every year).

At this late point in the season, I try not to take the race too seriously.  I am normally a little tired from racing and am busy getting everyone checked-in and started in the race.  I waffled a bit in the week prior to the race, but decided to ride my heavy (30 lbs.) circa 2002 hardtail mountain bike.  I wanted to give myself a challenge and save the wear and tear on my light race mountain bike.  There is about a mile of B surface road (also known as minimum maintenance road, or dirt road) which can cause problems with bikes.  How hard can it be to ride a heavier bike, I asked myself?  I should be in good shape at this time of year and tough enough to show myself the bike does not make that much difference.

The forecast a week prior to the race was for rain on Saturday.  As the day drew closer the rain ended up being forecast for Friday afternoon and night.  By Saturday morning at 2 AM the rain was to be gone and the skies were to become partly cloudy by mid-day.  The high was forecast to be close to 60 with a NW breeze at 15 mph.  I was checking the hourly forecast frequently the last 24 hours, and it did not change.  We did receive about .35 in. rain in the 24 hours prior to the race.  Since it had been so dry I was not sure this would affect the B road significantly.

Race morning finally arrived with one more check of the forecast.  It was holding, it looked like a good day for a fall bike ride.  There would be some wind; however, since these were loops there would be equal miles with headwinds and tailwinds.  It was cool at registration and I noticed there was a stiff NW wind.  As we gathered for my start line speech (safety crap, etc.) it was cloudy, windy and IT STARTED TO MIST!  Having dressed for racing in temps. around 60 I was wearing shorts, a jersey and a wicking undershirt.  I was shaking as I was trying to deliver the few words I needed to say.  I could not decide if I was cold, nervous or both.  I desperately needed to start riding my bike to get warm.

I cut my speech to the necessities and we were off.  Within a few minutes I was warming up and soon we arrived at the point on our way out of town where I raised my arm and declared “game on.”  After leaving Newton there a couple long and steep hills into the NW wind.  The hills were hard and a couple groups were in front of me.  I knew I had at least 100 miles to go so I was trying to conserve.  I was also thinking I did not want to ride the next 15+ miles into the wind by myself.  I was able to bridge up to one group by the little town of Metz and rode a mile dangling off the back before we turned south and they got away from me.  I was able to join them in the next three miles and ended up with a couple friends with me to share the work for the entire westerly section. 

The B road is found in the last three miles of the westerly section.  Just as we were crossing a road and entering the gravel run-up to the B road, a beat up pickup pulled over.  The driver rolled down the window to release a huge cloud of cigarette smoke.  He said something like “Fellas, you know this is a dirt road?”  We assured him we knew and pressed on, now a bit more concerned at what we might find.  The B road was wet, but not so wet it picked up on our tires.  Since I was riding a mountain bike the group let me lead.  I took it cautious to make sure we did not suddenly find our tires caked with mud and not turning.  It was about as wet as it could be without causing a problem.  Finally, I caught a break!

I was still with my friends and we were now a group of four.  We turned with the wind and the speed picked up.  I was feeling like the pace was just slightly over my 105 mile pace, but I knew I needed all the help I could get once we started riding the last 15 miles into the wind.  I pushed my legs to stay with the group as we clicked off the miles.  After we passed through the town of Monroe the route contains a few sections of north into the wind.  We were nearly to Reasnor, going down a large fast hill and I felt my rear wheel thump over something fairly hard.  Within a half mile I could tell my rear tire was going down.  I knew this was going to kill my chances of riding with the group to Newton into the wind.  The group was super nice and turned around to make sure I had what I needed to fix the flat.  I told them I did and encouraged them to go on without me.

I fixed the flat in no time and was on my way into the wind.  I was flying up the road at what seemed like 10 mph while watching my back for someone to catch me, which never happened.  With about three miles to go I began to realize I was getting hungry and started to calculate the calories I had taken in.  I had eaten 385 calories for nearly four hours of riding.  I should have taken in at least 600 calories, so I started eating another Clif bar.  It tasted very good and by the time I hit the Newton city limits I had eaten about half, so my total caloric intake was up to 510.  Still low, but I knew I could make up the difference before I started the 50 mile loop.

I rolled into the start / finish table at the Y as the sun was peeking out intermittently.  It felt so good on my back.  I was reassured to learn the race was going fine, volunteers Julie and Carrie had everything under control.  There was only one rider who needed rescued and others were rolling into the finish.  I quickly filled the one bottle I had consumed with Hammer Perpetuem and restocked my pockets with Clif bars.  I also grabbed a peanut butter and honey sandwich I had made and started nibbling on the first half.  On my way out I devoured a pumpkin bar one of the volunteers had made (let’s call her Carrie-Betty-Crocker).  I knew it would be difficult going back out, and I learned the 105 racer I was riding with in the group of four had a sick child and needed to go home.  There was only one 105 racer on the course and he was literally hours ahead of me.  I knew the longer I hung around the harder it would be to go back out, so I pulled on my big boy pants, said thank you and good bye to everyone and started riding the 50 loop.

Even though the first 15 miles were with the wind I was not feeling very spunky.  The longer I rode on the 50 loop, the worse I felt.  The issue was in my gut, not so much in my legs.  I began to think about what had happened at the halfway point and realized I had ingested too many calories in a short period of time.  I put myself on a liquid only diet and pushed on in solitude.  After the first 15 miles traveling in a SE direction, the 50 loop spends the next 30 miles going mostly north.  This left me with a lot of time to think about how tired my legs were and how slow I was going.  I needed someone else to talk with to take my mind off the ugliness.  I tried to occupy my mind with calculating, from memory, how far until I turned with the wind and how many hills were left.  I am not sure if it was a coincidence or not, but when I turned to go with the wind towards Newton, I started to feel better in my gut.  By this point I was quite behind in caloric intake, but I did start slowly eating again.  I continued to watch my back, sure the next rider would be passing me at any minute.

The finish was completely uneventful.  I pulled into the Y to find my faithful volunteers, Julie and Carrie had put everything away in my pickup.  They were faithfully waiting for me to finish.  Besides their cars, and my pickup, there was one other car in the parking lot.  I learned there was one other rider who started the 105 after me.  I thanked my volunteers (I hope I did, I was a bit out of it) and sent them on their way.  I owe them a big favor.  The final rider finished within what seemed like three hours, but was really less than an hour.  We chatted a bit and it was over.  Just like that, the Y looked like nothing took place.  The entire day was just a memory.

Looking back, we made mostly good memories on the day.  I delivered over 50 pounds of food to the food pantry.  I am sure there were good and bad memories for the 19 starters (hopefully mostly good).  My experience with an epic effort like this, over time, the memory of the pain starts to fade and is replaced by the realization of what I have accomplished.  I try to take this sense of accomplishment into the next event.  I believe it is a new confidence in my ability to survive.

 

The final instructions at the start line.  Think cold and wet!