I have been building up to this event for more than seven months (more like 10 if you include the time I first watched the movie that inspired me to sign up in the first place). This past week I entered into the vortex of high altitude bliss and the exhilaration of the event, the energy of 1500+ people at registration, the anticipation of the race and then , boom, the thrill and exhaustion of the ride itself and, here I am nearly a week after the race trying to put together all my emotions and experiences of what is the Leadville Trail 100. I am not sure I have still come down off the cloud hanging above the Columbine Mine at 12,600 feet.
First let me let all my friends, family, colleagues and those who've somehow wandered onto this site know that a) I survived the race safely and b) I actually rode a time that even I had thought I couldn't do my first time around. This past week there have been enough numbers and stats spewed out from those that track the race that my head is spinning. The nitty gritty of the race itself is that, ou
t of nearly 1500 riders, I placed 383rd overall and 48th within my age class (50-59 years) with a net time of 10 hours and 17 minutes. I was hoping to do about 11 hours or so I sometimes even doubted if I would make it under the "silver buckle" qualifying time of under 12 hours. The race itself was won by 3 time Tour of California winner, Levi Leipheimer with a new record scorching time of 6 hours, 10 minutes. Less than 10% of all entrants even finish under 9 hours (which earns them an upgrade to the coveted GOLD buckle, so I was more than pleased with the finish I had.So much for the hard numbers, what about the race itself? What is it like? How can I portray the experience to those who've never ridden? What is like to ride amongst 1500 energy driven mountain bikers? How does the altitude truly affect you at 12,000feet? How can I explain the feeling I had at the 7 hour mark as I approached the vaunted Powerline "Death March" climb where I had to "Dig Deep", in the words of founder Ken Chlouber, to keep from stopping and put foot in front of foot as I climbed up to the top. Where do I begin to give thanks to my family and friends and even strangers along the race that gave me support in both spirit and aid to finish as I did?
I came into Colorado with a set of bikes on the top of my Highlander from the flat lands of California with a kind of self assured swagger that portrayed "I own this race....kind of". I had this innocent (B
eth would say "cocky") sense that not only had I trained well and prepared properly but that I somehow, even though I had never tackled anything remotely of this caliber, was going to have a ride of some significance, whatever ride that was I am not quite sure. In July alone I had ridden over 1,000 miles and climbed over 100,000 feet in elevation in preparing for this race. I had poured over pages and pages of nutritional information. I had consulted with people who had ridden Leadville before. I hung on to every word that was posted on the Leadville Yahoo Groups posts as if they were pages from the Bible. I felt that I had come in to the sleepy mining town of Leadville ready to take it on. I suppose it is good to have some sense of confidence but as any history lesson will tell you, to have over confidence will help you to quickly lose the war before the first shot is made.Beth and I arrived in Colorado on a Sunday 6 days before the race. Good friends of ours *Rich & Sharon) have a place in the beautiful golf community of Cordillera, about 20 minutes west of Vail. Perched at about 8,400', this was an ideal place to acclimate (and rest) for the altitude that Leadville wou
ld be. Only a few hours after our arrival, I was on my road bike for a 2 hour ride over to Beaver Creek Resort. I was immediately in love with Colorado. The summer thunderstorms, the green lushness of the meadows and forest, the quaking aspens, the lush colorful flowers and the numerous mountain streams. Everything was so...vivid! I loved it. Inspired by the beauty, I was given lift as I rode that afternoon and I rode strong and felt the altitude would not be a problem.The next morning I drove up to Leadville for the first of two reconnaissance rides on portions of the trail that the race would actually cover. Having had "Leadville on the mind" for 10 months, to actually drive in to the town for the first time gave me huge goosebumps. I met a rider from Orange County in the parking lot of the "Cycles of Life" bike shop off of Harrison. Tom Maclee had reached out to me through the Yahoo groups forum and he too wanted to pre-ride part of the course. When I arrived, there were about 10 riders in the lot. Most had just finished their ride and had in their regiment the idea of "soft rides" the next 5 days leading up to the race. One of them was the son of founder Ken Chlouber. Very accommodating, he gave us good suggestions on the course which were greatly appreciated. Heck, I just arrived and had 2 days of hard riding that I had to get in as I wanted to experience the tougher parts of the course so that I wasn't "surprised" on race day. Today was to be St Kevins climb and the famed Powerline descent. Tomorrow was to be the 3,300' climb up to the Columbine Mine Aid Station at 12,600'.
We literally started our first ride going down 6th Street from Harrison in downtown Leadville, the site of the beginning of the actual race 6 days later. The road moved past century-old houses and then the high school and then on to a more narrow paved road through the forest on the edge of town. At the bottom of the hill we crossed a train track and then made a right on to the road that would lead to St Kevin's. For a few miles the ride was easy and pleasant as we went past cows grazing in the fields. Eventually the road turned left and kicked up to what one person called "15 minutes of climbing hell". Compared to So Cal mountain bike trails, this was actually not that bad. It was a
steady incline of around 9-14% with some small to medium sized rocks to navigate around. The thing I had to keep in mind was that today it was just myself and Tom on the trail. Race day this section of the trail early on is like traffic in downtown LA during rush hour. The experienced says that the key to St Kevin's is being as close to the front as you can. Not to say I would be at Lance or Levi speed, but you've got to make sure you don't get stuck in the middle as it becomes a logjam of bikers and often you end up walking just because there's no room to ride up. THAT I don't want to have happen.Once past the top of St Kevin's we were rewarded with a fun single track down hill. After a few miles the dirt road ended as we jumped onto the paved road that goes around Turquoise Lake. Here is where you make quick miles as you're able to get to the mid 30 mph. Then you take a hard right on to the gravel road called Hangerman's Pass that goes up to Sugarloaf at over 11,000'. I loved this road that morning. Puffy clouds in the deep blue sky with the 14,000+' Mt Massive mountains as the backdrop. Down below us, as we climbed up, was the creeks that flowed into the lake. The trail was right at timberline and the views were amazing. It really pumped energy into my legs as I scooted up and over the top of Sugarloaf and then approached that famous leg called the Powerline!
The section of the race I had anticipated ever since I watched the movie. Last summer, in this section, it was raining. TO understand the terrain, think of a step section of a mountain that has powerlines going up it. The road below is simply a maintenance access road. Over the years, rain has created ruts 2-3 feet deep that carry their own fall lines that change every 50-100 feet. Navigating this when going over 20 mpg takes skill and caution. No matter the condition, wet or dry, the surface can be loose or slippery. Add in rocks and tree roots and it becomes a small mine field. As you can imagine, this is the site of most of the crashes that happen on the course. For the outbound (downhill) portion, this is where the crowds come to see fast action. On the actual race day, my friend, Andy (from PQ) crashed out of the race going fast down the Powerline and fractured his collarbone. I saw another guy go down in front of me the day of the race. Fortunately there are plenty of people on the course to give aid.One very unfortunate incident happened near the top of the final descent. A rider came down, crashed and went over the bars and his temple landed against a rock. His brain immediately shut down his ability to breath. Then a rider behind crashed into him causing 3 broken ribs. Fortunately, 3 riders who came upon this bloody scene were doctors- one being a brain surgeon. They all administered life saving measures to get him breathing. Once stabilized he was then air lifted to Denver where he was put into an induced comma to reduce the brain swelling. This story ran through the peloton (group of racers) over the next few days and we've all been following the progress of "Gary from Minnesota". As of this post he is still in the Denver hospital but hopes to be transported back home by the end of the week. He is up, talkative, knows his surroundings and laughs a bit. The long term prognosis is still being determined but the posts on their own blog site are very positive and they hope for a full recovery, though it might take time. Please say a prayer for them and, if you would like to donate to his recovery, you can do so at any US Bank and make the donation through the Gary Werning Medical Relief Fund.
Back to the Pre-ride, though....I had my helmet cam with me and I actually recorded the ride down the Powerline descent. Coming up over Hangerman's Pass and first seeing the large wooden structures that held up the electrical powerlines (hence it's name) gave me goosebumps for sure and sent the adrenaline running. No wonder so many accidents happened on this as riders crank up the gears and power down hard for the rush of excitement. Kind of like when you go up a rollercoaster slowly to its highest point them, once at the top, you have that quick pause as you first take in the awesome view and then quickly realize you're about to descend for the ride of your life and you simply hold on hard. That is the Powerline descent in a nutshell. Caring up, around, and over rocks and cambered turns and blind corners, it truly is an "E" ticket. I actually said that going down the course and someone behind me said "what's that?" Obviously they were alot younger than I am and had never experienced Disneyland in the way it was originally set up.
Towards the middle part of the bottom (and most tricky) section I came upon two other riders who were cautiously picking their way through the ruts in the trail. There are very few safe places to pass on this part of the course and, as some veterans had advised, it was wise to just not push it here and risk an accident just to gain 10-15 seconds. More on that later!
Tom from OC came down 4th and at the bottom we stopped and revealed in what we had just ridden the past 22 miles from the start in Leadville. I think we stared back up Powerline for what seemed like an hour thinking forward to what the scene will be like 6 days from now with all the fans cheering us on. Originally I had wanted to turn around and actually ride back up the Powerline. On race day, this was to be the last challenge of the race and nearly EVERYONE walks the bottom part of the climb. It is THAT STEEP and loose. As we were talking it over and Tom was trying to convince me not to ride it a couple riders came down the course and stopped to talk. When they heard what we were contemplating they chimed in: "Why in the heck would you want to do that? Going up it once is bad enough" they remarked from experience. "Too close to race day" they said followed by those words I heard often "...and don't burn matches you don't need to!" So on that, we took off down the paved portion of the road and back to Leadville. In hindsight, it was smart we did what we did because, just as we pulled in to town, Tom pointed out to the west towards the mountains we had just ridden. All the peaks were shrouded in a massive downpour. In town the wind kicked up and it got very dark as thunder sounded the approach of that same squall line of thunderstorms. They say in Colorado that if you don't like the weather, just wait an hour.
Back in town I just took in all the turn of the century authenticity and charm of the t
own. Though early in the week, the town had a decisive buzz about it. The local bike shop "Cycles of Life" was jammed with riders like myself that we
re out pre-riding portions of the course. I went by the Trail 100 store and bought a couple commemorative items and met the head of volunteers for the race. An extremely friendly person (as everyone whom I met from town was)she gave me the tip of the week as it related to where to have Beth and the "Pit Crew" (which would consist of Jenna, Justin, Sharon and Rich and Debbie from PQ) go for the day of the race.Pit Crew? What's that all about? Is this NASCAR? Even though this was my first race of this type (or any type!) what I had learned is that, if possible, you want to have someone on the course in strategic spots to provide nutrition, clothing and possible mechanical supplies. The LEadville 100 is a 100 mile race that is 50 miles out to the top of the Columbine Mine. Then riders simply (actually laboriously!) retrace their course back 50 miles to the finish in Leadville. Along the way, the event organizers have Aid Stations spread out in 4 different spots: Crescent Aid (just off of St Kevins), Pipeline (about 5 miles past the bottom of the Powerline descent), Twin Lakes (the most popular, er, crowded, at mile 40...or 60 on the return) and Columbine Mine which is at the Top of the World at 12,600' (and marks the half way point i/n the race). A rider can (and many do) ride the course without a "pit crew" and get the nutrition they need at each aid station. They have water, energy drinks, soda (yes, a good caffeine and sugar dose of coke goes a long way when you are "digging deep" at mile 80!), energy bars, Gu, assorted fruit, pbj sandwiches, etc. There are also mechanics to offer assistance. Riders can also choose ahead of time to have "Drop Bags" with their own nutrition and clothing supplies left at the aid stations of their choice.
Having read about and "studied" the course and knowing full well how the weather can change and where it most affects the riders, I chose to have Beth and the Crew set up shop at Twin Lakes. While some vetera
n crews are able to navigate the back roads to set up at all the aid stations I didn't want to put Beth and the crew through that and chose the main spot at Twin Lakes. The volunteer lead told me exactly where to place Beth and so I decided that what we would do is actually set up the tent (and ENF banner) the day before the race. This would secure a spot before all the mayhem of race day and also reduce the stuff Beth would have to drag up to the site. People literally camp out at the sites the day before and I was told that on the day of the race, on these narrow dirt forest roads, it gets very crowded and parking becomes very difficult. For Beth to have to walk all the supplies I might need let alone the things she and the crew would need (food, drink,etc) I wouldn't want her to have to walk a mile from a parked car with all that.Actually, the full logistics of how Beth and the Crew got to the race and where/when/how to position them was something that weighed on my mind the past few weeks. It's enough for me to be thinking about all the infinite details of the race itself: did I train enough, how will my body react to the altitude and distance, what should the nutrition plan be, what suppliers should I carry and what do I pick up at the sites, what are my strategies on the course. All these things occupied my mind 24/7 so that when it came to me thinking of the logistics of my important crew, it became almost overwhelming. I knew they too had to "dig deep" and that I wa
s asking alot of Beth, my kids as well as my friends. We were staying all that week at our friends- Rich and Sharon's-amazing house (Sharon calls it the "double wide"...yeah, right!) in Cordillera, about 30 minutes west of Vail, Their place was a good (and curvy, yet beautiful) 75+ minute drive to Leadville (or more if you're stuck behind a motor home as I seemed to be every time I made the "commute"). With my need to be at the start line at between 5:00-5:30 on Saturday morning it gave me much to consider in how to get the crew situated. I had the kids flying in from San Diego on Wednesday night and Beth and I had to go to Vail (a 35 minute drive from the Brower's house) at 1 in the morning to pick them up. Then I was to have to go to Leadville early Friday to do medical check-in, registration and then listen to the famed Ken Chlouber "Orientation, er, Rally" speech. Then get the bike and supplies ready, have a big "carb load" dinner that Beth was going to prepare, and then try to get to bed early for a good nights sleep before the race. Man, was my mind getting overwhelmed......and my blog has lost its course as I have got on to the "Pit Crew" dilemma. Okay, so you have the picture. Back to the week in prep. So in now knew what I was to do with my Pit Crew and where they would be. I then got a little Mexican food in me and then I walked the town a little to just soak it all in. "So this is Leadville..." That is exactly the words Beth's dad, Tony Mills, would say if he were standing next to me looking down the street at all the turn of the century buildings. There was an old saloon from the 1870's (now an Irish Pub...although they served Guinness in a can....how can call yourself an Irish Pub and NOT pour Guinness from a proper tap!), there was the famous Tabor House Theater (they still do shows there...but not the naughty girl type!), I went to the Delaware Hotel- a Victorian style hotel that dates to 1886. My friend, Andy, along with a heap of other riders were staying here. I strolled through the lobby and felt I was transported back to the Wild West. All the staff was in period costume and the lady at the registration desk had the full bustier outfit going and it looked as if that was what she wore daily, regardless of the "theme". I wished the rest of the family were with me to take this in as it was very cool to experience.
After about an hour I headed back to "home" to report on my first day at Leadville. It was a good one!
Early the next day, Tuesday, I went back out to Leadville to do the Columbine Mine climb with Andy. He had met another rider, Greg from Conneticut, who was also staying at his hotel. He had just arrived from sea level the night before and wanted to get some elevation in. They say that to acclimate to the altitude and be able to perform well you should try to be there 2-3 weeks before the race. That is impractical for most of us working folks. Being there a week ahead was still in my best inerest. Greg taking on a climb to 12,600' the morning after he arrived from the Eastern seaboard was another undertaking all its own. We met in front of the hotel and then drove off to the site of the Twin Lakes aid station 15 miles south of town. This was a perfect starting point for a few reasons: First, parking was a-plenty. Second, it gave us about 15 minutes of needed easy-rolling warm up time before we started the 3,700' climb to the top. Lastly, it gave me a chance to "scout out" the place where Beth and the Pit Crew would be 4 days from now.
There were others doing the same pre-ride of Columbine as us and we took off at about 8:45. It was a beautiful morning with big puffy clouds that didn't look like they would become rain. In the movie on the race from last year, Mother Nature threw all her fury on the Columbine climb. It rained, it sleeted (it has snowed in the past) and it was cold and windy. It looked simply miserable. One rider interviewed at the top simply stuttered "I-I-I-aaaaaam-cccccc-old!". This is why the aid station at Twin Lakes is the most supply critical. As a rider, when you come into this station (it is Mile 40), you need to look up that mountain (it is two mountains away from Mt Elbert, the highest peak in Colorado at 14,433') and discern what the weather is and might be. From that observation you then make critical choices on what supplies to pack with you to the top: rain gear? change of clothes? how much and to what extent? Comfort, protection and safety should be primary concern and yet a racer is also trying to minimize the weight one carries as that will incrementally slow you down.
Today the decision was way easy. The weather called for a simple vest, arm warmers and a few water bottles and a few energy bars. We expected to get to the top in around 2 hours and it was less than 45 minutes back down so nothing more was needed. This was a "simple" reconnesance ride. Take notes of the difficulty of the climb, the effects of altitude and the technical aspects (rocks, ruts, pitch) of the trail during the final 2 miles of the climb. This was the famous "sting" of the ride. I again brought my helmet cam to record parts of the ride, especially the fast descent from the top.
Once past the warm up section, the ride turned up Forest Service Road #396 for the 7 mile ascent to the top. Through cool, sun filtering aspen groves, the road climbed at a steady 7-9% pitch. Andy and I set a steady pace and Greg kept behind steady about a couple 100 yards. We had a great photo stop half way up when the road made a hairpin turn. This was the first look at the top of the mountain as we were just at 11,000'. A mile up the road came out of the tree line near an old abandoned mine shaft. Here the going got decidedly steeper and more rocky. Dropping to my lowest gear, Andy and I (with Greg respectably not far behind!) plucked our way up through and over the rocks, picking our line as we went, with the intention of not stopping at all. No dabs as we call it, the goal in techincal mountain biking is to get through the more challenging sections without dropping your foot (aka "no dabs"!).
This was the beginning of the 2 mile section of the final assault to the top. Whether its the steepness, the rocks and ruts, or the lack of oxygen at this altitude (or all of the above) many if not most riders, on race day, would walk many (if not the entire) sections of this climb. Some veterans would recommend that it was actually faster to walk some of the steepest sections and that it would actually save energy as well as a good opportunity to change up the muscles used and to give other muscles a much needed break. Again, as I was pedaling, my mind raced back to the images of the riders in the movie walking their bikes in a steady "death march" single file up this section of the mountain. Like ants marching in order, the steady line of riders (now walkers) streaching the entire 2 mile length of the climb would slowly, foot after foot, work their oxygen deprived way to the top. This was the true first test of the "Dig Deep" mantra that would get many riders through this race.Recalling my good riding friend from home, Rick, and his challenge to never dab, I kept cranking the pedals refusing to walk. Andy and I started to come upon other riders that had started before us. They were all walking. The road split, one going down to the actual Columbine Mine and the other going up a steep pitch. We started to go down the wrong road and then realized the steeper branch was the one we were supposed to take. Darn. Time to "Dig Deep"...again! This was nearly the auto-off-your-bike-and-walk section. Andy led out and he didn't walk....neither did I. We slowly passed the handful of riders on the mountain. The road leveled for a short but and we were able to gather our breath.
Then it kicked up and here is where, for the first time all week, I noticed the lack of oxygen. All of a sudden it was like the area around my head closed in and I felt a little dizzy. All this while I am trying to keep the cranks turning and the bike steadily pointed forward. "No dabs, no dabs, where the hell's the oxygen, pedal, pedal...just keep swimming, just keep swimming...why am I thinking about clown fish cartoon movie's???". The "altitude attack" came and went in about a minute and the road became a little more forgiving as I gathered my strength one more time.
As I was pedaling I could look up the barren mountain slope at the trail I was climbing. Clouds buzzing overhead, the wind steady but refreshingly cool, I could see that the road ahead began a short series of steep switchbacks. This was the steepest section for sure as it kicked to over 20% grade and was very rocky. Andy got off his bike here and though my pace slowed I kept on pedaling. Andy is a strong and smart experienced rider and what I respected in this section of the climb is that he always rode to the right side of the trail, even if it was more difficult and there was a better "line" to the left. Why was he doing this? He was replicating race day conditions. You see, on race day, this is the part of the course where there will be riders coming back down the trail as you are still climbing up. While you are plugging away at a snails pace of 2-3 miles per hour (or less if you're walking) on the steeper sections, the downhill riders are going at 15-25 mph and their wizzing by you with barely 2-3 feet of separation. So you cannot go up the left side or you will get run over and get the consternation of all the riders in the group! Rules of the road (as well as safety) apply on the Columbine Climb, from the first site of the lead rider coming down(last year it was Lance, then Dave Weins...who will it be this year?) to the "Last Ass Over the
Pass" still making the climb. So while I was picking my line up no matter what side of the trail Andy kept to his plan. Smart guy and respect.I knew my race day strategy was going to be different from what I was riding today and that I would be walking certain sections. Not a pride thing, it was just fact. On race day, with all the traffic and the complete distance of the 100 miles you need to account for, energy conservation as well as safety was #1. I knew that I would not go"No Dabs" on Columbine that day. However today was different and so I kept that steady pace. I chocked my way through the steepest section and then the ride started to level out. A few short but steep pitches later and I was past the gauntlet and I kicked into a bigger ring and literally got out of the saddle and pedaled hard. I was at the top and I was so energized by the momment. The adrenaline of the climb, the beauty of the mountains, the 360 degree view from the top that went forever, the deep blue color of the sky with the clouds dancing across it. I felt I could climb another 1,000' I was so filled with excitement and energy. This was the time and place I had dreamed of and trained for for the past 10 months. To be on the top of the Columbine, to take in the exhileration of the place I was at was something I will always remember. As in the movie, this was the section of the race that coined the term "Race Across the Sky" and I was in that momment as I came across the ridge.
I then dropped down at full speed to the crumbling log shelter that marked the turn-around point of the race at mile 51. Andy came up a few minutes later and then finally Greg. 1 hour, 42 minutes was my time and I was very pleased with it. Could I repeat that on race day? Doubtful but at least I knew I could do it. No dabs at that! It couldn't have been a more beautiful day on top and we took about 20 minutes to enjoy it. We took plenty of pictures because, on race day, the suggested strategy by the veteran's was to not stop at this aid station. Come around the turn, say your "hello's and thanks" to the great volunteers and make the short climb up to the high point before you do any stopping was the key. At that point, take in a little water, eat a little food if needed, and then put on your vest and arm warmers for the cool descent (if weather was bad, this was especially important!). Then get on down as they say. Get out of the bad weather and lack of oxygen back to the Twin Lakes station. Andy said that often at the top, medical staff would come up to you and offer you oxygen if you needed it. Problem is, if you took up on the kind offer, then the next thing the med staffer does is cut your race bracelet and tell you you're done for the day. Basically your taking oxygen is an admission of medical need and thus you are retired from the race. Be careful of hand outs I thought! Obviously if you are truly in need then it is a good thing they are there. THe medical volunteers are amazingly caring and supportive people and, as we later found out on race day, made life saving actions. Hats off to them!
We did not need any oxygen as we took it all in, taking our pictures, eating a little food and then we prepared to take off this "hill". I turned on my helmet cam and told Andy to take the lead and that I would get him descending the mountain. I might have outclimbed Andy by a hair but, geez, can this guy fly downhill. He was out of my picture in less than a minute. I got a little taste of race day as there were about a dozen or so riders still climbing up the steep section. This gave me the feel of how close you pass by at speed and how to maintain your line no matter the obtsructions in front. Apparently this upper 2 mile section of the course had been gone over with some kind of simple grader that swept the trail of alot of the bigger rocks that used to be there. Veteran's said that made the course more manageable and I was appreciative of that. There were still sections with plenty of rocks in my mind so I can't imagine what it had been like before the "sweep".I finally caught up with Andy at the intersection of the split to the mine. I told him I was in awe of his descending skills and he admitted he was an addict to the downhill part of mountain biking. I will never go that fast...I have a life preserving "govenor" in my brain that kicks in at a certain speed. I don't like crashing. Done it enough in the past. Greg caught up and we all took off down the last steep section as we then entered into the forested and smoother section of the descent. It was a fun reward to the climbing we had just done. We past more riders making their own sojourn to the top and 30 minutes later we were back at our cars at Twin Lakes. We congratulated each other for a safe and solid ride and packed up our cars for the return to town. We had lunch and a celebratory beer at the Tennessee Pass Cafe and talked bike talk.
Andy suggested that I try in town to see if there was a room available (maybe someone cancelled) for Friday night. I had talked to Beth and she had wished I had made reservations months back. Knowing how early I would have to wake up on race day to pack my stuff, eat and then the distance of the drive to Leadville was something I was concerned about. I figured I would have to wake up at 3am to be there by 5:30 and even that was cutting it close. Add to that the logistics of Beth joining me and knowing the kids wouldn't wake up that early to be with Beth at the aid station pointed to a need for a new strategy. On only the second inquiry at the Notel 8 on the edge of town I got the last remaining room. I lucked out for sure and felt great relief that I would not have to set a 3 am wake up call! With reservation secured, I once again headed back to Cordillera and Beth with great excitement and a new confidence in me.
I had now rode 2 days of the toughest parts of the race. I had covered 50 miles and nearly 8,000' of climbing. The race was only 4 days away and now was time to wind down my riding and rest up for the Big Day! I needed now to take all the information I'd gained riding and from talking to veteran riders and put my final plan together for race day. Also, it was time to put focus on Beth and everyone else. My family (and now our hosts, the Brower's) were having to endure all my bike energy and talk and I needed to try and have the next part of this trip to beautiful Colorado be about things besides Leadville and mountain biking. In hindsite, I am not sure I fully accomplished that as I was like an excited child on Christmas Eve. We had a great sushi dinner in town and that capped a great day for me.
The next day we went into Vail and picked up Debbie from her shuttle ride from Denver. We strolled the village and enjoyed a late lunch on the patio of Bully Ranch until an afternoon thunderstorm chased us inside. Later that night we enjoyed wine on the patio, made some impromptu dinner and experienced an energetic evening thunderstorm that was full of heavy rain and lots of lightening. I love the smell of summer rain in the mountains with the fresh pine scents. We had a great time but Beth and I had to curtail the libations as we needed to stay up fresh for the drive back to Vail to get the kids that were coming in later that night. At midnight we headed out and we got to the Vail transit station at about 12:45 in the morning. Justin and Jenna had just arrived and were 20 minutes ahead of schedule. It was great to see them and, after all the planning and changes made to get us all together, we were finally all in Colorado. The "Pit Crew" was no fully intact!
Thursday morning was a much needed lazy morning. We discovered a great crepe place in Edwards, went to a French bakery to bring goodies back to the kids (who were back at the house sleeping in...they had a long trip to get here and they needed the well deserved rest...although later I would learn that Justin was up almost all night taking night photos of the annual Perseids Meteor Shower...the sky is sooo vivid at )and then stopped to get groceries for the "Carb Load" dinner for tomorrow night. That afternoon we all (sans Rich) went for an
amazing 6 mile hike to Booth Falls. A few minutes outside of Vail, on the north side of the valley, the hike t ook us up this side valley through groves of aspens and across meadows and hillside fields of wildflowers that could fill an artists' palette. The whole hike we dodged in and out of thunder clouds and at one time we had a small hail storm. It was a great and memorable hike. Justin, Jenna and I were like Ansel Adam's taking tons of nature photo's along the way. After the hike, Rich met us at the Lionshead part of Vail and we had amazingly good pizza at the Blue Moose on the plaza while we listened to a live Big Band concert. When we got back to the house Leadville became the topic again. So we broke out the movie to watch so they could see what this whole fiasco was about that I was subjecting everyone to. Only Beth had seen the movie and last year's storylines of Lance and Dave; of Roxanne Hall and her long, arduous recovery from a life threatening bike crash (with a hit and run car); of the crazy weather and the person on the top of Columbine getting a drip for hypothermia; of the crying adult men as they get taken off the course for missing the 4 hour cutoff at Twin Lakes; the costumes and commraderie of the various "Pit Crews" at the aid stations; of all the challenges the course throws at you. An hour and a half later only Debbie was awake. So much for enabling! I guess you have to be a biker to watch the whole thing....Tomorrow was Friday and the REAL beginning of all the activity. Tomorrow over 1,500 riders and their support teams were descending upon Leadville for the 18th year. Lance Armstrong had bowed out of the race 2 days prior siting the injuries he sustained at the Tour de France as his reason. Without Lance there was still enough energy and excitement to go around and word that Lance's teamate, Levi Leipheimer, was making a sneak appearance in the race only added to the chatter. Two days to race day and all my preperation riding was complete. I was ready and fairly confident. Now it was time to enjoy the moment and make sure that I have fun.
As I close this blog it is almost 2 weeks since the actual ride. Beth is in my ear saying "who will read this stuff anyhow?" I havevn't even got to RACE DAY in this blog, and yet I need to "turn the page". So the table is set, the course is known. The "FINAL" blog is taking shape in my mind as I close out the page and the night. Tomorrow it is all Leadville....
