Breckinridge 68

I’ve never been that much into snow sports.  In Indiana “snow sports” meant drifting your car down country roads with your high-school buddies piled in the back, or drinking whiskey and going sledding on trash-can lids.  Neither of these were very competitive, or endorphin inducing.  Oddly enough, now that I am in the snow sport capital of the country, and having seen it all for the first time during the summer, I am in no way closer to realizing this new passion.  To be frank, mountain biking in Breckinridge is so beautiful and awe-inspiring that the thought of it all being covered in snow for 8 months of the year is quite depressing.  So it goes for the entire state as well.  In a year that has taken me to some of the best mountain biking destinations in the west, I am still constantly impressed with what this state has to offer.  Breckinridge is no exception.  Known for its ski hills and ritzy condos, it is an absolute gem of summer recreation. 

The Breckinridge 100/68, part of the Rocky Mountain Endurance Series, and a stop on the National Ultra Endurance Series, was a race that I had been looking forward to for months.  Well, that is to say that only months before I had become aware of endurance racing and the Breckinridge race.  I was actually unsure about doing the race, as it fell the day after my birthday and I would have family in town.  These two things, birthday and family, tend to lead to alcohol consumption and a general influx of unhealthy behavior.  But being that it was, for me, the most highly anticipated event of my first season of racing, I decided to grin and bear it.  Not bare it, but bear it.

I had done some good high-altitude training leading up to this race.  I had spent a few days in Breckinridge pre-riding the course, as well as 4 days in Crested Butte, and numerous trips up the mountain from Boulder to Nederland.  I felt that I could handle the altitude.  The wrench(es) in my plan was that I had never done even a ride of 68 miles, had never done over 9k feet of climbing in one day, at that elevation, and all of this was to be done at race pace.  I needed a bigger tool box.  Here are some maps of the two loops that would comprise the 68 mile course.

The morning of the race was perfect as far as weather was concerned.  Rain was predicted throughout the day, but it was warm and sunny and blue skies to start.  The action got going fast.  It was a neutral start, which didn’t mean much as the pace car sped off faster than many could follow.  The first 20 minutes or so were all climbing, up paved road.  I was somewhere in the middle of a couple hundred riders at the very beginning, and knew I had to get up front lest I watch my competition disappear.  So I pushed hard up that first big climb, and caught up with the leading pack, finding myself nestled in with Jeff Kerkove, Dan Durland, Charlie Hayes, and other strong riders.  I tried one time to push the pace, but these guys were happy to keep up.  I noticed early on that my power was not quite there, my heart was having trouble responding to mental encouragements, and I was already feeling the pain.  We got to the top of the first intermediate climb, the Sallie Barber, and I was still right behind Dan Durland, the leading single speeder.  Next came a good descent down dirt road, super fast, loose, and sketchy.  After that was the biggest climb of the day, as far as I was concerned.  It took you to the top of Little French Flume, just over 11,200 ft, with the last couple of miles being brutally steep, loose, and rocky.  At one point most people begin to walk it, as a measure of saving energy and legs.  This is when I really noticed I was having trouble getting my body to react and perform.  I felt like garbage going up the climb, was struggling mightily to stay close to Dan Durland, and got off sooner than I wanted.  When I finally reached the top I could still see him, not too far off, and thus began about a 20 minute downhill.  In that time he was gone, and I wouldn’t see him for the rest of the day.  One of my favorite portions of the race was ahead of me.  Even though it begins with another monstrous climb that takes 30-45 minutes to complete, it is all on the Colorado Trail, is beautiful buff singletrack, and then ends with a fast and furious singletrack descent that is pure fun.  I think I started regaining some time, and got into a better mental zone during this climb.  I settled into my own pace instead of chasing, and began gobbling up other riders during the climb.  Nearing the end of this first loop the skies started looking quite ominous.  I got sprinkled on just a bit, but not enough to throw on the rain gear. I made it to the start/finish area at about 3 hours flat, and was feeling well in spirit, albeit a little down on energy and power.  And so it began again; another huge climb all the way up to Boreas Pass at about 11,500 ft.  I blanked out much of it.  The reward was maybe the most fun sections of singletrack descent I had ever done in a race.  It’s hard to imagine how you can be in so much physical anguish, feeling sick and desperate, and at the same time having the time of your life cruising through the forests of the Rockies.  Adrenaline baby.  The premier ride was Gold Dust Trail.  Gold Dust is a section of trail maybe 10 miles long that resembles a bob-sled run, with high sides, berms, and twists and turns.  During the first part of this second loop the skies were dark in all directions.  I got sprinkled on for about 5 minutes, but that was it.  Since I can’t remember much of the second loop, besides the amazing singletrack descent down to Como, it went like this: climb up to Boreas Pass, descend Gold Dust Trail to Como, climb back up to Boreas Pass, and descend back into Breck.  I was not feeling good at all the last 3 hours.  I kept getting spells of nausea, was feeling sick, and had no strength. At one point I took an unintended mud-bath.  I remember getting passed by a girl.  That is all.

Last climb up to Boreas Pass.  Post mud-bath, pre getting-passed-by-chick.

I came into the finish line in 2^nd place, SS Open, 6 hours 35 minutes.  I was immediately handed a cold Dale’s Pale Ale before I could dismount my bike.  I drank said beer accordingly.  I was thirsty. 

Thoughts on the race:

It was an amazing event put on by Rocky Mountain Endurance.  The course was phenomenally fun and challenging.  Perfect mix of everything mountain biking.

I think I was the luckiest rider of the day in terms of weather.  Everyone else I talked to got poured on at least once.  The skies were opening up all around me all day.  My folks back at the start/finish said it poured on them a few times.  I somehow evaded all of it.

My family was there, for the first time.  It was an amazing feeling having loved ones there, and really gave me inspiration to do well.

I was extremely happy with my 2nd Place finish.  I had been building up to this race for months, and although I didn't feel as strong as I would've liked, standing on the podium always feels good. 

My bike felt better, setup with a carbon Lefty fork, than it ever had before.  I was taking descents much faster than normal, and the stability and stiffness was incredible. 

I will do this event for many years to come, and won’t be nursing a hangover coming into it.

Loving Lefty and Colorado Trail descent!