SkiBrent

2011 LEADVILLE TRAIL 100

2011-08-22T17:36:00.003-04:00

August 13, 2011

Leadville, Colorado

Leadville 100 Course Map

Here we go again. Another Leadville 100 in the books and time to encapsulate the experience for personal posterity. I really don’t know what to say about this race that I haven’t said in four previous narratives describing my superhuman . . . well . . . slightly-above-average human exploits. So I guess I’ll just start typing and hope the anti-drivel muse makes an appearance.

August 13, 2012 was the date of my 5^th consecutive participation in the Leadville Trail 100 mountain bike race in Leadville, Colorado. Known as the “Race Across the Sky” and made famous by two movies of the same name, the Leadville 100 is known and respected as the toughest one-day endurance mountain bike race in the

United States

. It consists of 100 (actually 103.5) miles of biking at altitudes between 9,200 and 12,600 feet and includes cumulative elevation gains of between 12,000 and 14,000 feet depending on what kind of measuring device you use (personally, I like the one that says 14,000).

In the summer of 2006, my late best friend, Allan Goldberg, connivingly convinced me to sign up for Leadville in 2007 by telling me he had cancer. I told him that I had back rash from time spent on the couch. He said that he had to do 6 months of chemo and radiation and that I needed to get off my ass and train. How logical. However, it obviously hit home as I accepted the challenge, completed the race in 2007 and have been hooked ever since. From 2007 through 2010, my finish times in the race have steadily improved from 11 hours and 11 minutes in 2007 to 10:35 in 2008 to 9:57 in 2009 to 9:43 in 2010. It was a trend I hoped to continue in 2011.

As with the previous 4 years, I was racing this year as a member of Team First Descents. First Descents is a Colorado-based cancer foundation that operates free weeklong outdoor adventure programs for young adult (ages 18-39) cancer survivors and fighters. Allan was the Executive Director of First Descents when he challenged me to my first Leadville 100 and we called our first group of riders in 2007 “Team FD”. Additionally, we used the race as a fundraiser and raised some $85,000 for First Descents. Sadly, Allan passed away in June, 2008, but the Team FD concept has blossomed in his memory. Over the past 3 years, Team FD has not only continued to grow for the Leadville 100, but the concept has grown into First Descents’ largest fundraising arm with over 400 athletes participating in athletic challenges around the U.S. and using the challenges to raise money for First Descents. By the way, I am now Chairman of the First Descents’ Board of Directors and my wife, Lisa, is a full-time Director of the Team FD program for First Descents. It has definitely become a family affair. This year, there would be 24 Team FD riders racing in Leadville, including First Descents’ founder and CEO, Brad Ludden, as well as several past FD participant/survivors.

OK, so there’s the obligatory background in a nutshell. Now let’s get to the race. Actually, let’s go backwards just a little bit first. In 2010 I trained like crazy shooting for a magic Sub-9-hour time and was pretty burned out by race-day. While I had a decent race, I didn’t enjoy the experience as much and blamed it on the training burn-out. In 2011, I vowed to take a different approach to training and let the chips fall as they may. I did plenty of long fun rides in the spring, but probably 50% of the mileage that I rode in 2010. When July hit, I was still pretty fresh and embarked on a solid 5 weeks of Colorado riding with several big rides like the Double Triple Bypass and Silver Rush 50 with some big hikes interspersed with the riding. I got a lot of rest and I built myself up to a peak a week before Leadville and then tapered perfectly during that last week. In short, I was chomping at the bit for the race and truly felt that 9-hours was a possibility. At worst, I figured I would be able to realistically finish in the 9:15 to 9:30 range.

This year, for the first time, riders were going to be started in corrals based on one’s best finish time in the previous three years. As there were apparently 1900 riders registered for the 2011 race, that was good news as I was assured of starting the day in front of about 80% of the field . . . including some 800 first-timers. My plan was to go hard from the start and simply stick with the strong riders and hope that the fast pace would carry me through several of the early check-points in times at or just under a 9-hour pace without having to overly extend myself. From there, I would hopefully will myself through the pain to achieve the goal.

Pre-race fuel

Lisa and I stayed at the Leadville home of Mike and Laurel McHargue for race-weekend so that I wouldn’t have to get up at 3am in Vail and make the drive up to Leadville. Like it mattered. I woke up on race-morning at1:30am and never fell back to sleep. At 4am, I finally got out of bed, went to the bathroom and went downstairs to eat some pancakes and prepare my nutrition for the day. At 4:45, some of the Vail crew arrived including a few fellow Team FD riders Gary Morris (“GMO”), Matt Hayne (“Mateo”) and Andrew Fleming (“X2C”). At 5am, GMO and I rode over to the start and placed our bikes at the front of our corral and then went back to the McHargues for final pre-race prep (bathroom, sunscreen, dress-up, pep-talk, pre-hydration, butt-balm, etc.). At 6:05 we walked back to the start line to begin the day-long adventure.

Off to the Races.

The temperature at the start was around 40 degrees but it really didn't feel that cold. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky and sunny warm weather was predicted for the entire race. Hydration was going to be critical with that forecast and it sounded like clothing decisions would be minimal. I had already stowed my rain-jacket in the car and decided to take my chances without it. Although I was going to start the race with arm-warmers, I knew from experience that I would likely have them off halfway up St. Kevins.

The gun went off at 6:30am sharp after a (fool)hardy count-down and we were off. GMO and I stayed together down the pavement at a very fast-pace and I felt absolutely fantastic. This was going to be the day and GLORY WOULD BE MINE . . . until it all quickly went to hell. Just as we were about to make the right turn onto the dirt at Leadville Junction (mile 3), I felt my rear wheel slide and I looked down in disbelief to see a flat rear tire. “NO, NO, NO . . . not here” I screamed to myself. There couldn’t be a worse place on the entire course to get a flat-tire as the race has not yet had a chance to spread out. “Flat fucking tire” I yelled to GMO and started to pull over. He asked if I wanted his help and I told him to keep riding. I knew what a flat at this moment meant and I absolutely didn’t want to screw up his race too.

I quickly pulled off my pump and a CO2 cartridge and tried to fill the tire with air. If it was just a slow puncture leak, I was hoping to get right back on the bike and at least get up and over St. Kevins before the crowd and then deal with the tire. Unfortunately the CO2 just blew air into the pump, but not into the tire. I didn’t know if the canister was bad, the pump was bad or the air valve on the tire was bad (or the more likely reason - I'm just an idiot), so I decided to give it another try with a second CO2 canister. Same thing happened. Fuck, fuck, fuck. This was unbelievable. I then tried to hand-pump the tire, but it appeared that air was escaping from the valve-stem hole in the rim. At this point, I ripped the tire off the rim in frustration and emptied out all the gooey tubeless sealant (much of it splattering on me). Upon closer inspection of the valve, I noticed that it was loose and that the rubber o-ring was missing. The O-ring prevents air from escaping through the valve hole. So at least I knew the culprit. Nothing I could do about that now. I just couldn’t believe that after 5 weeks of mountain biking on this bike with these tires without a single issue or loss of pressure, the tire chose this precise moment to start leaking air. By now, the entire field had whooshed by and it really made no difference how long it took to fix the tire as I was going to be in the very back regardless. Ken Chlouber and Scott Giffin (LT100 Founder and LT100 Race Director) happened to be nearby and offered to help, but there wasn’t much they could do. I grabbed a tube out of my pack and put the tire back together. I started furiously hand-pumping when Scott mentioned that he had a foot-pump. Borrowing the foot-pump, I pumped the tire up and was back on my way. When initially I pulled off to the side of the route to fix the tire, my Garmin showed that 6 minutes had elapsed since the start. When I got back on the route, it said 21 minutes. 15 frickin’ minutes to change the tire! I was thoroughly frustrated, angry, deflated, depressed and even a bit embarrassed. The worst part of all is that there was a dude filming the whole thing. I really hope that I handled myself with some degree of poise and didn’t unleash a torrent of audible expletives, but I really can’t remember.

Jumping back on my bike at the 21 minute mark, I started pedaling like mad to catch up to a field of riders that was now probably 2 miles off in the distance when the cold, hard realization hit me that my race was over before it began. A year’s worth of training and anticipation snuffed out by a very poorly timed mechanical. To someone who doesn’t know the race, you might wonder why the race was lost from a 15-minute rest-stop? Couldn’t I still go for 9 hours or maybe 9 hours and 15 minutes? The answer is an emphatic no for a rider like me who pretty much needed a perfect race to hit that mark. It isn’t just the 15 minutes it took to fix the flat, but it is the immeasurable time I would continue to lose trying to get through the St. Kevin’s and Sugarloaf climbs and Powerline descent riding behind and among much slower riders. I also knew that while strong, I wasn’t strong ENOUGH to put in a max-effort to make up the time.

To take my mind off the sobering reality, I started counting the riders as I passed them. Since I was in absolute last place, the only thing that would keep me interested in the short-term was passing as many riders as I could. One, two, five, fifteen, thirty, fifty, seventy-five, one-hundred. I passed over 100 riders between the base of St. Kevins and Carter Aid station. I passed anywhere I could while also trying not to be a total dick. I shot through holes in the crowd or darted around riders walking their bikes. I passed on the side-hill berm on the left-side of the trial and in the ditch on the right side of the trail. I hit Carter Aid Station at about 1:10 and finally freed myself on the pavement. Again, the cold realization of my predicament hit me as I was a full 20 minutes off the pace I needed to be on for sub-9 and 15 minutes behind my actual 2010 pace that resulted in a finish time of 9:43.

I got into a tuck and tore down the pavement as fast as I could safely go, passing still more and more riders. I kept pedaling hard, down around Turquoise lake and up the pavement on the other side. By the time I made the u-turn onto Hagerman Pass Road, I decided to stop counting riders that I had passed as it was now well over 200 and counting was becoming distracting. Unfortunately, that still put me behind 1400 riders, of which a good 500-600 probably wouldn’t finish in under 11 hours. I continued up Hagerman Pass road at a pace faster than I’ve ever done on that stretch and then ran smack into the next traffic jam on Sugarloaf. Again, I had to pick my spots to pass riders going up Sugarloaf and was often slowed to a standstill. I finally reached the top of Sugarloaf at 2 hours. I was now 30 minutes off a sub-9 pace and 22 minutes slower than 2010. I still hadn’t re-set any time goals as I was just trying to make up as much ground as possible and then re-evaluate when I got to Twin Lakes.

The Powerline descent was just as frustrating as the St. Kevins and Sugarloaf climbs as the line of riders was thick and descending skills among that group just weren’t that great. Actually, that’s probably an unfair statement. There were likely many good descenders. Unfortunately, it just takes a few poor descenders to hold everyone up and there just aren’t many safe places to pass and I didn't want to risk a crash that would end my race or someone else's. So what is usually a fun white-knuckled smiley-faced descent was a lesson in patience and wrist-pain from riding the brakes.

Damn, this must be depressing as hell to read. Let me switch gears. It was a stunningly beautiful day and I was constantly making myself take a deep breath and enjoy the scenery. There was still a lot of riding left to be done and there was no use riding it in a funk and ruining the whole day. When I hit the Powerline aid station at 2:30, I finally decided that any attempts to reach any of my time goals would be futile and that I should just do everything in my power to enjoy the day. When it came down to it, I was healthy and strong and I was getting to ride my bike all day long in some of the most beautiful mountains in the world. I got unlucky, but it was time to stop worrying about time and simply worry about embracing the ride itself. I did, however, need some incentive and it didn't take long to find some. What I decided was that I needed to catch-up to some of my fellow Team FD riders and ride the 2^nd half of the race with them.

So that’s what I did. I put my head down and rode fairly hard through the Powerline section and arrived at the First Descents’ aid station at about 3 hours and 20 minutes. I tried to ride in with a smile on my face as Lisa and Kevin both knew that I must be pretty disappointed to be arriving so late and I’m sure GMo had told them about the flat. I shrugged it off, grabbed a new Camelbak and bottle and continued on my way and did my best not to be a downer in front of our awesome crew who had dedicated their day to making life easier for us riders.

Off to Climb Columbine

I crossed the dam and went under the timing balloon at 3:25 and proceeded through a human tunnel through Twin Lakes that was larger than any of the previous 4 years. Obviously the two movies combined with the larger number of riders had inflated the ranks of spectators. In retrospect, I wish I had slowed down through this section if only to read all the signs and look at all the funny costumes and outfits. Heading up the little climb out of Twin Lakes, I started feeling my first leg-weariness of the day. I had obviously expended a lot of energy getting around some 800 riders over the past 30 miles and riding solo for long stretches of the Powerline and now it was coming home to roost. I started up the main Columbine climb pretty slowly as I was feeling sluggish and a bit apathetic. About halfway up the fire-road climb, I saw Mateo in the distance and picked up the pace to reach him. We spoke for a little bit and then I started feeling a little surge of energy and started standing on the pedals and passing groups of riders. I turned around and was psyched to see that Mateo was staying on my wheel. Over the next 3 miles or so, we probably passed some 50-60 riders and I was starting to think that we could actually lay down a pretty decent time getting to the top. Unfortunately, that became a no-go when we got to the steeper rocky section as there was not only a line of walkers, but the line was not moving very well. I was actually happy to get off my bike and walk for a few minutes just to give the legs a break. However, after a few hundreds yards, I wanted to get back on the bike, but there was nowhere to ride as descending riders were coming fast and furiously and ascending riders were slowly meandering up the trail.

We were able to ride the flattish section approaching the fork and I had to open a few quick S-Caps on my tongue as my right knee started to seize with a cramp, but then we were off and on the bikes again for the next 25 minutes after the fork and the cramp went away. This part was really frustrating as the walking pace was absurdly slow and I actually started to go a bit crazy with simple boredom. Finally we finished the walking and happily rode across the top ridge and into the Columbine Aid station at about 5 hours and 30 minutes. It had taken 2:05 to go from Twin Lakes to Columbine. I was hoping to do this in 1:45. I was admittedly slow the first few miles, but then picked it up pretty well for the dirt road. Unfortunately, I think about 5-10 minutes were lost at the top solely because of the slow pace of walkers. Then again, at this point, it really didn’t matter. It’s not like I was going to go nuts worrying about a 10:18 finish versus a 10:28 finish. If I wasn’t going to at least beat my 9:43 from last year, then the only thing relevant was another buckle.

Mateo and I hung around the Columbine aid station for about 8-10 minutes as we waited for Brook Edinger and Brad Ludden to arrive and get some food and then the four of us took off down the mountain together. It was cool having a line of 4 lime green Team FD guys descending in the face of the ascending crowd, but we unfortunately had company in front of us by way of about 5 slow single-file riders who had become well-schooled in the fine art of squeezing the shit out of their brakes. It was brutal. There was nowhere to pass and nothing we could do except get in line, squeeze our brakes and count down the minutes until we would hit the open fire-road and pass. When we finally reached the fire-road, I immediately shot past all three of my guys and all 5 of the guys ahead of us and bombed down on my own. Other than the switchbacks, I barely hit my brakes the entire way down the mountain.

I hit the Twin Lakes aid station at about 6 hours and 18 minutes and rolled into the First Descents’ aid station a few minutes later. At this point I’d pretty much lost my mojo and decided there was no point in rushing through the stop so that I could shoot for some time that was still going to be in excess of 10 hours. So I took off my helmet, grabbed a seat and kicked-back. I was feeling pretty hot and slightly light-headed so I dumped a bunch of water on my head and ate some watermelon. Kevin and Lisa got my new Camelbak and bottle ready to go, but I wasn’t moving at quite their speed. In the meantime, Brook, Mateo and Brad all arrived from their Columbine descent and each of them managed to get their crap together and get rolling before I finally got motivated enough to get my ass back on my bike. I probably spent a good 10 minutes at our aid station. That was easily the longest time I’ve spent at an aid station in 5 years. Whatever, there was no rush and it was good to channel my inner Jamie Malin (who spent 20 minutes lounging at this aid station in 2009).

At least I'm smiling.

So this is what's it like to sit and rest during a race.

As I left the FD aid station, crossed highway 82 and started up the climb from Twin Lakes, I saw Mateo and Brad in the distance, but I just couldn’t get motivated enough to pick up my speed and chase them. I figured I'd catch them sooner or later. By the time I hit the single-track, the sun was blazing, it was hot as a furnace and I was having trouble getting fluids into what had rapidly become a distended stomach. I was thirsty as hell, but a single swig from my Camelbak would uncomfortably fill me up. I also felt some pressure in my “back-side” and hoped that I could make it to Pipeline Aid without having to take a detour into the woods with some toilet paper.

Fortunately, the rest of Pipeline passed pretty uneventfully and I avoided the toxic detour. However, as soon as I rolled into the Pipeline aid station, I made a beeline for the Porta-Potties and spent the next 5-6 minutes . . . um . . . making myself feel better? I can’t say this “emptying” gave me renewed enthusiasm, but I was certainly more comfortable in my seat upon leaving the aid station! As the FD Aid station was located beyond the official Twin Lakes time check and the Pipeline Porta-Potties were located before the Pipeline time check, my split for this section was a pretty abysmal hour and 22 minutes, thus putting me at Pipeline at around 7 hours and 40 minutes.

I quickly looked for Brad and Mateo, but they were nowhere to be seen. However, as I was pulling onto the dirt road after Pipeline, I spotted a Team FD kit in the distance and started turning the pedals a little quicker to catch whoever it was. It turned out that the kit belonged to X2C and I caught up to him near the Fish Hatchery as we approached Powerline. X was his usual cheery self and he actually led the way for the first half of Powerline. Did I mention that X is a cancer survivor, former FD camper, camp director at several FD camps this summer and all-around amazing guy? I couldn’t help but be inspired by his infectious energy and, by the time we hit the top half of Powerline, I was pretty determined to stay on my bike the rest of the way even though most other riders around us were getting on and off their bikes. About ¾ of the way to the top, we came upon Brad walking his bike. He looked pretty spent, but there were no concerns about his getting the buckle as he had plenty of time to spare. We kept riding and soon came upon Brook walking a steep rocky section. Again, I had no concern about his getting the buckle, so I gave him some encouragement and I kept riding. About 300 vertical feet short of the summit, I turned around to tell X that we were almost at the top, but he had fallen back somewhere and was now nowhere to be seen. Oh well, alone again.

Powerline continued to provide its usual maudlin entertainment right up to the last vertical foot. I passed one guy who said that his bike computer read 94 degrees. In my 5 Leadvilles, we’ve had unusually hot weather in 3 of them, but nothing like this. I was craving fluids, but still couldn’t get anything down into my stomach. I was actually pretty shocked that I hadn’t started cramping yet. I finally reached the top at about 9 hours and 10 minutes and considered waiting for my bedraggled friends. However, that consideration lasted about 1 second as Mateo was still ahead and I just wanted to get done with this race.

With the inevitable triumph and glee that accompanies the summiting of Powerline, I bombed down the rocky section of the Sugarloaf descent and the Hagerman Road dirt section and tried to find either Kevin or Nick McHargue at the u-turn onto the pavement so that I could get rid of my Camelbak as I’ve done the last two years. While there was a dude down there yelling my name, I saw no sign of Kevin or Nick and just kept going. I learned later that the guy yelling my name was a friend of Nick’s and he was waiting there with a fresh bottle for me. No matter, I still hadn’t touched the bottle on my frame since Twin Lakes and I was able to attach the empty Camel to my handlebars so that I could ride up St. Kevins unladen. Just before starting the climb, however, a rider in front of me had his rear tire literally blow up in my face. I stopped for a few minutes to try to help and ended up giving him a spare tire and then took off again. By now I was so uncomfortably hot that I had removed my bib shoulder straps and let them hang down my sides and had completely unzipped my jersey. Throw in the distended stomach hanging out over my shorts and I'm sure I was quite the vision. Starting the St. Kevins climb, there were some saintly folks with water jugs and I allowed (i.e., begged) them to dump about a half gallon of water all over me. Ahhhh, so nice.

The St. Kevins climb was no big deal. I was able to alternate standing and sitting and did the climb in about 25 minutes, arriving at Carter Aid Station at about 9 hours and 50 minutes. As I was pulling into the aid station, I saw Mateo pulling out, so I made my stop very fast, swigging a few ounces of coke, biting into a watermelon and moving on. I caught Mateo on the first of three mini-climbs and told him to get behind me. I also told him that our goal was to not put our foot down (i.e., get off the bikes) the rest of the way. We covered this little section without any difficulty and suddenly found ourselves at the top of St. Kevins with one more descent to go. I jumped ahead and blasted down St. Kevins and really noticed for the first time just how much the trail had been graded since last year. There were no more huge rocks or trenches and I barely needed to touch the brakes the whole way down. I was even smiling.

I shot out onto the dirt road at the bottom and was approached by a rider that I had passed on St. Kevins. I thought he was going to lay into me for riding dangerously so close to the end, but instead he smiled and said “that was awesome man! Way to descend!” (I learned later that his name was Roger Villmow and he was also completing his 5^th Leadville. Roger finished the race about 30 seconds behind me). For the next few miles, I slow-pedaled to give Mateo a chance to catch-up as, at this point, I thought it would be cool to finish together. He caught me just before Leadville Junction (site of my flat-tire mishap some 10 hours ago) and I looked at him and said, as a point of pride, “let’s finish strong.” We both took it fairly slowly up the first steeper, rockier section of the Boulevard and then stood up and pounded most of the remaining miles back into town. We reached the pavement at the top of the Boulevard, took the right on Harrison and crested the last hill and then saw the finish in the distance. I asked Mateo to slow down for a second so that I could zip up my jersey and then we cruised the last mile to the finish, crossing the line side-by-side at 10:43:something, capping a long frustrating day with a very meaningful ending.

Side-by-Side finish . . . a great moment.

Brent and Mateo at the Finish

My #1 Crew-mate and Life-mate!

So buckle #5 is in the bag. I’m halfway to the 1,000-mile buckle. This race will be memorable for having 24 Team FD riders, 20 of whom finished and got buckles. It will be memorable for having raised over $110,000 for First Descents. It will also be memorable for having ridden with several first-timers who succeeded with great first races. However, it will always gnaw at me that I didn’t check my valves more closely to ensure they were air-tight. I don’t know whether I had a 9-hour finish in me this year. For the first time in 5 years, I felt great at the start with no anxieties. I’d ridden strong in the weeks leading up to Leadville and truly felt that if I had placed myself with 9-hour riders at the start and stuck with them through Twin Lakes, that I would be able to push myself through the last 60 miles to stay on pace. Unfortunately, the early flat tire destroyed that chance. I can’t blame the flat for the 10:43 finish. I certainly could have kept riding hard and come in somewhere around 9:45. However, the flat was too big a mental blow to force myself to endure a whole lot of torture for a 9:45.

While this year’s experience made me hungry for my return in 2012, it also illustrates how fickle bike-racing can be. It sucks that a whole year’s worth of training and miles on the bikes can be derailed by something so stupid as an unsealed valve 6 minutes into the race. It will be hard to get similarly motivated next winter knowing that something like that can happen again. Then again, maybe it will be good to have a little inspiration fed by the need for payback!

Websites:

TeamFD Leadville - http://teamfd.firstdescents.org/2011/fd/leadville100/
Race-Video of Me: http://www.goraceday.com/watch/4075/

Official Race Pictures:
http://www.zazoosh.com/events/searchPhotos/469?evtId=469&query=608&x=0&y=0

Side Notes: Team FD rider Dirk Sorenson won the coveted "Last Ass Up the Pass" award granted to the last rider to cross the finish line before the 12-hour shotgun blast. Dirk literally crossed the line AS the gun blasted. Team FD rider and Leadman competitor Marty Saturn was literally the last ass up the pass as he crossed the finish line (or what was the finish line before it was disassembled) at 13 hours and 52 minutes in the fading light. The fastest Team FD rider was once again Ryan Sutter with a time of 8 hours and 11 minutes.

2010 Triple Bypass

2010-12-13T12:39:00.001-05:00

JULY 10, 2010

The allure of epic rides in the Rockies never wanes. After doing the Triple Bypass in 2009 for the first time, there wasn't much doubt that I would return and do it again. However, this time I came loaded with friends. I guess my enthusiasm for the ride was infectious as I was able to convince 12 other guys to join me for the ride this year. The crew included: Kevin Kane, Dave Flyer, Michael Brodsky, Marc Bassin, Neil Cohen, Albert Small, Michael Gildenhorn, Marty Janis, Todd Levitt, Dean Gregory, Jamie Malin and Kevin Lawrence. Some of these guys trained pretty hard specifically for the Triple and several were just in great shape from the other various events that they do.

It was going to be a crapshoot how long we would all stay together during the day, but we all started together at 6:45am on Saturday morning, July 10. It was a cool sunny morning and we were facing the typical Colorado forecast with a chance of showers sometime during the ride. The climb up to Squaw Pass was gorgeous. For some reason I had it in my head from the previous year that the climb was 12 miles, but it was actually about 15 miles. We all started together, but the group started separating after about 2 miles as Kevin Lawrence, Dean, Jamie and I picked up the pace and everyone else strung along behind us. I reached the Squaw Pass Aid Station a little after 8am and everyone else rolled in over the next 20-30 minutes. So far no issues and the weather was perfect.

Jamie and I descended together and it was a blast getting behind his big frame and hitting speeds in the mid 40s. We all regrouped at the bottom of the descent before going through Idaho Springs and our number had dwindled from 13 to 9. Behind us were Michael, Sonny, Todd and Marty. We all rolled through Idaho Springs and formed a paceline that stayed together for a good 5 or 6 miles until the road started to steepen a little.

We arrived at Aid Station #2 at around 10:15am and started to see some clouds on the Western Horizon. Aid #2 is about 44 miles into the ride. Our group spread out again over the 12 miles from Idaho Springs and everyone left Aid #2 at different times as well. I pulled out of Aid #2 with Kevin Kane, Flyer, Malin and Gregory and we began the big 10-Mile slog up to Aid #3 at Loveland Basin. This section kind of blows as there is a good 5 miles of riding on the shoulder of I-70. I decided to hit this section pretty hard and turn it into a training ride. On the bright side, I enjoyed the pace and felt great pumping circles into Aid #3 at around 11:45am. On the negative side, it was a good 30-45 minutes before the rest of the crew pulled in and I tightened up pretty badly sitting at the Aid Station for such a long time.

We didn't all pull out of Aid #3 until close to 1pm and now it was starting to cloud up pretty badly. In fact, it looked downright dark at the top of Loveland Pass. On the climb up to Loveland Pass, everyone strung out pretty well again and it was every man for himself when we each hit the top as it was starting to rain and hail. The descent down through A-Basin and Keystone was fast and scary because of the weather. I had bad memories of the year before when my front tire blew out and I had to catch a ride down in a SAG wagon. Fortunately there were no issues like that this year. I met up with Deano and Jamie at the bottom and we popped up over Swan Mountain without much trouble and arrived at the Frisco Aid Station #4 just as the skies really opened up and it started to pour. We were now about 80 miles into the ride and it was around 2:15 in the afternoon. I checked the radar map on my phone and it looked like we had about an hour of rain in store for us, but that it was clear behind the current storm. Kevin Kane, Flyer, Neil and I decided to hang at the aid station and wait it out. Everyone else either took off in the rain or had not yet arrived at the Aid Station.

At 3:15 the rain stopped and we ventured back out for the last 40 miles. The ride to Copper was pretty uneventful and we kept a slow and smooth pace together. We took a quick break at a tent at Copper and then climbed the 4 miles up to the Vail Pass Aid Station at Mile 93. Several of the guys were waiting at the aid station, but we were essentially down to about 5 riders at this point. Jamie and I hooked up for the descent and we passed anyone in our path on the way back into town. Coming through Vail we hit a nasty headwind that pretty much sapped our remaining energy and we just cruised the last few miles to the finish in Avon, arriving at around 5:30pm. Neil, Michael, Kevin Kane and Flyer arrived shortly after us.

Interesting day. My total ride time was about 7 hours and 45 minutes, but we were out there for about 11 hours. I spent way too much time at aid stations, but that was the price to pay for riding with a big group. A lot of fun nonetheless.

2010 Leadville Trail 100 Mountain Bike Race

2010-08-23T00:18:00.008-04:00

Brent on St. Kevin's at the Leadville 100

Once again it’s time for that annual self-indulgent stroll down Leadville 100 recap lane. On Saturday, August 14, 2010, I competed in and completed my 4th Leadville Trail 100 mountain bike race in Leadville, Colorado. This annual torture-fest is sadistically my favorite day of the year and the culmination of all athletic pursuits over the prior 11 months. 104 miles of dirt, grime and rocks on trails that climb up to 12,550 feet in the sky and with cumulative climbs of over 14,000 feet. It’s tough, it’s special, it’s beautiful, it’s . . . idiotic and borderline psychotic. Doesn’t say much for me, does it?

Leadville 100 Course Profile
Click Here for Animated Overhead View of the Leadville 100 Course

The cool thing about this recently acquired bike racing hobby is that I am now, at nearly age 43, in the best shape of my life. Which begs the question of why I waited so long to get that way? I “coulda been a contendah” if I hadn’t wasted my 20s and 30s devoted to career and children and beer and cheetos. Just kidding honey! Anyway, I first did this race in 2007 following a challenge from my now deceased best-friend Allan Goldberg. He was diagnosed with cancer in 2006 and wanted me to do a triathlon. I don’t run or swim, so I laughed in his face. Not to be deterred, he pulled some mental chicanery by using my love of mountain biking to challenge me to do the Leadville 100 mountain bike race. Accepting his challenge changed my life. That story is well told in my prior blogs, so a quick cut to the chase: In 2007 I participated in and finished my first LT100 in 11 hours and 11 minutes. In 2008, I improved to 10 hours and 35 minutes. In 2009, I improved yet again to 9 hours and 56 minutes. Yeah baby, who doesn’t like a good trend! So what was in store for 2010?

In the months, I mean days, I mean hours after the completion of the 2009 LT100, I decided that I wanted to shoot for Sub-9 hours in 2010. I wanted to smell the rarified air of the elite rider. I wanted the big Gold Buckle that goes to a sub-9 rider as my two Silver Buckles (for finishing between 9 and 12 hours) were lonely for a big brother. I vowed to dedicate myself to getting stronger during the off-season and did what I thought was necessary to do the trick. I played three nights of hockey per week during the winter. I supplemented the hockey with 1 to 2 sessions per week on the exercise bike doing intervals. In April I started pounding the hills and doing longer and longer rides. By June I was in amazing bike shape and could pound out 5000-8000 foot climb rides in my sleep. In early July I rode the 120-mile Triple Bypass with friends and crushed the climbs . . . even after sitting for extended periods at aid stations waiting for the other guys to roll in and get ready to go again.

Then the trouble started. A week after the Triple Bypass, I raced in the Silver Rush 50 mountain bike race in Leadville. While I put up a respectable time of 5 hours and 40 minutes, I never really felt great and I suffered my first leg cramps of the season. Had I overdone it? Maybe I shouldn’t have done this race a week after the Bypass. Maybe I needed some rest. Maybe I needed a pre-frontal lobotomy. I took 5 days off the bike and went to Canada with Lisa to visit my kids at camp. Upon my return, I resumed riding, but still found myself getting sore quickly and losing energy on 2-3 hour rides. I tried to compare stats from similar rides the prior year and noticed that I was putting up numbers that were at or actually behind where I was the previous year. Unfortunately, at this point there was nothing I could do about it. Leadville was in less than 2 weeks and, as they say, the “hay is in the barn.”

I was a wreck the days before Leadville. I wanted the sub-9 so badly and had worked so hard for it, but in the back of my mind . . . actually the front of my mind . . . I just knew that somewhere my fitness had reversed and I wasn’t in the right form to do it. I couldn’t sleep during the 3 nights preceding the race. Intellectually, I knew I was being ridiculous and irrational, but I couldn’t find that trigger that would allow me to shut off my brain and sleep. For the first time in my four Leadvilles, I actually couldn’t wait to just get the damn race over with. I was tired of my bike and I was tired of worrying about training rides and fitness levels. I knew I would try my best to the end, but I also knew that I just didn’t have it.

Brent and Ryan in Leadman's Living Room

Almost Ready

Locked and Loaded

Race morning arrived and we did the 4am departure for Leadville from Vail. Following last year’s routine, we parked at Mike “Leadman” McHargue’s home and dropped our bikes at the start area at 5am. On the bright side, I had no mechanical issues to worry about this year as my bike and my tires were in great condition. Back at the McHargues, we dressed, paced, applied sunscreen and butt-balm, paced some more, made small talk, took some pictures, kept the bathrooms continuously occupied, paced one last time and, finally, suited up for battle and headed back to the start area at 6:10am.

Brent and Lisa Pre-Race

Some 1582 riders were registered for the 2010 LT100. I had heard that there were some 180 no-shows. 1400 riders riding is still a helluva lot of human bodies on bikes in one cramped space. Shit, did I say the word “cramped?” Bad omen. The weather was diametrically opposite what it was in 2009. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky and there wasn’t a cloud predicted for the entire day. WHAT? That NEVER happens in Leadville. I had been in Colorado since July, 6 and had seen rain EVERY . . . SINGLE . . . DAY until yesterday. What are the odds? This was fantastic news . . . if you had a 10am tee-time or a family reunion picnic. For an all-day bike race at this altitude . . . not so much. No clouds means crazy direct sunshine. Crazy direct sunshine means hot dry dusty heat. Hot dry dusty heat over the course of a 9+ hour bike ride at 10,000+ feet altitude is a recipe for misery. Damn I wish I could remember the morning when I became a “glass is half-empty” guy! Where was my silver lining? I guess sometimes experience is a bad thing and I had too much experience with days like this. At least it was 37 degrees at the start, so no heat worries yet.

Partial Team FD - Gonzo, Grayson, Brent, Ryan, Squatter (Missing - GMO and Leadman)

At 6:30 the gun went off and we were off and riding in the 17th Leadville Trail 100 mountain bike race. Like last year, we had some helicopters filming the race. Unlike last year, they weren’t here for Lance Armstrong who bailed from the race 4 days before. No matter, Lance’s presence from last year had turned this race into a national and international carnival . . . I mean, sensation. The Leadville 100 had easily become the most recognizable mountain bike race on the planet and despite the fact that there was no prize money or professional points awarded to the top guys, many of the top mountain bikers in the world were here this year to see what the hoopla was about . . . or to satisfy their sponsors who told them to get their asses to Leadville! The guys at front included 6-time champion Dave Wiens, Tour de France podium rider Levi Leipheimer, Olympic mountain bikers and endurance phenomenoms Jeremy Horgan-Kubelski (JHK) and Todd Wells, local endurance icon Jay Henry, legends Tinker Juarez and Ned Overend, and budding stars Matt Shriver, Len Zanni and Max Taam. Without Lance, any one of those guys had a shot at winning and the race at the front was sure to be an exciting and dramatic spectacle. I’m sure I would read all about it tomorrow. For now, I had my own race to ride.

2010 Leadville 100 Start
Click Here for Video of 2010 Leadville 100 Start

I started down the pavement with GMO (Gary Morris) on my left and Gonzo (Dave Gonzales) on my right and Squatter (Kevin Kane) behind me. GMO has done this race with me each of the past 3 years (as has Squatter) and his personal best time was set in 2008 with a 9:48. Like me, he also was dreaming of a sub-9 and I figured that my best shot of reaching that goal was to stick with him no matter what. The Leadville start is insane with 1400 bikers jockeying for position and speeding down a 3-mile pavement descent. I never took my eyes off GMO’s rear . . . tire . . . and stayed glued to him all the way down the pavement section, through Leadville junction and along the dirt road to St Kevin’s. Gonzo and Squatter were not able to keep in contact with either of us. At the base of the St. Kevin’s climb, I stayed attached to GMO’s wheel and we kept a decent pace up the steepest part of the climb. So far so good. Since he had beaten me in every race we did together over 4 years and I was having no problem staying with him, maybe I was in better shape than I thought. About ¾ of the way up the steep climb, GMO slipped and put his foot down and had to quickly move to the side of the trail to let others pass. I didn’t want to disturb my rhythm, so I kept moving and assumed that he would quickly catch back up to me. That was the last time I would see him for the next 43 miles. I crested St. Kevins and the three mini-climbs after St. Kevins and hit the Carter Aid Station at 55 minutes. Not bad. Not great. Actually very mediocre. I used the downhill pavement descent to chug from my bottle, eat a hammer-gel and pop an S-Cap and then hit the uphill pavement on the other side of Turquoise Lake at a fairly benign but steady pace. Made the turn on Hagerman Road and again kept a steady pace of about 11mph. I knew I should be going faster, but just felt sluggish enough that I didn’t want to push it with so much riding ahead. I continued at a decent pace up Sugarloaf and hit the top at 1:38. This was about 8 minutes behind the pace I thought I needed for sub-9, but was 7 minutes faster than I had hit this spot in 2009. Still no sign of GMO. The sun was now out in force and it was getting warm.

The Powerline descent this year was a blast. The trail was in beautiful shape and the conditions were perfect for a screaming descent. I passed a number of riders on the descent, including Roxy Hall. Roxy was one of the riders featured in the 2009 Leadville documentary called “Race Across the Sky”. A Leadville native, she had been brutally banged up in a horrible car-bike wreck in the summer of 2008 and bravely fought her way back to participate in and buckle in the 2009 LT100. Speaking of “Race Across the Sky” (don’t mess with me, I’m Captain Segue), the production company for the movie is called Citizen Pictures and they are based in Denver. About a month before the race, I heard through the grapevine that they would be filming a Race Across the Sky sequel and were looking for interesting feature stories for the new movie. Apparently they realized that last year’s version was too Lance-centric and there wasn’t enough storytelling. In late July, Lisa and I visited the Citizen Pictures offices and met with Cyndi Ortiz and Mallory Potock to pitch the First Descents story. Shit, now I have to perform a digression wrapped inside of a digression as I didn’t really cover First Descents earlier.

First Descents Camp - July, 2010 - "Camp Spoonberg"

First Descents is a Colorado-based foundation that runs outdoor adventure camps for young adults with cancer. When my friend Allan Goldberg challenged me to do the first LT100, he was Executive Director of First Descents. After accepting the challenge, I formed a team of friends to do the race and we set ourselves up as Team First Descents and used the race as a fundraiser for First Descents. The concept took hold and we have raced each year under the Team FD banner and have raised over $350,000 for FD in the process. In addition, I am now Chairman of the Board of Directors of the foundation and Lisa is Director of Communications for the organization. THAT is the story that we pitched to Cyndi and Mallory and they LOVED it. They told us the next week that they definitely wanted to feature our team and our story in the next movie and would be filming us before, during and after the race and would also film and interview our crew at the First Descents’ aid station at Twin Lakes.

On Friday before the race, they conducted a great interview with me and Ryan Sutter and they also gave us a camera to record the goings-on at the McHargues on race-morning and at the aid station. Additionally, each member of our group was given a sticker to put on our number plate on the front of our bike so that their film crew would know that we were “persons of interest” in the race. It was very hip and exciting stuff and we were all calculating what percentage the new movie would use of each of our remaining 15 minutes of fame (well, everyone except Ryan as he’s already famous). So we had that going for us. End digressions.

I reached the pavement at the bottom of Powerline at about 1:50 and tried to find a group of riders with whom I could paceline through the Pipeline Aid station. As usual, this search was pretty fruitless as mountain bikers know how to grow facial hair and say words like “stoked” and “gnarly”, but don’t know how to paceline. I hooked up with a blond-haired woman who was really moving and we took turns pulling through the aid station. Actually, she did most of the pulling as she was strong as an ox and it took quite an amount of effort to stay with her. During this section, I popped another S-Cap, ate another Hammergel and tried to drink as much as I could from my Camelbak. I hit Pipeline Aid Station at 2:10. I was still only 7 minutes ahead of 2009 pace and I could already feel some fatigue creeping in. Now I knew I wasn’t imagining things in the weeks leading up to the race. I should have still been fresh at this point and I simply wasn’t. Blondie ultimately ditched me, so I kept a steady solo pace through the Pipeline section, hit the last little climb with some renewed energy and crested the last hill at 2:50. Other than the finish, this is my favorite moment of the race for several reasons. For one, when you crest the hill, there is a beautiful view of Twin Lakes, the dam and the huge crowds at the bottom of the hill. Second, it is a screaming pavement downhill to Twin Lakes and I know that the reward at the bottom is stopping at the First Descents aid station and seeing Lisa and all our other friends and supporters at our aid station. Pulling to a stop a Twin Lakes and seeing Lisa’s big smile is a huge pick-me-up and it allows me to briefly forget whatever pains I may feel and the hell that is ahead.

Lisa, Brent and Bruce Winston

Feed me Please!

I tried to make my aid station stop very brief. In 2009, I spent too long here when I pulled in going outbound. I quickly gave a bunch of high-fives to all of the great friends in the crowd, whipped off my Camelbak and exchanged it for a new one and looked for a new bottle that should have been ready and waiting to exchange with my empty bottle. Where was the bottle? In all the hoopla, Lisa forgot to prepare it for me. She quickly threw in the water and the Powerbar powder and handed it to me. I wasn’t angry, but I was a little annoyed as I couldn’t help but wonder how her attention could have been so diverted to forget to do the one job I needed her to do. No matter. No harm no foul. Nick McHargue told me I was on a sub-9 pace, but I knew better. Surprisingly, Leadman was also at the aid station and was about to depart. I figured he would have been 10 minutes ahead of me by now since he got to start with the top guys this morning. This was great. He and I could make beautiful music climbing Columbine together.

Off To Climb Columbine

We left the aid station and crossed the dam, hitting the Twin Lakes timer at 3:02. The dam was packed with people . . . even more that last year. It was deafening and awesome. Leadman and I went through the trail-gate one after another and then hit the small climb up the ridge overlooking the lake. Leadman accelerated up the trail and my legs would not respond. I felt like I was pedaling through mud. Slowly Leadman pulled away from me and there was nothing I could do except wave goodbye. I didn’t actually wave with my hand . . . but with my eyes. Then I took a drink from my Camelbak. Oh you’ve got to be kidding me!! Either my taste-buds had been inextricably dulled or I was drinking water . . . straight water. I took another pull. Yep, it was just water. Somehow my wonderful and loving and caring and diligent wife had failed to mix my Camelbak water with the Powerbar powder. Since the powder is what provides n-u-t-r-i-t-i-o-n, this was going to be a problem. I had 24 ounces of formula in my water bottle. On a hot day like this, that would last me about 45 minutes. However, Columbine was a 2-hour climb. Thus I was going to have to ride the top reaches without fuel. At first I was angry. Then I was annoyed at myself as I probably should have picked up on this possibility when I saw that the water bottle hadn’t been mixed when I arrived at the aid station. Then I actually felt sympathy for Lisa as I knew she would feel horrible when she discovered her mistake. For now, there was nothing I could do. This was Leadville and Leadville is about overcoming obstacles, big and small, that ALWAYS arise during a race.

Leadman got farther and farther ahead and I started feeling more and more like colon fudge. After passing over that first ridge and riding through the valley, I started the actual Columbine climb with a sense of something between foreboding and resignation. I was pedaling slowly and every revolution was an effort. I wanted nothing more than to find a patch of grass and take a siesta, but knew that would only prolong the crappiness that I felt. I finished the formula bottle after the first of ten switchbacks and immediately took two S-Caps and ate 2 hammergels to try to counteract the lack of nutrition in my Camelbak. Nearing the second switchback, the first lead riders began to pass the other way. First was JHK. Less than a minute behind him was Levi. Next was Todd Wells followed shortly thereafter by Wiens and Bishop. I can only shake my head as I so clearly grasp the enormous difference in strength and talent that exists between them and me. Bye guys. When you are done, go catch a meal, a shower and a full football game . . . before I’m done! I put on some music to take my mind off the fatigue as I rounded the 3rd switchback. Then came the 4th and then the 5th switchback. Praise Mother Columbine that the switchbacks stayed in order! I found a slow rhythm at about 4mph and just stuck with it. I also hearkened back to an old saying of Allan’s and “put my brain in a box.” 6th switchback. 7th. 8th. I was slowly getting near the top of the dirt road and was ready to walk my bike a little bit. I remember wishing for this in 2007 and then hating the walk, but this time I was ok with it. I hit the 9th switchback and could start to feel some pre-cramp twinging in my knees and thighs. I finally reached the 10th switchback and the spot where the trail gets rocky and steep. This past Monday I rode this section in a training ride with absolutely no problem. Today, I didn’t even attempt it and dismounted. It was nice to be out of the bike seat. After a couple hundred yards of hike-a-bike, BAM, the cramps kicked in and I had to pull over and do some quick massage. I also bit directly into yet another S-Cap and washed the bitter powder down with a swig of water. Continuing on I was confronted with one of the funnier sights I’ve seen at this race as there was a guy standing to the side of the trail dressed in a vest and tie and holding out hot-dog bites and Pabst Blue Ribbon beer on a white towel and silver tray. It was comical, but I didn’t dare partake as a single bite would have sent my stomach to the circus.

Sir, may I tempt you with a cold Pabst Blue Ribbon?

The next mile and a half was spent alternating between hiking, pedaling and stopping to massage leg cramps. About a mile and a half from the top, Ryan passed me going down. I was glad to see one of us was doing well. Finally I reached the point where the steepness ended and I got back on my bike (just as Leadman passed me going down) and pedaled the last mile to the Columbine aid station, arriving at 5:02. I actually was shocked when I realized that I had made the climb in 2 hours. In 2008, I thought I rode up Columbine pretty fast and it took me 2:02. In 2009, I really thought I rode strong and it took 2:01. This year I felt like miserable camel-dung and actually rode up slightly quicker than the two prior years. Man oh man this race just confuses me to no end. At the turnaround, I quickly chugged three cups of Gatorade and filled my bottle with Gatorade and then got the hell out of the there.

The Columbine descent is a blast. For one, it is unadulterated mountain biking fun. Second, and more importantly, it signals the beginning of the return HOME! Starting down I began looking for familiar Team FD jerseys coming up. First was GMO. He was about 15 minutes behind me and didn’t look too happy. Next was Grayson at about 25 minutes back. Right behind him was Gonzo. Finally I passed Squatter at the bottom of the steep section and he gave me a big thumbs-up. Phew. I always worry about how Squatter’s doing as I want so much for him to do well, but am always concerned that he hasn’t put in enough training before the race. Continuing down the fire-road at break-neck speed I came upon Dirk about 2 miles lower. Behind him are still more riders. I think to myself that there is no way these people are going to finish, much less do it in 12 hours to buckle. I estimated that despite my feeling of fatigue and my murky self-perception of having climbed up Columbine in slow-motion, I still managed to pass some 1,000 ascending riders on my descent. What a far cry from 2007 when I was one of those riders in that bottom group.

Returning to the FD Aid Station After Columbine

I bombed back through the Twin Lakes dam at 5:39 and pulled into the FD aid station at 5:42. I would regret this later, but the first thing I said to Lisa when I pulled in was “Do you know what sucks about the Columbine climb?” She responded “what?” I then said “Climbing up without nutrition!” In retrospect, there was no upside to making her feel badly, but one doesn’t think clearly at that altitude after 60 miles of muscle rape. The truth of the matter is that I probably lost 10 minutes by not having the right drink mixture. However, at the end of the day, the 10 minutes was meaningless as I wasn’t going to do sub-9 with or without the right nutrition. I decided to spend a few minutes at the aid station and gather myself. I was sore and tired, but I wasn’t in agony and I didn’t have any concerns about getting through the last 42 miles. It was just a matter of how hard I wanted to go and what goal I wanted to go after. Did I mention that in some spheres of my life I am congenitally Type-A and must have a goal? Well, with my 9-hour goal out the window, I needed a new goal quickly and I immediately landed upon two. The first goal was to beat my best time of 9:57 set in 2009. The second goal was to beat GMO’s personal best time of 9:48 set in 2008. Both were doable if I simply rode the same time over the last 42 miles as I did last year. Last year I pulled out of Twin Lakes at 6 hours and did the last 42 in 3:57. Pulling out this year at 5:46, I calculated that a 3:57 would put me across the finish comfortably at around 9:43 . . . 5 minutes under GMO’s mark. I knew that I felt a lot better at Twin Lakes last year. However, I also just learned that “feeling better” isn’t necessarily the best indicator as I just climbed up Columbine faster than last year while feeling a helluva lot worse. Go figure.

Lisa, Brent and Dad and Gang - Twin Lakes Inbound

Yummm . . . watermelon.

Quite Thirsty

I exchanged my Camelbak and bottle for new ones (checking this time to be sure that both were properly mixed), gobbled an S-Cap, grabbed three new Hammergels and swallowed about 8 pieces of watermelon. I then gave a quick smile and thumbs up to the film crew and took some strength from my Dad’s smile as my Dad arrived at the aid station while I was climbing Columbine and this was his first time at the race (or any race for that matter). It was time to get my ass back to Leadville. Leaving the crew behind, I shot up the dirt embankment, crossed Rte 82 and began the slog back to town.

Undele undele!!!

Time to Vamoose Back to Leadville. 42 Miles to GO!!

The Pipeline inbound section was very slow this year. In addition to the relentless sun, we had a pretty nasty headwind from Twin Lakes all the way to the base of Powerline. This slowed things up quite a bit. I didn’t really have any issues for the next 18 miles, but I didn’t go particularly fast. I rolled into Pipeline at 6:49. Last year I rolled in at 7:06. Thus I actually gained 2 minutes over last year over this section. Whoop de doo! For the first time in 4 LT100s I did not stop to get any food or drink at Pipeline Aid and just rolled right through. This turned out to be a minor brain fart and would have been a major brain fart if not for Nick McHargue (which I’ll explain farther along).

The dirt road and pavement from Pipeline Aid to the base of Powerline were almost as bad as any hill climb. The headwind was absolutely brutal and it made no difference if you were in a paceline or not. In fact, I got in a paceline of 5 people and we still weren’t moving! It is very frustrating after 75 miles of work to toil at 13 miles per hour on flat pavement because of headwind. It took 23 stinkin’ minutes to cover the few miles between Pipeline and the base of Powerline and my mind had gone absolutely numb in anticipation of the 1600 foot Dante’s Inferno Pipeline climb ahead. Starting up the climb, I was able to ride the lower section, but as soon as the path turned left and steeply upwards, I was off the bike. As usual, there was a crew of great fans giving high-fives, enthusiasm and budweisers at the turn, but I was not feeling very social as the dreaded “Powerline Push” began. I did manage to inquire about the race-finish and was told that Levi Leipheimer won in a record time of 6 hours and 17 minutes. Whatever. About halfway up the steep part of the hike-a-bike, my legs seized up with cramps again. I started having flashbacks to 2007 when I cramped badly on this section and pretty much had to walk all the way to the top. The worst memory of all was when GMO passed me about ½ mile from the top and finished 15 minutes ahead of me. I was hoping history wouldn’t repeat itself . . . not necessarily the GMO passing me, but the walking all the way to the top. Oh who am I kidding? I would be bitter as hell if GMO passed me again on this mind-fuck of a climb. I bit into two S-Caps and swallowed the powder with one of the last remaining swigs of my Camelbak. The Camel was now empty and I had about half a bottle of formula left. I had consumed some 75 ounces of fluids in the 2 hours since I left Twin Lakes. Rubbing out the over-stressed muscles above me knees, I continued gingerly up until the trail plateaued and then I hopped back on my bike for a quick 70 foot descent before the trail continued up again. This was a moment of truth with the cramps. Would I be able to pedal? I got into the lowest gear possible and just tried to evenly spin. So far so good. It seemed that a constant, even motion was doable. When the trail got too rocky or suddenly steepened, the legs would seize and I’d have to walk. After playing this game 3 or 4 times, I simply recognized that it wasn’t worth trying to fight the terrain changes and I just got off and pushed whenever prudent. The one time I did try to push through some larger rocks, I came to a standstill and my left leg completely seized. I toppled onto my right side and simply sat there in the middle of the trail unable to move as I literally could not straighten my leg. I counted to 10, massaged a little and then was slowly able to bend the leg. Ow that hurt. Time for another S-Cap . . . which I washed down with the last drops of fluid from my bottle. I don’t even want to think about how much sodium I had consumed through S-Caps in the last 4 hours. I felt like I was popping those things like M&Ms. I was now out of fluids and was still 8 miles from the next Aid Station. Nick McHargue had told me that he would be hanging at Hagerman Road to collect Camelbaks from Leadman and from me. I don’t have a religious bone in my body, but I was praying to the hydration deity that Nick had some fluids with him. If not, I was in for a big western bitch-slap on the next climb. Anyway, I walked the bike for about 50 yards until the next moderate pitch, and then I was happily able to get back on the bike and continue. This on-again off-again merry-go-round went on for the next half hour until finally I looked at my altimeter and saw that I was only 50 feet in elevation from the summit of Powerline. This torture was actually almost over!

Young St. Nick

At 8:12 I crested Powerline and began the descent down the backside (Sugarloaf). At 8:22 I reached the end of Hagerman Road and was mighty pleased to see Nick . . . AND HE CAME PREPARED. Bless you child! I tore my Camelbak off my back and threw it to Nick and he filled up my water bottle with some kind of mixture of Accelerade and water. Frankly, I didn’t care what the hell he put in the bottle. It could have been beer, apple juice, grenadine, mojito . . . I didn’t care . . . as long as it was wet. Thanking St. Nick, I made the u-turn and coasted down the pavement toward the southern end of Turquoise Lake and took a long swig of the new mixture. HOLY PUTRIDITY BATMAN! That Accelerade stuff sucked ass! I took two more swigs and nearly regurgitated the meager contents of my stomach all over the road. Great, now I had to contend with a queasy stomach along with the cramps. Fighting back the nausea, I circled the bottom of the lake and started the pavement climb up St. Kevin’s at 8:28. I have no explanation for what happened next because there was nothing in the 85-mile lead-up to this last major climb that would have given me any inkling that I would suddenly feel great, but that’s what happened. As soon as the road turned up, I completely unzipped my jersey, stood up on the pedals and started hammering. I must have reached that stage of muscle-numbing exhausted euphoria that endurance runners talk about because I felt no pain (even the nausea suddenly disappeared) and I literally flew up the climb. I passed some 20 riders, several as if they were standing still, and reached Carter Aid station in 21 minutes at 8:49. Despite the delays caused by cramping on Powerline, I had lost only 3 minutes from last year on the stretch between Pipeline and Carter Aid and now I was at Carter a full 14 minutes ahead of my 2009 pace. If I covered the remaining distance in identical time as last year, I’m in at 9:43. Barring a flat tire or some other disaster, I was going to achieve my secondary goals with a small cushion.

At Carter, I emptied the remaining Accelerade on the ground where it belonged and refilled the bottle with Gatorade. I also ate a few watermelon slices and answered a quick question on camera from the Citizen Pictures guy who was standing there. Then I was off again for the final stretch. I covered the next 3 miles of trail without issue and then crested St. Kevins at 9:03. One more rocky descent to go and then it was all power pedaling to the finish. I conservatively bombed (sorry for the oxymoron) down the descent and hit the dirt trail at 9:10. I was a little surprised to have another headwind at this spot, but it wasn’t too bad. I looked for another biker to work with, but there was nobody within a ¼ mile of me in either direction and I couldn’t convince the nearest bovine to give me a lead-out. I hit Leadville Junction at 9:19 and reached the bottom of the “Boulevard” at 9:23. I’ve covered this in past blogs, but the Boulevard is the final fuck-you of this race. First of all, while this is advertised as the Leadville 100, the total mileage is actually about 103.5 miles and those last 3.5 miles start at the bottom of the Boulevard. The first 200 yards of the Boulevard are a steep pitch . . . well actually not that steep . . . but steep enough after 100 miles . . . and it is very rocky with boulders the size of elephants! Well, maybe little toy elephants. Many bikers dismount and walk this stretch. I stayed in my seat and just kept a constant slow spin to ward off the potential attack of some late flanking cramps. After 200 yards, the route just becomes a basic dirt road that climbs about 400 foot in elevation over 2 miles as it returns us to the heart of Leadville. Many guys on this section were flat-out finished and could barely turn the pedals over. For me, there is something about this last stretch that makes me want to go hard no matter how shitty I feel. The faster I nail this section, the faster I can be done and this is the last chance we have to give an effort that will have a direct impact on our final time. I stood up, put the bike in the middle front ring and pounded up the Boulevard with everything I had left. I wasn’t breaking any speed records, but I was passing people and I was feeling great about finishing strong versus limping in.

Brent Approaching the Finish

Closer Still!

I took the left onto the pavement at the top of the dirt road and then the immediate right on Harrison at 9:40 and topped off the last little paved hill at 9:41 and there it was in front of me . . . the beautiful mirage-like finish. It was over. It was time to enjoy the last sprint down the hill and then up the last two blocks to the finish line. I felt absolutely no pain as I approached the red carpet and felt and heard the applause of spectators lining both sides of the street. And then I heard my name and hometown announced by the Leadville Mayor and I was across the finish line and into Lisa’s arms. My Garmin showed 9:42:34, but it appears that my official time is 9:43:06. This got me into the top 20% of all registrants. Either way, I was thrilled that I had beaten my personal best and even more thrilled that I took the dubious Maryland title from GMO by over 5 minutes. I was also absolutely amazed that I hit the exact same time, to the minute, that I had calculated when I left Twin Lakes just under 4 hours ago. Just shows how well I’m getting to know this course and my own abilities after 4 years.

Brent and Dad at Finish

Brent, Leadman and H-Town

I was given my finisher’s medal and then slowly moved out of the finishing area to find a seat. I was coughing like crazy from all the dust and I was craving my annual post-race fix of Ramen noodles. I was quite surprised to learn that Leadman had finished the race only 4 minutes ahead of me. It’s too bad I couldn’t stay with him on that Columbine climb as it would have been a lot more enjoyable doing the last 60 miles with him. As for the others, Ryan finished in 8:31, GMO arrived in at 10:15, Grayson at 10:51, Gonzo at 10:56 and Kevin at 12:18. Dirk was apparently a DNF.

Well-Deserved Rest

Leadman, GMO, Brent & Grayson

Another Leadville down and another Silver buckle in my pocket. So now what? Do I continue the pursuit of the Holy Grail that is 9 hours? I have to think long and hard about that. I guess I first have to figure out what made me feel weaker in the month before Leadville. If I don’t figure that out, then all the winter and spring training in the world is irrelevant. Next I have to figure out whether I want to expend another year of crazy training knowing full well that there are no assurances of success on race-day. I just don’t know.

After the awards ceremony on Sunday morning, Lisa and I took a ride to Aspen over Independence Pass. As we left Leadville, I drove a section of the LT100 course so she could see some of what we see on race-day. She was in awe of the beauty of the course and told me how great it must be to ride in such a beautiful place. I looked around and it dawned on me that I never once took in the sights and felt the beauty of my surroundings during the race. I was so consumed by my time and focused on my nutrition and energy levels that I failed to look around and smell the roses. Damn. Here I was . . . a guy who loves to mountain bike . . . and I got to go ride my bike all day long in this amazingly beautiful place . . . and I found no joy during the ride itself. In fact, how many times did I refer to the ride as torture? Isn’t there something wrong with that? Maybe next year I should forget about time altogether and just enjoy the ride. I could easily tone it down some 10-15% and feel little pain and just have fun . . . find friends to ride with and stay with . . . hang at the aid stations talking to crew and volunteers . . . SMILE and JOKE . . . formulate Haikus in my head . . .eat a hot dog on Columbine and drink a beer on Powerline. Maybe it is worth sacrificing some 60-75 minutes of time to gain perspective again. There is no question I’ll be back for the 5th buckle. I just need to spend some time figuring out how I want to do it. Of course GMO trying to reclaim his title may impact my thinking as well!

E-Mail from a First Descents Participant

2010-06-23T22:27:00.007-04:00

Below is an e-mail received today from a recent First Descents' participant. This says it all:

From: Lemon Drop
Date: Wed, Jun 23, 2010 at 9:57 AM
Subject: The First Day of the Rest of My Life... Thanks, FD :)

Two things happened yesterday that could not have happened without FD,
and if we're friends on Facebook, you already know, but here it is for
the rest of the fam...

Before FD, I resisted the last two steps of my "treatment": being
tested for the BRCA (breast cancer) genes, and getting my chemo port
removed. Why? Because I was living an ugly cancer-colored cloud over
my head that kept asking, "What if I tested positive for the gene?
What would that mean for my future, for my hopes to start a family one
day? What if I had it and passed it onto my children? What if my
cancer came back - shouldn't I just keep my port?" I was getting
through life, but I wasn't "living" at all - I was just waiting for
the day when my doctor would say, "Sorry, kid - you have to put your
life on hold again."

When I got back from camp, though, I realized I couldn't live a "half"
life, didn't WANT to live a "half" life, and I summoned up the courage
to schedule a surgery for my port and get tested for the gene. I told
myself, if the news came back I was positive, so be it, my FD family
would be there to support me through whatever happened, but it was
time to get on with my life.

This morning, I'm happy to say I woke up without a port (my surgery
was yesterday), and knowing I am BRCA-gene free (my test results also
came in yesterday - negative!). I'm sitting here in my living room,
and it feels like the first day of the rest of my life!! :)

In revamping the FD YouTube Channel, I came across the video for the
Bryan McKenna Spirit Award, and there's a part in it where Brad says,
"I'm not just living in the sense that I'm getting through life; I'm
living in the sense that I get to live life." For the first time in
two years, I felt like that - like I GET to live life. And you know
what? It feels pretty good!

When the doctor told me my results yesterday, I burst into tears, not
just because I was happy, but because I realized not everyone gets
that news. Not everyone walks out of his office happy, grateful,
feeling like they just won the Triple Crown. I cried for the women -
women I KNOW - who are where I was just 48 hours ago - just getting
through life, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Yesterday, my other
shoe dropped, and you know what? I'm going to be just fine. When I
dried my tears, I made a promise to myself that I would never again
take waking up in the morning for granted.

I'm starting to lose track of the times I've thanked you all for being
a part of this experience that is First Descents, for not only
teaching me to climb mountains that seem insurmountable, but for being
there for me with an encouraging word ("Der you go," comes to mind) or
a memorable picture (thanks, Bear!), or even a "like" on a Facebook
post - ;) - but here's one more - THANK YOU for reminding me that
every day I'm here is a gift.

- Lemon Drop

2009 Leadville 100 Mountain Bike Race

2009-08-29T11:31:00.017-04:00

2009 LEADVILLE TRAIL 100

August 15, 2009

Helicopters. There were helicopters overhead. They were circling and getting ready to film . . . us. It was 6:15am on Saturday, August 15, 2009 and I was lined up with my trusty Gary Fisher Hi-Fi mountain bike at the intersection of 6th and Harrison in Leadville, Colorado along with 1,390 other mountain bikers anxiously awaiting the shotgun blast for the start of the 16th Leadville Trail 100 mountain bike race. Whoa, long sentence. This was my 3rd straight year participating in this event. It has become the highlight of my annual athletic calendar. All trails point to Leadville, yada, yada, yada. For a recreational amateur athlete mountain biker, it is our Super Bowl . . . it is a spiritual event for the spiritual and non-spiritual alike . . . it inspires obsessed men and women to spend hours and hours and miles and miles on a bike on country roads and trails and in the gym in the hopes of finishing a 100 mile trail race (actually 104 miles) within 12 hours (silver buckle) or within 9 hours (gold buckle) or in some time frame better than the prior year. In the big picture, will a 10 hour finish versus an 11 hour finish really matter? Probably not. But I can assure you that finish times sure as hell mattered to me and these other 1,390 folks. Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, we had helicopters. The 2009 Leadville 100 had hit the big-time. Lance Armstrong was back to avenge his loss in 2008 to six-time Leadville champion, hall-of-fame mountain biker and all around great guy, Dave Wiens. This year, Lance was fresh off a 3rd place finish in the Tour de France and the Leadville 100 had gained international recognition due to his participation. So, ok, the helicopters were there for him, not for the rest of us. But still, THERE WERE FRIGGIN’ HELICOPTERS here to film a bike race in which I was competing! Suhweet!

I’m not going to spend much time giving the background for the hows and whys I was lined up to race in the Leadville 100. Nor am I going to get too descriptive in explaining the nuances of the course. For that info, see my blog entries for 2007 and 2008. In short, I do this race because my best friend, Allan Goldberg, challenged me to do it in the summer of 2006 when he was rediagnosed with cancer and was facing 6 months of chemo and radiation. He joined me at the start line in 2007, but very sadly passed away in June, 2008. I carry the torch. Needless to say, the Leadville 100 is a mountain bike race starting in Leadville, Colorado. Leadville, at 10,200 feet, is the highest incorporated town in America. The race route goes out some 51 miles over 3 mountains and then returns 53 miles via the same route (the extra 2 miles are due to a slight detour at the finish). In total, the route contains nearly 14,000 feet of cumulative ascent and the great majority of the race occurs at altitudes in excess of 10,000 feet. It ain’t for the weak-hearted, asthmatic or jelly-legged.

Once again, I was joined by several friends and we all raced under the colors of Team First Descents. Over the past 3 years, we had used our participation in the Leadville 100 to raise nearly $300,000 for the First Descents cancer foundation, an organization for which Allan Goldberg was the Executive Director until his passing. This year’s group included Kevin “Hoof” Kane, Neil “Nile/Schnizzle” Markus, Gary “GMO” Morris, Dave “Gonzo” Gonzales, Dean “Deano” Gregory, Eric “Brooks” Brooks, Kevin Carter, Jamie Malin, Mike “Leadman” McHargue, Ryan “The Bachelor” Sutter and Barry Davis.

Brent, Jamie, Kevin, Barry, Dave, Neil, Mike, Gary, Eric

I had spent my usual 4-6 months training for this race and hoping that I had reached peak fitness in the days leading up to Leadville. I had built up my endurance nicely with several long rides including the Tour de Cure century in June, the 120-mile Triple Bypass road ride in early July and the 85-mile Copper Triangle in late July. Additionally, I had done a lot of intensity training throughout the year with several nights a week of winter ice hockey followed by many interval sessions on the indoor bike in early spring. Coming off last year’s time of 10 hours and 35 minutes, my realistic goal for 2009 was to beat 10 hours.

Unfortunately, Murphy’s Law has a neat way of intruding upon this race. On the Tuesday night before the race, I was hunched over a toilet divesting myself of the contents of my stomach. Stomach flu. Nice. So much for that tasty gourmet mac-n-cheese I ate for dinner that night. I proceeded to spend all day Wednesday on the couch with nausea and fever and really didn’t eat much solid food on the Thursday or Friday before the race. I lost 3.5 pounds through the ordeal and that isn’t really the kind of weight you want to lose before a race of this magnitude or effort. I did my best during the days to ply myself with liquids, including 3 Recoverite shakes per day to ensure that I was getting sufficient carbs and protein into the system. That seemed to do the trick as I felt pretty good when I awoke on race morning. That lasted about 10 minutes as I went into the garage and found my rear tire completely flat. NFW!!!

If you read my blog from 2008, you’ll remember that I went through 6 tubes during the 2008 LT100. No two issues were alike. Just a barrage of bad luck and bad tires. This year I converted my tires to tubeless tires in the hopes of avoiding the issues of last year. I had no issues with the tubeless tires all summer . . . until the morning of the race. I pumped up the tire to 60psi and then threw it on the car for the ride to Leadville. I then went back in the house and ate a scrambled egg breakfast burrito and filled a bottle of Powerbar formula. Over the past two years, I drank a bottle during the ride from Eagle-Vail to Leadville and then downed another bottle right before the race. This year I decided to cut that in half and only drink the bottle right before the race . . . mostly in the hopes of avoiding a bathroom break 20 minutes into the race.

We arrived in Leadville at 5am and parked at Leadman’s house. By the way, Mike got the name “Leadman” because he competes in (and has won) the Leadman competition. A “Leadman” is a guy who successfully completes a 10k run, a trail marathon, a 50 mile bike race known as the Silver Rush, a 100 mile bike race (LT100) and a 100 mile trail run (which occurs exactly a week after the 100 mile bike race) . . . all in the same 5 week period of a summer. In other words, Leadman is absolutely insane. But I digress. Upon arrival I immediately checked my tire and found that it had dropped to 20psi during the car-ride. For you non-bikers, that’s not enough air pressure. I couldn’t believe this was happening. There were foamy air bubbles around the rim caused by the tubeless sealant escaping through air holes. I was hoping that the sealant inside the tire just needed to spread and that it would happen through rotation of the tire once I started riding. We rode the bikes down a few blocks to the start area and slotted ourselves at the front of the 9-10hour finisher section. We then hoofed it back to Leadman’s house where we spent the next hour suiting up, applying lube and sunscreen, doing ‘business’ and generally feeling anxious. At 6am, I downed my bottle of formula and at 6:05 we all walked back to the start area.

OK, so now let’s return to the helicopters. For the first time ever, the Leadville 100 would be professionally filmed. Parts of the race, including the start, were going to be simulcast live via the LT100 website. Other footage would go toward an hour-long documentary about the race that will supposedly be shown in theaters this fall. Pretty damn cool. The 15 minutes prior to the shotgun contained the usual crowd noise, loudspeaker announcements and tangible excitement among the racers. I could feel the racers’ collective and pervasive need to urinate, but it was too late for that. At 6:30am, the shotgun went off and the 2009 Leadville Trail 100 was underway.

There is usually a very slow police escort out of the town that continues for the 3 mile pavement descent out of town. This year, with Lance’s return, the police escort flew down the pavement and the race was ON. The pace down to Leadville Junction (where the pavement meets the first dirt road) was twice as fast as anything I’d seen the last two years. People were flying down and jockeying for position before we even hit the dirt. Not what I was expecting. Nile and I had decided to try to ride the same pace together for as long as possible in the hopes that we could help each other in the Pipeline section. I wasn’t interested in a break-neck start as I really wanted to conserve my energy for later in the race. This year’s race was actually the first that I didn’t have any split-time goals. As I said above, I wanted to break 10 hours, but I mostly wanted to ride a good race and feel good throughout. I figured that if I rode smart and kept a steady pace from the get-go that my finish time would take care of itself. I also had a fear of bonking because of a bad experience that I had just a month ago when riding the first 60 miles of the course at too fast of a pace. Oh yeah, and I was puking 3 days ago and hadn’t really eaten anything solid since Tuesday. Just a minor detail.

The 800 foot rocky St. Kevin’s climb was its usual congested self. It was pretty cool having the helicopter follow the masses all the way to St. Kevin’s, but now it had taken off over the mountain presumably to follow King Lance and his court. The pace of the St. Kevin’s climb was pretty similar to last year. There was room to pass people, but the effort required to pass just didn’t seem worth it. Ooh, I forgot one important detail. Back-up 10 minutes. Just before the start, the sky turned dark and it started to rain. It was also 39 degrees. 39 degrees + rain = SUCKS! To evidence the fact that we really are smarter than the average bear, we wore our jackets from the start through the beginning of the St. Kevin’s climb. About halfway up the climb, the rain stopped so Nile and I shed our jackets as we were starting to heat up. We made it up St. Kevin’s without issue, but then had a little mishap as we crossed the top ridge of Kevin’s. Some guy stopped short in front of Nile and Nile stopped short in front of me. I hit the brakes and tried to turn sideways, but couldn’t keep my balance and toppled over. Unfortunately, I used my left hand to break my fall and it landed right on a rock. Direct hit. OUCH. I got back moving again, but my palm was killing me. I tried to shake it off, but no dice. This was just something I was going to have to live with for the next 9+ hours. However, to show just how manly I can pretend to be, I’m not going to mention the bruised hand again in this narrative. Just know that it did hurt throughout. Especially on the descents. Especially whenever I hit a rock or bump. Especially . . . oh shut up. At about the same time, I asked Nile how my back tire looked and he said he thought it looked low. That was NOT the answer I was looking for. I said that we should just get through the next 3 miles of rolling trail and then take a look when we hit the pavement descent.

We went through Carter Aid station and hit the pavement at about 57 minutes. Although I had no time split goals, this was slightly slower than I expected for that first section. I quickly hopped off the bike to check my tire. Satisfied that the pressure hadn’t changed since the start, I jumped back on the bike and began the 3.5 mile white-knuckled pavement bomb down and around Turquoise Lake and continued with a decent pace up the 1.5 mile pavement climb to Hagerman Pass Road on the other side of the lake. Things now were pretty uneventful except that it started to rain again . . . but not hard enough to make me want to put the jacket back on. Nile and I were still together as we made the turn onto Hagerman Pass Road and we did a conservative 9-10mph clip up a couple miles to the 180 degree turn-off onto the Sugarloaf trail and the climb to the top of Sugarloaf summit. Now it was raining pretty steadily, so I picked up my pace to warm-up. Somewhere over the next few hundred yards, Nile fell back and I kept going. My fingers and toes were getting numb and I just wanted to get to the top of the trail and get down the other side. I reached the top at about 1:45, which was pretty much the same time as last year.

The descent down Powerline was brutal. Powerline is a steep, rocky, sketchy 2 mile trail among a series of powerlines that drop down the east side of Sugarloaf mountain. On a good day, it is pretty hairy. However, with rain and freezing cold, the trail was a muddy mess and the descent was a bit treacherous . . . especially considering that mud was flying onto my glasses and making visibility awful. Our descent was further enhanced by the eerie crackling sound overhead caused from water hitting the electric lines. I made a very conservative descent as I didn’t want to take any dumb-assed risks that would prematurely end my day. Toward the bottom of the descent, I saw Barry walking his bike down the hill. I asked him what happened and he said that he slashed his tire in 3 places and that his race was over. Bummer. The torturous descent lasted about 17 minutes. In training in dry conditions, I had been doing it in 9 minutes. Oh well. When I reached the bottom, I turned right onto the pavement and rode slowly in the hopes that Nile would catch up. When he didn’t appear after a few minutes of slow pedaling, I latched onto a paceline of about 6 riders and rode the line for the 5 miles of pavement that would deposit us at Pipeline Aid station and the beginning of the Pipeline section of the course. Although it was pouring rain, I decided not to put my jacket back on as I could see patches of blue sky ahead. So much for the average bear.

I reached the Pipeline Aid station (Mile 28) at 2 hours and 18 minutes. This was 15 minutes faster than last year, but that’s only because I spent 20 minutes last year trying to fix a flat tire on Powerline. So it was no great shakes. I tried to find another group of riders to join in a paceline for the next 12 miles, but everyone was already pretty spread out and mountain bikers in general are pretty clueless when it comes to working together. So I just pushed steadily (but not too hard) on my own for pretty much the entire Pipeline section. I made a very conscious effort to keep a constant pace and to never let my heartrate exceed 150 beats per minute. In retrospect, this was probably too conservative and unnecessary.

At 3 hours into the race (9:30am in the morning), I topped the last ridge of the Pipeline section and elatedly flew down the other side of the ridge, crossing Rte 82 at the bottom and skidding right into our aid station in the Twin Lakes’ parking lot. After 3 hours of cold riding, I was so excited to see the warm smiles of Lisa, Bailey and our crew. I took quick stock of the race to this point. Other than borderline hypothermia on Powerline, there had so far been no real issues, no real excitement and no worries. I was feeling slightly sluggish from the flu, but I was starting to feel strength in the legs. I probably hadn’t drank as much as I should, but that could be blamed on the cold. I had finished my 70 ounces from the Camelback, but had only eaten one package of Clif Shots versus the 3 that I had budgeted for the first 3 hours of the ride. Thus I was arguably a little calorie deficient heading onto Columbine.

At the aid station, Nick McHargue informed me that I was “only” 53 minutes behind Lance. Thanks Nick. Nice pep talk. Didn’t make me feel TOO emasculated! Jamie Malin had arrived a few minutes before me and we decided to ride up Columbine together. In fact, Jamie’s exact words were “let’s just do a nice casual ride up Columbine.” Sounds good. What’s the rush? Enjoy the day right? We waited a couple more minutes for Nile and, like “a phoenix rising from the ashes,” he suddenly appeared. We gave him a minute or two to do his thing and then Jamie, Nile and I took off through the Twin Lakes parking lot together. At the end of the lot, the road turns to single-track for about ¼ mile and then the trail takes a right turn across the Twin Lakes Dam (which is closed 364 days per year). The next few minutes were very cool as there were hundreds and hundreds of spectators on both sides of the Twin Lakes dam and the three of us flew through the tunnels of people in our matching black Team First Descents uniforms. It was great to hear a lot of “go First Descents” comments.

Crossing Twin Lakes Dam Outbound

Just across the Dam is the giant Twin Lakes Aid Station. From there, the race goes through an access gate and climbs about 500 feet up from the Lake over a small ridge, drops into a valley for about a mile and then continues on a 9-mile 3200 foot climb to the Columbine Mine. As we climbed the ridge out of Twin Lakes, Jamie shot forward at a much faster pace than I wanted to maintain. What the hell happened to the “nice casual ride?” Nile and I kept a reasonable pace, busted out into the valley and began our long climb into the sky on the Columbine dirt road. I continued trying to keep my heartrate below 150 and that translated to a comfortable pace of about 5 mph. After the first half-mile or so, I could no longer see Jamie in front and Nile had dropped off my back. It looked like it was going to be another long solo climb up Columbine. I plugged in my tunes on my Thump MP3 sunglasses and plowed forward. As I approached the campground at the end of the first straight-away, I heard the first calls of “rider coming.” Would it be Lance? Would it be Dave? Would it be both together like last year? Would it be some upstart? Suddenly, a one-man freight train in black flew by at about 50 mph. I could make out the “Mellow Johnny’s” logo on the back of the shirt and knew it was Lance. Holy crap was he moving! But where was Dave? I looked at my Garmin (bike computer). It was 3 hours and 40 minutes into the race. How big was the gap? I continued my slow plod and 13 minutes later, Dave Wiens went flying by in solo 2nd place. Wow, Lance was simply superhuman to have opened up a gap of some 15 minutes on Wiens (using higher math, I added 2 minutes to the gap as I was now about a mile higher on the mountain . . . just in case you were wondering how 13 minutes became a 15 minute gap). Too bad. I was really pulling for Dave. Nothing against Lance, but I think most of the field was pulling for Dave.

About halfway up the climb, I finally started feeling some power and rhythm in my legs for the first time of the day. I picked up my pace just a little and started passing other riders, including Jamie toward the top of the jeep-road section. There was a point when the heavens opened and we were greeted with another cold windy rain. I considered putting the jacket back on, but was able to see blue skies through the clouds and really didn’t want to stop my momentum if I was only going to take the jacket off again in 10 minutes. After about 7 miles, the jeep road ends and the last 2 miles is a steep rocky trail above the tree-line. When I hit the first rocky steep section, I was able to stay on the bike for the first ¼ mile or so. Then the line of traffic just made it too difficult to pedal and I hopped off and began walking. I didn’t mind the walking so much, but I couldn’t stand how slowly the line of walking riders was moving. Damn. I guess I should have tried going out faster from the start. For the next 30 minutes, I shuffled between riding and walking and passed riders when there was room. I was having no breathing, stomach or cramping issues and felt relatively good. I arrived at the Columbine Mine Aid station about 5 hours and 20 minutes into the race and had made the 10-mile upward trek from Twin Lakes in roughly the same time as last year (about 2:01). I guess there really was a difference in my strength this year as last year I felt like I had crushed the climb in 2:01 and this year I felt like I took it fairly moderately. Additionally, I’m sure the wet surface of the climb made things slightly slower this year.

During the ascent, I finished my entire 70 ounces of Powerbar in the Camelback and another 10 ounces or so from my water bottle. At the Columbine Mine aid station, I wasted no time. First I gave a quick skyward salute to Allan. On a training ride two weeks ago, Jamie Malin and I rode to the top of Columbine and I spread some of Al’s ashes. Al never made it the top of Columbine during his lifetime as he skipped the Columbine training rides in ’07 and then missed the cutoff time at Twin Lakes on race day. He vowed to come back in 2008 to reach the top, but it wasn’t to be. I figured it was appropriate for a part of him to spend time for eternity at a place he never reached in life.

Spreading Allan's Ashes on Top of Columbine

My apologies for the deviation. Back to the race recap. After saluting Al, I pulled into the aid station, chugged 3 cups of Gatorade and pulled out (a premature evacuation?) From the Columbine Aid station, the race route re-traces the course back to Leadville. The cool thing about an out-and-back course is that every rider, at some point of the Columbine climb or descent, will pass every other rider in the race from Lance Armstrong and the leaders on the way up to the slowest struggling racers on the way down. Upon leaving the Columbine Mine aid station, there is a ¼ mile hill that rises from the aid station before taking a right turn north for the big descent. As I crested the little rise, I started searching out FD jerseys. Quick comment about the jerseys. This year’s jersey was designed by Mike Friedberg of Vail. It was a very unique design and it took me some time to get used to it as it wasn’t really my style. However, the public reception to the jersey was fantastic and I had grown to really like wearing the full kit. Of course my favorite part of the jersey was Allan’s initials on the back.

I first spotted Jamie who was just cresting the rise from the other side and who was now running about 5 minutes behind me. I next saw Gonzo and Deano a few minutes later as they were approaching the final small climb toward the aid station. As for the others, Leadman, GMO and Ryan passed me as I was ascending. Ryan was probably 50 minutes ahead of me, Leadman was about 30 minutes ahead and GMO was about 25 minutes ahead. As I descended, I passed Brooks farther down, but I couldn’t find Nile or Hoof. Nile was the most perplexing as he should have been no more than a few minutes behind me.

The descent through the rocks was pretty sketchy because of the huge number of riders still climbing. I just stayed on the tail of the rider in front of me and took no chances. My arms were not screaming in pain during the descent as they were in past years. I think it is because I made a forward adjustment on the positioning of my brake levers. It’s the little things. Once I was back on the jeep-road, I rode the next 7 miles of descent at the usual break-neck speed and was amazed at how much farther down the road the last struggling riders extended as compared to previous years. Granted, I was about 20 minutes ahead in pace over 2008, but there were still people ascending when I was over halfway down the mountain.

At the bottom, the sun was shining and it was turning into a beautiful afternoon. As I busted out into the valley, I started focusing for the first time on where I stood timewise and what it meant as far as a possible finish time. I was pretty sure that I was right on the edge of a 10-hour pace. I probably shouldn’t have wasted so much time being conservative and nonchalant, but I didn’t see any reason why I couldn’t make up for it on the homestretch. As I climbed up and over the ridge back to Twin Lakes, I strangely came upon Hoof. I say strangely as it was a very odd place for him to be at that stage of the race. As I caught up to him, I yelled “Kevin, what the hell are you doing HERE?” He simply responded “Bonk issues, race over, kick ass.” I was sure there was a story behind that one, but now wasn’t the time to focus on it. I flew up the last little hill of the ridge and then bombed down to Twin Lakes, arriving at the aid station at 5 hours and 55 minutes. Twin Lakes aid station is such an awesome arrival after Columbine. For one, you are flying through with some great speed after the ridge descent. Second, it is a tunnel of cheering people that extends from the base of the ridge all the way to the dam. Riding inbound through that tunnel is really one of the great thrills of race-day.

At 5:55, I was 22 minutes ahead of my Twin Lake inbound arrival in 2008. In 2008, I finished the race in 10:35. If I subtract 22 minutes from my 2008 finish, a ride to the finish this year at an identical pace to the last year would put me back at Leadville at 10 hours and 13 minutes. This was going to be tough as I really thought I rode a strong last 44 miles last year. This year I would have to be at least 13 minutes stronger if I was going to beat 10 hours. After crossing the dam, I hightailed it through the Twin Lakes parking lot and arrived at our little aid station at exactly 6 hours. To my shock and dismay, Nile was with the girls as his day had been cut short on the Columbine climb due to mechanical issues with his bike. I was so bummed for him. Unfortunately, I had to keep focusing on my own race. As I hadn’t drank anything during the Columbine descent, I quickly chugged half a bottle of Powerbar formula, swapped out my Camelback and grabbed a new bottle of formula for my bottle cage. I grabbed 3 new packages of Clif Shotblocks, a baggie of S-caps (sodium pills), switched out my gloves and Thump glasses and got the hell out of there. I probably lost a minute searching for gloves, but no biggie . . . I could make that up.

I hit the climb out of Twin Lakes at a pretty good pace, alternating between sitting and standing the whole way up. I pedaled hard down the dirt road and arrived at the new Pipeline singletrack section behind a line of about 10 riders. In years past, this section was known as the Cobra or North Face. It was mean and steep and required pushing the bike up a 20%+ grade for about 500 yards. This year, that section was removed and a new 1.25 mile serpentine singletrack was cut into the hill. It made the return a little more pleasant, but the added distance also meant an additional 6-7 minutes of riding. Additionally, the singletrack was so narrow that it was impossible to pass anyone. Thus one slow rider led to 9 riders frustratingly following in his wake. It took about 12 minutes to climb the trail. I didn’t account for this extra time in my calculations. I was now worried that a minute here and a minute there could derail my 10-hour ambitions. I was starting to get tired for the first time as well. I tried to push a good pace back to the Pipeline aid station, but I couldn’t find any fellow riders to work with and was riding into a bit of an annoying headwind. It was high time to start conversing with myself. “Brent, how ya feeling?” “I’m feeling good dammit!” “Are you sure?” “Yes, I’m sure dammit!” “Are you reeeeaaaaaally feeling good?” “Yes, I’m reeeeally feeling good dammit!” “Well if you are feeling so good, DAMMIT, then pick up the fucking pace!” “Oh blow me!” Ok, so maybe the self-conversation wasn’t such a great idea. At least I was amused for a good three minutes. During this 12-mile stretch, I finished a full bottle of Powerade and refilled the bottle with water when I hit the Pipeline Aid station at mile 73. I was there in 7 hours and 7 minutes. I was now 23 minutes ahead of last year, but not making up enough ground to break 10. With Powerline looming, I was starting to have my doubts. At Pipeline aid, I ate a piece of watermelon and learned that Lance Armstrong had finished in an astounding 6 hours and 28 minutes and Dave Wiens finished nearly 30 minutes later. Bummer for Dave, but pretty amazing for Lance. I just shook my head at the absurdity of Lance’s time, hopped back on the bike and continued riding to the pavement section that would lead me to the beast . . . Powerline.

At this point of the race, experience truly kicks in. In my first effort in 2007, I still wasn’t even sure I would finish at this point. My legs had started cramping and I had no race-experience from which to draw inspiration. In 2008, I was exhausted and pained and simply dreading Powerline, but I had no doubts of finishing. This year, I was tired and sore but had no dread. I simply accepted as fact that there was some suffering ahead, but also accepted as fact that I would have no problem getting through it. The only question was how long it would take and how much I had left in the tank. It was more an intellectual curiosity than a fear or worry.

I kept a great pace from Pipeline to the base of Powerline, but again could find no fellow riders for a paceline. I continued alternating between sitting and standing and was able to pedal in the big ring that entire section. Unfortunately, it was now getting really hot out and that didn’t bode well for Powerline. Additionally, I was starting to feel some queasiness in my stomach and also felt some slight stomach cramping. I rode the first flat section of Powerline and then walked the steep section at a snail’s pace. As I approached the top of the hike-a-bike section, I reached down to my pack to pull out an S-cap and discovered to my horror that all of my S-Caps and Shotblocs were gone. Somehow they must have popped out over a bump or something. This wasn’t good. I still had over 2 hours and a good 20 miles of riding to go including most of Powerline, all of St. Kevin’s and all of the Boulevard back up to town. Without sodium and food, I wasn’t sure how I could make it the whole distance without being severely slowed by bonking or cramping. As I was lamenting my predicament, I suddenly I felt a vibration from my Camelbak. It was my phone. Damn phone . . . why did I bring it and why didn’t I turn off the vibration? How annoying. Damn phone. Wait a minute. I have a damn phone with me! Maybe I should . . . uh . . . use it! To quote my youngest daughter Bailey, “DUH!” At the top of the hike section, I pulled to the side and called Lisa and made arrangements for her to meet me in 45 minutes at the spot where Hagerman Pass Road meets the pavement with some S-Caps and food. I was saved! I slogged up the remainder of Powerline, riding most of it, but walking in sections to conserve strength. Although I am too well aware of all the false summits on Sugarloaf, it never fails to bum me out to reach a plateau, turn around a bend and see the trail climb up some more. Then again, to finally reach the top of Powerline is borderline orgasmic. After cresting the top, I ecstatically bombed down the back of Sugarloaf knowing that I was getting close to the finish and that the hardest part of the day was now over. I met Lisa and Hoof and crew at Hagerman Pass Road, took a few gel packs and immediately swallowed 2 S-Caps. My Garmin showed 8 hours and 34 minutes. They offered me encouragement, but at this point I really didn’t think sub-10 was possible as I thought I was still a good 45-50 minutes away from the Carter Aid Station at the top of the St. Kevin’s pavement climb and from there I would be 55-60 minutes to the finish. Additionally, I was right on the edge of total exhaustion and simply didn’t think I’d find the energy to make a last run for it. Thus 10:10 to 10:15 was looking more and more like a reality.

Regardless, I pedaled hard down to the base of Turquoise Lake and, as I was rounding the turn, Lisa drove up beside me and asked if I needed anything else. A light bulb went off in my dim brain – maybe if I shed some weight, I could ride up the hill faster. Seemed logical. I quickly unhitched the front of my Camelbak and threw it and everything in my shirt pockets into the back of the car. At this point, I figured I could make it home with one water bottle as I’d be able to refill it at Carter Aid. I started up the 3.5 mile St. Kevin’s climb at 8:39 and was astonished by how quickly I settled into a strong rhythm. The steady cadence of a road climb was actually giving my legs life. Alternating between sitting and standing, I scooted up the climb at a good 7-9 mph and passed some 30 riders on the ascent. Suddenly I was at the top and making the turn onto the trail, arriving at Carter Aid at 9:02.

So this was it. I had 58 minutes to make it across the line. From Carter Aid, there are three short thigh-busting climbs over a 3 mile rolling trail section followed by a nut-chattering descent down St. Kevin’s. I was riding alongside a big guy in white as we approached the first hill and asked if he thought we had a shot at sub-10. He said he was in an almost identical spot in 2008 when he hit Carter Aid at 9 hours and crossed the line in 9:58. He said that we’d have to push it though. It was make or break time. I went through my options. I could mosey in with most of the riders around me and finish in 10:05 or 10:10 or I could put my legs through 58 minutes of sustained hell and hope that a sub-10 finish is worth the pain. A flood of rationalizations crossed my tired brain. Does it really matter if I’m 9:58 or 10:06? What difference will it make to my life? Isn’t it enough that I’ll still have a vastly improved time over last year? What’s the point of wasting myself over a number? WELL F**K THAT NOISE!!! To hell with the rationalizations. I wanted sub-10. I could taste sub-10. The words “sub-10” were about to highlight my biking resume for the next 12 months.

I pushed as hard as I could up each of the 3 hills while other riders were walking. I felt badly as I was one of those walkers on these hills two years ago. I was gasping for breath and my legs were screaming at me. I covered the 3 miles in about 13 minutes, reached the top of St. Kevin’s at 9:18 and crushed the rocky descent as fast as I safely could. I hit the dirt road at top speed at 9:23, put the bike into the big ring and pedaled as furiously as my dulled legs would allow. At this point there was nobody in front of me and nobody behind me. I was a little disappointed to be solo as I was riding into a headwind and it was keeping my speed below 20mph (where last year I was flying through this section at about 27mph).

I hit the pavement at Leadville junction at 9:34. In 2008, I think I covered this last section from Leadville Junction to the finish in about 25 minutes. As long as I didn’t have a mechanical issue or sudden leg cramp over the next couple of miles, I was now pretty certain for the first time in hours that I was going to do it. I hit the bottom of the “Boulevard” at 9:40. I had ¼ mile of fairly steep rocky terrain, about 2 1/4 miles of dirt road and a mile of pavement to go to the finish. After getting through the rocky bottom section, I stood up and kept the bike in the big ring for the entire trek up the Boulevard. I was possessed. I kept a pace of between 12 and 17mph going up the hill, passing riders one by one (including Chris Carmichael). I hit the top of the dirt road at 9:53 and felt utter elation. Not only was I going to break 10, but I was going to do it comfortably. I powered up the last little pavement climb and broke out into a huge grin as I saw the finish line just a half mile ahead. It is one of the most beautiful sites in the world. I zipped up my jersey (gotta look presentable!) and literally flew up 6th street to the finish.

Even better than the human tunnel at Twin Lakes is the last 500 yards of the Leadville 100. Spectators line both sides of the street and they heartily clap and cheer every racer as he or she approaches the finish. It is magical and something that will keep me coming back year after year. As I approached the red carpet that leads to the finish line, my daughter Bailey broke free from the crowd and ran up alongside me. I then heard the Leadville mayor announce my name and hometown and then my time as I crossed the line. 9:56:51. Yeeeehaaaa! Total jubilation. I made up nearly 40 minutes over last year with a good chunk of the faster time having nothing to do with last year’s tire delays. I was simply faster and stronger and was willing to push beyond the pain to achieve a goal . . . as arbitrary as that goal may sound to a non-racer. In a weird way, I felt even more empowered than I did the first time I finished this race in 2007. Although I had to overcome cramping adversity in 2007 and some mental darkness, I was realistically never in danger of not finishing and there was never a point where I really had to push myself beyond my limits. Today I had to reach into an empty tank and scour for dormant drops of energy.

Hitting the Red Carpet with Bailey in Tow

Surprisingly, I made up nearly 20 minutes on GMO over the last 40 miles as he only finished 7 minutes ahead of me. Gonzo came rolling in at 10:15 . . . which was absolutely awesome for him. He improved nearly 40 minutes over 2008 as well. Deano arrived at 10:30. He’s had the biggest 3-year improvement of all of us as he’s gone from 12:07 in 2007 to 10:30 in 2009. Leadman missed out on his Gold Buckle by about 11 minutes with a 9:11 finish. Kevin Carter was low man of the group with 8:29. Ryan Sutter was pretty impressive as well with an 8:40 finish. Jamie Malin had some tire issues, but arrived safely at 11:13. Eric Brooks came in at 11:30. As mentioned earlier, Barry Davis, Neil Markus and Kevin Kane did not finish.

On Sunday morning I returned to Leadville for the Awards Ceremony. For the 3rd time, my name was announced in the hallowed halls of the gym to “reverberate through the ages in the hills of Leadville” (according to Ken Chlouber). I received my 3rd silver buckle and a yellow sweatshirt with my name and time on the sleeve.

Lance Armstrong showed up and gave a great victory speech (which can be viewed at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_xppDlW4nHI&feature=PlayList&p=9676291A6C74A49B&playnext=1&playnext_from=PL&index=52). He was humble and spoke about how Leadville revived his racing career. Dave Wiens likewise spoke very well. Dave thanked everyone for supporting him over the years and encouraged everyone in the audience to get out, enjoy the outdoors and stay healthy. After the speeches, I got a picture with Ken and Merilee and congratulated them on putting on another awesome event and told them I couldn’t wait to come back next year.

Merilee, Brent and Ken

So what’s my takeaway in 2009? For one, I was stronger and more focused this year than last. This was reflective in both my time and the fact that I finished right around the top 20th percentile of all starters. That being said, I think there is great room for improvement in 2010 if I’m so inclined to try to make another big leap forward. I was really burned out last year after doing Leadville and Shenandoah 100 three weeks apart. The burn-out stuck with me into the fall to the point where I didn’t want to touch a bike for several months. I added more nights of hockey to my regimen last winter as a justification for not riding all winter. I think this put me behind the 8-ball in late March and April when I finally started to ride and I don’t feel like I ever really caught up to where I should be. Yeah I did plenty of long endurance rides in the months prior to Leadville, but none were with any real intensity. If I’m going to even contemplate a finish near 9-hours, I need to work on the bike year-round this coming year and really focus on quality over quantity. That means a lot of short, high-intensity workouts that will result in a very strong core and very strong legs by next April when I start doing longer rides. Additionally, while I am registered to race in the Shenandoah 100 over Labor Day weekend, I am going to skip it. Lisa wants me home with the family and, frankly, I don’t want to torture myself and sully the good feeling I have from my Leadville sub-10. So, in short, it’s GOLD BUCKLE OR BUST for 2010! Now where’s that stupid bike pump . . .

2009 First Descents Leadville Fundraiser

2009-08-06T11:55:00.008-04:00

www.active.com/donate/LT100firstdescents09

Dear Friends,

One year ago, my best and oldest friend, Allan Goldberg, died of cancer at age 40. Allan was a special person who spent nearly his entire adult life as a crusader in the Cancer world, culminating with his last years spent as the Executive Director for the First Descents cancer foundation. First Descents is an amazing grass-roots organization that operates outdoor adventure camps free of charge for young adults, ages 18-40, with or recovering from the devastating effects of cancer (http://www.firstdescents.org/).

In the summer of 2006, while in the early throes of chemotherapy and radiation, Allan challenged me to attempt to compete in the 2007 Leadville Trail 100 mountain bike race in Leadville, Colorado. This was a daunting task for a weekend warrior as the Leadville 100 is widely considered to be one of the most difficult and grueling one day endurance mountain bike races in the world. When I considered what my friend was facing, I accepted the challenge, enlisted a few other biking friends to join me, trained for nearly a year and succeeded in not only completing the race in a respectable time, but in raising over $80,000 for the First Descents foundation. Sadly, Allan passed away in June, 2008, however, we all felt strongly about continuing to support his memory and his legacy through the First Descents mission. So we raced in Leadville again in 2008, each of us improving on our performance from the prior year. Most importantly, last summer we succeeded in raising nearly $115,000 for First Descents and were directly responsible for making a dramatic difference in so many young lives that had been scarred by cancer.

Over these last 3 years, our support of First Descents has become one of the most fulfilling endeavors in my life and my wife Lisa's life. Allan gave us the impetus and a platform, but Lisa and I have fully immersed ourselves in the First Descents mission. I am a member of the First Descents Board of Directors and I can't even count how many volunteer jobs and projects Lisa has undertaken for the foundation. For starters, Lisa spent a magical, emotional, uplifting and inspiring week last summer as a volunteer "Camp Mom" at a First Descents camp in Montana. She was so taken and consumed by the program that she has since volunteered her time as a camper recruiter, an expert with the FD organizational software, a donation thank-you note writer, a data inputter, and an inspired vocal advocate. She is simply amazing. In fact, I highly highly encourage you to read her blog of her experiences the past two summers as "Stepmom" the First Descents camp mom. You can view it at http://www.stepmom08.blogspot.com/. It is a truly emotional window into the world of First Descents and it vividly illustrates why this program is so important in the far-reaching world of cancer. Needless to say, Lisa will likely volunteer for a week every summer from now on. As for me, Allan has unwittingly turned me into an endurance bike junkie and I will be proudly donning my Team First Descents gear in 4 different 100+ mile road and mountain bike events this summer, including Leadville on August 15.

So once again, it is with great humility and a full recognition of the economic times that I am again asking (and begging if necessary) for your support as we attempt to raise another $100,000 for First Descents (an amount sufficient to fully subsidize almost 100 young adult cancer survivors for a weeklong First Descents program). Lisa and I have gotten the ball rolling by increasing our donation from last year with a substantial (for us) sponsorship (which can be viewed on the donation web-page). Once again we are providing great incentives including our very popular t-shirts, bike jerseys designed by Vail artist Mike Friedberg, Leadville 100 hats AND signed LANCE ARMSTRONG bike jerseys to the top 20 donors who donate $1500 or higher (with the top 3 donors to receive the signed jerseys mounted and beautifully framed). Lance Armstrong came in 2nd in the 2008 Leadville 100 and attributes his participation in the race as the trigger behind his return to professional racing. We’re hoping he races with us again this August. Donations of any amount are appreciated, however here are the special donation levels:

$150 or more - Team First Descents T-Shirt
$250 or more - Team First Descents 2008 Bike Jersey
$500 or more – Artist-Designed 2009 Team First Descents cycling jersey
$1,000 or more – Special package of T-shirt, 2009 Bike Jersey and a Leadville 100 hat
PLUS– 20 highest donors over $1000 – t-shirt, jersey, hat AND autographed Lance Armstrong First Descents bike jersey
3 Highest Donors – Beautifully framed and mounted Team First Descents Jersey signed by Lance Armstrong

You can make a donation online by visiting my Team First Descents fundraising webpage at www.active.com/donate/LT100firstdescents09. Alternatively, you can make a donation the old-fashioned way by sending a check payable to “First Descents” and send to:

Team First Descents
c/o Brent Goldstein
13709 Lakewood Court
Rockville, Maryland 20850

On behalf of First Descents, the memory of my friend Allan and those survivors whose lives have been changed by First Descents, thank you in advance for your help and support.

Brent

P.S. Please also consider of First Descents (via my Leadville donation page) if you are ever looking for a worthy cause for making a small gift in someone’s honor or a donation in memory of a friend’s/family member’s passing. First Descents will process beneficiary letters to your honoree or memoriam family for any donation amount.

P.S.S. If interested, we also have specially designed matching cycling shorts that are available for purchase or as additional donation incentive. Please contact me for information.

2009 TRIPLE BYPASS

2009-07-15T01:41:00.002-04:00

2009 TRIPLE BYPASS

July 11, 2009

I used to just ride a mountain bike. I enjoyed being in the woods, coursing through trees, hopping over logs and getting dirty. Somewhere I strayed. In September, 2006 I bought my first road bike. Originally it was a purchase justified solely as a training aid for endurance mountain biking . . . specifically the 2007 Leadville 100. Then a strange thing happened on the way to the forum: I started to really enjoy the road. I enjoyed going fast on thin tires. I enjoyed exploring the countryside and covering large distances on a bike. I enjoyed getting into endurance shape without major wear and tear on the body. Don’t get me wrong, I still prefer the trail to the road, but over the last 3 years, I have become a full-fledged roadie and can hold my own with the velo-nerds.

After successfully completing two Leadville 100s and the Shenandoah 100, I decided in late 2008 that it was time to do some epic road rides. Two that jumped out at me were the Copper Triangle from Vail to Copper Mountain to Leadville to Vail and the Triple Bypass. In December, 2008, I checked the calendar and noticed that the 2009 Triple Bypass was scheduled for Saturday, July 11, 2009. The Triple Bypass is a 120-mile road ride from Evergreen, Colorado to Avon, Colorado. It’s name is derived from a route that climbs over three passes, namely Junger Pass, Loveland Pass and Vail Pass and contains some 10,200 feet of total ascent. Over 3500 bikers participate in the event each year and it is widely known as a road-biking rite of passage.

Registration for the Triple Bypass begins on January 1 and typically sells out in 5-6 days. I took no chances and registered early on January 1, 2009. It’s a good thing I didn’t delay as the 2009 version sold out within 38 hours. I tried to get a bunch of other guys to sign up, but everyone was either too late or couldn’t commit. No worries, I was prepared for a nice long solo ride looking at mountains and listening to tunes.

During the week before the 2009 Triple Bypass, I met a few other guys who would be doing the ride. One was Tom Skinner from DC. Tom was introduced to me through Dave Gonzales. The second was Howard Pollock from Denver. Howard was introduced to me through my brother after the two met at a restaurant in Vegas. I made arrangements to meet Howard and Tom at 6am in Bergen Park on the morning of the 11th.

Figuring out logistics for the Triple was a little bit of a pain. I didn’t want to drive from Vail to Evergreen as I would then have to get back to Evergreen after the ride to pick up the car and drive back to Vail. Fortunately, I was able to snag a ride from West-Vail from a guy named Brian at 4:30am on the morning of the 11th. The ride from West-Vail to Evergreen took about an hour and 15 minutes. We parked in a strip-center near Bergen Park, changed clothes and made our way over to the start area.

The Triple Bypass is a ride, not a race. You can start anytime you want between 5am and 8am and there are no time limits or deadlines. I met Tom and Howard at the start at 6:15am. It was a beautiful crisp Colorado morning with no clouds and a temperature in the mid-40s. Some storms were predicted for the afternoon, but storms are pretty much predicted every afternoon in Colorado. I think Colorado weatherman predict weather accuracy at a lower percentage than the batting average of a utility infielder with the Washington Nationals.

The route starts in Bergen Park at an altitude of 7800 feet and jumps right into an 18-mile climb on Rte 103. It is a totally relaxed climb with a grade of no more than 3-5% the entire way up. The pavement is pretty smooth and it was a perfect way to warm-up in the cool morning temperatures. The climb ascended a total of about 2400 feet to the Junger Pass at 11,200 feet elevation. The crowd moved along at a pace of about 5-6 mph and it took about 90 minutes to get to the top. Tom and Howard started with me and kept pace for the first 8-9 miles, but then I got itchy and picked up my speed and they dropped back. After topping out at Junger Pass, there is a mile or so light descent to Aid Station #1.

At the aid station, I found some food, refilled a bottle and got in line to use the porta-John. During that time, Tom and Howard arrived and decided to continue on ahead of me under the assumption that I would catch them. After Aid Station #1, there is a gorgeous 14 mile descent down past Echo Lake and into Idaho Springs. The scenery is breathtaking and I was able to hit speeds well into the 40mph range. Quite fun.

We rolled into Idaho Springs and then took a left west on the frontage road that ran parallel to I-70. The next 20 miles consists of some flat terrain and a very slight uphill grade that just keeps going and going. Aid Station #2 popped up after about 6 miles. I again grabbed some quick food and a bottle refill and then got a phone text from Tom that he and Howard had continued upward and were about 5 minutes ahead of me. From the Aid Station, the route continues on the frontage road and also includes about a 2-mile stretch of unpaved dirt road. From there it heads through the towns of Georgetown and Silver Plume before the grade slightly steepens as it heads up to Loveland Basin.

About 20 miles past Idaho Springs, just past the town of Bakerville, the frontage road ends and the bikers are dumped onto the Westbound shoulder of I-70. It is a pretty big shoulder and fairly smooth pavement, but it is still a little disconcerting to be riding on a highway. However, there was definitely safety in numbers as bikers extended for miles in front of me and miles behind me. The I-70 portion of the route climbs for about 5 miles at a grade of about 5%. It was a little monotonous and a little difficult to relax and enjoy because of the speeding cars, but I was still enjoying the ride. About halfway up the I-70 section, I caught and passed Howard. He said that Tom was farther ahead. I kept to my own pace and finally reached the Loveland Basin exit and was directed off the highway.

The entire climb from Idaho Springs to Loveland Basin took about 2 hours. Aid Station #3 was in the Loveland Basin parking lot and it was a huge party. There were multiple tents of food and beverages, there was music blasting and there were hundreds of bikes strewn across the ground. It was a hot sunny day, so we caked suntan lotion on our skin and were content to hang out for awhile and enjoy the atmosphere. I found Tom pretty quickly after I rolled in and Howard arrived about 10 minutes later. We were now about 4 hours into the ride and had covered about 58 miles. I certainly wasn’t exhausted, but was definitely starting to feel some weariness in the legs.

From the Loveland Basin Aid Station, the next 4 miles are the toughest miles of the whole day. It is a 4-mile stretch of exposed Highway 6 that takes you straight up from Loveland Basin to Loveland Pass. It is a beautiful wind-blown stretch of road and it climbs some 1300 feet from Loveland Basin, topping out at 12,000 feet at Loveland Pass. The descent down the other side is an amazing 10 mile descent that rides past the Arapahoe Basin and Keystone ski areas. Unfortunately, I had a bit of good luck-bad luck about 2 miles into the descent as my rear-tire exploded at 45 mph (the bad luck), but I was able to jam the brakes and slow to a stop on the shoulder without sliding out and killing myself (the good luck). I checked the tire for debris and inserted a spare tube. It popped. I inserted a second tube which also blew up. Sheesh. I inspected the tire again and found that there was a tear in the sidewall of the tire and it was too big to fix. Huge bummer. I hailed a support van, threw my bike in back and caught a ride to the next Aid Station in Frisco.

What sucked most about this was that I missed my reward for the 30-mile climb from Idaho Springs to Loveland Pass. As we drove down in the van, every single rider expressed his/her descent-happiness with huge shit-eating grins. Just past Keystone, the route turns off Highway 6 and continues up and over a little hill called Swan Mountain Road. I was in the van for this little climb and descent, which covered about 2 miles and would have taken about 8-10 minutes to ride.

The van dropped me off in Frisco at Aid Station #4 where I proceeded to the service tent and bought a new tire and several new tubes. Back in business again. I met back up with Howard and Tom and, after checking some weather reports and taking note of some storm clouds, we were on our way. It was now about 12:30pm. From Frisco, the next 10 miles or so consist of a bike path that follows I-70 from Frisco to Copper Mountain. The path is slightly uphill, so our pace was moderate, but it was a nice stretch with trees on both sides sheltering us from the wind.

At about 1:15pm, we arrived at Copper Mountain. One more climb to go. The climb from Copper Mountain to Vail Pass is actually relatively mild. I had climbed it a few times before, so I knew what to expect. It was about 4 miles long and climbed about 800 feet. Thus the grade was some 2/3 the steepness of what we faced when climbing the 4 miles from Loveland Basin to Loveland Pass. Tom and I stayed together the whole way up and were thrilled to hit Aid Station #5 at Vail Pass at around 1:45pm. For all intents and purposes, we were done for the day. Yes, we still had 30 miles to the finish, but it was all downhill from here.

We waited for Howard at the aid station and took our time sampling the refreshments and talking with the other riders. Now the storm clouds were really gathering, so we put on our jackets for the descent and hit the road at about 2pm.

I have done the Vail Pass descent some 7-8 times and knew all of the turns, so I was really able to fly down. I just love this descent. A few of the turns are pretty sketchy . . . especially on the top section which consists of 3-4 miles of narrow bike path. About halfway down, the path opens up to an access road that drops the final 3-4 miles to East Vail. It is easy to reach speeds of 45-50mph on this section. From East-Vail, it is about 8 miles to the center of Vail and then another 12 miles to the finish.

I was mostly solo for the Vail Pass descent and all the way down to the East-Vail exit at I-70. At that point I looked back and saw a paceline of about 6 riders approaching and noticed that Tom was part of the paceline. I slowed my own pace to let them catch me and then latched on the back. It was now cold and raining, so we all were pushing to get to the finish as soon as possible. The next 12 miles were about as much fun as I’ve ever had on a road-bike as it was my first time as part of a well-functioning paceline. We kept a speed of between 28-30 mph the entire last 20 miles and rotated perfectly among the 7 riders. It was very cool to pass other riders as if they were standing still.

We reached the finish at Nottingham Park in Avon at about 3pm. Our total elapsed time was just under 9 hours. Our total ride time was around 7 hours and 30 minutes (estimated to account for my time spent in the service van). The scene at Nottingham Park was great. There were several huge food tents, a beer tent, a massage tent and a bunch of tents for sponsors to show off their merchandise. I hung out with Tom and Howard for about 45 minutes and then had to take my leave and ride back to my house to relieve the babysitter. Ironically, it started to pour rain about 5 minutes after I walked through the front-door.

So, here’s the wrap-up. Long day in the saddle, but the only really strenuous section was the 4-mile section between Loveland Basin and Loveland pass. The first two climbs were long and arduous at 18 miles and 30 miles each, but both were at very gradual with small grades and both were quite doable for any biker in even moderate shape. 120 miles in the Colorado rocky mountains is still a hard day and quite an achievement for the average biker. That being said, it doesn’t hold a candle to the exertion that we expend at the Leadville 100. By mile 45 at Leadville, the legs are on fire, exhaustion is already setting in and questions are arising as to how the hell to get through the next 55-60 miles. I never felt anything close to that kind of distress at the Bypass. Sure I was tired at the end, but no moreso than after a hard 3-4 mile mountain bike ride. I’ll certainly do the ride again if I happen to be in Colorado on the same date next summer. Hopefully, I can get some more friends to join.

2008 Shenandoah 100 Mountain Bike Race

2008-10-30T17:33:00.003-04:00

2008 Shenandoah 100 Mountain Bike Race
August 31, 2008

Do I do this race, do I not do this race, do I do this race, do I not do this race? For three weeks since Leadville I had been struggling over whether I should put my body through the torture of another 100 mile mountain bike race so soon after Leadville. My wife was the angel on one shoulder telling me that I should rest and spend the entire Labor Day weekend with the family. GMO (Gary Morris) was the devil on the other shoulder telling me that it would be a waste not to take advantage of my great shape to test myself in another endurance event. So confused. After all the waffling, I finally made the call to do the frickin’ race as I just didn’t feel like sitting around a pool for 3 days straight.

GMO and I drove down to Harrisonsburg, Virginia on Saturday afternoon, checked into the Motel 6/Holiday Inn/Ramada Inn/Name-that-motel, and then headed to the Stokesville Campground for registration and carbo-load dinner. The scene at the campground was way more relaxed that its Leadville counterpart. There were no medical check-ins or bracelets or formal presentations. There was a pre-race meeting, but it was pretty casual. I think we could have skipped the whole shindig and just shown up to race in the morning. During the meeting, there was a guy who yelled out the following: “We like to ride mountain bikes right? Right. Well tomorrow we get to do what? What. We get to ride our bikes ALL DAY! How long are we going to ride? ALL DAY!” Not sure if that guy was a shill for the organizers or just a highly exuberant (and highly caffeinated) fellow racer, but now I had the ALL DAY catch-phrase stuck in my head.

OK, now I’m going to shun all rules of literary form and fast-forward 24 hours to the end of the race as the rest of the narrative is based on a recap e-mail that I sent out when I got back to Maryland:

Holy Shit, was that hard! In many ways, I found the Shenandoah 100 to be a MUCH tougher race than Leadville. Now I can fully understand why many don’t consider Leadville to be a technical course. Wow. The Leadville course is a frickin’ superhighway compared to this one! My Garmin showed 12,556 vertical feet of climbing at the end of the day. Thus the total climbing is comparable to the total climbs in Leadville. While Leadville has the obvious altitude issues that we all dwell on ad nausea, this race had humidity. Frankly, I’m not sure which is worse. I think I’ll take the altitude. Also, Leadville’s descents are strolls in the park by comparison. In Leadville, there is this nice concept called “recovery” on the descents. Not here. All 5 major descents were rocky, rooty, muddy singletrack including one never-ending shoulder/forearm/hand-busting descent of 2400 feet . . . at the end of the day! A lot of the singletrack is off-camber, so I was just holding on for dear life. I got to the point where I was dreading the descents more than the ascents. I’m sure my complete lack of course knowledge didn’t help either as I never had a clue whether the trail was going to straighten after a steep curve or possibly switch-back. Thus I was wearing out my brake-pads. As for conditioning, I thought that my Leadville shape would carry me through. NOT. I started struggling quickly. My legs felt heavy on the first climb and I couldn’t keep my heartrate down. In Leadville it never got above 157 bpm. I was up at 170bpm on the first climb and I didn’t even feel like I was really expending a lot of effort. That kind of freaked me out and I knew I was in for a long day . . . ALL DAY.

I was tired and sore at mile 20 and then I bonked and cramped hard at mile 51. Everything took longer from point to point than I expected, so I probably underestimated my hydration and was at a little bit of a deficit at the Mile 45 aid station. It is also a bit harder to drink on that singletrack as it is tough to take the hands off the handlebars to even stick the Camebak nozzle in the mouth. Anyway, by the time I arrived at the 45-mile aid station, I had probably only consumed about 105-110 ounces of fluids, but it had taken me nearly 5 hours to get there. It was clearly not enough fluids and I paid for it on the next climb. About halfway up, my legs seized and I had to walk the bike. Then I just felt my energy drain and I started feeling very lightheaded. I made it to the crest of the climb and started the descent and I couldn’t keep my bike on the trail. That led to two minor crashes and to some serious thoughts of withdrawing at the next aid station as I was both utterly miserable and concerned about my safety. I then started wondering whether Ken Chlouber’s statement about quitting and the pain lasting for 365 days applied to just Leadville or would I feel the same about this race. I got to the mile 57 aid station (#4) at about 6 hours and 50 minutes and was rescued by an angelic aid worker. Within seconds of pulling in, she recognized that I wasn’t looking or feeling too good. She said my eyes were glassy and I looked unsteady. She had me lean against one of the tables and proceeded to nurse and ply me with food and beverages for about 10 minutes until I started to come around. I went on to sample pretty much every liquid and piece of food that was served at the station. Fortunately, I wasn’t having any stomach issues. Loved the Pringles chips and the cheese-balls! I also popped 3 S-Caps for a quick 1,000mg of sodium. Don’t tell my cardiologist. She also assured me that there was no more single-track for the next 25 miles. I saw a guy loading his bike into a car and decided on the spot that I never wanted to be that guy. So, I figured I’d keep slogging on as I probably would never forgive myself if I quit and I also hoped that I would recover as I was able to spin the legs at a steady pace.

The next 25 miles were all gradual climb starting relatively flat for about 5 miles, steepening a little for the next 10 miles and then turning upward for the last 10. I had been told that this was a Death March, but I actually didn’t mind it. Sure enough, about 5 miles after the #4 guardian angel aid station, I started feeling my strength come back and I started making up ground and picking off other riders over the next 2 hours. Got to the #5 aid station at 8 hours 40 minutes and got out of there within 3 minutes as I thought I might still have a chance to go sub-11 hours if I didn’t waste any time. Little did I know that there was still another 700 feet of climbing between the #5 aid station and the beastly 2400 foot descent. I painfully slogged up those 700 feet as my remaining strength ebbed away (slogged because it was a muddy mess). As I said above, I hated the huge descent from the top. It just wouldn’t end and it was rare that there was even a 50 foot stretch of straightaway where I could release the brakes for a few seconds.

I finally got to the bottom of the descent and hit the mile 88 aid station at 10 hours 8 minutes. I stopped just long enough to chug two cups of Gatorade and listened attentively as the aid workers told me that I was in the home stretch and it was a “piece of cake from here.” Bastards. I remembered seeing another climb at the end when reviewing the elevation chart prior to the race, but I thought it was only about 400-500 feet of climbing. It turned out to be over 800 feet of pure hell as it was sunny and hot, the legs were toast and I just wanted the misery to end. A lot of riders were walking at this point. I just kept slogging. Yes, “slogging” is the word for the day. I crested the top and was dismayed to find yet another frickin’ singletrack downhill to the finish.

I’ve never been more tired or sore in my life when I crossed the line . . . way moreso than either of my two Leadvilles. I could barely move or walk. Everything hurt – calves, thighs, quads, palms, forearms, shoulders, neck, ass, feet, taint . . . I finished in 11:03. Damn. I was really hoping for the sub-11, but I just didn’t have enough course-sense to know where I was at any time. The finish actually came about 2 miles earlier than I was expecting. If I had known, I would have pushed it harder (or at least tried to push it harder) up the last hill to make the sub-11 finish. I had written it off about halfway up that last climb when I looked at my mileage on the Garmin and calculated a finish somewhere between 11:10 and 11:15. So hitting the finish line 2 miles early was actually a pleasant way to finish.

Anyway, I came in 194th place out of the 500 starters. Considering that it was a field littered with pro racers and seasoned amateurs, I was all-in-all pretty satisfied to finish in the top 40%. I’m not sure if I would do this one again in a year where I also raced Leadville. Thus it may be quite awhile before I do it again. Then again, like childbirth (so I’m told), the bad memories of these races seem to fade quickly and it doesn’t take long for stubborn fools like me to start wondering how I could do better next time if I just eat better, drink better, train better, know the course better, yada, yada, yada!!!! SOOOOOO, I’ll probably be back in 2009. Idiot.

2008 Leadville Trail 100

2008-10-29T15:23:00.002-04:00

2008 Leadville Trail 100

August 9, 2008

It’s hard to know where to begin. My narrative of the 2007 Leadville 100 was quite comprehensive and detailed and described a total experience that transcended the actual bike race. 2008 was a different experience altogether because of the tragedy of losing my best friend, Allan Goldberg, to cancer in June. Thus, a lot of description about pre-race preparation and training would not only be redundant, but somewhat hollow.

After the success of the 2007 LT 100, in terms of both physical performance and our amazing fundraising efforts for First Descents, it was clear that I would return for another go in 2008. Gary “GMO” Morris, Kevin “Hoof” Kane and Dean “Deano” Gregory all committed to return as members of Team First Descents and Neil “Nile” Markus, David “Fly” Flyer and Larry “Larry” Weinberg also jumped in as newcomers. (John “Wobber” Wontrobski rejoined Team FD in February and we were also unofficially joined by our new riding friend from Bethesda, Dave “Gonzo” Gonzalez.) In September, 2007, I contacted Chris Carmichael and worked out an arrangement for me, Gary, Kevin and Neil to register for a 12-month CTS coaching package at a discounted rate. Gary and I shared a young coach named Mike Durner and he had us start our training in October, 2007. Much of the fall and winter was spent increasing our power outputs through a heavy dose of interval training. The purpose of this was to increase our strength so that we could ride hills faster and longer at higher efforts. The spring months were spent continuing with intervals while also rebuilding endurance through long road rides. We did our first road century in April, a good 5 weeks earlier than our first century in 2007. We also incorporated a lot more hills and climbs into our longer road rides. All in all, we were a lot stronger entering the summer of 2008 than we were in 2007.

On the fundraising front, Allan and I spent the winter strategizing how we could increase the fundraiser for First Descents from the $81,000 that we raised in 2007. For starters, with the assistance of Christie Farin, fellow FD Board member and Nike executive, we were able to convince Nike to design and donate unique First Descents bike jerseys and exercise shirts. Through Allan’s connections at the Lance Armstrong Foundation, we were also able to commit Lance Armstrong to signing 5 jerseys for our 5 highest donors. We again tied the shirts and jerseys to minimum donation amounts and we started the fundraiser at the beginning of June.

On June 19, I received a call from Allan’s sister Amy telling me that Allan had joined his family in the Outer Banks for a beach vacation and had not left the couch for 4 days. He had undergone a chemo treatment the prior weak and had assured the family that his weakened condition was a result of the chemo. I had been noticing through the winter that his appearance was growing more frail, but like his family, he constantly assured me that his weakened appearance was nothing more than a sign of the cure, not the disease. Why we all decided to remain so blind is something that will trouble me forever. Not that there is anything I could have done. Allan returned to Washington with his parents on June 20th and I visited with him on Saturday the 21st. Nothing could prepare me for what I saw. In the 6 weeks since I had seen Allan in early May, he had morphed into a sickly and elderly person. It was heartbreaking. He couldn’t stand up on his own and he could only talk and walk in excruciating slow motion. It was clear that this was end-game and not recovery. Allan tragically passed the next morning and so began the worst weeks of my life.

I’m not going to spend more time on Allan’s passing as this narrative is about the 2008 Leadville 100. Sufficeth to say, Allan’s passing had a profound effect on my race outlook and the preparation leading into the actual race. It would be cliché to say that I was doing the race for Al, as I had developed a love for endurance bike racing and was clearly doing this for myself. That being said, I was hoping that my performance in this year’s race would be a tribute to Al. During the weeks after his passing, I whittled my life focus down to two simple things: training and fundraising. I was tireless in my fundraising efforts and, with the help of my friends and Team First Descents teammates, we actually exceeded the 2007 fundraiser by mid-July. By the start of the 2008 Leadville 100, we had raised close to $100,000 for First Descents. The final tally was just over $112,000. Amazing.

Lisa and I drove to Colorado on July 7 and spent 6 weeks in the Vail area. This was great for my bike training as it allowed me to fully acclimate to the altitude and also allowed me to train in comparable conditions to those I’d find in Leadville. On July 19 I raced in the Silver Rush 50 in Leadville. This was a very tough race and was a bit of a struggle for me. I cramped pretty badly at mile 35 and had to walk the bike for a good stretch of the final climb. For a year I had been experimenting with Endurolytes to avoid cramping, but I couldn’t seem to find the right mix. The day after the Silver Rush, Dean, Kevin, Wobber and I volunteered to man an aid station at the Silver Rush 50 Run. Toward the end of the day, I met a woman who was a local EMT and endurance biker and she told me about Succeed Caps. Succeed was a local Colorado company that made powdered pills containing about 340mg of sodium (vs. the 80 or so mg of sodium contained in an Endurolyte). I ordered 2 bottles and immediately started using these caps in preparation for the 100.

The week before the 100, the circus came to town. While I was thrilled for the company of my friends, I still couldn’t fully shake the doldrums from Allan’s passing. Additionally, I never felt like I fully recovered from the Silver Rush effort. We had a very nice week before the race. I did a couple training rides over the first 25 miles of the Leadville course and did some easy rides around Vail. I didn’t touch Columbine in training this year as I had no interest in seeing that beast again until race-day. We did rides on Monday and Wednesday and then a short ride on Friday just to keep the legs loose.

The Friday morning check-in and pre-race meeting was the usual combination of zoo, excitement, adrenalin and fanfare. There was an extra buzz in the air as Lance Armstrong would be racing with us and everyone was wondering whether he still had what it took to compete at a high level, much less knock off Dave Wiens. Lance spoke for a few minutes at the meeting. That was pretty cool. Ken also gave his annual inspirational speech. Last year’s mantra was “you are better than you think you are, you can do more than you think you can.” I was looking forward to hearing that line again but Ken changed it up a bit. This year’s mantra was “you each have an inexhaustible well . . . just keep tapping it and it will take you across the finish line.” He also reminded us again that while the race will be painful, even possibly 12 hours plus of painful, nothing will compare to the 365-day pain of quitting. So right.

We received a pleasant surprise in the mail on Friday as well. My friend from high school, Lisa Bernstein (“Bernois”), sent us a box of buttons to wear on our jerseys. The buttons contained a picture of Allan from the 2007 race. Bernois was with us in 2007 as cheerleader and photographer extraordinaire and was bummed to not make the trip this year. She also included a button with a picture of her for my Lisa to wear on race-day so that Bernois could still be present in spirit. Great stuff.

We spent the night before the race having a little family cook-out at the house, going over our bikes and food plans and prepping our wives for what we would need when we saw them at Twin Lakes (mile 40/60). My nutrition plan had changed completely since 2007. Last year I tried drinking exclusively bottles of Hammer Sustained Energy and Hammer gel and a big dose of Endurolytes. I couldn’t eat or drink the stuff by hour 6 and I ended up with major cramping and stomach issues. This year I was using PowerBar fruit punch formula, CLif Shot Blocks and Succeed Caps. I was assuming about 33 ounces of fluids, 6 shot blocks and 1 SCap per hour. Instead of bottles in my shirt pockets, I would use a 70ounce Camelbak and 1 24-ounce bottle from the start to Twin Lakes, switch to another 70-ounce Camel and 24-ounce bottle for the round-trip from Twin Lakes to Columbine and back, and a last 70-ounce Camel and 24-ounce bottle from Twin Lakes back to the finish. If the last set of fluids wasn’t enough, I would replenish at Pipeline or Carter Summit aid stations.

Race day morning, August 9, 2008, was similar to 2007. I didn’t get much sleep and was a bit of a zombie for the first few hours. I didn’t quite have the same excitement that I had in 2007. In fact, I felt a little feeling of foreboding as we drove up to Leadville at 5am on race-day. Something just didn’t feel altogether right and I knew it was mental. This was going to be a tough day.

Upon arrival, we walked our bikes down to the intersection of Harrison and 6th and took spots in the 9-10 hour slot. For a good part of the winter, I had set a ridiculous goal of sub-9 for this race, but it became apparent around the time of Allan’s passing that sub-9 was not realistic this year. I was still hoping to make sub-10 a reality. After putting our bikes down, we went in search of open toilets and then back to the cars to finish getting all of our gear, food, and hydration together and also to give some last instruction to the wives. We made a smart move the day before by driving down to the parking lot at Twin Lakes and saving two spaces right where we cross Rte 82 and descend into the parking lot. The girls were going to set up a fully-loaded First Descents aid station in the parking lot so that we wouldn’t have to deal with the circus at the official LT 100 Twin Lakes aid station.

THE START

At 6:10am we made our way down to our bikes and awaited the countdown. Here we were again. I thought of Al and I thought of the task at hand. For better or worse, I felt a lot more serious this year than last. I didn’t feel as nervous . . . just that I had a job to do. The music was blasting, the town mayor was ranting, the crowds were offering their last words of encouragement and the racers were itching to go. The gun went off at 6:30 on the nose and Wiens, Lance and the rest of the contenders led the pack down 6th. I rubbed the Allan button pinned to my chest for inspiration and then was off with the crowd.

As I said before, I was hoping for sub-10 hours and had mapped out the following targets:

1:50 top of Sugarloaf2:15 Pipeline outbound3:00 Twin Lakes outbound5:05 Columbine5:45 Twin Lakes inbound6:50 Pipeline inbound8:10 top of Powerline inbound9:59 Finish

The 3.5 mile descent down the pavement was pretty uneventful. I was with GMO and Nile and the other boys started a little behind us. We all stayed together at a pretty steady pace all through the dirt flats and then separated at the St. Kevin’s climb. GMO shot out a bit ahead of me and I shot out ahead of Nile. That was the last I saw of Gary for a long time. St. Kevin’s was pretty clogged with people and it was difficult to do much more than stick with the pace of traffic. I didn’t see any point exerting extra energy to pass people, so I just pushed up without great effort and reached the top a little quicker than I was expecting. The next few miles were pretty fast with no great pushes and the pavement descent was heavenly. Rounding the lake, we began the climb that would eventually take us to the top of Powerline. I kept a steady pace on the road and continued a steady pace of about 10mph on the Hagemann Pass dirt road. I was mostly passing riders on this stretch, but a couple guys passed me as well. The Sugarloaf climb was pretty easy and pretty fast. I again stuck with the speed of traffic and hit the top at 1:43 without even feeling like I had worked hard yet. So far, everything was going better than I expected. I was about 7 minutes ahead of the 1:50 pace that I had mapped out to this point and was starting to think that this was shaping into a great race day. The weather was perfect. It started cold at about 38 degrees, but warmed up quickly. I started with nothing more than shorts, bike shirt and arm-warmers and I had already removed my arm warmers.

The Powerline descent in 2007 was a pain in the ass. It was crowded and I had to ride the brakes the entire way down. This year, I was having a blast on the descent and there weren’t many people around me. Unfortunately, the good times were about to end. About 1/3 of the way down the descent, my rear tire audibly popped. Damn!! Everything had been going so well to that point. Oh well, I was hoping this wouldn’t cost me more than 5 minutes or so. I pulled over, turned the bike upside down, removed the wheel and took out the bad tube. I put in a new tube and began to pump . . . and pump . . . and pump . .. and pump. Shit, it won’t inflate. I removed the new tube and discovered that it had a hole in it. Jackass, why didn’t I test the tube yesterday! I took another tube from my seat-bag, got it ready and attached the pump. I tried to push in air, but the nozzle was clogged. For 5 minutes I tried everything I could do to get the tire to take air, but nothing was working. Now I was getting really frustrated. This couldn’t be happening. Deano came upon me a few minutes later and, noticing the FD jersey, he stopped to help. We tried using his pump, but to no avail. Finally he gave me one of his tubes and we spent a few more minutes trying to get his tube to take air. For whatever reason, it just wouldn’t fill up beyond about 28PSI. At this point I had been sitting in that spot for some 20 minutes and had been passed by a good 300 riders. It was killing me. I told Dean to go as I didn’t want to be responsible for him not buckling again (he finished in 12:07 in 2007). I finally got everything back together and gingerly descended Powerline and got to Pipeline aid station at 2:33. Knowing that I couldn't push the next 12 miles on a bad tire, I wrote off sub-10 and just went through the motions getting to Twin Lakes.

TWIN LAKES AID STATION OUTBOUND

I pulled into the First Descents aid station full of piss and vinegar. It was good to see the whole crew, but I was in no mood for pleasantries. I needed to deal with this tire problem. On arrival, I grabbed a foot pump and when I went down to attach it to the nozzle of the valve, I noticed that the nozzle head had broken clean off. I don’t know how the hell air had actually stayed in the tire over the previous 16 miles. So, I went to a 5th tube, blew it up, got it back on the bike and as I started to ride off . . . pfffft. Another blow. Are you FUCKING KIDDING ME!!!! I pulled out the tube and found a rip in the rubber seam. For those of you counting at home, that’s 5 tubes and 5 totally separate issues. I was out of tubes. Lisa had to walk up and down the line of cars begging for spare tubes. Bless her heart, she found two. So now I installed tube number 6 and was finally ready to hit the trail. Between the actual fix times and the slower pace that I had to keep on the low pressure tire, I figured that I had easily lost some 40-45 minutes. My calculations proved to be correct as I hit the Twin Lakes aid station at 3:36 (36 minutes behind my target pace . . . of which I was 7 minutes ahead at the top of Powerline). I also later learned that I was in about 647th place at this point.

On the bright side, I wasn’t tired. In fact, physically I felt pretty good. Except that I had been holding in a piss for about the last 2 hours! About ¼ mile above Twin Lakes, I finally pulled over and relieved myself. Staring into my stream of urine, I felt a new surge of resolve. Ah yes, the strange places where we find our inspiration! Anyway, with sub-10 out of the question, I needed to set a new goal. As I was close to 40 minutes behind my targeted pace, I decided to simply add 40 minutes to my end goal and shoot for a 10:40 or better finish. With a new goal in mind, an eerie calm came over me and my attitude completely changed. Gone was the frustration and back was the resolve. I got back on the bike and opened up the leg-throttle. I started passing riders quickly on the Columbine climb and just kept picking people off, first one by one and then groups of riders. About 1/3 of the way up, Lance and Wiens stormed by in the opposite direction. A year ago I was a bit dismayed when Floyd Landis and Wiens shot past me the other way as I realized how far ahead they were. This year, I didn’t even think about it. I was on a mission to get to the top and make up time. I kept a very steady average 5mph pace for most of the climb and must have passed well over 150 riders (including Nile and Wobber). When the road took a turn up and to the right into the steeper rocky section, I stayed on my bike and kept pedaling and kept passing walking riders. This was a pure torturous hike-a-bike section last year. This year I rode up to where the trail veered up and to the right, dismounted for a short walking push and then continued to ride to the top. GMO passed me in reverse when I was still about a mile from the top. He was having a great race and was a good 45 minutes in front of me. About ¼ mile from the top, I passed Dean. He was struggling a bit, but seemed like he’d make it through ok. I asked if he needed anything and he just gave me one of those “get the fuck away from me” grunts. I felt some leg-twitching toward the top and downed a couple S-caps. That was the closest I came to cramping the entire day.

I pulled into the Columbine aid station at 5 hours and 39 minutes and immediately chugged 5 cups of Gatorade. In 2007, I recalled that the descent was so fast and harried and that I didn’t take my hands off the handlebars for a good 30 straight minutes to drink anything. This may have contributed to some of my cramping problems. I figured that the 5 cups of Gatorade would fill that void. I jumped back on my bike and began the descent back to civilization. In all, I spent less than 60 seconds at the Columbine aid station.

The Columbine descent was a blur. No stopping, no brakes, all balls. I knew that Gonzo was about 90 seconds ahead of me, so I was on a mission to try to catch him. I made a point of searching out the FD jerseys on the way down. First was Deano, who was pulling into Columbine a few minutes behind me. About a ½ mile down was Nile, about a mile down was Fly, then Hoof and finally Wobber. I never did see Larry. I felt frickin’ great on the descent! Now if only I could make it through this thing without any more mechanical issues. I blew through the official Twin Lakes Aid Station at 6:17 and reached the FD aid station a few minutes later.

TWIN LAKES AID STATION INBOUND

I was still 4 minutes slower than 2007, but I did the Columbine round-trip a good 15 minutes faster this year than last. I also knew that I had a lot more strength and energy for the last 40 miles than I had in 2007. I actually had no dread of the final 40 this year. I gave Lisa and Bailey a quick hug, gave a high-five to Jon and Noa (who had flown out for the event), switched out my Camel and Bottle and shot out of there. I only partially processed the fact that Gonzo was still at the station when I took off.

Climbing up the road out of Twin Lakes was definitely a better experience this year than last. In 2007, a bad stomach cramp hit me on the way up the hill and it plagued me all the way to Pipeline Aid Station. No such worries this year. I crested the top of the hill, bombed down the dirt road and took the left onto the path that leads to the base of the North Face. I was able to ride up the first steep section, but then dismounted and climbed up the main face. Nobody rides this face. It is steep and soft and traction is impossible. It isn’t a fun bike push either as it’s like pushing a bike up slippery stairs. I Got back on the bike at the top of the Face and pedaled slowly trying to regain my breath and lower my heartrate from the hike. Made it up the next steep hill without much issue (though I had to walk the bike the second half of the hill because of biker traffic) and then gave a steady and consistent push for the next 8 or so miles of Pipeline. I kept trying to find some others with whom to paceline, but couldn’t really find anyone who was interested.

I arrived at Pipeline Aid Station at 7:29. Without the stomach cramps of 2007, I was able to do this Twin Lakes to Pipeline Aid stretch a good 10 minutes faster this year. Unsure of my fluid situation and wanting to be safe, I chugged 3 cups of Gatorade and ate a chocolate chip cookie. Again, not wanting to lose time lingering, I got back on my bike and carried on. Oh, it was also at this point that I learned that Wiens had won his 6th consecutive title, edging out Lance Armstrong by a mere 90 seconds. Wow, it must have been an incredible duel.

After passing the salt flats, I hit the open dirt road and tried to hold a consistent steady pace. Two riders pulled up next to me and asked if I wanted to jump on. I said sure and jumped in line. After about 2 minutes, I decided that even in a paceline, their effort was stronger than I wanted to exert right now. I thus thanked them and dropped off. I wanted to conserve as much energy as I could for the upcoming Pipeline climb.

Damn this narrative is really getting boring. I guess that’s good! No issues on the paved road leading to Pipeline and no issues on the opening half-mile of trail that takes us to where the trail turns up and the next hike-a-bike begins. Right at that turn was a guy offering water, soda or beer to the riders. That cracked me up. No thanks buddy, but keep up the good work! The next section is about a ¼ mile walk straight up the spine of Pipeline. The only riders to ride this section this year were apparently Wiens and Lance. As long as I could continue to avoid cramps, I knew this would be my last walk of the day. To keep me amused during the slog, I kept repeating the mantra that Kevin coined at the Silver Rush – “Me No Likey Hikey Bikey!” At the top of the hike section, I got back on the bike with a little trepidation. This is where the legs seized in 2007. No such worries this year. Other than one very small section, I had no trouble pedaling the entire way to the top of Powerline. Was it easy? Hell no. It still completely sucked. However, it was a helluva lot more pleasant to ride in weariness than to walk with cramp pains.

Toward the top of Powerline, the skies palpably darkened, the temperature dropped and it began to rain . . . and then hail. I looked at my watch. It was 3:30 in the afternoon. I had been at this now for 9 hours. Could I cover the last 18 miles or so in under 1:40? Only one way to find out. I threw on my rain jacket and did a conservative bomb down Sugarloaf as the rain picked up and it started getting a little slick. On Hagerman Pass road, it really started to pour and it was all I could do to see the road in front of me as a steady stream of water, ice particles and dirt-road grit splashed my face from my spinning front tire. I was also shivering from the cold. I couldn’t believe I was thinking this, but I actually couldn’t wait to get to the bottom so that I could begin the road climb on St. Kevins and warm up! I made the u-turn onto the pavement after Hagerman’s, continued down around the lake, took a quick side-trip in the woods to go to the bathroom and then started the climb. The rain turned to a drizzle and, halle-frickin-llujah, I warmed up. Yet annother far cry from last year. At the beginning of the St. Kevin’s climb in ’07, both legs buckled from cramps and I literally had to aim my bike to a grassy spot on the side of the road so that I could roll over and extricate myself from the bike. No such problems this year. I hit the hill at a decent pace and never broke stride all the way to the top. Without cramping, I could actually stand up and pedal and was able to alternate between sitting and standing the whole way up. You know the race is going well when you lose track of where you are on a climb and suddenly the end is right there . . . well before you expected it. Sweet!

I took the left turn back onto the trail and didn’t even bother stopping at the Carter Summit Aid station. I was now at 9 hours and 40 minutes and I knew it was tight to make 10:40. I covered the next three miles of rolling dirt in about 15 minutes, never once having to get off the bike like in ’07, and began the St. Kevin’s descent at 9:55. I was down St. Kevin’s in less than 5 minutes and hit the flat dirt section in full steam. I covered the next 3 miles of dirt at a strong pace of about 18-20mph and reached the paved intersection at 10 hours and 10 minutes on the nose. I had 30 minutes to break 10:40 and 33 minutes was the length of time it took me to cover the same ground in 2007. Since I felt stronger this year and didn’t have cramp issues, I felt reasonably confident that I could take 5 or 6 minutes off last year’s time. Regardless, I increased my pace and flew the last few miles on pavement at about 26-27mph before taking the left turn up the “Boulevard” and back to town. Meanwhile, during the last 5 miles, it appeared that I had gained some friends who had stuck to my wheel as I hammered the pace. Three guys and a woman made the Boulevard turn right in a paceline right behind me.

The Boulevard is the Leadville 100’s final “fuck you.” It is a 600 foot slogging ascent back to the finish line with the first quarter mile or so being rather steep and rock-strewn. I was determined to not only finish strong, but to shake the hangers-on that were latched to me over the last 5 miles. Although I subconsciously recognized and accepted that I was nothing more than a hack, middle-aged, mid-level, recreational endurance racer, I let my mind take over and imagined hitting the last ascent like I was one of the race leaders. I convinced myself that it was imperative that I didn’t let up and that I used up whatever energy I had left on this last climb. There would be absolutely nothing gained by crossing the line with extra reserves. So, I bounded up the hill, again alternating between standing and sitting. Each rider I passed gave me added energy and before I knew it I had reached the top.

THE FINISH

I took the pavement left and then a last right on 6th Street and then hammered the last bitch of small hill. Cresting the top was the most beautiful scene of all - the FINISH banner.

It was still about ½ mile in the distance, but this was the best part of the race. I made a quick stop to take off my jacket and tie it around my waist as I wanted my First Descents jersey to appear front and center when I crossed the finish line. I literally floated the last several hundred yards to the finish line. I forgot to slow down as I approached and I think I surprised Lisa and Bailey as I stormed across the line in 10 hours and 35 minutes, one hand on the handlebars, the other clutching the Allan button on my chest.

I was quickly greeted by Lisa’s and Bailey’s hugs and kisses and then got a nice little hug and a medal from Merilee. I was also greeted by my coach, Mike Durner (who also raced and finished in about 8:45) and by my college buddies Mad Dog and Kagan. Lastly, I was approached by the guy who finished right behind me as he thanked me for pulling him along the flat miles of dirt and pavement before the Boulevard. It was a classy move on his part. While I didn’t achieve my sub-10, I felt like I had ridden a great race considering all the tire difficulties and was very proud of myself for being able to re-adjust my time goal on the fly and then comfortably beat it. I was tired, but not spent and, surprisingly, felt no emotion beyond joy and satisfaction. It was strange as last year I was a complete puddle of tears and emotion. Coming off Allan’s passing, I naturally assumed that I would be a mess at the finish line this year as well. Instead I felt strength and power and not sadness. Frankly, I think the last 6 weeks had sapped me of whatever tears I had left.

After clearing out of the finish area, I headed over and congratulated GMO. He finished in an amazing 9:45 and I don’t think I would have come close even if I had a perfect day with no tire issues. He gets to wear the crown for another year. The bastard. Now it was the waiting game for the rest of the crew. I figured that I had a good half-hour before the next arrival, so I went over to the food-tent and scarfed down three cups of Ramen noodles, 2 chocolate chip cookies and a can of Sprite. Yummy. Unfortunately I missed Gonzo crossing the line at about 10:55 while I was gorging. At 11:03, Deano crossed the line and got his buckle, thus successfully exorcising his 2007 demons. Nile crossed at 11:24. Nice job newbie! We all kept our fingers crossed that Kevin and Fly would make it before the 12 hour deadline. At 11:48, Fly crossed the line quite jubilantly. 11:50 hit. C’mon Kevin, where are you? At 11:51 Kevin crested the hill in the distance and he crossed the line at 11:52. Raising his bike over his head as he crossed the line, Kevin nearly took off the head of Anna Hansen, who crossed 5 seconds behind him. Buckles for everyone!! Well, almost everyone. Larry Weinberg and Wobber were still out there somewhere. I was surprised the Larry had issues as he’s a strong and stubborn MF. After Wobber’s performance at Silver Rush (well over 7 hours), I wasn’t surprised that he hadn’t finished yet. Larry finally crossed at 12:52 and Wobber was the last guy to cross the line at exactly 13 hours. All in all, it was a great race day.

Final Thoughts. Great race, tough year. Allan got me into this mess and now he’s not around to share it. That continues to be a tough thing for me to internalize. I’m not really sure what my goals for the race will be going forward. I set out on a very aggressive schedule last fall in the hopes of getting near the 9-hour mark. I discovered that the time and effort needed to get there just didn’t jibe with my lifestyle and family situation . . . especially considering all my other interests. However, the increased training definitely made a mark as I had substantial improvement this year over last year. Do I try to step it up further for 2009? Is there a real point to stepping it up? Will chopping another 45 minutes off my Leadville time make me a better person or athlete or make me happier? Doubtful. I liked my training plan and everything came together pretty well on race day. I feel like my nutrition and hydration was dialed in and I think I have room for improvement on a few fronts. I can certainly continue to increase my power during the winter. However, I don’t plan to think about endurance again until April. One thing is for sure and that is that I will be back on the starting line in 2009 and will hopefully continue to come back every year thereafter for as long as Ken and Merilee will have me.

I would be remiss if I didn’t shout out a few thank you’s again. First, of course, to my lovely wife Lisa and my daughters, Daryn, Arlyn and Bailey. Thanks again for all your love and support. Big thanks to my fellow Team FD buds for generously supporting the FD fundraiser and for enthusiastically sharing in this awesome experience. Thanks to all the wives and many friends who helped out with the Team FD aid station at Twin Lakes. That was awesome. You guys rocked.

2007 Leadville Trail 100 Bike Race

2007-08-20T00:31:00.003-04:00

THE 2007 LEADVILLE TRAIL 100 BIKE RACE

AUGUST 8, 2007

1. BAD NEWS - ARE YOU WITH ME?

It was August, 2006 and Washington DC was a boiling cauldron. Unless I was poolside with a cold Heineken, it was my least favorite time to be doing anything. I had just gotten home from a fantastic 2-week vacation in beautiful California with my wife Lisa and my 3 daughters (Daryn – 11, Arlyn – 7 and Bailey – 4) and was cursing the Washington DC heat. As I was sitting in my office going through old mail, my cell phone rang and I saw that it was my oldest friend, Allan Goldberg, calling me. “What’s up Bruthah?” said I. “Hey man” said Al. His opening phone line had been “Hey Man” for as long as I can remember. I continued with a simple question: “How’s Vail treating you?” Al had moved to Vail, Colorado a few weeks before to take on a new job as Executive Director of First Descents. First Descents is an amazing non-profit foundation that was founded by world-class kayaker Brad Ludden in 2001 to operate kayak camps for young adults with cancer. The organization was in need of leadership to spearhead growth beyond just kayaking and they tapped Al to take charge. Al had just spent the previous year working for the Lance Armstrong foundation after graduating with a Masters degree from Harvard in 2005. Anyway, I had been the one to strongly encourage a move to Vail for this opportunity and I couldn’t wait to hear how he liked it. I couldn’t believe his abrupt response. “I’ve got cancer again.” Holy shit. How cruel. Al had a horrible form of cancer as a 12-year old and was given a 3% chance of survival. He survived and has made cancer most of his life’s work. “How bad?” I asked. “Not too sure,” he responded. “I started feeling back pains about a month ago. I at first attributed it to my workouts (Al, by the way, is an Ironman triathlete), but the pains didn’t go away. I went in to have it checked out and they found a tumor.” This time I said “Holy shit” aloud. “Al, I’m so sorry. What’s next and what can I do?” I asked. Al responded that “the good news is that the tumor is confined. Thus, the docs are pretty confident that 6 months of chemo and radiation will knock it out.” “And what can I do for you?” I asked again. “Funny you should ask” said Al. “I want you to come out to Colorado next summer and do the Leadville 100 with me.” For a third time, Holy Shit. “Are you frickin’ out of your mind?!?!?” I responded. “There’s no chance I’m signing up for that insanity.” In mountain biking circles, the Leadville 100 is a mythical race held in and around Leadville, Colorado at and above 10,000 feet. It is generally known to be about the hardest one-day endurance mountain bike race of its kind in the world. The guys who compete to win are among the toughest and strongest athletes on the planet and pretty much everyone who signs up and competes in the race is deemed crazy before the starting gun even goes off. There’s no way Al was serious . . . was he? “Yes you will,” said Al, “because if I have to endure 6 months of chemo and radiation, then you could do this. Also, I need this so that I can have a goal to shoot for after my treatments.” “Good point” said I, “but why the Leadville 100 . . . you don’t really mountain bike.” “Well” responded Al, “I know you won’t do a triathlon, so I’m willing to come over to your side if it will get you do an endurance event.” After a 4th Holy Shit, I reluctantly agreed to join him.

2. JUST WHAT IS THE LEADVILLE 100 AND WHAT HAVE I GOTTEN MYSELF INTO?

That is exactly what Lisa wanted to know. Over the next 3 months, I devoured every piece of information I could about the race. I Googled “Leadville 100” and read through every website known to man that made any mention of the race. I read racer’s accounts of past races, I read newspaper articles about past champions, I learned about the course, I learned about the affects of high altitude on prolonged exercise, and I read through a good 30 websites about endurance training and endurance racing as the longest mountain bike race I’d ever done to date was 15 miles. In fact, the longest mountain bike ride I’d ever been on was probably no more than 20-25 miles. During the fall of 2006, as I thought about how much time and effort I would be putting into this endeavor, it began to occur to me that I should use this whole experience for something philanthropic. I would be turning 40 the following September and I wanted this race to be about something more than meeting a friend’s challenge or spitting in the eye of age 40. An idea took shape that I could use this race as a platform to raise money and awareness for Al’s foundation, First Descents. Al loved the idea and now it was time to figure out exactly how we would get into the race.

The Leadville 100 usually receives twice as many applicants each year as there are spots for racers. The top 100 each year are automatically given spots in the next year’s field. The rest of the spots are determined by a lottery. Hopefully the lottery would be kind to us.

3. TEAM FIRST DESCENTS

Registration for the race was due by January 31 and the lottery wouldn’t be held until the first week of February. Although I felt like karma was with us and that we would get in, I wasn’t willing to start formally training until we actually received the little acceptance cards. I stayed in decent shape by doing my normal mountain bike rides and by playing hockey and skiing. I knew that I would have to do a formal program come spring. Anyway, in early December I threw out an e-mail invitation to about 15 different guys asking if any of them had cajones enough to train for and ride in the Leadville 100 with me. The immediate responses were as follows: “you’re insane” “you’ve got no chance” “you’ll die at that altitude” “you won’t make it to the halfway point” “what are you thinking by starting with one of the hardest races in the world for YOUR FIRST ENDURANCE RACE” and my favorite for its stark simplicity “you are a dumbass!” After the tumult died down and I had the chance to state my case and my friends could see just how resolute I was to do this, I started to see sparks of interest. Soon enough, I had four fellow foolish souls who committed to this “opportunity of a lifetime” and agreed to be members of “Team First Descents.”

First in was Gary Morris. I met Gary in 2003 when our daughters shared a nursery school class together. His wife learned from my wife that I was a mountain biker. She told him I was a biker and that he should call me. He blew her off as he’d been told many times before that so-and-so was a mountain biker only to subsequently learn on the trail that the guy was a complete pretender. Anyway, one day Gary dropped his daughter off at my house and he noticed my bikes in my garage and realized that I must be fairly serious about the sport. At the next birthday party, we started talking about biking and I invited him to ride with my group. He joined us at our next ride and we’ve been riding together ever since. Gary is 34 years old and was the baby of our group. He is married to Sharone and has two daughters, Lainey (5) and Jaime (3). He goes by the nickname “G-Mo”.

Next in was my Colgate fraternity brother, Dean Gregory. Like me, Dean (also known as “Deano” and/or “Ho”) is ultra-competitive and is filled with an abundance of foolish pride. We have been challenging each other in the fraternity bar-room (beer-pong, quarters, Mexican) and on the ski slopes for the past 20 years. I knew there wasn’t a chance in hell that he’d let me do this race without him as I’d hold it against him, vocally, for the rest of his life. Dean lives in Denver, Colorado, is recently single, and turned 40 three days after the race.

Kevin Kane was next up. Even though Kevin is 4 years younger than I, we have been friends our whole lives and he is like a second brother to me. Our families are very close, our kids are friends, we travel together, dine together, celebrate together and Kevin has been a member of my little Maryland-based mountain biking posse for 6 or 7 years. Kevin had been looking for an excuse to get in great shape and he loves a challenge. His wife Jill was also very encouraging of his doing this. Kevin often responds to the nicknames “HOOOOOOF or Kaner”. He has three daughters – Olivia (9), Meredith (6) and Dani (4).

The last guy in was another Colgate fraternity brother named John Wontrobski. Known affectionately as “Wobber”, he is a Deputy Marshall in the ski-town of Telluride, Colorado, where he resides with his wife Suzanne and his 11 year old daughter Sarah. Also turning 40 this year, Wobber thought this would be a “fun” thing to do. Silly Wobber.

So although this wasn’t a team race per se (as this was an individual race), we were now a team of 6 and we were keeping our fingers crossed that Al’s November visit with Ken and Merilee would pay cosmic lottery dividends.

4. REGISTRATION AND WAITING WITH TREPIDATION

In early January, we all filled out our registration applications and mailed them to Leadville along with our respective $220 entry fees. We each listed each other on our applications to ensure that we were treated as a group. Now all we could do was wait.

During this time, I discovered that there was a Leadville 100 message board through Yahoo Groups. I registered for the group and discovered about 3000 messages dating back 5 years from those in the Leadville 100 family. The board provided a wealth of information about training and also gave me an opportunity to learn a lot about the race itself. During the late weeks of January, the messages on the Board predominantly centered around the Lottery. With only about a 50% chance of getting into the race, everyone (except the aforementioned top 100 and those with special exemptions) was outwardly nervous about the lottery results. The more posts that I read, the more I started to wonder whether our plan would come together. The other guys were nervous. Some of us were actually joking that not getting in would be a big relief! I think our wives weren’t even joking.

February 11, 2006 – WE’RE ALL IN! The official entrant roster was publicized today and all 6 of us were on it. HOLY SHIT!!!! NOW WHAT?

5. COACH DAN

The first guy I called after learning we were in was my old friend Dan Berger. Dan and I were friends from our teenage years and I had followed his exploits closely as he became an ultra-endurance athlete and an endurance trainer. He had competed in many Ironman triathlon events as well as some other nutty things such as 50 mile runs and 24 hour adventure races. As all of us were clueless regarding how to prepare for any endurance race, much less Leadville, we (the Maryland contingent) decided to engage Dan as our coach.

Gary, Kevin and I met with Dan in late February and came up with a plan of attack. The three of us would first get tested in early March on an exercise bike to determine our current maximum heart rates, current power (wattage) rates and our lactate thresholds. This was all Greek to me, but I was putting my trust in Dan.

On March 8 we each took an hour at Dan’s studio in Rockville. We strapped heart monitors onto our chests and began pedaling on a stationary bike. Every 4 minutes, a paramedic drew blood from our fingers and we increased our power output by 25 watts. This went on until we were pedaling so hard that we could barely breathe and our hearts could not pump any faster. From these sessions and from our bloodwork, Dan determined our respective maximum heart rates and lactic thresholds and set out a 4-week training regimen for each of us.

In addition to our tests with Dan, Lisa required me to have a cardiac evaluation to ensure that I didn’t drop dead of a heart attack 70 miles into the race. I thus made the requisite appointment, allowed myself to be connected to an EKG and some other wires, and ran on a treadmill for a ½ hour so that a cardiologist could look for abnormalities. Fortunately none were found and I was given the green light to race to my heart’s content (no pun intended).

6. TRAINING

I’m not going to go into any of the scientific explanations about lactate thresholds and I’m not going to go through a comprehensive blow-by-blow of our training schedules. Basically, the month of March was spent doing long slow bike rides to be build up our “endurance bases”. These rides were supposed to be performed at between 60% and 70% of our maximum heartrates (mine being 183 beats per minute). In April we increased the length of our rides and starting sprinkling in some higher intensity training (sprints, hills, etc. at 70% to 90% of our maximum heartrates). During these months, the majority of our training rides were actually on road bikes and not mountain bikes. Mountain biking, especially in the Washington DC area, typically involves a lot of short rolling hills where you are rarely pedaling with the same cadence for more than a minute at a time. To build an endurance base, we needed to be riding with a steady cadence for hours on end. The only way to do this was by riding on the roads. So we did. And did more. And yet more. By late May we had worked ourselves up to our first “Century” road ride. Although Leadville would be a completely different kind of century, we at least now had an understanding of what it means to ride a bicycle 100 miles. Also during this time, our wives started to fully comprehend what this race meant . . . and they weren’t happy. I don’t think any of them had an inkling of the time commitment that training for this race would require.

For each 4-week period, Dan had us increase our riding hours from week 1 to week 2 to week 3 and then drop back in week 4 for a “rest” week. Again, I’m not going to go into the reasons for this as I won’t do justice to a proper explanation. We just continued to trust Dan. During this period, we also started experimenting with different food and hydration products for long rides. Most of our rides in the years preceding this endeavor were of the 1-3 hour variety with several rest-breaks. Normally we would just fill up a Camelback (hydration backpack) with water and scarf down a few Clif Bars or Power Bars on the ride. For these new rides of 4-5 hours and more, we were learning that we had to be a lot more conscious of what calories we were taking in and what fluids we were taking in. For an average 155 pound male, the human body can only process about 25 ounces of fluids per hour and 250 calories of food per hour. Anything less of either could lead to dehydration and “bonking” (i.e., running completely out of energy) and anything more could lead to hyponatremia (i.e., water intoxication), bloating and some other conditions that aren’t very pleasant. It was all very complicated and we were all trying hard to find a system that would work for each of us. Dan introduced us to a company called Hammer Nutrition. Hammer manufactures nutrition products for endurance athletes that are easily measurable so that you can plan your nutritional needs before a long ride. Additionally, most of their nutrition products come in powdered form to be mixed in water. Thus it basically allows you to combine hourly food and hydration needs into one 25 ounce water bottle and not have to think about anything else. I was basically starting to use 4 Hammer products: HEED - a short-term energy boost powder mixed in water to be used for activities under 2 hours (or during the first 2 hours of longer activities), SUSTAINED ENERGY – a long term nutritional supplement powder to be mixed in water for activities over 2 hours, ENDUROLYTES – these are basically salt and electrolyte pills to keep electrolytes in balance and to prevent muscle cramping, and RECOVERITE – a post-ride re-supplement. Over the months of training, I experimented with all of these products and became very comfortable using them. They were easy. I didn’t have to think. They tasted fine. They seemed to do the trick. I was feeling good about my nutrition/hydration program for race-day.

7. FIRST DESCENTS

In the meantime, once we were through the first four weeks of training, I decided it was time to put the philanthropic side of my plan in motion. On April 11, I sent out an e-mail to all of my friends, family and business associates which explained what I was doing and why I was doing it and which asked for help in raising funds for First Descents. My goal was to raise $25,000 and to help get there we designed a Team First Descents bike shirt and matching t-shirt and offered the following incentives for donating: $125 for a t-shirt, $500 for a bike shirt, $1,000 or more for a bike shirt and your name on the back as a sponsor. I thought I was being ambitious. People are hit with so many charitable requests so often. This was just another great cause in a long line of great causes. Al said he would be absolutely thrilled if I raised $25,000. Coincidentally, it was around this time, around 1 month after his final dose of chemo and radiation, that Al learned that his tests were excellent and that he was essentially cancer-free again. This was such amazing news and really gave me a boost of energy and enthusiasm. On April 12, the first donation of $2500 came in. No big surprise as the donation was from me through my company. I held my breath for the next couple days. Then the floodgates opened. $1,000 from my friend Matt McManus in Philadelphia through his company Remington Financial. $1,000 from the Eisler family in California. $5,000 from Mike Postal, Erik Bolog, JR Schuble and Jeff Lobel through their company Tenacity Group. $2500 from an old high school friend Stefan Lalos through his company IT Solutions. The responses were immediate and incredible. Many more $500 and $1,000 donations came in. Dozens of $125 and $250 donations came in. I revised the goal to $50,000. By mid-May, I had blown through $50,000 and revised my goal to $60,000. By June 1 I revised the goal to $70,000. Finally, after busting through $70,000 in early July, I raised it to $80,000. The support I received from the community was incredible, stunning and, frankly, overwhelming. In my mind, it was now absolutely essential that I succeed in finishing this race. I couldn’t bear to let anyone down after all of this support.

8. TEN WEEKS UNTIL THE RACE

In June we further stepped up our intensity by adding interval training (basically 3-5 minute sprints followed by short rest-periods) and race-pace time trials (15-18 minute sprints at around 80% of maximum heart rate). We also began spending one night a week strapping lights to our helmets and heading up to Frederick, Maryland to do “hills training” or “ups” by riding up and down the Appalachian ridge west of Frederick. Although this ridge with a 1,000 foot elevation rise could not match the elevation rises that we would see in Leadville, it was the biggest thing around within 100 miles of Washington. The month culminated with our participation in a 12-hour solo race in Quantico, Virginia called the “Cranky Monkey 12-hour.” We did this race solely to get a sense of what it’s like to be in an all day mountain biking race. We knew this wasn’t in any way comparable to Leadville, but we believed that it would provide us with a mid-term report-card on our progress. I won’t waste a lot of time with this race. It was a 95 degree day and we decided that there was no point in killing ourselves. We all rode between 50 and 70 miles over a 9-10 hour period with several rest breaks and decided to call it a day. Leadville was now squarely in our sights a mere 6 weeks away.

July was pretty uneventful. We basically continued the same program as we crept toward race day. I had a bit of a scheduling glitch as I had planned an 8-day golf trip to Ireland for mid-July well before agreeing to the race. It actually came at a good time as I kind of needed a break from the bike as I was starting to burn out. In Ireland I was able to do a couple 1-hour rides just to spin the legs, but really tried hard not to think about the race. When I returned to the States, I did several long road rides to get my legs back in gear and then, lo and behold, it was time to leave for Colorado.

9. COLORADO

I left for Colorado on Thursday, July 26, a full 16 days before the Leadville 100. I wanted to get there early both to acclimate to the altitude and to do training rides on the course. I couldn’t wait to see the course. I had been obsessing about this race and the course nearly every hour of every day since February 11. The names of the 5 different climbs were imprinted in my brain and I couldn’t wait to see what they actually looked like in person. I’m going to save the descriptions of the course for the race summary below. Needless to say, in the 2 weeks before the race, I rode every inch of the course, albeit in small sections at a time, and did not feel too intimidated by any 1 section standing alone. The big unknown for me and for all of us is how each of these particular sections would feel on race-day after having already done 40, 60, 80 or 90 miles. It wouldn’t be much longer before we found it.

During this time, I also had the great fortune of accompanying Al to a First Descents “Camp” at a ranch about an hour west of Vail, Colorado. While there, I met 20 amazing young individuals who were recovering from cancer treatments and who were so excited for this opportunity to forget about their health and challenge themselves in the outdoors. Most magical is when Al told me that this camp was made possible by the unbudgeted funds that found their way into the First Descents’ coffers as a result of my fundraising efforts and the generosity of Team First Descents’ supporters. How cool is that?! These kids (actually young adults) were awesome and their indomitable spirit was indescribable. After spending an evening at the ranch, I was absolutely certain that I was going to finish this race come hell or high-water.

Gary and Kevin arrived in Vail the week before the race and we spent the week getting our bikes in order, finalizing our hydration and nutrition plans, re-reading prior race accounts for the hundredth time and simply taking it easy. Before an endurance race, you are supposed to “taper” your exercise. In other words, slow down and don’t do anything that will tire you out in the days leading up to the race. At this time, training is finished. There is nothing else you can do to get yourself in any better shape for the race. Fine with me. I was happy to relax.

I was given a piece of awful news on Thursday (two days before the race). I learned that a girl with whom I had been very close during my late high-school and college years, Bonnie Kramer, had died Thursday morning from Leukemia, leaving a husband and two young daughters. Earlier in the week she had been given 1-2 weeks to live, but you never believe it until it happens. She had fought a brave fight against the disease two years ago and thought she had it licked. It came back in full force this past June and she ultimately and sadly succumbed after fighting with every weapon (chemo, radiation, etc.) known to medicine during the month of July. The irony was not lost on me that I had lost a friend to cancer after spending all these months training for a race and raising money for young adults with cancer. As if First Descents was not enough to motivate and inspire me for this race, I now also had Bonnie to further inspire and motivate me.

10. TWO DAYS TO GO - PRE-RACE

On Thursday night we mixed all of our various nutrition/hydration formulas and prepared our drop-bags. There were several aid stations on the course where food & drinks would be provided to the racers. At these stations, racers could also leave “drop-bags” containing personal supplies. Do we leave a jacket in our Columbine bag in case it’s cold and/or raining at the top of the biggest climb? Are we going to stop at Pipeline Aid station to re-fuel? Do we trust the sunny forecast despite the fact that it has rained in Leadville every afternoon for the last month? All of these questions and many more raced through our minds as we tried to figure out our respective drop-bag strategies. Kevin and Gary were going with Camelbacks for hydration, so their plans were a bit different than mine. Al was home doing his own thing. I still wasn’t sure what Deano and Wobber were doing. I was going strictly with water bottles filled with Sustained Energy. I figured 4 bottles through Twin Lakes, 3 more for Columbine and 4 more for the inbound return. We finally got our shit together and tried to get to sleep early as we had been told on numerous occasions that the “night before the night before” is the most important sleep night. Whatever, I still didn’t sleep much on Thursday night.

On Friday morning, August 10, the day before the race, we headed up to the Leadville town gymnasium for registration, medical check-in, and a mandatory pre-race meeting. We were among the first to arrive at 8am. Registration consisted of filling out a waiver and registration form before heading to the medical tables. At the medical table, we were asked whether we were taking any medications or had any allergies and then were given a wrist-band. We ran into a bit of glitch when it was Al’s turn to get the bracelet. Obviously, it was a rare occasion when a racer showed up and stated that he had just completed 6 months of chemo and radiation and was still taking cancer-related medications. After a half-hour of discussions and Al’s having to sign and have notarized a special waiver, he was cleared to race. I joked to Al that this could have been the perfect excuse to bail on the race, but he would have none of it. He was going to give it his all or go down trying. From there, we were given a bag of swag, our racer numbers and a sweet Leadville 100 shirt before heading off to a great omelet breakfast at the local diner. At 11 AM we returned to the crowded gymnasium and found seats along with 950 or so of our fellow racers. The pre-race meeting consisted of several greetings, thank yous, kudos to past champions, an introduction of Floyd Landis and an inspirational speech from Ken Chlouber, the founder and race director of the Leadville 100. There were several very poignant and memorable moments from Ken’s speech. For one, he continually expressed the mantra “you’re better than you think you are, you can do more than you think you can, the time is now.” More importantly, he reminded us that we are all likely to suffer pain during the Leadville 100. However, he implored us not to quit. He told us that enduring 12 hours of pain will be nothing compared to the 365 days of pain (the number of days until the next Leadville 100) we’ll have to endure if we quit.

The Leadville Gymnasium – Registration and Pre-Race Meeting

Video -Last Minute of Ken's Speech
The meeting ended at about 12:15 and we stayed around to find Bill Moyer, the gentleman in charge of the aid station drop-bags. He had told us that he would let us give him our bags before the official 3pm bag-drop so we wouldn’t have to hang around Leadville for 3 hours. In return, we volunteered to help deconstruct the seating in the gym and help set-up for the big Friday evening carbo-load dinner. For the next hour we lugged tables and chairs around the gym and set the whole place up. As a bit of a bonus, we were told upon completion to put our names on a list as our volunteering to help would give us preferential treatment at next year’s lottery. For us, that was like Scooby Doo being given a Scooby snack. We were psyched. Not that any of us were sure that we wanted to re-enlist for this nuttiness next year. After finishing up in the gym, we headed back to Vail for a relaxing afternoon, a spaghetti dinner, an equipment, clothing and supplies run-through and one more completely sleepless night. Race day was finally upon us.

11. RACE-DAY

The alarm was set for 3:30am. That was a laugh. I was already up and had been up for most the night. I was thermonuclear excited and nervous for this day and could not believe that it had actually arrived. I went downstairs and ate a Clif Bar and spent the next 45 minutes getting everyone up and getting ready to roll. We all pulled out of the driveway at 4:30 and made the hour trek to Leadville. I drank a bottle of HEED during the ride. Upon our arrival, we scattered in several directions trying to find the nearest restroom. I think we all wanted to make sure that we were able to do our morning “business” before getting on our bikes for 10-12 hours. The last thing I wanted to do was make a mid-race pit-stop with a roll of toilet paper. I am pleased to report that it was mission accomplished for all of us by 5:45. The press was alerted. Only 45 minutes until the start. For the next 15 minutes we all donned our gear, loaded our various backpacks and bento boxes, locked up the cars and then headed down to the starting zone to check-in. The race starts at the main intersection of town at 6th and Harrison. The top riders and other dignitaries start at the front of the pack. Then everyone slots themselves based upon where they reasonably see themselves finishing. There is a section for those Uber-males shooting for under 8 hours, then a section for 8 to 9 hours, then 9 to 10 hours, 10 to 11 hours and finally 11 to 12 hours. Team First Descents optimistically grabbed spots toward the front of the 10 to 11 hours group even though, to a man, our goal going in was to simply finish the race within 12 hours. 25 minutes to the start. I had to go to the bathroom again. I quickly ran to the local diner and was fortunate to find an empty bathroom. Back to the bike with 20 minutes to go. There was music blaring. The sun was starting to rise and the mountains in the distance were starting to glow. It was a chilly 45 degrees and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. Lisa, Jill and Sharone joined us for some group pictures and group hugs and kisses. We took a great pre-race picture of the entire Team First Descents.

TEAM FIRST DESCENTS
Gary, Al, Dean, Wobber, Brent, Kevin

15 minutes until start time. I had been wearing leg warmers but made a last minute decision to give them to Lisa and go with the shorts. It was an atmosphere of nervous anticipation and idle-conversation. The street was packed with bikers as far as I could see forward and backward. The sidewalks were packed with spectators. 10 minutes until start time. Kevin and Gary were starting right next to me. Wobber and Deano were a few rows behind us. Al was a few rows behind them. I did a few more stretches to pass the time. The girls said their goodbyes and good lucks and went to find a good place to view the start. 5 minutes to go. I had butterflies the size of bald eagles in my stomach. Here we go. Here we go. Here we go. 4 minutes. Everyone was hyped. The scene was absolutely electric. I could hear Ken’s words rattling loudly in my brain: “You’re better than you think you are”. 3 minutes. “You can do more than you think you can.” 2 minutes. “THE TIME IS NOW!!!” 1 minute. HOLY SHIT. I locked my right cleat into the pedal, took one more look at the scene around me and waited impatiently. 10 seconds, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, BOOOOM. The shotgun blasted and the 2007 Leadville 100 was underway. As I said, the 2007 Leadville 100 was underway. Again, we’re underway. Wait a minute. Why aren’t we moving? Why are we still standing here? We learned quickly that the problem with the 10-11hour grouping is that there are probably some 600 people in front of us. It took a good 60 seconds before we could actually start moving forward.

Race Elevation Profile

The start of the Leadville 100 is like a big human cattle-drive. 900 bikers squeeze onto one street heading out of town in a line that, by the time the last riders are moving, probably stretches for a good mile. It was an awesome sight.

Race Start – Heading out of Leadville

The first 3.5 miles of the course is all downhill on pavement and very little pedaling is required as you can simply move with the flow of a peleton of hundreds of bikers. It’s a great way to lightly stretch the legs in the early hours of the morning, but it’s also a slightly grim reminder that paybacks will be hell when it comes time to ride back up to town at the end of the race. The pavement ends at an intersection known as Leadville Junction where we crossed some railroad tracks and immediately took a right on a fairly narrow and flat dirt road that continued for another 3-4 miles. It was too congested to do much of anything except hold your place and move at the speed of the crowd. At mile 7 the road took a turn uphill left and we were beginning our first climb of the day, an 800 foot rocky ascent over 2 miles of trail to St. Kevin’s (pronounced “Keevins”) mine. I had ridden this climb twice during training and both times I had to walk my bike at certain steep sections to keep my heartrate from blowing through my Lactate Threshold (which for me is around 164 beats per minute). However, on race day this was never a concern. Between the adrenalin from the race and the slow speed of the crowd, my heartrate never even approached 160 bpm and I made the whole climb without even thinking of dismounting. About 2/3 of the way up the ascent, I tried to take note of where everyone was in our group. Deano had shot ahead fairly early as that is what he likes to do. Wobber, G-mo and Kevin were just over my shoulder and Al was somewhere farther back. At this point, the path also took an abrupt 180 turn left. I made the switch-back, picked up my pace and pushed to the top of St. Kevins at about the 47 minute mark. So far so good. I was feeling great, I was warming up nicely, and I seemed to be doing everything right except that maybe I wasn’t drinking enough from my bottle. No matter, I thought . . . I’ll catch up on the descent. From the top of St. Kevin’s, we continued through about 3 miles of rolling rocky trail that is still too crowded to really do anything aggressive. This was actually good for me as we’d been told on numerous occasions to just take it slowly for the first 20 miles.

At the 11-mile mark we passed the Carter Summit Express Aid station and then turned right on a paved road that heads down to Turquoise Lake. This road is a beautiful 3.5 mile downhill and provides the first chance to sit up, go fast, relax, take some drink and adjust clothing. It is also a chance for the bigger riders and those on tandem bikes to really show off their speed. At the bottom of the hill, the road curved around the lake and then started a 1 mile pavement climb. I was starting to warm up and decided to take off my jacket. I didn’t want to stop and tie it around my seat-post, so I tried to tie it around my waist as I was pedaling up the hill. Bad call. When pulling it tight around my waist, it pushed one of my water bottles from my back jersey pocket to the road. When the bottle hit the road, the top popped off and I lost the entire contents of Sustained Energy. At that point, I had consumed about ½ of one bottle, I had another full bottle on my inside frame and had a bottle of water on the front of the frame. I did some quick math (the first of many instances of quick math over the next 9 hours) and thought I would be ok as I only had one big climb between now and the Twin Lakes Aid Station at 40 miles. I also had a bottle of Sustained Energy in a drop-bag at Pipeline (28 miles) but was hoping not to stop there.

The pavement ended and we made a 180 degree turn right onto a dirt/gravel road that really signaled the start of the Sugarloaf Climb. Sugarloaf is a climb of about 1100 feet. The first 300-400 feet consist of the paved road and the gravel road. The gravel road doesn’t have much pitch, so I was able to get into a decent rhythm at about 9-10 mph. After 2 miles, there was another 180 degree turn to the left and we began an arduous climb on a rocky dirt road toward the peak. My legs still felt great and I didn’t feel any need to push it here. While some guys were passing me, I tried to stay disciplined and focused and just ride at a slow and even pace. Although I was secretly hoping for a finish in the 10:30 range, I had set a conservative timeline before the race that would get me to the finish line at 11 hours and 15 minutes.
In short, this called for achieving the following milestones:

Location Mile Marker Time Goal
St. Kevin’s summit Outbound 9 miles 45 minutes
Sugarloaf summit 20 miles 2 hours
Pipeline Aid Station 28 miles 2 hours and 30 minutes
Twin Lakes Aid Station 40 miles 3 hours 30 minutes
Columbine Summit 50 miles 6 hours
Twin Lakes Inbound 60 miles 6:45
Pipeline Aid Inbound 72 miles 8 hours
Powerline Summit 80 miles 9:45
St. Kevins Summit Inbound 92 miles 10:30
Finish Line 104 miles 11:15

I reached the Sugarloaf summit at 1 hour and 59 minutes. I was thus right on my conservative pace and was looking forward to the Powerline downhill.

The Powerline downhill is a blast. Although, if you aren’t a very good technical mountain biker, it can be an intimidating and scary place to be. It is very rocky and narrow and there are troughs cutting down the trail almost the whole way down. A successful descent requires picking a good line and having confidence in your bike. In a training run, I was able to fly down this descent without killing my hands from tightly squeezing the brakes. On race-day, it just wasn’t as fun. With such a narrow trail, it was very difficult to pass people and I could really only descend with the speed of traffic. This meant riding the brakes the whole way down or else crash into the bike in front of you. Although I wasn’t really losing much time in the overall scheme, I was definitely frustrated to not be able to ‘let it out’ on this descent. Regardless, the whole thing took about 10 minutes.

Powerline Descent

At the bottom of Powerline is the sole water crossing on the course. Most people dismount and walk across a plank that crosses a 15 foot wide creek. I chose this route as I didn’t feel like riding with wet shoes. G-mo, who was a few bikers behind me on the descent, decided to plow right through the creek and he shot out ahead of me (with very wet feet). At this point, Deano was now somewhere way ahead, G-mo was about a minute ahead and Kaner, Wobber and Al were somewhere behind.

About 100 yards past the creek crossing, the Powerline trail ended at another paved road (Rte. 300) where we took a right toward the Leadville Fish Hatchery. This road was about 2.5 miles of mostly smooth and fast downhill. We then took a right on Rte. 11 which consisted of about a mile of flat paved road and then another mile of dirt road. This dirt road veered right and deposited us at the Pipeline Aid Station and the start of the 12-mile Pipeline section of the course. About a mile before the Pipeline aid station, I caught up to G-mo who was traveling with a big group of riders. I decided that they were moving too slowly for me and I passed the group. As I was passing G-mo, he looked at me and said with a grin that he was “in with a good Peleton.” A Peleton is a group of riders clumped together. By riding in a group, an individual biker can keep the same speeds with about 30% less effort because of the effects of wind drafting. Under my breath I muttered “yeah, great frickin’ Peleton as I blow by all of you.” The Pipeline aid station was a zoo. There were cars and tents and masses of humanity on both sides of the trail and I really couldn’t see where the actual aid station was. I was down to half a bottle of Sustained Energy and one bottle of water and I was thinking that I should pick up another bottle of Sustained Energy from my drop-bag at Pipeline Aid to carry me through the Pipeline. However, since I couldn’t find the drop bag area and I didn’t want to lose momentum, I decided to just blow through and get to Twin Lakes. I looked at my watch and saw that I had arrived at Pipeline in 2:20. I was 10 minutes ahead of my conservative pace. That meant that I didn’t have to push it too hard on Pipeline . . . especially with the hellacious Columbine climb to follow. The next 12 miles were rather uneventful. The first 8 miles or so are just a fairly flat dirt trail that rolls through a swath in the forest where there is a giant pipeline. The last 4 miles start with a super steep stomach-in-your-mouth drop called the North Face followed by a small gradual climb over a ridge and then a 1-mile pavement descent to the Twin Lakes Reservoir. Other than the North Face drop (which tends to freak a lot of riders out because of its steepness), this stretch is not technical and does not require any major expenditure of energy. I kept a steady pace at an average of about 14mph and was feeling on top of the world when I descended to the scenic Twin Lakes.

At the bottom of the short pavement descent, we crossed Highway 82 into the Twin Lakes parking area and followed a path through another army of people, tents, cars and campers and then took a right across the Twin Lakes dam and into the Twin Lakes Aid station. This dam is closed to the public 364 days a year by order of Homeland Security, but opens up for the racers of the Leadville 100. The dam crossing threw us into another raucous scene with hundreds of people yelling and screaming and converging on both sides of the route. At this point I was just looking for the drop-zone so that I could switch out my bottles. I had no intention of stopping long. As I entered the area, I heard one of my college buddies (one of 4 who had made the trip to Leadville to cheer us on) yell that Lisa was about 50 yards up on the left. I kept moving forward slowly scanning the crowd until I saw my wife jumping up and down waving. She was there with Sharone and Jill and Olivia as well as two other friends who were there to support us for the weekend. I was so excited to see them and their own excitement at our arrival was an incredible pick-me-up. The girls quickly motioned that they had collected our drop bags and would get us whatever we needed. I asked Lisa to fill my three Sustained Energy bottles with water and shake them up. I also handed her my 3 empty bottles, my jacket (which was still tied around my waist) and my arm warmers (which were now simply wrapped around my wrists). It was now 3 hours and 15 minutes into the race. I was 15 minutes ahead of schedule and was ready to tackle Columbine. It turned out that Deano had only arrived about 2 minutes ahead of me. G-mo rolled in about 2 minutes behind me. Once I had my bottles in place it was time to push off toward the highest summit of the race.

Arriving at Twin Lakes Aid Station - Outbound

Columbine is a long nasty bitch. There’s no sugar-coating it. From Twin Lakes it is a 3600 foot ascent over 10-miles of road and trail that ends at 12,600 feet with the last 1,000 feet or so being above treeline. The first mile rises over a small ridge and then drops into a few acres of open valley before leading to a dirt road that signifies the true beginning of the Columbine climb. I passed Deano going up the first ridge and he mentioned that he was nauseous and felt like crap. We had all pretty much agreed before the race that there is very little we can do for each other on the course and that we would have to first and foremost take care of ourselves. I certainly couldn’t do anything for his nausea so I told him to just keep plugging and then I shot ahead. From the dirt road entrance, it is about a 6 mile gradual climb up with some 2200 feet of elevation gain. Earlier in the week, Kevin and I went into a bike shop in Vail where we met a grizzled veteran of the Leadville 100. He told us that the entire race comes down to how you feel on Columbine. If you feel good climbing up, then you are in for a great day. If not, then the day could turn hellish quickly. I was not quite sure yet where I stood. I was definitely getting tired and leg weary, but I wasn’t actually hurting. About 1/3 of the way up the mountain, I heard shouts from ahead that said “RIDERS COMING”. Suddenly there was a surge of excitement among the bikers in front of me and behind me. This meant that the leaders of the race, who had probably reached the top 20 minutes ago, were now bombing back down. The ascending riders all moved to the right of the road and we were all collectively wondering who was leading. It didn’t take long to find out. Suddenly, there was Floyd Landis coming at us at about 40 mph. At first I didn’t see anyone behind him as I was looking way up the road. As he passed, however, I realized that the reason I didn’t see anyone behind him was because Dave Wiens was literally glued to Floyd’s rear wheel! The two of them were separated by about 2 feet and they were flying . . . I mean FLYING . . . and then they were quickly gone. I instantly recognized that that split-second fly-by may have been one of the coolest moments I’ve ever been a part of as a sports participant. In short, the 2006 Tour de France winner, who is racing in the same race as I, just blew past with the 4-time Leadville winning Mountain-Bike-Hall-of-Famer Dave Wiens right on his rear wheel. Almost too cool for words. Alas the reverie died down quite fast when it dawned on me (and everyone around me) that we still probably had a good hour and 15 minutes before reaching the top while Landis and Wiens probably only had a few hours left in the whole race! What a buzz-kill. Onward and upward, upward and onward. The road just kept going and going and going. I was in granny-gear (the lowest gear) and was only pedaling at about 3.7 mph . . . significantly slower than the 4.5 mph I did on my training ride up Columbine two weeks before. I kept looking at my elevation readings and was dismayed at how slowly we were ascending. It took nearly an hour and 20 minutes to get up the 6 miles of road and pain was slowly filtering in. My left shoulder was really sore and I had to keep stretching it. I knew that there was a steeper rocky section coming up and I was actually looking forward to getting off the bike and walking it for a little while. Sometimes I hate it when a fool gets what he wishes for . . . especially when the fool is yours truly!

After the 6 mile road climb from the entrance to Columbine, the smooth road suddenly ends and a steep and very rocky ascent up to the heavens begins. In training, I pedaled through this next section. Today, there was no chance of staying on the bike. There was a line of bikers walking their bikes as far as the eye could see. NOWHERE in the distance did I see anyone riding their bike. I did a quick calculation and realized that I would likely be walking my bike about 2 miles (1300 vertical feet of rise). I just put my head down and started slogging. I was listening to tunes (coincidentally the Grateful Dead’s “Fire on the Mountain” played during this section) and just trying not to think about anything. I had no idea how far back Deano and G-mo were. It took about 30 minutes to walk 1 mile. I was trying to drink every few minutes, but my Sustained Energy mix was starting to taste like liquid cardboard. It’s really a demoralizing walk. After that first mile, I came around a little bend and I could actually see the Columbine aid station (which is the turnaround point), way off in the upper distance. Without any trees up there, it may as well be on the moon. The trail heads up and off to the right before coming back to the aid station. As I looked way up and way off, I saw that the trail switched back and forth and, again, NOBODY was riding. My quads were really starting to hurt from the walking. It was kind of a cruel irony as we’d been in Colorado for 2 weeks and I’d refused to do any hiking with Lisa as I absolutely didn’t want to put any stress on muscles that I wouldn’t use during the race. Nice work dumbass. I guess I should have been hiking as part of my training regimen. The only good thing was that the air was getting a lot cooler with every step up. I decided not to look up anymore. I just looked at the ground and watched my feet move forward. That was my new mantra. Just “move forward”. Don’t stop “moving forward”. Don’t stop at all or else you are not. . . “moving forward”. All together now: just keep “moving forward”. Yes, altitude was also starting to get to me as I played stupid word and mind games with myself. I was now over 12,000 feet and was starting to get a little lightheaded from the altitude combined with the exertion. There was still 600 feet of vertical rise to go. Thankfully the tunnel was lightening. Although the aid station was still far off in the distance, I finally reached a spot where, not far away, riders were starting to get back on their bikes. Hallelujah. 10 minutes later the path leveled off a little and I was able to mount my bike. I still had a few hundred feet of climbing to get to the aid station, but it felt great to be back on the bike and I actually flew up to the crest of the hill and then down a little hill and arrived at the aid station at 5 hours and 35 minutes. After the sheer hellish monotony of climbing up the dirt road in endless granny gear followed by a grueling hike-a-bike for an hour, I had actually gained a little bit of time and was now 25 minutes ahead of my conservative pace. There was no way I was going to linger up here. I chugged a couple cups of Gatorade and a cup of water and then headed back out. The race was now halfway over and it was time to start heading home. I was really excited for the coming downhill and was feeling great about my overall performance so far. The only thing troubling me was that I could barely stomach any more Sustained Energy and I couldn’t force myself to eat anything at the aid station.

Columbine Summit

The first mile of the descent is relatively smooth. It was such a welcome relief to know that every turn of the pedals would now take me closer to the finish rather than farther. About 5 minutes into the descent I passed Deano and G-mo as they were still ascending. They were about 3 bikers apart and it didn’t look like either of them realized that the other was so close. I quickly calculated that they were about 15 minutes behind me. The descent then became really hairy as I had to now travel down the very rocks that I had hiked through for an hour. Some of these rocks were the size of cantaloupes and in some places they were loose and jagged. It was really important to keep in control and concentrate as one false move could easily end my day and my summer. About 12 minutes into the descent I passed Wobber and Kevin. They were both together and they didn’t look happy. Another quick calculation and I figured that they were nearly an hour behind me (as those 12 minutes of descent probably equaled a good 45 minutes of climbing for them). My hands were on fire from the death grip I had on my handlebars and brakes. It was hard enough to find a good line through the rocks. It was even harder to find it while trying to avoid all of the bikers walking up on the other side of the trail. The greatest positive about this part of the descent was the realization that I was passing hundreds of bikers going the other way. That meant that hundreds of bikers were pretty far behind me. Again I was feeling great. I finally came out of the rocky section and hit the dirt road at full speed. Now I knew I could really fly. 6 miles of nothing but bombing downhill. Additionally, with the 4-hour cutoff at Twin Lakes, I knew that there wouldn’t be too many more riders coming up to worry about getting in my way. I covered the 6 miles in less than 10 minutes. I was passing people left and right and was going so fast that I couldn’t take my hands off the handlebars to drink. I finally shot out of the woods at the bottom entrance, crossed the field, tore back up the ridge and cruised back into the Twin Lakes aid station at 6 hours and 13 minutes. I was now 32 minutes ahead of the conservative 11:15 pace I had set for myself and was gaining time at each stretch. I was now realistically thinking that I could come in around 10:30 without even having to kill myself the rest of the way. This couldn’t be going better for a first-timer.

I met back up with Lisa and the crew at Twin Lakes and they were now joined by Al. He apparently didn’t make the 4-hour cut-off at Twin Lakes outbound and, frankly, he appeared happy as a clam to not have to deal with the race anymore. Between the hard-core chemo and radiation treatments all winter, the continuing treatments every few weeks that had a physically weakening impact on his stamina, an incredibly busy summer with the First Descents foundation that prevented him from putting in the necessary training time and, most importantly, his technical inexperience on a mountain bike, the odds were really stacked against him in this race. In true Al fashion though, he gave it his all and when his all wasn’t good enough, he converted himself seamlessly from racer to crewman/cheerleader extraordinaire without a scintilla of bruised ego and with an abundance of enthusiasm and encouragement for the rest of us. Truly first class. But I digress. Anyway, I quickly changed out my Thump MP3 glasses, got 3 new Sustained Energy bottles and a bottle of water, took off my shell shorts and accepted a quick calf massage on each leg and then was off again for the 40-mile homestretch. I was definitely sore and tired and I knew that there were some tough times ahead, but I now had no worries about finishing in 12 hours due to the cushion I had created for myself. Unfortunately, as I’ve read 50 times about this race, nothing comes easy and the unexpected should be expected.

Twin Lakes Aid Station - Inbound

I gave Lisa a quick kiss goodbye and then took off across the Twin Lakes dam. On the other side, I took a left back through the Twin Lakes parking lot zoo and then crossed the highway to climb the paved road up the ridge that I had descended 3 hours ago. Although the legs felt pretty good, a new problem arose quickly. Stomach cramp. There was a sharp pain developing in my right abdomen. Shit shit shit. What caused this? In training I had several rides where I developed leg cramps and they usually were the result of dehydration. I had never dealt with a stomach cramp. I tried to drink from my Sustained Energy bottle, but each sip made the cramp intensify. This could be a big problem and quite the catch-22. If I drink, it hurts my stomach. However, if I don’t drink, I dehydrate and massive leg cramps are almost a lock to follow. I slowly went up over the ridge and then descended with the hope that the stomach pain would subside. However, I was soon back at the North Face. Outbound, these are two really hairy but fun connected drops right down the spine of a ridge. Inbound, however, these drops, which are now steep ascents, are absolutely unrideable. It took about 10 minutes to walk up these two short steep hills. I was thinking that ropes would have been appropriate to help get up the second hill! These two hills were brutal and only made my stomach worse. About a mile after the North Face there is another short but pretty steep uphill. This is apparently called “Oh My God Hill.” In a training ride, I easily rode up this hill. However, after 65 miles in the blazing sun, it was back off the bike and a trudge up to the top. I now had about 7 miles to the Pipeline Aid station. I kept trying to sip my bottle, but now I was really starting to suffer with the stomach. I just picked a fairly even pace and slowly let my bike eat up the miles to the aid station. I rolled into the Pipeline Aid station at 7 hours and 32 minutes. It had taken me 25 minutes longer to cover the Pipeline section inbound as it had taken me to do it outbound this morning. This wasn’t a good sign. On top of that, my 32 minute cushion at Twin Lakes was now a 28 minute cushion. This doesn’t sound like much of a big deal, but this was a section where I should have increased the cushion by 5 or 10 minutes, not lost time. When I rolled into the aid station, I immediately asked for a medic. I explained the stomach cramp issue and asked what I should do. The medic responded that there was nothing I could do. I HAD to keep drinking somehow. The problem was that I just couldn’t drink any more Sustained Energy. I went over to the drink table and chugged 3 cups of Gatorade and a cup of water. I also emptied one of my Sustained Energy bottles and filled it with water. That left me with one bottle of Sustained Energy and two bottles of water for the last 32 miles. I was hoping that would be enough. I was also absolutely dreading what was to come in just under 5 miles.

Pulling out of Pipeline was tough and I probably lingered longer than I should. It didn’t help matters when, as I was leaving Pipeline Aid, I learned from a volunteer that Dave Wiens had beaten Floyd Landis by 2 minutes . . . 30 minutes ago! Those guys are on a different athletic planet than I. As I was ready to leave Pipeline, I also happened to take a gander at the medical tent containing occupied cots with fallen riders. I think the sun and heat were really taking a toll on a lot of us. I must not have looked too great either as three different aid station volunteers made me lift up my sunglasses so that they could inspect my pupils. Fortunately they didn’t see anything too ugly as they cleared me to leave. If they hadn’t, they would have been in for a maniacal fight. Anyway, I was back on the road with the beast that is Powerline looming ahead of me. About 2 miles past the Pipeline aid station, I saw a truck parked in the distance with some loud idiots drinking beer on the back hatch. As I got closer, I discovered that it was my college boys! It was good to see them and I almost stopped. I was afraid, however, that a stop could be fatal. I gave them all weary high-fives and kept slogging along. I was now back on the pavement and riding into a headwind. I was only able to do about 12 mph and I was still nursing the sharp stomach pain. As the road started to rise upward, the situation I feared most began to materialize – my thighs were starting to cramp. As they say in Sicily, isssssssaaaaanogoooooooood! I made it to the entrance of Powerline, crossed the creek via the wood plank and rode the path for about ¼ mile. I then made the mistake of looking up. Horrifying. The path steepened and there was a line of walkers heading all the way up the ridge. I didn’t really explain this section well on the outbound as it was fun back then. The path up Powerline is literally a gash that runs up the front of the Sugarloaf Mountain. This side of the mountain is called Powerline because there are actual powerlines that run from the bottom all the way to the summit and over the other side. The climb is about 3 miles long and rises 1600 menacing feet and there are about 5 false summits. In a training ride, I did this climb in 45 minutes and rode the entire thing but for about ¼ mile. That would be a pipe-dream today.

This next section of the race is, and will always be, so vivid in my memory that I beg indulgence as I intermix past and present tenses in my description. About halfway up the first steep face, my legs totally buckled from cramps . . . and I WAS WALKING! Now what? I can’t pedal or walk. I can’t drink because of my stomach and I’m ready to pass out from the sun. I don’t want to stop and take a break as I’m afraid I won’t be able to start again. There are people littered all over the trail. Many have chosen to seek 5 minutes of refuge under a tree. I’m not willing to do that. I just keep moving forward. I convince myself to just take baby steps. Each step forward gets me closer to the top. I know I still have plenty of time in hand and that I just have to suck it up and take it slowly. After about 20 excruciating minutes, I make it to the top of the first false summit. From here it is about a 75 foot drop before the climbing starts anew. I hopped back on the bike and cruised down. The second I hit the uphill though, the legs locked up again and I was back pushing. I’m muttering to myself – “just keep moving forward. Do NOT stop moving forward. Put the brain in a box, lock it and throw away the key”. I’m actually walking like a duck now as I can’t straighten my legs. I break open 4 Endurolytes and swallow the powder so that the electrolytes can activate quickly. Damn, I only have about 3 pills left and there is still a good 2 and ½ hours to go. I’m in big trouble. Again I implore myself to keep moving forward. My thoughts turn to Bonnie Kramer. She suffered through horrible chemo, painful treatments, and a horrible emotional toll in her last days on earth. Her daughters would grow up without their mother. That is real pain and real suffering and real tragedy. For me, this is just physical pain. It will go away in a few days. I still get to be healthy and vibrant and I get to celebrate with my wife and kids when this is all said and done. Out loud I tell myself to “suck it up asshole.” Move forward. I’m now 600 vertical feet from the top (over about a mile of trail). I’ve been at this climb for 50 minutes. I try to ride a few sections, but to no avail. Every time the trail rises steeply, the effort locks my thighs and I practically fall off the bike. I realize that I just have to keep walking. I popped my last three Endurolytes and this gave me some temporary relief and allowed me to pick up the pace a little. 300 feet from the top. I can see the top. I’ve lost a lot of time, but still have plenty of time in hand. 10:30 is out of the question. However, there is a good chance I can still break 11 hours if I can just get the cramps to recede a little bit. 100 feet from the top a guy comes riding up behind me and passes me. I look up and recognize the familiar back of the Team First Descents bike shirt. It’s G-mo. Damn!! The bastard caught me. Wait, thank goodness he caught me. “G-mo, have you got any Endurolytes” I plead. With that he stopped and pulled out a full bottle. Now I know exactly what it’s like to be a crack-whore getting a fix! I was overjoyed. He poured half the bottle (about 20 pills) into my pocket and then continued on. I quickly broke open 3 and swallowed the powder directly and then washed down another 2 for good measure. I kept moving forward (still walking) and 5 minutes later came upon the crest of the mountain. It took 90 minutes to get up this absolute bitch of a hill. Twice as long as my training ride just 6 days prior. But it was over. I knew I still had another big hill to go, plus the slow rise into town at the end, but the last really hard part of the race was now behind me.

I was now at 9:20. I was still 25 minutes ahead of my conservative 11:15 pace, but if the cramps kept up, I would probably lose the cushion on the next climb. I was hoping that the descent down Sugarloaf would allow me to stretch out and work out the cramps. I flew down Sugarloaf with reckless abandon. When we hit the 2-mile gravel road I started spinning the legs at a slow cadence just to keep the muscles moving. A few minutes later I hit the pavement for the mile descent and, again, kept pedaling slowly to stay in rhythm. The road swung around Turquoise Lake and then started upwards. This was it. The last big climb. 3 miles of pavement and a 1,000 foot vertical rise. This was no different than our night training climbs in Frederick. Several of them are 3 miles long with a 1,000 foot rise and we did those in our sleep. Earth to Brent – yo dumbass, you had fresh legs in training, not 90 miles under your belt! I started up the road in my 1-3 gear (granny gear being 1-1). I was even moving at a reasonable pace of about 8mph. This was going to be no problem. If I could get up this hill in a half hour, sub-11 was mine. 50 yards later found me literally sprawled on the ground by the side of the road. So much for that idea. Cramps right at the knees pummeled me so hard and so quickly that I couldn’t even swing me left leg over the seat to get off the bike. I thus had to fall sideways onto the ground to extricate myself from the bike. AAAAAAH. At this point I was more frustrated than anything. I wasn’t feeling weak. I wasn’t bonking. I wasn’t sick. I JUST COULDN’T GET RID OF THE FRICKIN’ CRAMPS!! I pulled myself up and started walking the bike again . . . on the road for crying out loud! I stretched and massaged myself as I walked and also popped another 4 Endurolytes. 5 minutes later I hopped back on the bike, put it in granny-gear and pedaled as slowly as possible. After a few minutes, I was able to sustain a very slow cadence (about 4-5mph) and could keep the cramps at bay as long as I continued to pedal slowly. It was agonizing to go this slowly and, to make matters worse, other riders were constantly and annoyingly passing me. I thought of Bonnie again and I willed myself to just keep moving forward moving forward moving forward. The road just kept going on forever. Around every curve was another long straightaway into another curve. After nearly 3 miles of this torture, there was suddenly a guy in the street telling me that the aid station is only 200 yards away and that “you’re doing great!” 3 minutes later I pulled into the Carter Summit aid station with about 13 short miles to go. I was just past the 10-hour mark.

I hadn’t had a bite to eat since a Clif Bar at 3:30 in the morning. It was now about 4:35pm in the afternoon. Hmm, maybe I should eat something. Makes sense right? As watermelon was the first thing offered to me, watermelon it was. I ate two pieces practically whole. I also decided to try something new and chugged a cup of Coca-Cola. I’d heard from past experiences that some guys loved the sugar and caffeine boost this late in the race. What the hell, how much worse could it be? I’d really only been drinking water for the past 3 hours as the Sustained Energy just wasn’t going down. That meant that I hadn’t taken in any calories. Not good, but screw it, I’m almost there. I left the aid station with new resolve. I only had to make it through this next 2.5 miles of rolling terrain and then I would be at the last big descent. Not so fast bucko. The rolling terrain turned out to have 3 leg-busting short uphills that, of course, triggered the cramps and forced me back off the bike. I tried to pop two more Endurolytes at the first rise (which was not more than ¼ mile after the aid station) when I suddenly spit up the two Endurolytes along with the two pieces of watermelon and the coke. So much for the caffeine theory. I waddled my way to the top of the hill, got back on the bike and kept going. I did the same thing for each of the next two hills and, before I knew it, I had reached the point where the trail turned downhill. I was now at 10:25 and it would take a big effort to break 11 hours.

With the sub-11 possibility still out there, I tore down the descent at speeds I had no business going that late in the race. I simply didn’t have the reflexes to react after 96 miles. However, I also didn’t have the strength in my arms to brake anymore, so speed and reckless abandon won out. The descent only took a few minutes and then I was on the 3-mile dirt road and there wasn’t another rider in sight. It’s amazing how much things change in 10 hours. 10 hours ago this stretch was packed with people. Now I was lonely. I tried to set a high tempo on the dirt road, but again, the cramps got the best of me and I was stuck riding at 9-10mph instead of the 15-16mph that I should have been going. I reached the Leadville Junction railroad tracks at 10 hours and 40 minutes. I was still about 4.5 miles from the finish line. Was it possible to do that 4.5 miles in 20 minutes? By now, I was well beyond brain function to perform a calculation of how fast I needed to go. Regardless, I thought I had an outside chance.

The last 4 miles of the course follows different roads from those on which we started this morning. That was THIS morning right? It seemed like the start was days ago. We followed a paved road along the railroad tracks. This then becomes a double track dirt trail. This ends with a 90 degree left turn onto a section known simply as “The Boulevard.” The Boulevard is nothing but a bitch-slap on all of us. It’s the town’s way of saying “so, you think this race is over . . . THINK AGAIN SUCKERS!” The first quarter mile is a fairly steep jagged section with rocks the size of bowling balls. This then smooths into a 2.5 mile dirt road that climbs a good 400-500 feet in elevation back to the town of Leadville. I hit the bottom of the Boulevard at 10 hours and 47 minutes. I refused to believe that sub-11 was gone. Let me put it another way . . . I was too far-gone to accept that sub-11 was too far-gone. I rode through the rocky section. The legs were aflame again but I had had enough of getting off the bike so I just powered through and clenched my teeth. I got to the smooth section and just kept pedaling. Not much farther now. Not much farther now. Not much farther now. Shit, this frickin’ road just keeps on going! What a parting shot for this race! There would be no casual stroll to the finish. Halfway up the road my timer hit 11 hours. Oh well. I tried. At this point, it didn’t really matter to me whether I finished in 11:04 or 11:14, so I simply slowed down. It was like the clock striking 11 just took the last bit of wind out of my sails.

I snail-paced myself up the rest of the Boulevard and finally came to the last mile of pavement back into town. The volunteers directed us back to 6th street and now I was really in the home stretch. Of course even this part can’t be easy. The first quarter mile of 6th street is straight uphill. It’s a nothing little hill but with the odometer showing 103.4 miles, it is awful. 3 minutes later I crested the hill and could see the purple finish line less than half a mile away. I couldn't believe that it was practically over and I had done it. There is one last little downhill followed by a two-block uphill to the finish line. As I started down the little hill, there were people on both sides of the street cheering. I started crying. I was absolutely overcome by emotion as I made those last few pedal strokes toward the finish line. 50 yards from the finish, I was able to see Lisa and Bailey cheering for me from about 10 yards in front of the finish line.

Approaching the Finish Line

In the last few yards before the line, I heard the Mayor of Leadville announce “Now finishing the Leadville 100 is Brent Goldstein from Rockville, Maryland in a time of 11 hours and 11 minutes”. I crossed the line with my head lowered. My race was over. I was bawling like a little girl. Lisa and Bailey ran up to hug me. When Lisa saw my tears, she thought the worst and asked if I needed a doctor. No, I assured her. I just wanted to stand in the finish area for a minute and collect myself.
Crossing the Finish Line

Pure Exhaustion

The next 10 minutes were a blur. There was suddenly a Silver medal around my neck. My friends were all right there. Al gave me a huge hug and told me how proud he was. A second wave of emotion hit me and I was crying again. My friends rolled my bike away and I moved to the side of the finish area where G-mo was sitting with his family. He finished in 10:56. I congratulated him. I was proud of him. But I was pissed that he beat me. I sat down on the sidewalk and then reclined. Al began to help stretch my legs. A few minutes passed and I was hit with yet another wave of pure emotion and tears start streaming down my face again.

Brent and Al at Finish

All the months of training, all the family sacrifices, the best friend with cancer, the fundraising efforts, the training injuries, the death of a friend two days before the race, the unconditional love and support of my wife, my kids, my extended family and my friends, the pain, suffering and exhaustion of the race . . . all of these things were hitting me at once and I simply had no control over my feelings. It was something I’ve never experienced before and may never experience again.

I finally settled down, got my emotions in check and began to feel a semblance of normalcy again. I went to the post-race refreshment tent and ate three cups of ramen noodles. They were pretty much the only thing I could eat. I then went back to wait for Deano, Kevin and Wobber. We kept watching the big clock . . . hoping that the boys would make it in before 12 hours. Alas, it was not to be. The “last ass up the pass”, a name given to the last guy/gal to finish in under 12 hours, crossed the line at 11:58 and there was nobody else in sight. Now we just had to hope that they would all finish before the 13 hour cutoff. At 12:05 Deano crested the hill in the distance and he crossed the line at 12:07. He had been crushed by stomach issues on Columbine and never recovered. He was happy to be done, but he would have killed to have those 7 minutes back. Kevin crossed the line at 12:20 with a flourish. Surrounded by Jill and his three daughters, he stopped short of the finish line, hoisted his bike over his head and walked across the line. Like Dean, Kevin was thrilled to finish, but was a little disappointed to come in over 12 hours. I gave him a hug, told him I was proud of him and told him that 12 hours is an arbitrary number. Our goal was to finish the damn race and it was no less an amazing accomplishment at 12:20 as it would have been at 11:58. As the clock hit 12:40, we were all getting really worried about Wobber. We sent friends over to the infirmary tent to see if he was there, but there was no sign of him. Finally, at 12:49 he crested the hill and he crossed the line at 12:51. He was a bit stoic at the line, but I think he was pretty satisfied with his performance.

It was now officially over. A few stragglers remained at the finish line waiting for loved ones, but pretty much anyone who was going to finish had finished. We took in the scene one last time and then staggered to the cars for the ride back to Vail. Once back at the house, I took a long cold shower and wearily made my way back downstairs where my friends were all celebrating. I was too tired to do anything. I wasn’t hungry, I wasn’t thirsty, I wasn’t moving. I stayed up as long as I could and then crashed hard at midnight. I didn’t even have a chance to reflect on this magical day as I was sleeping before my head even hit the pillow.

12. THE AFTERMATH

The awards ceremony was back in Leadville at 8:30 on Sunday morning. As much as I wanted to go up and collect my Silver belt buckle (given to all racers who finish in under 12-hours), I just couldn’t get myself out of bed to make the hour drive. I had already made 6 trips to Leadville in the past 2 weeks and one more was one more too many. When I awoke, the very first thing I started pondering was whether I wanted to do this race again next year. In all the weeks and months leading up to the race, I always assumed that this was a one-shot deal. I had more or less promised Lisa that this was a one-shot deal. However, to Lisa’s dismay, I began hedging in the days before the race as I was so enjoying my time in Colorado. I did notice a slight change in her questioning though. For months she would say “you’re not doing this again!” In the days leading up to the race, this became more of a polite query - “you’re not thinking of doing this again . . . are you?” It was an imperceptible change in verbiage, but it was clear that her tone had slightly changed. I told her that we shouldn’t make any decisions until the race was over and we could see what the experience was all about. Here’s where things got interesting (and funny). As I was struggling and cursing my way up Powerline, I was not only ruling out ever doing this race again, but I was kicking myself for ever agreeing to it in the first place. That’s how completely miserable I was. By the time I crossed the finish line, I had softened my views a bit. I didn’t think I would want to do it again, but I would leave the door open for a change of mind. Then the strangest thing happened. At the finish line, after Lisa was assured that I didn’t need a doctor and all hugs had been dispensed, Lisa looked me in the eye and said “this was such an amazing day. I want you to do this again next year. If you don’t, I’m still coming back!” Wow. Talk about a change of heart! Regardless, I was in no condition to respond rationally. In fact, I figured that it would take days and possibly weeks of soul-searching before I could make a decision. I was only off by a few days and weeks. Within 5 minutes of regaining consciousness the next morning, I had made my decision. YES. I absolutely wanted to do this race again. All the pain was worth it. This race was now in my blood. It had led me to one of the most fulfilling accomplishments of my life. Most germane, I knew I could do better. I knew I could train better and smarter (not necessarily more). I knew I could eliminate the nutrition and cramping problems that plagued me this year. I knew that I could successfully draw from this first-time experience to greatly improve. I had an immediate new goal to finish this race next year in sub-10 hours and, who knows, maybe sub-9 in the years to come. SO . . . here we go again! Who’s with me?

13. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

To Lisa, my wife of almost 15 years, my love, my partner and my best friend: thank you. Thank you for your support, your encouragement, your understanding, your sensitivity, your constructive criticism, your pride in me and, most importantly, your unconditional love. I couldn’t have done this without you and I wouldn’t do it again without you. I love you so much.

To my daughters: I love you all and I thank you for not getting too upset when I had to leave for long training rides. I hope that I set a great example for you through this process . . . not just for achieving a personal physical goal through hard work and dedication, but for taking on a tireless fundraising effort that will help a lot of sick people.

To Al: Did you really get cancer again or was this just a big trick to get me to do an endurance race? Just kidding. You are my brother, I love you, I am so thrilled that we shared this experience over the last 12 months and that you kicked cancer’s ass again. I’m sorry that the race itself didn’t work out the way you planned, but you were a star in how you dealt with it and you were an incredible crewman and cheerleader on race-day. If you decide to try the mountain biking thing again, then let’s shoot for success next year. If you decide to do the even-more-insane Leadville 100 mile run next year, than count me in as your #1 crewman.

To Kevin and Gary: all the miles, all the sweat, all the planning, all the experimenting. You guys are my brothers in arms and I can’t think of two better dudes with whom I would rather have shared these months of training. I can’t wait to spend the next bunch of weeks and months riding with you guys for the pure love of riding.

To Deano and Wobber: I loved having the Colgate Theta Chi component making up 50% of Team First Descents. My only regret is that I didn’t get to train with you guys. I hope this race and experience was everything you wanted it to be. Deano, will that extra 7 minutes bring you back again? I hope so. However, you have to promise to let me get you a heartrate monitor and teach you how to eat the next time around. You are stronger than all of us, but I think your hopes of doing this race via old-school methods may have cost you . . . especially your digestive tract.

To Jill and Sharone: sorry for stealing your husbands for so many hours. You both were awesome and I’m so glad that you became true converts and over-the-top co-participants on race-day.

To Mad Dog, Brauny, Jayshe and Murr-Dog: boys, it meant so much to me, Wobber and Deano that you guys made the trek to Vail to support us race weekend. We are touched by your friendship and you guys were a sight for sore eyes and limbs on the course. I must admit, it was tempting to toss the bike and start drinking beers with you when I saw you at the 74 mile-mark.

To Lisa Bernstein, Belinda Kuo and Lauren: ladies, it was a pleasure having you join us over race-weekend and thank you all for your support. Lisa, your pictures were fantastic and your enthusiasm for the race was unbelievable. Thank you so much.

To Dan Berger: thanks for ably leading us through the murky waters of endurance training. 6 months ago we were newbies in the truest sense and you successfully helped us achieve our goals. This was a long process and I appreciate your patience and your willingness to answer all of our questions, regardless of how stupid they were!

To Art Fleming: Art is one of the gurus of the Leadville 100. 63 years old and still plugging through this race in the 10-hour range. Art provided a wealth of information and advice about the race, training and the course and is truly an inspiration. In a training ride the week before the race, Art gave me the best pre-race confidence-boost you can give when he told me "Brent, you'll have no problem finishing this race."

To extended family and friends: thank you so much for your verbal and written encouragement and an incredible thank you for your financial support for First Descents. We all did an amazing thing by providing nearly $80,000 for First Descents. This will have a huge impact on young cancer survivors and will change lives forever. You should all be proud and feel good about what we accomplished and I hope you will support the cause again next year.

To the Photographers: Many of the pictures in the blog were taken by my wife and friends. However a few were poached from online articles and websites. My apologies for not crediting specific photos to their takers. Specifically, UltraRob took a million pictures of the event and I can't remember whether any of the pictures I used were his. If so, thanks UltraRob. If not, then thanks to UltraRob anyway as he took some amazing photos of the 2007 race.

FOR AN INTERESTING ARTICLE ABOUT THE 2007 LEADVILLE 100, CHECK OUT http://mbword.mountainbike.com/2007/08/a-ride-on-the-p.html

MY &&$%#*&ING TORN ACL EXPERIENCE

2007-08-16T20:36:00.001-04:00

For cathartic purposes, I have decided to reduce to writing the events giving rise to my torn ACL and the experiences and emotions endured during the weeks following the injury and prior to my reconstructive ACL surgery on March 6, 2002, and in the weeks and months following the surgery.

THE ACCIDENT

The morning of Monday, February 4, 2002 was just like any other sunny crisp morning in Vail, Colorado. It was the last day of a 5 day ski trip and I was rearing to get my last bunch of runs in before making the 2 hour drive to Denver to catch a flight back to Washington. It was my first day on a brand new pair of skis that I had bought the evening before. The morning was spent taking in a wide variety of runs from cruising to challenging. After a quick lunch break, we determined that we had time for about 4 more runs before having to take off. The first two of those runs were perfect. I was skiing great, I felt great and I was looking for one more challenging run before calling it a trip. I decided to take a fun run down under Vail’s chair #11 . . . a narrow bumpy run with a rock structure about halfway down that has two options: ski around or ski over. Having lived in Vail for a year back in my early 20s and having skied since I was 5, I already knew in my mind that I would be skiing off and over the rocks as I had done 100 times before. I stopped about 20 feet above the rocks and sent my two less-game friends around the side so that they could see me jump off. Once they were in place, I started down. I took about 4 quick turns before hitting the top lip of the rock face and then started to drop down. To my horror, I looked down and noticed that some rocks were protruding from the snow just above where I would normally land. As I was on my brand new skis and didn’t want to mess them up, I kicked myself farther out from the lip to avoid the rocks, but in doing so, ended up landing on a more shallow and sideways-tilted incline. The result was an extremely hard landing that twisted my right knee. I felt a pop and then a sudden sharp pain and then rolled over onto the ground. For a few minutes the pain was intense and I couldn’t move. Some people from the chair above were calling down to see if I needed the ski patrol and a stretcher. Initially, I thought I would. After a few more minutes, the pain began to subside and I was able to stand on my other leg and stretch out the injured leg. Summoning both strength and a healthy dose of foolish pride, I decided to try to ski down to the chair and was able to do so by skiing mainly on my good leg. I took the chair up and then took a long run down the front side of the mountain to the Village, again totally favoring my healthy leg and putting very little weight on the injured leg. Upon reaching the bottom, I was able to walk to the car, but definitely felt that something was wrong with the knee. It felt like a rope was tightly tied around the knee and my movement was slightly restricted. Unfortunately, we had a flight to catch so I didn’t want to stick around to have it checked out.

The two hour drive to the airport wasn’t too bad. I think the action of putting foot to accelerator was actually helpful in keeping the knee loose and stretched out. The plane ride was another story. Though I slept most of the way after taking a potent potion of advil and dramamine, I could feel the knee tightening up. By the time we landed in DC it was so tight and swollen that I had trouble walking. By the time I woke up the next day, it was really sore and I realized that I should see a doctor immediately. At this point, I knew nothing of knee injuries, nor did I even have a clue about the anatomy of the knee. Anyway, I was able to get a doctor to see me and he told me that although I seemed to be bending the knee ok, I should have an MRI to determine whether there is any ligament or cartilage damage. I quickly scheduled an MRI for the following day and kept my hopes up that there was nothing seriously wrong. I could not bear to have a serious injury as I had another ski trip to Vail planned for the following month, I had 8 games left in my winter hockey season, golf season was approaching and I am an avid mountain biker.

So I arrived for the MRI on Wednesday evening and the technician stuck me in this long tube that makes a lot of funny clink and ping noises. Fortunately, I’m not claustrophobic, so I didn’t mind it too much. After about 30 minutes, the technician told me that I was through and I asked him to send the pictures to my doctor. I didn’t ask him what he saw as, frankly, I didn’t want to hear the news (good or bad) from an MRI technician.

On Friday morning I revisited my doctor. The leg was already feeling better so I was optimistic that I had dodged another in a long line of dodged sports injury bullets. The doctor looked at the MRI pictures, shook his head and told me that he had good news and bad news. The bad news was that I had completely torn my anterior cruciate ligament (ACL) . . . the good news is that there was no trauma to any of my other ligaments or to the meniscus cartilage. I couldn’t believe it. He then showed me an illustration of the knee and explained what purpose the ACL serves. He explained that most people can rehab the surrounding muscles and tendons and carry on with life without ever fixing the ACL. I explained to him that I was an athletic fanatic and participated in my selected sports with an aggressive gusto. He said that I should get myself into physical therapy for a few weeks and then come back and see him to determine what we should do. Without another word, he was out the door and I was left feeling helpless, slightly depressed, a bit pissed off and full of many unanswered questions.

I limped back to my office in a daze. By late afternoon, I had devoured every website that I could find that dealt with knee injuries and ACL tears. I learned what the surgery entails, who is a candidate for the surgery and, most importantly, how long the rehab process takes. By late afternoon, the full reality of my situation came crashing down and I became really depressed. I couldn’t fathom that the next 7 months of my life would be spent working through pain and hardship just to get my knee back to the shape it was in 10 seconds before I took that fateful jump off the rocks. I also started to get even more pissed at my doctor as everything that I read about ACLs and athletes suggested that surgery is the only option to safely return me to the level of athletics for which I am accustomed. With that, I decided to get another opinion.

My friend at work (Steve) went to college with a local orthopedic surgeon, Ray Thal, who happens to be the team doctor for the Washington Redskins. Steve told me that I should go see Ray, that he understands athletes, that he’s incredibly smart and that he would walk me through the process. I was able to get in to see Dr. Thal on the following Monday and he spent a half hour with me explaining the injury, explaining my options, explaining the specifics of the reconstructive surgery and explaining the rehab process. By the end of our meeting, I had decided to go forward with the surgery and I felt comfortable having Dr. Thal perform the surgery. I still needed to do 2-3 weeks of physical therapy to get the range of motion back in my knee, so we set the surgery date for March 6, 2002. He explained the various grafts that I could use to reconstruct the ACL (Patella, hamstring, cadaver) and he convinced me that the hamstring graft would be the best option for my situation. Of course the whole concept of having an otherwise healthy tendon removed from my hamstring to be used to connect my femur and tibia sounded absurd to me, but I trusted that this was the best way to go.

My depression continued for about a week. Fortunately, that week coincided with the first week of the Salt Lake City Winter Olympics, so I had a nice diversion every night that would keep me from thinking about the activities that I was missing. I began physical therapy that Thursday and went through an assortment of stretching, bending and lifting exercises. At first, I could only bend my knee to about 114 degrees and was still noticeably limping. In the days that followed, I religiously stuck to the exercise regimen and by the end of the next week, I was no longer limping and my knee bend had improved to 130 degrees, only 10 degrees less than my healthy left leg. My therapist told me that if I stuck with my post-op rehab with the same attention as my pre-op rehab, that the recovery would go smoothly.

With a week and a half to go before surgery, I was ready and I just wanted to get it over with. I even tried to get the surgery pushed forward a week, but Dr. Thal was unavailable until my scheduled date. I therefore simply spent that week and a half getting my affairs at work in order and continuing to strengthen my knee through exercise. I was constantly asked by friends and co-workers whether I was nervous for the surgery and I constantly replied with honesty that I wasn’t nervous. I knew it was going to suck, I knew I’d be in pain and I knew that my life would be a physical hell for a few weeks. However, I also knew that I had no choice but to suck it up and move forward. For the past 15 years I had suffered dozens of minor injuries (broken collarbone, broken foot, torn rotator cuff) and had simply dealt with the pain and, in many cases, continued to play through the pain. Although I’m not a professional athlete, it had always been a point of pride for me (albeit very FOOLISH pride) that I could force myself to play through injuries and sickness. I was hoping that this mentality would carry me through the ACL surgery and I was certainly approaching the surgery as simply an obstacle that I would overcome. If anything, I was more worried about how my wife, Lisa, was going to deal with our three daughters without me being able to lend a helping hand during the weeks following the surgery. I wasn’t going to be able to carry or feed the baby or bathe and dress the other kids. I figured that the least I could do following the surgery is to do my best to not be too much of a burden for Lisa.

SURGERY DAY ARRIVES - March 6, 2002

There are a lot of instructions to be followed in the 24 hours before surgery. I had already stopped taking Advil and other aspirins 6 days before as ibuprofen and aspirin apparently have a blood-thinning effect that is detrimental to surgery. I was also told that I couldn’t eat anything after midnight the night before the surgery. Although my anxiety level was increasing throughout the day before the surgery, I surprisingly slept pretty well the night before. I awoke around 7 and went straight to the shower to shave my leg from mid calf to mid thigh with my electric razor. It was pretty weird to see the resulting white hairless leg. At least on the operating table they would have no trouble discerning which knee needed the surgery. I had a slight headache, so I washed down a couple Tylenol with a gulp of water, but otherwise, I wasn’t allowed to eat anything. After kissing the kids goodbye, we left for the hospital at about 8:30am.

We made a quick stop to pick up my mom and then arrived at the hospital at about 9:15. We were directed to the registration area and I was asked to provide my insurance card and a picture ID. After making a quick trip to the bathroom (my third of the morning) we were sent down to the pre-op waiting area where we were met by Claude, the resident physical therapist. Claude gave me the rundown on how I was going to feel after the surgery, how I was supposed to ice the knee over the next few days and what stretching exercises I should be doing to start working on range of motion following the surgery. After a bit more waiting, I was finally called back to the changing room at about 10:45. In the changing room, I was asked to completely disrobe and put all of my clothes into a locker. They gave me a hospital gown and a pair of socks and then sent me on to the pre-op “holding room.” In the holding room, I was asked a bunch of medical history questions (for the 4th, 5th and 6th times) and then hooked up to an IV. We hung out in the holding room for about 45 minutes, during which time we met the anesthesiologist, the anesthesiologist’s assistant, Dr. Thal and Dr. Thal’s assistant. I was definitely feeling that I was well covered in terms of the number of people involved. All remaining questions were answered and Dr. Thal assured me that my feelings of “cognitive dissonance” were normal. At 11:45, Lisa took her leave of me as the operating room was apparently close to being ready.

Finally, at around noon, they were ready for me. Two nurses came to each side of my bed and said it was “Happy Hour.” I asked what they meant and they said that they were going to give me something to make me happy. I said that unless they were giving me a tall glass of vodka and a blow job, I wasn’t sure that anything could make me happy at that moment. It was also a little different than I expected. I thought that they were going to wheel me into the OR, explain all of the procedures and instruments to me, strap me down, and then put me under. Instead, things were getting fuzzy by the time they were wheeling me out of the holding room and by the time I reached the OR, I was already out.

My next recollection is awakening out of an incredible fog. “Brent, Brent . . . can you hear me . . . are you awake?” I was slightly aware of a throbbing right leg and slightly aware of my surroundings, but it took a while to come to the realization that the surgery was over. That was about my only realization for the next two hours. Apparently, I was able to speak when spoken to and move my limbs when asked, but I really don’t have much memory of the 2 hours following surgery. At some point they moved me from a bed to a chair and then they brought Lisa and my mom to see me. No matter how much I tried, I could not get my eyes open and I could not get myself to move. I kept hearing the nurse say that there was no hurry . . . so I didn’t hurry. I felt pretty nauseous when I opened my eyes, so I thought I was better off leaving them shut. For whatever reason, I made a point to keep twirling my foot around as much as possible as somewhere in the deep recesses of my drug-addled mind, I thought that my physical therapy should start immediately.

Finally, at about 4:15pm, Lisa decided that enough was enough and it was time to get the hell out of there. Her feeling was that if it were left up to me, we wouldn’t leave for hours. I reluctantly agreed to make the move, but felt that I needed to throw up before we left as I was incredibly nauseous and was pretty sure that I would throw up in the car if I didn’t do so in the hospital. My mom gave me a bag, but I couldn’t get anything out. Finally, I hearkened back to my fraternity days and simply stuck my finger down my throat. Bingo, the floodgates opened and I was able to heave out whatever was left in my stomach. It must have been pretty gross to anyone watching, but frankly, I was in no position to give a shit and I sure felt a lot better. When I was done with my vile exercise, they moved me to a wheelchair and rolled me out front where Lisa had pulled up the car. Very carefully, I was eased into the back seat and promptly went back to sleep. We arrived home at about 5:30 and I didn’t waste any time getting myself up to the bedroom and getting in bed. Lisa was amazed at how easily I negotiated the stairs. I barely remember it. I slept until about 8pm and then awoke feeling mildly hungry. Since I was still pretty queasy, I didn’t venture much beyond jello and crackers and my first (or maybe second) dose of percoset. For the next two hours, I stayed awake listening to a Washington Capitals hockey game on TV, but was not really able to open my eyes without feeling nauseous. I recall feeling satisfaction that the Caps won . . . a bright spot in an otherwise miserable day.

That first night was awful. The percoset made me sick as a dog and the pain in my leg was pretty intense. I simply could not get comfortable and I don’t think I got more than 20 minutes of sleep at a time at any point in the night. My biggest challenge came at about 1am when I thought I had to go to the bathroom. I was able to hoist myself up, grab the crutches and amble my way into the bathroom. Feeling pretty proud of myself, I stood in front of the toilet, waiting to go. I waited . . . and waited and waited and waited. Nothing. Frustrated, I got back in bed. I waited about an hour and then got up to try it again. This time, after 10 minutes of waiting, I finally started to go . . . and go . . . and go . . . and go. I guess they gave a lot of water to me in that IV! So the bladder was empty, but I still couldn’t sleep. I went through an identical toilet exercise at 5am and 6am and finally got up for good at around 8am. I was actually pretty surprised by how much weight I could put on the repaired leg. Though I couldn’t walk on it, I could definitely stand on it. It also didn’t hurt as badly this morning as I expected. I therefore decided to go off the percoset as I simply couldn’t deal with the queasiness anymore.

LET THE REHAB BEGIN March 7-8, 2002

Well, only 179 days left until I can resume my normal athletic activities!!! But who’s counting. Thursday the monotony began. Ice bags, medication, television, phone calls, constipation, painful exercises, general discomfort. At least I was off the percoset. Dr.Thal switched me to Vicodin and while the Vicodin didn’t seem to be the strongest pain reliever, it didn’t give me any queasiness or lightheadedness. In fact, my appetite came back strong and I generally felt pretty good all day. I tried to stay off my feet as much as possible and also tried to always keep my leg propped up on pillows. When I would move the leg, I would occasionally get a really weird oozing sensation as if fluids and/or air were being released from my leg, but Dr. Thal assured me that this was normal. I began the series of exercises that Claude had explained to me at the hospital, but I found that my flexibility was pretty limited. I was able to do the ankle pumps, but my first few leg lifts were extremely difficult. I also really couldn’t bend my knee more than a few degrees. Regardless, I attempted them several times through the day and by nightfall, I was actually able to do 20 leg lifts in a row.

Thursday night was no picnic. The pain came back with great intensity at around 9:30pm and there was nothing I could do to shake it. I tried to go to sleep at around 10, but it was nearly impossible as I simply could not find a comfortable position. I had a 3 position rotation, with each position lasting about 5 minutes. This went on until about 1:15am, when I finally fell asleep for about an hour and a half. Unfortunately, I was up again at 3 and really didn’t sleep again the rest of the night. To make matters worse, I developed a pretty intense headache at around 6am and immediately starting supplementing my Vicodin intake with two Tylenol. The headache finally subsided around 9am and I moved myself back to the couch. I did my exercises again and noticed some pretty good improvement on both the leg lifts and the bending of the leg. I still wasn’t too comfortable walking around on the crutches and I really felt a surge of pressure every time I stood up. At about 3pm, it was time to finally unravel the bandages and take a look at what was inside. My fear was that it would be a disgusting oozing mess that would make me sick. On the contrary, it was actually quite clean and I couldn’t believe how small the incisions appeared on my leg. There was no clotted dried blood and no mess. It was quite heartening. Now that the bandage was off, the ice treatments also became more worthwhile as the chill could more easily invade the skin surface. The knee was still pretty swollen, but it didn’t look like a grapefruit or anything similarly repugnant. I still couldn’t get over the effect that the medication was having on my body. For one, I hadn’t slept for more than 3-4 of the last 48 hours. More frightening was the fact that I hadn’t sat on the toilet in almost 3 days. I was wondering if I would have to mix a laxative into my medications at some point. One thing I was going to change from the night before is that I wasn’t going to sleep until I was thoroughly exhausted. This was accomplished by sticking the DVD Pearl Harbor into the player and watching the whole damn 3 and ½ hour movie. At 12:45 am, I finally got in bed and, hallellujah, I FELL ASLEEP!! Although I was still up several times during the night, I was able to fall back asleep each time and it seemed as if the bad pain had gone for good. Another good sign was that I was able to walk to the bathroom during the night without my crutches.

THE THIRD DAY March 9, 2002.

Saturday morning I awoke feeling pretty good. I knew that I still faced a few more days confined to the couch, but I was starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel. For one, the exercises had become pretty easy. Bending the leg was still tough, but the leg lifts were a breeze and my mobility was much improved. I no longer had to lift my bad leg off the pillows with my arms every time I got up. I also didn’t have to grab my crutches every time I wanted something. I was getting used to the schedule of icing, medication, and exercise. I also took my first shower since the surgery. That was an experience as I had to set up a folding chair in the shower and then gingerly position myself on the chair so that I wouldn’t slip off. It was slightly tough maneuvering, but I felt a helluva lot better once I was shaved and clean. Then it was back to the couch to continue the monotony.

DAYS FOUR AND FIVE March 10-11, 2002

Two more days on the couch, not much change in the routine. The pain is still pretty intense, I’m still not sleeping well and my appetite hasn’t gotten back to normal. Sunday morning I took a couple Senekot pills (herbal laxative) as I still hadn’t gone to the bathroom since the surgery. Those things worked pretty quickly and by noon, I made the first of about 6 trips to the bathroom. It was actually quite comical. I couldn’t quite put my leg on the floor when I sat on the can, so I had to bring two stuffed pillows into the bathroom so that I could extend my right leg on the cushions while I did my business. What an ordeal. So now I really felt like a baby on a schedule: During every two hour period I spent 30 minutes icing, 10 minutes eating something, 15 minutes on the can and 10 minutes exercising. The rest of the time was spent reading and watching tv.

DAY 6 March 12, 2002 – First Follow-up Doctor’s Appointment

Tuesday morning I jumped out of bed as I was excited to get out of the house for the first time since surgery. I was heading to Dr. Thal for my first follow-up appointment. We made the 45 minute drive out to Reston without incident and I was able to stumble into the office. He looked at the knee, removed the stitches, gave me a couple x-rays and told me that everything looked great. He showed me the pictures from the surgery and I was pretty amazed by the inside of my knee. I told him that I was still in a lot of pain and not sleeping well, so he prescribed Vioxx, an anti-inflammatory, and Ambien for sleep. He also told me that I could start physical therapy and that I could take the brace off when walking around the house. Anxious to get moving, I had already made my first 5 PT appointments before we got home. That night, I took the Vioxx pill and then took the Ambien as I got in bed. Dr. Thal told me that it would have an immediate effect and he wasn’t kidding. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the effect that I was hoping for. Instead of falling fast asleep, I spent two hours hallucinating. Now, this would have been great 15 years ago when I was in college, but now, I JUST WANTED TO SLEEP!!! Oh well, at least I was used to the insomnia.

DAY 7 March 13, 2002 – ONE WEEK ANNIVERSARY

To celebrate the one week anniversary of the surgery, I went to my first physical therapy session. I had decided to stick with Kristin, my therapist during the weeks prior to surgery because (1) I liked her, and (2) she had gone through the whole torn ACL process herself about 4 years earlier. The first session was pretty painful. She had me go through a bunch of leg lift exercises, which weren’t too bad, but then we switched to the knee bending exercises. The first measurement was positive as we established that I could straighten my leg to 0 degrees. The second measurement was for flexibility, and this wasn’t too great – 50 degrees. She put me through a bunch of contortions and I was able to painfully push myself to about 80 degrees by the end of the session. I was definitely glad to get to 80, but it hurt like holy hell to get there. That night, I gave the Ambien one more shot to fall asleep, but it didn’t work as I again spent a few hours in la la land. By 3am, I was back on the couch with an icebag on my leg and at some point I finally fell asleep again.

DAYS EIGHT AND NINE March 14-15, 2002

The drudgery continues. At least today I had the first round of the NCAA tournament to keep me amused. I also had a series of new exercises to work on. Thinking that pain was good, I really pushed myself in my stretching. Basically, I would bend myself to the point of gasping pain and then take it one step further. What a mistake this was and the payback turned out to be hell. I fell asleep on the couch around midnight and then awoke at about 2am in extreme pain. I literally spent the next 4 hours writhing around on the couch and whimpering in agony. I couldn’t believe it. This was the worst night since the surgery and it was over a week later. By morning, I couldn’t take it anymore and called the doctor to see if there was anything he could do for me. Dr. Thal was unavailable, so I spoke with his partner, Dr. Miller. Dr. Miller said that I probably overdid the exercises and that at this early stage, I should only push myself to the point of discomfort, not to the point of pain and certainly not beyond the point of pain. I told him that it would have been nice to know this three days ago! He told me to take it easier and that I could double my Vioxx dosage if I wanted. Shit, I was wondering if I could triple it!

Friday morning I paid my second visit to Kristin. I told her about my conversation with the Doctor and about the miserable night that I had endured. She agreed that I pushed too hard and she decided to spend most of the PT session doing hand massage and then electric therapy massage. After the session, everything felt a lot better. Time for more college hoops . . . and icing and icing and icing.

DAYS TEN THROUGH TWELVE March 16-18, 2002

Things continued pretty uneventfully. Each day the pain slightly diminished and each night I was able to gain a little more sleep. Even though I was still having problems bending the leg, I could feel it getting stronger and I was able to support more and more weight. My bodily functions had finally reached complete normality (appetite, digestion, etc.). I continued the exercises, but did not push it. I watched a lot of basketball, continued to read the paper in full and was totally absorbed in Nelson DeMille’s new novel, Up Country. I still did not venture too far from the couch as the pain was still quite bothersome. On Monday morning (the 18th) I even called the doctor again to ask whether it was normal to still be so uncomfortable. His answer was no and that he wanted to see me again on Tuesday morning.

DAY THIRTEEN March 19, 2002 Follow-up Doctor’s Appointment #2

On Tuesday morning, Lisa drove me back to see Dr. Thal. He inspected the knee again and gave me more x-rays and told me that everything still looked great. He couldn’t explain why I was still in so much discomfort, other than the fact that I had major surgery two weeks before that involved holes being drilled in my bones and tendons being removed from my leg. He asked me whether I had a high pain threshold (which sounded a lot to me like “are you a big pussy”) and I assured him, with Lisa’s corroboration, that I normally have quite a high threshold. He assured me that it would continue to get better and that this recovery is a marathon, not a sprint. He also told me that by the weekend he wanted me out of the brace and off the crutches. With that, I went home and spent the rest of the day on the couch.

DAY FOURTEEN March 20, 2002 Two Week Anniversary

Two Weeks since the surgery and I am still pretty ornery. Today, however, I ventured forth into the world. After an hour of PT in the morning (flexibility up to 87 degrees), I walked the three blocks to my office. To ensure the appropriate receipt of sympathy, I put on the brace and used 1 crutch. Everyone at work was very nice and they were all glad to see me back. I walked to lunch with a group of co-workers and by the time I got back to the office, I was absolutely exhausted and ready to go home. Lisa picked me up around 3pm and it was back to the couch for the rest of the day.

WEEK 3 March 20-26, 2002

I made a lot of progress during the third week following surgery. I spent a half-day at work on Thursday the 21st and then went out to dinner for an office function. Thursday was also the first day that I was able to drive again. Though it was a bit uncomfortable, I made it through ok. Basically, I used my right foot for accelerating and my left foot for braking. It wasn’t much different than driving a stick-shift. I just had to always give myself a bit more room with the cars in front of me. Friday through Sunday I took it pretty easy and remained mostly confined to my trusty couch. At therapy Friday, I increased the amount of exercises I was doing and was able to get my flexibility up to 100 degrees. For the most part, I was able to sleep 4-6 hours a night and was more or less able to fall back asleep after awakening in the middle of the night. The pain continued to diminish each day and I was finally accepting of the fact that my strides over the next 5 months were going to be infinitesimal.

On Monday, I returned to work full time and was able to achieve 104 degrees flexibility at PT. Additionally, I was able to perform a step-up/step-down exercise and also was able to make about a ¾ rotation on the exercise bike. I can’t wait until I can make that full rotation and really begin riding the bike in earnest. Hopefully next week. Regardless, life is finally returning to normal. I can now help with the kids, enjoy sex with my wife, drive my car and help myself when I need something. I am now completely out of the brace and off the crutches and am actually quite mobile considering the circumstances and timing. I probably was on my feet too much on Monday and I really pushed hard at PT. The result was a bit of discomfort Monday night, but it wasn’t anything I couldn’t live with. I’m still icing the knee about 3-5 times a day and am not able to sit in a chair for too long a stretch at a time. The bruise on the underside of my knee is almost completely gone and the scars on the top of the knee are nearly indistinguishable. Certain stretches still hurt a lot and, if I bend too much, I will often get a muscle cracking or popping sensation (which I am told is completely normal). My goals for week 4 include (1) full rotation on the exercise bike, (2) 115 – 120 degrees flexion, (3) normalized walking gait, and (4) one full night of uninterrupted sleep.

WEEK 4 March 27-April 3, 2002

Holy shit, I achieved two of my Week 4 goals on the first day of Week 4. As Wednesday was the 3 week anniversary of the surgery, I really was hoping for some kind of breakthrough at PT and I got it. Starting on the exercise bike, I was doing my usual 5 minutes of back and forth and I found that I was getting closer and closer to a full reverse rotation as the end of the 5 minutes neared. Up to now, I was basically just going back and forth in ½ and ¾ rotations, being completely unable to get over the top. With about 15 seconds left in the period, I figured what the hell and let momentum carry the leg as far as it would go. Lo and behold, it made it completely over the top and down . . .and then I did it again and again and again. I was so excited to make these full rotations that I just kept doing them for another minute or two. After the bike, I went through the normal progression of exercises until it came time to do the measurement. I knew that I would beat the 104 degrees from Monday, but I wasn’t sure by how much. Natalie (Kristin was out today) first had me bend as much as I could without assistance and I reached 107 degrees. Yeehaaa! Then, with a little help she got me to 115 degrees. It hurt like hell, but damn it felt great! For the first time since the surgery, I felt that I had made some significant measurable progress. Despite the added soreness from working harder, I felt incredibly motivated to tackle the road ahead. Friday’s PT session brought more improvement. Two minutes into the bike exercise, I was able to repeat the full reverse pedal rotation that I had achieved on Wednesday. Three minutes into the exercise, I was able to complete a forward rotation and was able to forward pedal for the remainder of the 5-minute session. After going through the normal exercises, I was then able to bend my knee unassisted to 112 degrees and to 120 degrees with assistance. I also walked backwards on the treadmill at 10% incline/1.5mph for 5 minutes and performed my quad exercises with a 2 pound weight around my right ankle. I worked out on my own on Saturday, including a forced 15 minutes on the exercise bike. I probably overdid it as my knee was pretty sore the rest of the day. Monday, it was back at PT. I went up to 3 pounds on my quad exercises and did my first right leg presses at 40 pounds. Flexibility slightly improved to 122 degrees and the bike just keeps getting easier and easier.

WEEK 5 April 4 – April 10, 2002

I am finally sleeping well as the pain is now down to about a 1 on a 1-10 scale. Each day at PT, I would increase the weight on the quad lifts by a pound or two so that by the end of Week 5, I was lifting 7½ pounds. I also increased my weight on the leg presses to 60 pounds. On Tuesday the 9th, I had my 5 week follow-up appointment with Dr. Thal. He said that everything looked great except for my flexibility. He said that I need to push harder on the bending exercises. I thought I had been pushing pretty hard, so I wasn’t happy to hear that. Guess who was even less happy to hear that? My therapist, Kristin. She must have taken it personally because at the next therapy session on Wednesday the 10th, she pushed my leg so hard that I was screaming in pain . . . and then she held it for 15 seconds . . . 6 straight times. Total agony. But I hit 130 degrees. I also asked Dr. Thal whether I could play golf by mid-June. His answer remained the same – not until after July 4. Shit.

WEEK 6 April 11 – April 17, 2002

Took my first trip since the surgery. Two flight legs to Austin, Texas, a tour of a factory, and walking all around the restaurants and bars of Austin . . . and no pain. As far as everyday activities, I am back to normal. This week, my quads lifts went up to 10 pounds, my leg press went to 70 pounds and 120 pounds with both legs, and I also started hamstring curls on one and both legs at 20 pounds and 50 pounds, respectively. At PT, Kristin is on a flexibility mission and on Monday, through blood curdling screams and the assistance of another therapist (to hold me down), she got me to 135 degrees. Of course everyone in the place is now scared of her! I can pretty much do the bike for 15-20 minutes and the stair-master for 10 minutes and get a full work-out. I am, in fact, reducing the PT sessions to 2 a week and will work out at the gym on the other days. I’m rarely icing any more and I haven’t had the need for any Advil or other pain relievers. Now it’s just the long slow haul to return to normal strength and flexibility.

WEEKS 7 THRU 11 - April 18, 2002 – May 22, 2002

I knew that I couldn’t keep this up on a weekly, much less daily, basis. Rehab and recovery is such a long slow process with barely discernible improvements that it is hard to keep describing the same thing over and over again. So I increased my leg press weight by 5 pounds each time. So my flexibility slightly improved today. It gets old. Sufficeth to say, I just hit my 11 week anniversary since the surgery and I guess that everything is going well. I finally got my flexibility to the full 140 degrees a couple weeks ago. I am doing a full assortment of weight training and cardio training. Against doctors orders, I went and hit a few pitching wedges and 8-irons last week on the driving range. This past Sunday I even hiked the Billy Goat trail down in Great Falls (4.5 miles) followed by cutting the lawn. So I basically have full use of the leg for a wide range of activities, none of which are high impact. I’ve jogged on the beach and I’ve ridden my bike around the neighborhood. The biggest change in rehab occurred a couple weeks ago when they had me start a bunch of lateral movement exercises (side to side, running figure eights, foot to foot side-shuffling.) Continued fun stuff. I am basically down to 1 day a week for PT, mostly because I just don’t get a good enough workout at therapy. I see Dr. Thal again in 2 weeks for my 3-month check-up and I’m hoping that he at least lets me play golf. As for measurements, I’m doing 200 pounds and 140 pounds on the leg press, 80 pounds and 40 pounds on the leg extension and 70 pounds and 40 pounds on the hamstring curls. I can also pretty much go as long as I want on the exercise bike and stairmaster. Since I can’t play golf anyway, I’ve also started an upper body stretching and weight regimen. Hopefully, by the end of this process, I’ll be in the strongest shape of my life. We’ll see.

WEEK 12-14 May 23 – June 11, 2002

This will probably be my last submission for awhile as I am running out of meaningful things to write about. Over Memorial Day weekend (May 25-28), we took a trip out to Phoenix for my brother’s wife’s sister’s wedding. While there, I worked out, took a yoga class, hiked up and down Camelback Mountain (basically a straight-up and straight-down rock climb) and went on a very fast-paced 5 mile hike. While Camelback Mountain wasn’t the smartest endeavor (one slip and I was screwed), I made it through fairly unscathed and the knee held up fine. When I say “fairly unscathed,” it was because my knee was pretty sore for about 10 days following the trip and I actually had to cut back on some of my lateral exercises. On June 6, I had my 3-month appointment with Dr. Thal and he said that everything looked great and that I would be really happy with the knee when all was said and done. I told him that I couldn’t wait until July 4 to play golf and was able to get him (begrudgingly) to allow me to play sooner as long as I promised to swing easily and take it easy. That’s all I needed to hear. I was on the driving range the next evening and played my first 18 holes a few days later. Considering that I hadn’t played in 8 months and that I could only swing at about 75% capacity, I was pretty proud to open the season with a 77. Dr. Thal also told me that I could be finished with Physical Therapy as the knee was sufficiently healed to continue the rehab on my own. This worked out well as my new insurance doesn’t cover continued PT.

So anyway, I am over halfway there and all has gone well. There have been bumps and anxious moments along the way but, all in all, I am definitely glad that I chose surgery and couldn’t be more pleased with Dr. Thal. As an aside, a guy I know had ACL surgery about two weeks before me with a surgeon from the first office that I visited after the injury. He had a cadaver graft. His therapy was progressing well until he started having some sharp pains at around the 8 week mark. Long story short, his graft didn’t take and he needs to go back for re-surgery. I don’t know whether it was a case of bad luck or surgeon error, but I am sure glad that I chose to go with Dr. Thal.

I am constantly asked whether I’ll be going skiing again or participating in other high risk endeavors and I constantly return such questions with a look of pure disdain like it is the dumbest question in the world. Of course I’m going to do all those things again. I can’t wait to ski again. Why the hell would I have subjected myself to this hellish process if it wasn’t to resume all of my normal activities? I will no doubt think twice before jumping off another cliff, but I have no intentions of slowing down or otherwise changing my aggressive skiing style. In fact, I can’t wait to do so. If Dr. Thal told me that I could ski tomorrow, I would ski tomorrow. That’s not to say that I won’t be nervous when I take my first run . . . how could I not be? However, I assume that by December (the date of my next trip), I’ll be fully healed and rearing to go.

SEPTEMBER 3, 2002

I’m BACK!!! I had my six month appointment with Dr. Thal on August 30 and he told me that the knee had healed great and that I could resume all activities. I asked whether I should wear a brace and he said that there is no tangible evidence out there that suggests that a brace helps prevent re-injury. Anyway, I gave the knee the first full test yesterday with an hour of mountain biking and the knee felt great. There was even a point where I slipped off the bike and landed on my right foot and the knee supported the weight without a problem. Dr. Thal told me that I should ease back into sports and I plan to do so with hockey and skiing. I will try to skate for the first time in a couple weeks, so we’ll see how that goes. As for the last 3 months, I didn’t kill myself with rehab, but still stuck with it fairly consistently. I rode the exercise bike at least twice a week and I chose some pretty hard manual programs on the bike. I also did various weightlifting exercises from hamstring curls to leg extensions to leg presses. Finally, in the last month, I started working out on the treadmill to improve lateral movements. Basically, I put the tread at a 15 degree incline and then worked 30 second shifts doing side shuffles on each side, with each shift getting faster and faster. I will probably continue doing these in the upcoming months.

After biking last night, I now am 100% sure that I made the right decision with surgery. I know that I was pretty sure after 3 months, but I still had some small doubts. After biking last night and having no strength, endurance or cardio problems, I have no doubt that surgery was the only way to go. I can’t imagine that I’ll have a hard time with hockey. My ski trip in December is with the family and I’ll only push as hard as the leg will allow. My guess is that I’ll only do cruisers and small bumps and I’ll save the big ones for spring.

FEBRUARY 1, 2003

I haven’t had my one year appointment with Dr. Thal, but I am reasonably certain that I am completely healed. It has now been 1 year since the accident and I have ZERO limitations with the knee. Hockey season started slowly and the first few times on skates were pretty rough. However, by late November, I was skating without worry and by mid-January, I pretty much saw a return of whatever speed and strength I once possessed. I have had no problems on the mountain bike and I continue to ride 1-3 times a week. The big test for me was in December when I was back on skis for the first time. I was pretty nervous in the weeks leading up to the trip as I had no idea what to expect, both mentally or physically. Even worse, my college buddy was coming up to Vail and the only day that he could meet me to ski was my first day. Sheesh . . . talkin’ about jumping right back in! I was pretty hesitant the first few runs, but my buddy wouldn’t let me take it easy. Long story short, we skied hard that day and my knee was throbbing by the end of the day. I went home that night and iced it for a half hour and then it felt fine the rest of the trip. By the 4th and 5th days, I was skiing the bumps with my old half-reckless abandon and even took a few wipe-outs without incident. Finally, I exorcised my demons by jumping off the cliff that tore my knee a year ago. Only this time, I had the benefit of a landing in a foot of fresh snow AND I took off from slightly lower down. I am now preparing for my next ski trip in 3 weeks and my knee isn’t even a concern. In fact, I barely think about it anymore.

That’s about it. Hopefully this story is closed and hopefully this missive will be of some benefit to some poor soul in the future who has to go through the process. At least the time went fairly quickly in retrospect. Then again, time always does.