The campaign
Donations rolled in late Friday and Early Saturday putting us at the goal. Talking to my contact at Huntsman, donations and participation was down across the board. Something like only 51 final participants, of which I only saw a few Huntsman jerseys all day long. Pretty much all other fundraising efforts for Huntsman were scrapped this year. Turns out, LOTOJA was it for the fundraising campaign. Within LOTOJA, there were a lot of people that either had to drop out, or couldn't travel to Utah for the race. I know there were my own personal doubts, but somehow......
New to the "Porpoise" this year was the one that put us over the top. My better-half's brother (and awesome fam) came in big time. He works in the field and sees the heartbreak that results from the Big-C. He (they) also lost their mother to this garbage a few years ago. Not that anyone needs that much exposure to understand the devastation, but he (they) all know it too well. This particular donation came in with some thunder, and truly made a difference toward the race-day attitude. "Spiking it over the goal-line!". Big thanks Na and awesome fam.
Two others that came in last week were the Sis'. Yep, my reliable sisters that always keep me inline. Long time supporters of the "Porpoise", in fact supporters from the very beginning - they are rather great for "older chicks" (can I even say that?). If you've read the posts over these years, you'll know their significance. Both of them gave me two of my most memorable Christmas gifts in the form of vinyl. Of course, when they donate, I have to ride to finish. Thanks you guys.
From the fast dirt ride late last night, on the middle switch-backs.
Jersey Markings
As done on past several occasions, I marked up my race jersey the night before the race (see earlier posts). If you look back over the years you'll see others, and appreciate the significance. It makes a difference to me personally.
On my left sleeve (blue) was in memory of a kid from High School. No, we weren't "close buddies", but he is still a Scot. We came from different Junior High Schools and met early on in our sophomore year. That year was significant on many levels. We were all ten feet tall and bullet proof. We had arrived at the big time - at least in our own minds. We didn't know any better and life was good. By the time we hit graduation, the facade had faded, the innocence spent and........well, welcome to the world. When I informed another mutual friend of his passing, he took it pretty hard. Add to that his own physical and personal difficulties, it seemed only right to carry that on my shoulder come race day.
On My right sleeve (orange) is the name of my support crew-boss' father. A little older than I, but has been a pretty active fellow. Last year he was hit with his own battle that has been a significant change in lifestyle - to say the least. His situation does not allow for occasional breaks, or relief. He has no option other than endure. On one of my rides back from Woodruff, this was front and center in my mind. During the race, I kept that thought and pushed through every time I thought I wanted to stop for a second. I had pre-planned stopping points and having that on my shoulder kept me from stopping anywhere outside of those. There is no comparison between his situation and what I experienced. Although I pushed through each time, I still was able to enjoy lengthy respites at nearly every feed zone. Thanks for the ride "H". This one was for you.......
The Race (and ride)
Nervous as always, the race group 800 series was 06:00 (cold and dark). They showed 50 racers on the list, but I'd guess it to be something less than that at the line. The basic kit (no company "colors" this year), with arm-warmers and long finger Rossi's. The temperature when I got out of the truck was something like 42°F. I took only two bottles, versus the three I've started with for the past ten years. Two Gu's under each leg gripper, two Ensure Plus in the middle pocket, fruit snacks and Jolly Ranchers in the left pocket, a banana, phone and Stinger Waffle in the right pocket - I was set for a good ride.
Logan to Montpelier
With the dark start, a Motor-Marshal riding behind us gave some light through the group. Most guys had some type of tail light, mainly to provide a little view of the back wheel. The rolling neutral was faster than 15 MPH, although too dark to see the display. As we got out to Idaho, it was getting colder by the mile. I was later told the 06:20 pack showed 28°F at Preston. By the time we got to the first climb and in to Riverdale (in the river bottoms), a lot of riders had no use of their hands. When I tried to drop the front ring at that climb, the index wouldn't release due to the cold (eventually it did). Things stayed pretty calm for the first few miles up Idaho 36. Somewhere around Mink Creek it seems, I got dropped on a climb/roller. Perhaps 45 - 48 miles into the race. This was expected and I didn't panic. That said, my race was over and was now just out for a long ride. Planned, short stops at the false summit (MP 17) and summit (MP 22) allowed me to pound the Ensures and some water. The descent off of the top was pretty fast and had a couple good groups. Out past Ovid, a couple miles from the feed zone, I let the group I was on go ahead, as it became a little sketchy. A couple really big groups came right up, including the fastest Mens Cat V. Again, I let them go without hooking on. The time to Montpelier was close to my plan, but after that, things would change.
Montpelier to Salt River Pass & Afton/Thayne
I spent more time than usual in the feed zone at Montpelier. From here I wouldn't see my support until Thayne, Wyoming (18 miles past the usual Afton). Heading up the canyon was predictable, with some traffic issues at the pilot car stop. As planned, I stopped at the big bend for a few minutes (business). Talked with a couple of the radio guys manning that stretch and headed for the climb over the top. I had planned to stop at the brake-check before descending for some fuel, but chose instead to bomb into Geneva and get to the water stop just over the Idaho/Wyoming line. Hooking on to a couple small groups, the water stop came pretty fast. I took a little water, pounded an Ensure and headed for King of the Mountain (KoM/QoM). The winds were mostly favorable and I really didn't try to hook on to groups unless it was absolutely convenient. Just before the KoM timing strip, I stopped (a little too long) to stretch, push a Gu and drink some water. That climb wasn't bad - until the last 1K, where there was a dead deer laying across our path into the finish. It looked like it had exploded - literally. Add to this, being gassed from the climb, it made for a memorable arrival at the feed zone. I think this was the first time I have stopped at this feed zone, but knowing I would have to neutral through Afton, I was making sure I had water and pickle juice. This time I spent way too much time in that feed zone - which would be the theme for the rest of the day. Leaving the feed zone for the fast descent toward Smoot, I was sure either I'd catch a group, or one would catch me. Turns out, I caught a woman racer and dragged her along until we caught another guy. With both of them on my wheel, our speed was pretty good, but I was expecting somebody to catch us - which didn't happen. The one and only time I rolled off the front to let the other guy pull, he really struggled. After about 2 minutes, I jumped out front and pulled the three of us almost to After before he had a flat. The two of us left found the neutral in Afton, where I took up home for a while and called my new support crew (I'll explain later).
The Afton route took us several blocks to the east adding some miles before we got back on the highway. One other guy and I worked together all the way to Thayne (18 miles) in what turned out to be just over 22 minutes. But there was nobody else to help. At that feed zone, I considered taking up residency, as I stayed there way too long - for no reason what so ever. By this point, it was just nice day and I was in no hurry to end it. Spending more time alone was pretty much what I was after, and that is what the rest of the day would look like.
Thayne to Alpine and Home
Leaving Thayne alone was not the best idea. However, given the lack of any groups, that was the order of the remaining ride. Pretty much solo to Alpine, the winds were mostly favorable. At Alpine I met up with my original support, that earlier I had sent forward to support another racer. Again time at this feed zone was pretty.....too long. The next 24 mile up Snake River Canyon was a total solo ride - by my choice. This is the most beautiful part of the ride, and I really enjoyed the hour it took to get to Hoeback. A quick stop at the new neutral for the last Ensure and a Redbull (and dropping trash), I had 28 miles to go.
Traffic at the roundabout was backed up, but not really a problem for most bikes. Just past the narrow pass, they took us of onto a detour that was interesting. The first couple miles had a deceptive uphill grade - 10 MPH kind of deceptive. Over the top of that stretch, the road wound its way toward the Snake River. At that point, there was a steep, unpaved section - far too long to walk. The road here was't road base, nor was it gravel. Lets qualify it as officially sketch-city. Directly at the bottom of what physics would suggest an otherwise fast descent, was a hard left-hand turn onto a bridge across the Snake. This had two rows of planking for vehicle tires, with a support deck on either side, as well the center. If you weren't on the planking, you'd have to stop to lift your bike back onto the road at the other side. Not that the planking was a lot better, as they were loose and presented the potential of pinch plats. Directly off this bridge was a very steep climb, for maybe 200 feet. At the top was a double set of exceptionally wide cattle guards. Flying over the bridge, I really didn't notice the abrupt grade at the other end, and was in my big ring upfront for that short climb. As I hit the cattle guards, the intense vibration brought me to a near stall just as I rolled onto the asphalt (lucky).
By the time I got over to the heart-breaker (last hill before Jackson) I could see individual riders in both directions, but no groups. After crossing the highway, I could see two individual riders that looked like an opportunity, but I was having trouble getting a Jolly Rancher into my mouth for the last part of the ride and didn't catch them. A mile of two before the turnoff to the High School, I hooked on to a couple guys that would be ending their ride up there. When they turned off for their finish, I still had almost eleven miles to go - alone. I did manage to real-in a couple individuals, but they were of no use to me at that point. Finally on the Wilson/Teton Highway, and just under seven miles to go, it was all business. Alternating between out of the saddle and down gripping the top of the shifters, I was carrying a pretty good clip. There have been other years that this stretch has really been hard to deal with mentally. This year, I had more than enough to drive it home. One guy tried to hook on at around 1K or 2K out. Not that it mattered, as I gave it everything left in the tank. With my head down on the bars, in a seated sprint, I finished with a sense of dignity. Coasting in, sitting on the top tube, there wasn't the normal mob of people to stop me, or get my timing chip (due to Covid). Rather, at the end of the chute, just prior to the trail, they were there asking us to remove our chips and hand them over. It started different and ended different, but still a great day.
Summary
Considering how few road miles I had this year, I was surprised at the lack of overall fatigue. I didn't care about my time, and that's not an excuse. It occurred to me later that the emptiness that I felt when I got off my bike for the last time on Saturday, was the cold reality of having to join civilization again - going back to life. I actually didn't want it to end, but certainly couldn't go on either. The actual bike time versus official time was something in the order of 90 minutes different. Compare that to one year that I had something like 12 minutes off my bike. I truly didn't want it to end, but I was also pretty tired after burning 650 - 800 calories an hour for 13+ hours. I could have absolutely gone harder, but I chose to enjoy my day and sort things out in my head.
Hats off to my buddy that finished strong in his race group, as a podium 4th place. He was principle in keeping my mind straight this summer, when I thought I would otherwise quit. Thanks Kerry - and congrats on a killer ride!
With the season behind me, I'm already struggling to make time for the mountain bike. Clients, work and other commitments are competing with my spare time. The ride last night was about as late as it gets without a headlamp. Regardless, I'm currently on the hook for Leadville next summer and that will be a very serious undertaking. There will be no real off-season this year. But then who could have predicted what happened this past year.
Ben Lomond in the Autumn - a contrast from the picts earlier this year.
Stick around. This is a lot to do.
