So, let me take you back in time. Hop in the Delorean with me. On August 11, 2018, a full year ago, I took on the Leadville 100. I really meant to write up my experience at the time, to follow up my blog on the Silver Rush, provide a little insight in to the experience and maybe help out some future first-timer looking for information. So in that vein, better late than never right?
Intro
A few book-keeping things to get out of the way. If you don't know me (and let's be honest, if you're reading this you're probably a close relative... Hi, Mom!) go back to the Silver Rush blog again and read the Who Am I section. Context is important. What I will add to that is, I rode a lot between Silver Rush and LT100. A couple big centuries (with 7000+ and 10000+ feet of climbing), morning rides several days a week, and ALWAYS Wednesday HIIT. I don't know what I'm doing, really, but I know the power I gained from intervals was noticeable, and necessary. However, I hit the mountain bike only once or twice in between, a couple 30-milers. Almost all my training was on the road. Good enough, right?
First Things First
I need to get this out of the way up top, because it was the most memorable and important part of the ride at the end of the day. THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU, to all of my supporters/crew/emotional stability that showed up to cheer me on. My Dad, 10x finisher and LT100 OG, provided me timing and race advice, and cleaned my chain at the bottom of Columbine on the way back, big time. My sisters, niece and nephew, and my amazing wife, you all gave me something to look forward to and kept me going.
And to the volunteers, they were amazing. At the hatchery inbound, they took my camelbak off of me and refilled it while I explored the fine food options. At Carter inbound, so near the finish and then end of my rope, the woman who handed me watermelon also yelled at me for stopping too long (in a good way) and got my tired ass moving. Y'all rock!
The Day Before
Ok, let's get moving on the race itself. Turns out, required checkin the day before, so we rolled in early, got checked in, explored the festivities, and most importantly took a quick spin out and pre-rode the final climb. This proved to me so invaluable to me, mentally, when I got there the next day because I had a solid feel for what was still to come, and what effort was required to ride up the final hill (spoiler alert: I finished the race). You should do this.
Also, everywhere I went in the race village people were swapping stories and giving advice from their own personal adventures, it was great! One thing I heard, and took with me, was some guy suggesting to just lock up the rear wheel and slide down the top of Columbine (don't touch the front!). Worked wonder for me! Did I mention I don't really know what I'm doing...
Race Day!
It's a long race, so I won't get in to too many details, but highlight some fun stories and key spots. Mostly, my advice is just: keep the legs moving. You can get there. Eventually.
The corral at the start was cold, and I'm going to have to think about what to do with clothing if/when I do this again (I did title this entry "My First"). Standing around at 6am at 10000 feet is cold. The first thing you do when the race starts is go downhill, cold. But as soon as you get that out of the way, you start working, and you want to have as little extra baggage as possible. I ended up wearing leg and arm sleeves, and dropped them with my crew after Powerline.
Anyways... packed in the corral, a few groups back. The first couple miles are paved, downhill, fast and chaotic. My bike doesn't roll as fast as some others, so I just took what gravity gave me and figured it would all work out. As I hit the dirt at the bottom, I was engulfed in a dust cloud, streaked with the dawn sun. I don't know how much dirt I inhaled during the first hour of the race, but I know I felt it at the end. I might legitimately wear a facemask of some kind in the beginning. Also, it's all just clogged with people. If you're not at the front, actually racing, don't even worry about moving up until you're done with the Carter climb 11 miles in. I hung out, went as fast as the field allowed, and felt good getting the first climb out of the way.
I skipped this aid and tucked in for the paved decent over to Powerline. Now, I've never considered myself much of a descender, but I think this is where the Silver Rush experience came in to play. I flew down the Powerline descent, which to be honest is sketchy af. And I felt great! I probably made a couple ill-advised passes, but kept the rubber side down and a smile on my face. You know, roughly. It's loose, and there's a giant crevasse in between the two tracks, but there's usually a logical line and if you keep the front wheel moving you'll be in good shape.
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| Why did I bother with a water bottle when I was wearing a camelbak? |
This was the first spot I found my crew. All I did was throw them the sleeves and move on. I tagged on to a little train and pulled with them as much as I could through this relatively flat block of miles. I skipped the aid at Pipeline out, still feeling good. I surely under-fueled the first 40, but I just wanted to get them out of the way and get to Columbine. I met the crew at Twin Lakes just before the climb, bathed in their adoration, and took a brief rest and some solid food.
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| Still feeling good. I'm a dork. And, how you doin? |
Columbine
Yeah, this part gets its own section. It's the part of the race you plan around (though, as I'll get to in the next section, not really the worst part). 7 (ish) miles, 3000 (ish) feet up, topping out over 12000 feet. All in all, this is where I actually felt prepared for this race. Most of the climb isn't technical, the part that is technical none of us mortals actually ride anyways. It's pretty smooth dirt road, you just gotta keep pedaling. And to my planned schedule, this is where I made up the most time. The legs actually felt good, and I was passing people. At Twin Lakes out I was 982nd place, but by the turnaround I was 785th. Not to say it wasn't completely exhausting, but you just spin spin spin. I told my dad prior to the race, after having read someone else's race blog, that I really wanted to ride all of Columbine. That, it turns out, is a dumb idea. And whoever wrote that was wrong. Moral of the story is, trust no blog but mine. The top 2ish miles are mostly a long line of walkers. I am so happy we had good weather, because hiking slowly at 12000 feet hauling a bike could be an absolute nightmare with some nice summer hail.
Having topped out, and feeling pretty good about myself, I began the descent. And this is actually where the race started to take its toll on me. If I thought the climb was tiring, the 10 miles back down is... well, a different kind of tiring. My shoulders, wrists and hands really, really wanted to be done with it. This is also about the time of the race my lungs started to complain. I don't know if it was the elevation, or the effort, or the fact that I had been inhaling dirt for 6 hours (a little bit from each column, more likely) but breathing started to get hard. Oh well, just 40 more miles, I told myself!
Back down, STILL upright the whole time (#winning). Stopped at the aid station at Twin Lakes, just a few hundred feed before my crew, to stock up on some things they didn't have. Potato chips and watermelon became the food of the gods. It was so good.
Powerline Inbound
18 more miles of rolling dirt from Twin Lakes back to Powerline were largely me telling myself that everything is going to be fine, you're most of the way there! Took a relatively leisurely stop this time at the Pipeline aid station, and kept on moving. And this, to me, is where the race tries to steal your soul. To any future riders, I think it's perfectly reasonable as you walk back up Powerline, very slowly, to question every good decision you made in your life. I mean, you chose to do this LT100, have all your decision been this bad? Why is the tall man in the black robe and the scythe walking next to you, and why do you long for his sweet embrace? But these are just fleeting thoughts. Each of the multiple false summits might make you restart this conversation in your head, but you're so close.
In all seriousness, this is the mental fortitude part of the race. It's a slog, and like the top of Columbine, only the elite are going to be riding it. And the false summits are a bitch (this is actually something I had in mind because of another conversation I had the day before in the village, which helped). I rode intermittently after the initial summit, for the most part rideable, probably all rideable earlier in the day. The descent off the backside is also one of the rougher descents in the race, so Powerline up, and down to the pavement, will all require your attention. But then you're home-free! Ish...
Finishing
I was grateful the climb back up to Carter was paved for a little reprieve, and I started to feel human again. The descent off Carter was actually about the most fun I had in the race. I was flying, even got some mini-air a couple times just because. There was a guy following me down, who high fived me when got back to flats for leading such a fun descent. The end was in sight! And this is where that ride the day before paid so much in dividends. Most of the people near me turned the corner for the final climb, and immediately jumped off and started walking. With the context and the knowledge from the day before, I rode the whole way home. It wasn't easy, but just having that in my head, I knew I could make it. The dirt road at the top became way longer that I recalled, my lungs were screaming, my legs were threatening to run away and leave my torso to fend for itself, but we made it!
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| Do I look happy? |
Conclusion
An epic day. Solid type 1/type 2 fun. It took me a while after the race to want to eat and, like, stand up, but within a few hours I was actually feeling pretty reasonable, and by the next day willing to do it all over (probably next year). 10:44:29 on the clock, 15 minutes ahead of my goal time. I got my belt buckle and my sweatshirt, I stayed upright, the weather was beautiful, no hugs to strange skeletal figures in black cloaks. It was an amazing day!
