Journey to the Gunnison Growler

The last couple of months have been a whirlwind of travel, biking, work, racing, etc. and I'm finally back to the drawing board in numerous ways; trying to get caught back up chronicling my racing and experiences, i.e. this blog, figuring out where I'm at right now, where I want to be in the near future, and how to get there. 

This weekend was my 2^nd attempt at the Gunnison Growler, a grueling 64-mile race in the technical mountain biking playground that is Hartman Rocks outside of Gunnison, Colorado.  Before I get to my recap of the race, it would make sense to reminisce on the last couple of months.

On April 3^rd Rachael and I left Boulder for the west coast, in what would be a month-long road trip.  The goal of the road trip for me was simple: ride as much as possible during a month that can brutalize Colorado with winter storms, hone in my technical skills, and maintain or increase fitness while at it.  This was neatly mixed in with Rachael’s plans to see friends and family all along the way.  Most importantly was spending time together in some amazingly beautiful places, with no stress or worries.  Our journey started in the wet Cascades of central Oregon, and culminated in Prescott, AZ for the Whiskey 50.  During this month I was able to ride some of the best trails I could ever imagine, my favorite being the lush green rainforest around Oakridge, Oregon.    

 

 

All in all I mountain biked 18 out of 26 days on the road, all of which being trail rides of some sort.  Heading into Whiskey 50 at the end of this road trip was a huge uncertainty.  For many reasons I didn’t feel prepared to take on the best in the country (and world).  Let me put it this way: I had ridden my bike for 18 of 26 days, and trained 0.  Unfortunately training involves a little extra effort; a little more gusto when compared to fun rides in the woods.  Also, being on the road, on vacation, lends itself very nicely to alcohol consumption, odd eating routines, and other bad habits.  For these reasons I didn’t feel top notch heading into Whiskey, but was sure to make the most of it.  Having spent a few days in Prescott pre-riding the Whiskey 50 trails, I was more stoked than ever on this sport that I love.  The trails were all a blast to ride, and whatever happened on race day didn’t matter as much anymore.  My race went as well as it could for me at that time.  I realized right off the bat that my body lacked the intensity that I used to know, and simply couldn’t hang with much of the front groups.   Once I finally started to settle in I felt good, and finished the race strong.  I went deeper into my pain cave and well of reserves than I normally do, knowing that it was a short 50-mile race, and was happy with my performance, albeit rather subdued compared to where I want to be physically.   

Click on pic for short vid, courtesy of Ben Jones

 

A month on the road isn’t the ideal training environment, but its experiences like these that keep my fire burning and ever-growing, and I wouldn’t trade them for anything.  The day after Whiskey we took the short cruise to Sedona so I could get a taste of the amazing riding there, stopped off in Durango for another day of riding, and then finally made our way back to Boulder.

Once back in Boulder after a month on the road it was difficult to get back up to speed with real life.  I continued to train right on through that week, putting in some pretty good efforts, and finally hit the wall in a big way.  After one of the most painful rides I can remember, in which my body wanted nothing of it, I spent the next 5 days in a worn-out tired stupor.  Apparently my body needed to rest and was telling me loudly.  The next weekend I had family and friends come into town to visit, which lent itself to zero riding, and more alcohol consumption.  After they left the weather in Boulder turned to crap and I wouldn’t ride until going to Eagle, Colorado for the Firebird XC race.  That’s two weeks of almost zero riding, coming off extreme fatigue, heading into an XC race with some of the best in Colorado.  Not ideal. With the Gunnison Growler a week after the Firebird I was only looking at this race as a training venture.  Low and behold, it seemed like my body finally caught back up, because I raced into a 10^th Place finish in a field of 90+.  Behind me were some really fast CO locals who I was stoked to get the better of that day.  The Firebird race gave me a lot of confidence heading into the Gunnison Growler.  I finally felt competitive and semi-fast again, and was riding my bike really well.  Now I just needed to work all week, get as much rest as possible, and prepare for 64 miles of technical onslaught.

Before I knew it Rachael and I were in Gunnison and ready for a fun race on Sunday.  The weather was forecasted to be dicey at the very least, and down-right nasty at the worst.   When we rolled into town Friday it was raining and looking ominous.  The clouds to the north, around Crested Butte, were black and bubbling.  This would be the nature of the weekend.   

 

On Saturday we went out and pre-rode some of the trails at Hartman Rocks, trying to hit some of the more technical spots for a little familiarity and practice.  Having just put a dropper seatpost on my hardtail, an idea that would’ve been laughed at by XC racers only a year or two ago, I was stoked to be riding some of the technical descents and drops with speed and comfort.  Bring on race day! 

Dropper post on a hardtail, what!? Ready to rock and roll with new Ergon SM3 Pro Carbon saddle.

Handlebar Mustache, Mosaic Cycles, 92Fifty, Ergon

Click on pic for short vid, courtesy of Jeff Kerkove.

Waking up at 4:30am for the 7am start I could hear loud raindrops on the roof of our motel room.  As I sat there eating breakfast, drinking coffee, and watching the World Cup XC race on my phone (broadcast live from Nove Mesto, Czech Republic!) the rain halted and all that was left were dark clouds.  Who knew what was going to happen?  Everyone toed the starting line with mixed decisions on what to wear; some going the full rain suit route, some with rain vests, and some with full-on summertime XC garb.  I chose to take off my rain jacket and stuff it underneath the back of my jersey with about 1 minute to start.  Initially I thought I had made a bad decision, because as soon as the neutral roll-out of 350 riders began I was being sprayed with water from the tires in front of me.  Fortunately it was warm enough to not be a problem, and I’d soon be happy to not have that rain jacket on.  As we began climbing up the initial ascent, known as Kill Hill, the field quickly evaporated behind me.  I rode comfortably to the top and crested somewhere around 10^th place.  As we hit the singletrack which we’d be on for the first couple of miles I was riding one rider back from Josh Tostado, and still feeling comfortable.  This is exactly where I wanted to be.  Before long I decided that trying to stay with him, especially on the descents, wasn’t my best option and so I found a fast Griggs Orthopedics (Gunny locals) rider to hang with for a bit.  We would end up passing a few other riders along the way.  Much of the first lap was spent going back and forth inside the top-10, and trying to deal with the extremely muddy conditions.  By the time I rolled into the Start/Finish after 32 miles, my shifting wasn’t working at all, but I was standing in 7^th place.  A quick cleanup procedure from some awesome volunteers, and fresh gloves and bottles from Rachael, and I was on my way.  As I started climbing out into lap 2, I quickly realized that something wasn’t right.  For a while I kept pushing forward strong, thinking my body just needed some time to regulate itself.  About 45 minutes into the 2^nd lap I realized that my wish wouldn’t be granted, as my stomach began to shut down and feel sick.  From that point on every small effort induced extreme nausea.  Eating or drinking wasn’t even an option.  I tried to ride it out, but it only got worse.  The next 3 hours were spent in slow baked misery.  By the time I finished I hadn’t sipped from my bottles or ingested anything for almost 3 hours, and dropped more places than I could count.  On top of that my drivetrain was so destroyed from all the mud that my chain would only stay on the largest cog, and nothing else.  My shifting was obsolete, and I was waiting for my derailleur to explode at any moment.  It was a frustrating day; such is the mystery of the Growler.  How can 64 miles feel like 100?  Many have come to this race and walked away in defeat on one level or another.  It is a race that can wear down even the strongest souls.  On Sunday it got the best of me.

Image courtesy of Mountain Flyer. Click on pic for Growler race photos.

Next up for me is the Fat Tire 40 in Crested Butte on June 28, followed by an onslaught of Colorado events in July.  The high country in Colorado is drying up fast and that makes me very happy.  Cheers.

Looking Back at 2013

Looking forward by looking back.  I’m not always great at looking in the rearview mirror.  When there’s so much on the road ahead, who cares what’s behind you?  Well, in the case of my last year, I find it important to sum it up, learn from it, embrace it, be thankful for it, and use that to move forward.   When I look back at all the amazing things I was able to do in one short year, from the people I met and relationships built, to the journeys took, to the physical feats accomplished, it puts a smile on my face. 

The year started with me just having been upgraded to Pro by USA Cycling and obtaining my pro cycling license.  I knew it would be a growing year on many fronts.   I decided to race in as many different events, from XC to Ultra-endurance, in both singlespeed and geared, as I could get my hands on.  

March

After months of cold weather in Boulder, I had an intense desire for some warm weather riding.  Somewhere along the way I discovered Utah’s ICUP race series, which holds early season races in St. George.  On extremely short notice, I threw my stuff in the car and made the 10-hour drive to St. George (through a nasty nighttime blizzard in the mountains).  There is no other feeling in the world like stepping out into warm, dry, sunny, 80degree weather in March.  I was in heaven instantly.  The ICUP race was a blast, and I surprised myself with my level of fitness that early in the year.  I spent the next 3 days camping and riding in the warm sunny desert, and came back to Boulder recharged.

Post by Ergon International.

April

This was the biggest and most journey-filled month of my year.  I completed a month-long road trip; something I had been dreaming about doing for years.  The goal/reason: to mountain bike in as many new and cool places as I could find in warm weather while Colorado was enduring a late winter.  Through the warm and sunny desert southwest, to southern California, up the coast to Norcal and through the Sierras; it was a trip of a lifetime.  I still look back on that one month and can’t believe how many amazing places I went, unforgettable rides I had, and people I met.  Oh ya, I also did 3 XC races along the way.

Spring 2013 | My new trip on Spring 2013

May

The start of my “official” season.  I had already competed in 4 races, but all were looked at as training, experience, and to see where I stood.  In the middle of May was my first singlespeed race of the season at the Firebird 40, then 2 weeks later the Gunnison Growler 64 in which everything seemed to come together.

June/July

100-milers-a-too-many.  Only 5 days after the Gunnison Growler I was in Ohio getting ready to race my first ever 100-mile race, the Mohican 100.  It was a great experience.  Being my first ultra-endurance race, I undoubtedly had a lot to learn, and mistakes were made, but I left feeling overwhelmed by what I had accomplished.  I didn’t get the result I had wanted, but it was a great growing experience.  And hey, 15^th place overall on singlespeed for my first 100-miler ain’t bad.  Two weeks after that I was in Michigan for the Lumberjack 100.  This was when things fell apart.  I think my body and mind had had too much from months of travelling, working, racing, training, etc. and it wasn’t my day.  This was actually a turning point in my summer, when I decided to enjoy riding more and forget about training for a little while.  Two weeks later I was back at it at the RME Snake River race at Keystone Ski Resort.  The race was “only” 54 miles, but with a ridiculous amount of climbing (~9500).  I finally got the win that I needed to boost my morale and get back on track.  Two weeks after Keystone was the big one that I had been looking forward to all year, the Breckenridge 100.  Unfortunately, it wasn’t my day.  It was the hardest race I've ever done, breaking me down both mentally and physically.  That was the end of my string of ultra endurance races for the year.  Because of financial reasons I decided to forego the Park City Point to Point.   In these two months of racing I learned invaluable lessons that will hopefully help me in the future.

September

The Boulder/Front Range floods changed everything for cyclists on the Front Range.  The epic flooding left ALL of the roads in the Boulder foothills damaged badly or completely destroyed.  Trail riding options were little to none.  Basically all of my training and riding was literally washed away.  September is usually a month when I plan on getting out for all those pleasure rides, high country adventures, and daily rides without a training plan in mind, after a long season of racing.  It also turns out to be a hugely productive time when I can normally get stronger after a summer of wearing myself down.  Unfortunately this year I spent much of the autumn inside with no riding options available.  It was a hard time, but not nearly as hard as losing your home and belongings.  Like those that lost everything I was intent on rebuilding and coming out stronger.

In Retrospect

2013 was definitely a learning year.  Sometimes I learned from the pain, and other times from success.  I learned that I love the 50-60 mile distance, where I can exploit some XC-racing speed along with some endurance, and struggle with 100-milers.  I learned that too much travel, especially without any support financially or from a team, will wear you down mentally and physically.  I learned that relationships inside and outside of this sport are the key to happiness and success.  I am fortunate to have met some amazing people inside the sport in my short stint as a mountain bike racer, and will hopefully use these relationships to better myself and give back to those that have helped me get here.  I am also very lucky to have a group of friends and family that, although sometimes not understanding why I do it, give me their support regardless.  The most important thing I learned from an entire year of racing, riding, traveling, working, training, stressing, winning, losing, hurting?  I am more motivated to ride my bike and dream about it now more than ever.  My love and passion for mountain biking continues to grow so big, and I’m going to use that to make 2014 the best year yet.  Cheers.

 

2014 Competitive Schedule

It's that time of year again.  The beginning of a new season is upon us, and figuring out (or trying to) what I'll be doing (racing), where, and when is a cool feeling.  Planning adventures for the year is exciting and inspiring.  Especially as I sit here in Boulder, wind whipping and gusting at 50+ mph outside, after months of cold weather, wind-impaled, and generally uninspiring trail-less riding.  Things I considered when trying to put together my schedule for 2014: location, competition, and fun factor.  I have learned a lot in only 2 seasons of racing.  Last year I (unknowingly) got burnt out physically from so much travel while trying to balance work and life and fun.  For 2014 I will be trying to stay closer to home and take advantage of all the amazing racing that happens in the Rocky Mountain region.  I'm always wanting to push myself to new levels and be competitive with the best, so finding those events that tout high competition was also a consideration.  Last but most importantly, a kid's gotta have fun!  I'm not into racing my mountain bike just to say I did.  The best races are always the ones that are the most fun, whether you place 1st or 50th.  A few that I'm super excited about are the Firebird 40, High Cascades (hopefully), Breck Epic, and Winter Park 50.  This list is very tentative and will undoubtedly change and be added to.  I'm hoping to find one odd-ball "adventure" style race to throw in there as well.  Pisgah, Shenandoah, something in B.C.??  I can't wait for the fun to begin!

2014 Competitive Schedule:

January 19:  El Paso Puzzler 50

March 15: True Grit Epic 100

April 27: Whiskey 50 (tentative)

May 17: Firebird 40

May 25: Gunnison Growler

June 14: Bailey Hundo

July 4: Firecracker 50

July 12: Breck 68

July 19: High Cascades 100 (tentative)

August 10-15: Breck Epic

September 13: Winter Park Epic 50

Firebird 40

This past weekend I had the opportunity to travel to another (newly-forming) mountain bike destination, get unexpected surprises (both good and bad), and again realize why mountain biking is such a wonderful thing!  My travels would take me to Eagle, CO, a small town just west of Vail.  Eagle is one of those towns that you pass by on I-70 and never stop at, and the locals are probably just fine with that.  This is because they have built an amazing community of like-minded folks and a mountain biking diamond in the rough, away from the resort-town chaos of Vail. 

The Firebird 40 race was slated for its inaugural presentation on Saturday, May 11.  I wasn’t sure I would make it until sometime on Thursday, after dealing with an unknown sickness all week that had completely zapped my energy and kept me off the bike and any good training.  By Thursday afternoon I thought I was feeling better, so decided to give it a go.  Lucky for me, friends Jeff Kerkove and Karen Jarchow (both of whom may be bigger MTB-addicts than I) live in Eagle and were nice enough to let me hang at their place for a few days.  Turns out I wasn’t the only one, as Jonathan Davis and Amanda Carey had the same idea, along with the Japanese Cricket, Yuki Ikeda.  JK and KJ were not just welcoming; they were just as stoked as us to show us their amazing community and trails.

On Friday afternoon my attempted pre-ride of the course left something to be desired; not of the trails but of myself.  My legs felt completely dead; no heart rate and no power.  So it goes.  Saturday morning was the Pro race with a ridiculously stacked field including Olympians and some of the country’s fastest racers.  I had decided to forego the Pro race and race singlespeed as I have some big singlespeed races coming up.  The Pro race was fun to watch with a ton of parody and mixing around of places as the race went on.  It was also fun to cheer on Karen Jarchow as she came out on fire leading the first couple laps on home turf.  My race wasn’t until 1:30, a really late start for me.  During my warm-up it appeared things had changed overnight, as I was spinning my large gear with minimal effort and feeling really strong. 

The race started with a neutral roll-out of about a mile until they unleashed us on a slight uphill road that leads to the first section of singletrack.  I was feeling uber-strong this whole time and happy just to sit in about fourth wheel, behind three other singlespeeders, and barely push myself.  As we came though the start/finish for the first time to start lap 1 I made a move around a couple guys and sat in behind the leader, Dax Massey.  He was my main rival for the day, an extremely accomplished singlespeeder of national caliber.  I was surprised as the first lap ensued that my effort to stay with him was only about 60%, and we were already gapping the rest of the field.  I had decided that I would just ride his wheel for a lap or two at this easy pace, playing cat and mouse, and seeing if maybe he would push it at some point.  Coming down a really fast section of single-track into a blind corner, Dax wiped out and allowed me to take the lead.  I happily accepted.  At this point I was still measuring my efforts, only pushing about 70-75%, and still putting a pretty good gap on the field.  As I came through the start/finish after lap 1, Dax and the others weren’t even in sight.  This is about the time that things got weird.  A few minutes into lap 2 my legs started cramping.  This was completely unexpected, especially since I was measuring my efforts so carefully.  Lap 2 went by and I was still extending my lead, even with a hindered performance.  The next couple laps were terrible and my pace was going way down, at the same time my cramps were getting worse and worse.  We’re talking leg cramps of epic proportions; every muscle trying to seize all at the same time, feeling as though it is trying to rip itself from the ligaments, and pushing my power output to nothing.  So it was not a huge surprise when I saw the yellow and black Honey Stinger kit catching up to me.  There was nothing I could do at this point but try to hang on.  About ¾ of the way through the last of 5 laps another singlespeeder and Eagle local Paul Gerbould passed me.  I finished 3^rd, a huge disappointment considering what I had in the bag.  I was left completely confused as to why my legs cramped so bad, and what I could do in the future.  One of the best things you can do is use bad racing experiences as learning opportunities, but in this case I had no explanation for what happened.  The only thing I can figure is that I was working with a depleted immune system coming off of a sickness, and lack of training time on the bike.  It was a disappointing performance, but all is not bad in the world when you can go back to friends who offer encouragement (thanks KJ, JK, Amanda, Yuki), drink a couple beers, and enjoy the festivities with an awesome community.  Eagle is definitely a hidden treasure, and a place you should consider stopping at for some amazing riding.  Firebird 40, see ya next year!  Cheers.

Eagle singletrack is rockin'!!