Coloradical Part 2 - Salida - Keystone Recon - The Firecracker 50

The middle of our Coloradical funwich was jam-packed with downhill riding, xc riding and racing, with a little r 'n r as well. It went something like this.

SALIDA AND THE GROUND SQUIRREL INVASION
After the successful weekend in Crested Butte, we took that Monday off. The plan initially was to ride Monarch Pass but we were both pretty beat down and we still had a lot of pedaling to do in the coming days. Ryan and I do not rest easily - especially when we're outside. We made our way to Salida and decided to seek out some good camping before heading to Keystone. We had never been to Salida. It seemed like one of those places where settlers, tired of heading west, said F-it and decided to stay. It's a quaint little hippie town, bigger than I thought. Located at the Arkansas headwaters, one can literally put in from town and be canoeing or kayaking as easily as we can be on a bike path. It's historic main street is door to door art galleries and studios, hip outdoor clothing stores, gear shops and eclectic restaurants. We hit up a few and also had to make a stop at the famed bike shop, Absolute Bikes. The staff was extremely friendly and they had some really nice stuff.We spent lunch at The Laughing Ladies b/c Ryan liked their sign. The food was awesome and we were able to sit in a covered outdoor patio. It was perfect. After lunch we did a bit more walking, hit the store for the next round of provisions and headed to a camping spot up the highway from town. We drove through some high desert-like ranch land for a couple of miles, passing a rafting outfitter that was busy with folks wanting to escape the heat of the day on the Arkansas River. We finally located the small campground which was pretty far off main roads, right next to the river. (Yes, we were in a van, down by the river). It was well maintained and had a bathroom. We were greeted immediately by the ranger who was checking for permits. He was inquisitive of our plans, seeing that we had a huge van with 4 bikes hanging off of it. The nature of the job, I'm sure.

We quickly set up camp (parked) and had the idea of washing our very dirty riding gear that we had been sweating in for days. A little camp soap and a tub and we were good to go. Ryan took a "bath" first and it was pretty funny to watch. I guess whilst he was scrubbing, some rafters went by (I wasn't there) catching a glimpse at the Ginger in the wild. I'm just glad he had his board shorts on. Post wash up, I headed out for a hike to explore the area while the wild Ginger messed with his bike. I hiked up some rocky ledges to see if I could get a better view but I didn't want to venture too far and some storm clouds were starting to roll in and I didn't have any cover. I was gone for a good hour and shortly after I returned it started to rain. I had to take down all of the clothes that were hanging on the bike rack and hang them from a clothesline I rigged inside the van. As Colorado rain storms go, it didn't last too long. We made some dinner after the storm passed, watching the sky turn all kinds of colors as the sun did it's ritualistic descent. As we were sitting at the picnic table we saw an animal on the other side of the river. There was a grassy embankment that had been cleared of the trees and the grass was lush and green. The animal was a sheep! We were bummed Sweater wasn't there to see it. Quickly, another followed down the same path, then another and another. Soon there were about 5 or 6 sheep in the pasture. Then a man and a woman appeared from the treeline. The sheep seemed to be with the couple because they huddled around them as they prepared to fish. Over the next hour, the man at one end of the grassy shore and the woman on the other, the sheep would run back and forth between them, sometimes stopping to have a nice game of head butt. Ryan was enthralled, although later he admitted he was waiting to see if one of them would head-butt the woman into the water. They were there until sunset, just enjoying a Monday night in Arksansas River Valley. It was a strange site, not something we would have expected because we didn't recall seeing any farms nearby on the other side of the river. There was a very nice private home down a ways from the camp so it's possible there were domesticated animals on the property. We ended the night watching mother nature watercolor the sky. Being next to the river, we kept the van door cracked open and let the cool breeze and the rush of the water lull us to sleep.

About oh, three or so in the morning, I was awakened by a noise. We had left some of our cooking gear and bins under the van so we could have room to get in and out. It sounded like something was rummaging through the bins underneath. Then I thought I heard something up on the bike rack or the bumper. I quickly closed the back door (which was by our heads) and laid back down. I heard the animal again. Now I was awake, staring at the ceiling of the van, wishing the animal to go away! Then I heard the corn chip bag crinkle INSIDE THE VAN! I sat up immediately. There was ambient light coming from a lamp on the bathroom but I couldn't see much. I put my hand on Ryan's back as I listened. The bag crinkled again. I shook Ryan awake.

"Ryan, there's something IN the van!" 

Silence. Crinkle. 

"Yep. Sure is.It's probably a ground squirrel. Think we should open up all of the doors?"

"And let more in? No. I'll just open the back door again and hopefully it will leave"

We lay down again. Ryan is back asleep. I am wide awake! "What the hell! How can you sleep?" 

"It's not going hurt us. Do you want me to pull everything out of the van?" 

"No." I said. I was sitting up by this time, listening. I could hear it's little paws running around under the van. I couldn't take it. I opened the doors and turned on lights. I didn't see it but I did see a bunch of torn up paper towel all over the place and our paper towel roll shredded. Huh? There was a bag of food not all the way zipped closed and this thing was sitting on top of it (hence the crinkling of the chip bag) gnawing away at freaking paper towels? I put them away and sealed up the food bag and put it inside an empty cooler. Then I waited. After several minutes of silence, I believed it had exited the van. I shut the doors and turned off the lights. I laid there for a few minutes more and I finally fell asleep.

The next morning, with the sunrise shedding light on our little camp site, we could see the shredded paper all over the van floor. We got up and decided, to be sure it was gone, we'd take everything out of the van. Just as Ryan opened the van door to get out, we both saw a little ground squirrel run away from the van. We couldn't tell if it ran out of the van or if it had been sitting there waiting for a chance to get back in. Either way, and fearing a moment like in Tommy Boy when the deer awakens in the back seat, we made sure no critters would be scurrying across the dashboard doing 80 mph down the highway. So around 6:30 a.m., we hauled all of our gear out of the van and onto the ground. Everything under the seats and under the sleeping platform came out. Satisfied that it was indeed gone, we put it all back in. All of that work so early had us pretty hungry so we got the coffee going and ate a bit of food. We had a long day of travel and biking ahead of us. I'm pretty sure I had a few cups more than usual. 

KEYSTONE RECON OR RECKONING? 
We made our way up to Breck and then Frisco. It was still early so we decided to hit up our favorite cafe for breakfast, the Log Cabin Cafe. I had the special: blueberry waffles! And bacon. Double freakin bacon. It was great. 

KEYSTONE QUANDRY Our first order of the day was to find a camp site that was somewhere between Breck and Keystone. Unlucky for us, everything around Lake Dillon was reserved, which was surprising since it was only just Tuesday. We didn't want to camp somewhere only to have to move again. We drove around for about two hours and found not ONE campsite. Frustrated for already missing precious hours of practice runs, we drove to Keystone as fast as possible. We only had a few hours to find out if we were cut out for the next race in the BME Series. 

From the bottom, the mountain looked twice the size as Crested Butte. 

The lift took almost 20 minutes to get us to the top, compared to the 8-10 at CB. The same question that popped into my head in CB bubbled up again: What was up there that wanted to fling us off the mountain? 

Only one way to find out! 

We studied the map of the mountain on the way up. (The race routes were not released yet). We had heard from many sources that race was going to use as much of the mountain as possible. Hmmm, there are several black and double black diamonds on this hill. Needless to say I was a bit unnerved. 

At the top, Keystone was kinda cool. Much more scenic and developed than CB. It had a couple of look-out areas, a large building with a restaurant, bathrooms, deck, chairs. Aaah, chairs! At least we'd have more of a place to hang out between runs instead of sitting on the ground. Before hitting the green run, Ryan hit up the bathroom. As I was waiting for him, I chatted up a couple of maintenance guys. They were like the Keystone Welcoming Committee, saying how happy they were that we came to Keystone, wishing us a nice stay, etc. A lot of pride in their place of employment for sure. "You don't do it for the money" one guy said. One of them demanded that we let him take our picture, claiming he had gotten pretty good at it. Since they were so friendly, I decided to ask about any secret camping spots, telling our story of bad luck trying to find anything around the lake. They gave us some intel about a road on the backside of the resort, which I had read about on MTBR. It was National Forest so we could camp anywhere just as long as we packed out. He mentioned some possible bathrooms up the road a ways in case of emergency. We agreed to check it out after our test rides. We thanked our new friends and redirected our focus of scouting out the hill. 

We started down the green run to get our legs under us. I think it was Girl Scout. Not far into the run, we came upon an older couple out for a ride. Older, as in 50 at least, all kitted out in pads and the whole nine yards. Pops was on a big hit, double crown rig. They were from Texas and offered up some good advice about what to avoid, what might not be open, etc. I don't recall exactly the route but that first descent wasn't too bad. The terrain was better than CB. In that I mean there were less machine-built trails out in the wide open and more single track trails made of natural terrain in the trees. In other words, we felt like we were more in the back-country instead of a bike park.

The next run Ryan was eager to get to some of the tougher stuff. I was fine waiting as long as I could. We got onto a trail called Cowboy Up and it was a bitch of a rock garden. Garden, hell it was a rock cemetery, where giant boulders had gone to rest for eternity. It looked like the park had raked every rock from the mountain to that very spot and then told people to ride there. The approach was a long open double track run through a field to get the speed up. This was key. Speed was the ONLY way to get through it. I tried a couple of times but I just didn't have the speed to get very far. I kept getting hung up at a spot that had a deep step down with a tree stump on one side. Ryan bounced around it like he was in a washing machine but he made it and was zooming down the trail as I hiked my way down. Ok, I'll definitely need to come back and practice this again. The funny thing is, as I look back at that section, I don't look back with fear. I look back mad that I didn't clear it. A sign of improvement for sure! We got in a few more runs and it was two trails in particular that made us start to think twice about what we had gotten ourselves into: Wild Thing and Even Flow. Wild Thing has some pretty famous step downs in succession that are steep. Walking them is even hard but that's what I had to do. I lacked the skill and the guts to push myself that far. Then on Even Flow, the trail was straight out of North Shore, with an elevated, twisty trail. I thought I was going to vomit. I had to walk it and when it was too steep to walk, I bush-wacked, walking alongside of it. NO FUCKING WAY was I going to be able to race down this. I was starting to really question my decision to race here. Ryan felt the same after he crashed pretty bad on another run down Cowboy Up. He had to walk some of the trails after that, trying to keep the demons quiet. This was, in our minds, the real deal and there we were on our "little bikes" trying to ride them without losing our teeth in the process. We ended the day wondering if we should attempt to race at all. We had much more summer ahead of us and jeopardizing it and our health was something we had to really consider. Were we in over our heads? We decided we'd think about it over the next few days. 

We left the resort so we could find the camping spots we were told about. Following the directions the park guys gave us, we drove through a small condo development and up a dirt road that, looking at the signage on the gate, had just been opened to traffic. We saw a few turn-outs that we could have pulled into but our natural curiosities forced us to keep looking. About 20 minutes later, we came to the back side of the resort. There were a couple of lifts and a restaurant that was closed for the season (darn!). But to our joy, we found the bathrooms were unlocked, with only cold running water, flushing toilets and the heat was on! Oh, happy day! This was a five-star resort as far as we were concerned. We found a flat spot near the entrance and pulled in for the night. A few cars went by but we had the place to ourselves.

The next morning, we got up early and headed to Breckenridge to ride and to meet the elder Eybergs to pick up or beloved Sweater. We rode Peak's Trail, which is always a favorite, to shake down the race bikes. It was time to switch back into XC race mode. Not an easy thing to do after the week we'd had. Now it was time to race UP the mountain as well as down. After how many years of racing, we finally understood those factions that believed riding up is dumb. Nah, it's not really. It's just not as fun.

We arranged to meet the Eybergs at their condo, which happened to be at the finish line of the Firecracker 50 race that we were doing as a duo. It was nice to have Sweater back with his people although I think he was going to miss all the attention he got from their two granddaughters and their stuffed friends. After hanging out, we registered for the race and went for a stroll around town before heading back to "camp" to prepare for the race.

For the last several years, we have spent July 4th in Breckenridge, racing the Firecracker 50. This was the first time as a duo team. I was going first. We parked in a parking lot just north of town at the ice skating rink. I kitted up about an hour prior to the race and hit the road to warm up. By the time I made my way to the start line, it was so packed, I couldn't get to it. I had to ride on a street parallel to it but to my frustration, when I found where my group was (way in back), there were barrier fences along the sidewalk. The sidewalks were packed with fans and those waiting for us to get out of the way so the parade could start. It was a pain in the butt, but I finally got myself where I needed to be. Per usual, we had a neutral roll-out down main street. Once our lead-out team peeled off, the race was on. Which for me meant it was time to watch the rest of the fields go by me. Quite frustrating, but nothing new. This is always how it is. When the start line is at 9500 feet and the first single track isn't until 11,00 feet, you just gotta grind it out. This is when I began wishing I had big wheels. 

The race wasn't one of my better attempts but I knew I wouldn't be fresh going into it. We were really just killing time between BME races. The ride up Little French pretty much sucked. There was so much traffic and it was pretty wet from the late snow that everybody was walking. I HATE WALKING! Especially on Little French. But there wasn't anything I could do so I trudged up the hill with all of the other pack mules. At the top, a banjo player stood, belting out some jolly blue grass to cheer us up after the long hike. I love Colorado! After that, my race was pretty much just survival. I didn't anticipate some new trail that was used in place of a long, soul-crushing gravel climb. It was, on a normal day, a down-hill run. So needless to say, it was a bit taxing but it made time go by way better than if we were on the gravel for sure! Once at the top, it was downhill the rest of the way to the finish line. When I got there, I had no idea how I was going to find Ryan. There was a wall of riders lined up next to the race course. There was no official hand-off or check-in so it was pretty much on the honor system. Somehow he made his way to the front and was ready when I came across the line. I tried yelling at him to save some for the new single track but there was music and madness so I didn't know if he heard me. He'd figure it out. 

After my race, I grabbed some food and a beer that was free to racers. I hobbled back to the van where I cleaned up (I had hung up the solar shower on the rack) and got into some freshies. I made my way back to the finish line and waited for Ryan to show up. He had a great race, probably one of his best lap times at that event. I think we ended up like, 16th out of sixty. At first I thought we were dead last but not all of the results were posted when I had looked. We hung out for a bit. We found our coach, Jason, and we bumped into a few other folks that we knew. It was a good time but I was glad it was over. So much stress! 

After the race, we met up with a couple who came up from Denver to hang out for the 4th. We shared a hotel room since camping was impossible and to be honest, I really wanted to be able to lay in a bed and have a hot shower. When we got up to the room, which was just a studio-size, on the wall above the bed was a giant photo of a ground squirrel! Aaaaaah! We had told our friends about our experience with one back in Salida so when we got to the room and saw the picture, we all had a good laugh! The rest of the night was spent eating (again at Fatty's) and then off to another joint that had an awesome deck where we could watch the fireworks and drink. It was so great! We had a blast! 

The next morning we got up early so we could get a table at our favorite eatery The Blue Moose. Our friends had plans to hang out until they needed to check out from the hotel. Ryan and I said goodbye to our friends and Breckenridge. It was time to decide if we were going to race at Keystone.

2013 Berryman Trail Epic: Race Report

It's been a while since I've banged out a race report. Odd, since it seems that's all I've been doing since March. Let's just say, it's been a busy summer. I do plan to catch up on the blog now that the season is over. Finally. But it wasn't over until I crossed the finish line at the BT Epic.

Leading up to the Epic, post Five-0 and post our annual trip to the Great Wide Open (more on that in another blog) I didn't know how motivated I'd be to try and contest the BTE. It's really, really hard to go out and do interval training on cold, windy days, especially when you have to drag your bike and gear to work every day just so you can get in a soul-crushing road ride before dark. But I did it and well, I'm glad I did.

The usual rag-tags came along with the Ginger and I; Carly, Adam and Jenni Stoll, Wixon and Larry. We let out early on Thursday after work and got down to KC where we got a couple of rooms for the night. By 7am the next morning we were eastbound and down, heading to Steelville, Missouri, float capital of the US. Home base would again be the Bass River Resort. We rented the same 4bed cabin as we always do, right near the start line. In fact, the race goes right by its front door.

We stopped in town for some provisions first so that we wouldn't need to drive the van again until it was time to go home. To our shock, the little grocery store in the dirty south did not sell liquor. What? Is it a dry town? An employee at the store gave us the lowdown on where to buy us some package. It was a dumpy ol place on the outside of town. Dust on the bottles and unlimited Bud Light. Hmmm, but to our fortune honey whiskey and Captain were plentiful. Whew! We all bought something to bring to the after party. Soon we were checked in to our place and getting ready to head out to ride. But before we did, one of the bedroom's smoke alarm's started chirping. I tried removing the battery but it was wired to the ceiling and kept chirping. I called the main office and they sent someone out pronto. He tested it and reset it before we left to go ride. Now that's service!

Soon we were off to preride. We took the van so we didn't have to slog up the gravel road to the hole shot and Jenni drove it back. This was our 3rd time at this race and it was the first time we could actually see the trail. Usually the leaves are so thick it's impossible to separate the trail from the rest of the forest floor. Not this time. The entire trail is crushed rock, not too dissimilar from the trails down in Arkansas. Throw in some thick roots, rocks, water crossings, sand pits, gravel roads and pavement, and that my friends describes the 55 mile course that is the BT Epic. For the most part it flows nicely. Not much sustained climbing and lots and lots of rock. We rode for about 35 minutes before we turned around. The first miles of the track are some of the rockiest so it was good to get on them and test out our suspension set up, etc. I was still feeling my big miles from the previous weekend so I rode pretty lame. I bombed descents but spun on the uphill because it was too easy to gas it due to all of the rock. I played around with my suspension a bit and called it good. After the pre-ride we registered for the race and to my amazement, my name was listed on the back of this year's T-shirt, along with the other 2 top women finishers and all the top men from 2012. Ha! First time for everything. That, I have to say, was pretty cool.

The promoters of this event are a couple of real good ol' boys. With big trucks, big dogs and big accents, these guys are all about good times. They're good natured, friendly and generally excited to have us at their event. They saw us in the parking lot of the grocery store earlier that day. One of them remembered Ryan from last year. We reminded them we were bringing the mother load of honey whiskey and that brought a cringe to one of their faces, saying he was not going to get drunk this year. (Last year the two of them split an entire bottle of honey whiskey that Ryan handed up to them during the awards ceremony).

The rest of the day was filled with the usual pre-race stuff. Eating, bike tinkering, eating, bike tinkering. Anything to pass the time. I found my Garmin file from 2012 (thought I should at least look at my time from last year) and plotted some strategies to improve my time and hopefully pull off another win. The cabin seemed pretty relaxed and orderly. Just how I like it. I went to bed feeling as ready as I could be.

The alarm went off around 5:30 a.m. The race meeting was at 8:15. I finally got out of bed around 6. Larry was already up, making french pressed coffee on the patio. Carly was on the couch trying to grab as much horizontal as possible. Seemed our good friend, the chirping smoke alarm that was in her bedroom, decided to wake her up at 4am. You could still hear it out in the living room. I felt really bad! Soon everyone was up and shuffling around the kitchen, nuking their prerace meal or drinking coffee. After I ate, I went back into our bedroom to lie on the floor next to the heat vents and enjoy a few more warm minutes of rest. By 7:30 I was kitted up and out the door. I headed up the gravel road, not only to warm up my lungs and my legs but also to get a sense of the distance to the trees. By the time I turned around, I had my puffy coat wrapped around my waste and I was down to my summer kit and arm warmers and I was hot. Perfect. I stopped back at the cabin for one last tinkle, loaded up my bottles in the van (Jenni was our pit crew) and then headed to the start line to find a sliver of sun. It was chilly!

I lined up about 6 or seven rows from the front. I could see a couple of ladies here and there (only 16 signed up). I saw Laureen, who I barely scraped by last year. I had to keep my eye on her. I saw another woman in a bright pink Hammer kit (roady, I thought). Carly was next to me and that's all of the women I could see. But it's hard to say when it's a mass start. The promoters gave a few words and sent us off with a gunshot. I clipped in, grabbed some gears and surged, trying not to get caught up in the cock fight. Once safely amongst the herd, I spotted my competition and kept them close. I followed a short trail of guys up the far right side of the road as the middle began to stack up. I broke free of them and gave a surge as I approached the long gravel climb to the single track. I took an inside line next to Laureen through some deep gravel, making sure not to lose traction. As we began the climb, I kinda got boxed in behind a spinner and a large SS rider. I saw Laureen take the outside lane. Once around the corner, I sprinted for better position and started to gain some ground. The woman up front (Laura) was a bit closer now and she was riding like a woman possessed. I took a pull and went by as the road climbed but on the descents she would blast by me. After she did that a second time, I stayed with her up the next climb, riding her wheel so I could recover a bit. Then I realized I might have a chance at the hole-shot prime. From my recon ride that morning, I knew we were close to the seeing the hole-shot. I decided that as soon as I saw it, I'd go for it and the plan worked. I swung wide and dove into the trees, making sure I made eye contact with the promoter who was standing there cheering us on. I just hoped that was worth the effort cuz I had 50 more miles to go.

Not long after entering the trees, Laura snuck around me when I moved over for a buy behind me. I was surprised and knew I had an aggressive rider to compete with. She was riding well and really putting down the power. So much so, that I eventually had to let her go. With any luck, she'd burn out at some point.

The pace was good. I was around dudes that were keeping it steady. After Aid 1, about 11 miles in, I was in a train of guys and I saw Laureen was amongst them. Our train came up on Laura. She was riding really well. I was two bikes back from her when, on a tight switchback, she couldn't get her big wheels around and I dove into the inside and suddenly had the lead. Yay 26ers! (more on that later). I was up around Adam, which always helps me mentally. He's a strong rider so if I'm around him, I'm probably up the field a ways. But so was Laureen. She's a NUE rider and carries everything she needs to get through a race without stopping. I knew this so when I came into check 2, I zeroed in on Jenni. She was ready for me. I was there for less than 15 seconds. But Laureen came right past me as we headed back into the trees. I was right on her wheel. We both then caught a couple of others, including Adam and group he was in that being lead by a guy on a fat bike. Also mixed in were a couple of SS riders. They weren't going that hard. At one point someone bobbled a rooty switch-back and they were all off their bikes. Laureen & I stayed steady and motored on by. At another choke point, both of us had to run by a troop of riders who were off the bike. After stopping at check 3, Laureen took a bit of a lead. It was open gravel and her big wheels had a slight advantage. The road had deep puddles that sometimes were edge to edge. Adam and another dude came up on me and Adam said, let's go get her! It was a nice gesture but he soon faded. The other guy stayed steady, in fact he was down-right chatty.

Dude: "Are those 26-inch?"
Me: "Yep"
Dude: "I don't like 26. Twenty-nine has more speed advantage, I think."
Me: "You're probably right."
Dude: "Did you get the hole-shot?"
Me: "Yes. On my 26"

I think I earned a couple kernels of respect because he told me to jump on as we clicked up a couple of gears. Laureen was slightly ahead but not for too long. Once past her, the dude wanted to catch the next gaggle of riders and trade pulls into the wind. We weren't far from aid 4. I tried to stay with him for maybe 30 seconds when I was like, wait, I need to race my own damn race. So I sat up and let him race his race. Soon, though, Laureen was right on my wheel. About this time, I felt something hit my helmet with enough knock that I thought it was an acorn. But it wasn't. A bug had kami-kazeed into a slot of my helmet, successfully lodging itself under it and in my hair. I could feel it crawling around. I tried digging at it and moving my helmet from side to side. I thought it was gone. We came up to a part of the course that was along a highway. The bug began to sting my head. Shit! Well, I knew there was a very long road climb coming up where we'd be going slower and I could deal with this bug situation. Still hoping it would fly away, I moved my helmet around some more. Laureen was chugging away at the hill, nice and steady. I could see SS riders scaling the hill, riding back and forth instead of straight up to maintain momentum. Yeah, kinda steep. The bug was still lodged under my helmet so I had to deal with it right then. I shifted down in my small ring in front, which caused it to get caught between the frame and the chain ring. I tried shifting it back to the big, but no dice. Crap! Ok, one thing at a time. I could still pedal, so I took off my glasses and unclipped my helmet and held it in my teeth by it's straps. I felt the bug on my head. It had to have been a beetle b/c it was big. As I was swatting at my head and shrieking, the promoter drives down the road. Now, had this been a USAC event, I could've been dq'd for having my helmet off. I finally got the bug out. I tried getting my chain to unkink itself but it wasn't having it. I had to stop and deal with it. Quickly though I was back on the bike and putting in a bigger effort to make up some time. I came into the check point, frazzled. I threw some food in my mouth and some Sport Leg pills. Bad idea! You can't chew and swallow pills at the same time! I swapped bottles and threw it in the big ring. Laureen was nowhere in site. Dammit! I kept trying to chew/swallow my pill/bar combo on the open stretch before I got into the trees. I'm such a dumb ass. Once into the trees, I was on a mission to catch her. I got caught behind a dude who really wasn't going that slow, it's just that I wanted to go fast. I'd have to go even faster to stay in front of him and I didn't know if that was a good idea, being that it was only mile 40ish and there was still another 15 to go. Eventually, he let me by and I was back on my pace. The course at this point was mojoflow. Nothing sustaining. Some switchbacks and some dry spring beds but for the most part, it's just capital F Fun! I was in my zone and bombing descents like I was on my Remedy. I had to keep my eye on my heart rate though. Fun can sometimes disguise fatigue until it's too late.

I'm not sure how soon it was that I saw Larry ahead of me. Sweet! Except he was looking like he was kinda chillin'. As I came up to him, I could see Laureen just ahead. Larry, like the gentleman he is, let me go by and I eeked by Laureen too. I backed off my chase pace so I could recover a bit. The flow of the trail kept me focused. I could hear both riders behind me on the gravel trail. We chewed it up! Once feeling recovered and after switching bottles from my bottom cage to the one on my down tube while still on the bike (a feat of skill I had to master a few times), I began to push the pace. Not crazy, stand up attack, but a slow, python squeeze, if you will. Soon Larry was behind me, not Laureen, telling me it was go time. He advised that we should pace off the guy that was a few bike lengths up the trail and to keep on the gas. That was a direct order I was willing to follow. And it seemed to be working. Our rabbit up front was in his local flow, slowing for nothing. He had a rabbit ahead of him as well. This went on for about 4-5 miles. Then we entered a section of trail that I recognized as the end of the single track. We rode through a small clearing that signaled the start of a the slow, ATV road back to the gravel road up top. It was on this road that I caught my rabbit and his rabbit. "Great pace out there" I said. Up! Up! Up! As I climbed I saw the promoter, Scott, driving down the road (seems some signage had been moved). I knew the gravel road was close. Once up there, the wind greeted me. I looked back hoping that Larry would be there so we could battle the wind together. But he must have fallen off because I was all by myself.  I put it in the biggest ring I had and took off. This was where I eventually caught Laureen last year so I was sort of in a panic that she might try the same. She had big wheels and if she was going to gain ground, this was it. But I felt like I was going backwards. The wind was that strong. And the road was that long. Turn after turn. Small rise after small rise. I was hoping I'd see someone ahead to latch onto. I looked back a couple of times to see if anyone was coming but nobody. No Larry. No rabbits. No Laureen. As the miles clicked off, I started looking for land markers. There was the hole-shot. There was the turn-about where we unloaded the day before. Closer. Then I started seeing the large purple circles on some of the trees on the side of the road. Closer. Then a big descent where I tucked and rocked that bike like my life depended on it. One more climb and then the last descent that lead back to flat road and the resort. Just need to stay upright this last hundred yards and not ditch it in the sand pit. I cleanly got to the other side and popped out at the resort's campground and the final straightaway to the finish. As I predicted, Ryan and Jenni were standing there, screaming their lungs out. I smiled and pulled into the finish tent to take first place, 31 overall. I was very happy at the outcome and even more so to be done (my favorite part of bike racing). I rode directly to the bathroom and then over to Ryan and Jen who were chatting it up with Larry. He came in only a few minutes after me. He said he cramped on the climb and was bummed he couldn't help pull me in. We stayed there until our whole crew crossed the line: Adam, Carly (6th place, scrubbing an hour off her time) and then Wixon, who cramped right at the start of the finishing straightaway and had us scratching our heads for a minute as he got off his bike to try and stretch his leg. We were like, what the hell is he doing?

Everyone was in and healthy and with bikes intact. It was a great day on the bike for all of us. Ryan secured 16th place overall, and only 2:30 from top 10 overall. For someone who was "chill riding" it was very respectable.

We all hung around for a bit to bathe in the euphoria of being done and exchanging war stories. I told of my bug situation and having to actually race someone the whole time. (So many times on these long races, you end up riding alone and racing the clock more than each other). Food was next on the agenda so we made our way back to the cabin to get cleaned up, fetch our meal tickets and head back to ground zero for post race festivities which included a meat buffet, unlimited beer on tap, a good ol' boy, back country bon fire and lastly the awards ceremony, which was held under a big top tent that the resort had set up. Carly won a commuter bike in the raffle! She was the only one to win of our group and she was so excited. I took the top step for open women. Laureen had to leave early, so it was just me and Laura, who I chatted with after the race. I love meeting these incredible women who can shred at middle age (or just under). So inspiring!

We capped off the night with some more time around the bon fire, sharing pulls of honey whiskey with anyone and having the pleasure or not, of seeing the two promoters dressed up as Hooter's girls as part of the costume challenge. I think they won! It was about this time that Wixon's order of 5 large pizzas from the resort's lodge were ready for pick up (They will also deliver to the cabins. Sheah!) Needless to say, those pizzas didn't have a chance. We brought them back to the cabin and ate them as we sat around our own little fire pit in the back of the cabin. We were joined by some neighbors and later by some other riders. Swapping stories and getting lit was pretty much the only thing on all of our agendas. Well that and trying to keep a drunk woman from burning the derma off her hands. Once our fire died down, she was hell-bent on bringing one of the larger, STILL-ON-FIRE, logs over to the fire next door. She drug it across the lawn, probably 20 yards, before depositing it in the fire pit. We were pretty sure she was going to have a painful morning, wondering why her hands were covered with blisters.

I sacked out, along with Carly and Jen while the boys talked bikes. I don't even remember Ryan coming to bed. Carly was behind on her Zs and Jen, who worked her ass off to feed us, deserved her sleep too. It was the end of the night, and for many of us, the end of the race season. As I've said many times before, being done is my favorite part of racing. And boy, I was done.

COLORADICAL - Part 1: Big Mountain Enduro Crested Butte

Colorado is where people sometimes go to lose themselves. In our case, it was to discover who we are. 

Usually Ryan and I bring friends when traveling to the Great Wide Open, but this particular trip was based more around racing than recreating. Plus, we wanted to dirt bag it in the van to keep it cheap since we were going to be gone for so long. Our journey took us from south-central Colorado to Summit County, racing in three different towns, up and down multiple peaks, covering many mountain miles. After it was all over, we both agreed we stumbled upon something: our Enduroness.

What is Enduroness, you ask? Stemming from the word "endure" which means to "suffer patiently" or "to remain in existence; to last" pretty much sums up our experience racing two Big Mountain Enduro events in Crested Butte and Keystone, with the Fire Cracker 50 thrown in between to keep it epic. The goal was definitely to last. Sometimes we had to suffer patiently to do it. Sometimes we just had to let go of the brakes.

THE LAMB SITUATION

This trip loomed on our schedules since BME announced the series. Without so much as a scrap of information, other than locations and the desire for an epic trifecta of racing, we signed up sometime early in the year for all three events. Not one for bike park expeditions, I was a nervous Chihuahua ever since, worried that I had signed up for something I wasn't remotely qualified for. Um, they run national DH events at these places, right? Gulp.

We left the Big O for the Big Open on a Wed night with the goal of getting down to Crested Butte ASAP on Thursday so we could practice the runs as much as possible. Excited to finally be on our way, the trip quickly went south. I noticed somewhere passed Lincoln that our dashboard looked a little barren. 

"Uh-oh."

"What?"

"We forgot Sweater!"

For the next few minutes we drove in silence, looking back and forth at each other, considering driving back home for our beloved travel buddy. That stuffed lamb has been a fun part of our travels and we actually felt sad for forgetting him. Really. Of course we weren't going to drive all the way back for a stuff toy but lady luck was on our side. Eyberg's parents were coming out to Breck that weekend for the 4th. With Jeremy staying at our house, it would be an easy pick up. I sent out a 911 message to Todd and Jeremy. Though I'm sure they were snickering, they totally made it happen. A few days later we got a message that the sheep was in route. It was funny thinking about the conversation Todd had to have with his parents.

Eyberg: "I need you to bring something with you to Colorado."

Mamma Eyberg: "How big is it?"

Eyberg: "About eight inches. It's a stuffed lamb."

Mamma Eyberg: Silence…"A what?"

Yeah, that was totally worth it.

Once the lamb situation was handled, we sped across the corn desert, to the sandhill desert, finally settling at an RV park just off I-80 in Sterling, Co. We pulled in late, found the restroom and crashed. We only slept maybe 5 hours, totally not using $20 worth of water or toilet so we put a few bucks in the self-pay envelope for good karma and shoved off before the park attendant was even aware we were there. Someone's gonna have beer money, we agreed.

Back on the road, we hit dead end traffic on the outskirts of Denver. We thought we would beat the rush hour but a thousand other people had the same plan. Seriously, it was a dead stop and crawl for an hour. Ryan, of course, had to pee so we finally got off at an exit, which, yep, was also under construction with traffic piled up. Ryan about blew a vein. He couldn't hold it one more second and pulled off on the side of the road and watered a tree. Luckily it was a construction area so not much family traffic! Before hopping back into the madness, Google told him there was an accident or something on the interstate, so we found side roads around it and huzzah, plenty of places to stop and go to the bathroom, indoors! We pulled into a grocery store, which also had a Star Bucks inside. Double score! We resolved to the fact that we wouldn't make it by the time the lifts opened at the bike park but it was still only Thursday and assumed most people wouldn't be lining up to practice until Friday anyway.

We finally made it to Crested Butte. The flowers were exploding on every hillside. I couldn't take my eyes off of the views. It was great to be back. As we pulled into town, we saw a tent city set up on the high school grounds. Seems some kind of road tour was going on. It was bike week after all and this was ground zero! We pulled through the town, which was setting up for another outdoor concert and drove straight to the resort. Ryan had read that folks were camping in a dirt parking lot nearest to the mountain so we did the same. A few campers and cars were there. It was early afternoon on a Thursday and pretty warm. We pulled up next to a family with a large camping trailer. As Ryan does, he struck up a convo with the dude who was racing to get all the details. 

First on the docket was to get geared up and on the lift. We got our lift passes and maps and with our shiny new Kali full face helmets hanging off our handle bars, we rolled up to the lift dock like we had done it a thousand times. I was beyond nervous. What was up there? What was waiting to fling us off the mountain to our doom? 

The lift ride was nice. It was quiet and calming. I could look back and see the whole resort. The higher we went the gnarlier the terrain became. We could see a section called PsycoRocks that had wood bridges linking large boulders together. Surely they wouldn't be sending us down that, I pleaded. We didn't see any course tape around it or after it so we assumed it would not be part of the course. It was, however, part of the home of a family of marmots. For the next few days, every time I rode the lift, they were out and about. Sometimes one would make a loud noise as it called out to its family. It was something we would look forward to each time we rode up. As we got closer to the top, we started seeing course tape zig zagging across the mountain. Since it was minimal I assumed the courses were more across rather than down. That was partially true.

Finally at the top, we hopped off the chair and rolled our bikes to the dirt. Some of the starting gates were up and marked. Wanting to get our legs under us and bikes dialed after not being on them much this spring (Ryan had ridden his new 29r Remedy only in our drive way) we opted for a green run that was not part of the course. I think it was aptly named Boy Scout. I had no qualms. And it turned out to be a rather nice track. Pedally in spots, we were reminded of the altitude. It wove in and out of tree line. The line of site got kinda minimized, due to the overgrowth around it. It opened up the lower we dropped. Wider meant faster! The track was super dry and already the corners were starting to go. We got onto a flowy section that dumped us out onto a gravel road that then led to a couple of small table tops. I rolled them of course. On the other side of the second table was a deep set of berms in an S shape. From there the track straightened out and then dumped down a super sandy fault-line track onto some more man-made jumps and berms and finally onto some really big table tops that I again rolled safely over. The end of this run was going to be the end of a few of the race courses so it was important that I get a comfortable with my lines so I didn't have to break so much. I hated breaking. It made me feel like I was not worthy of the padding I was wearing. Kinda dumb, I know.

Each run we dared ourselves to try the more technical tracks, heading down the blues first which usually involved some small kickers, and berms that dropped steeply; then a blue black, that had all the above but steeper and more of them in progression and then the double black, Avery, which would be the last run of the race. We had seen some guys sessioning a rock garden on that track on our way up the lift. Ryan heard someone yell Wolfsky and he knew it had to be one of the famed guys from Pink Bike who hale from New Zealand and Whistler. 

It was time to ride Avery. It started out tame enough, with a quick power climb to get some elevation so we could power through the first section of rocks. I skipped a large log over, as it was a chain eater. It was immediately followed by an 8 ft bridge and then a right berm that turned us into a rather intimidating rock garden with a drop right after. I'm pretty sure I walked it the first time but was able to find the line I liked and stuck with it each time down. The track screamed in and out of technical tree groves and then spit us back out into an open field where we could get our speed back up. We came up on another succession of logs that were placed almost like steps. Too big for me, I did the ride-around but Ryan eventually found the line. After a couple of S turns and breaking bumps the trail turned left and dropped over a rock (I went around it) and then into a nasty rock garden that had a ripped up stump at the entrance. I tiptoed through it and walked the bridge that proceeded it so I could get a look at the drop at the end. Not bad at all but the rock garden was going to take some practice. I continued on over rooty drop after rooty drop. My bike was feeling OK but not great. Kinda harsh and feeling like I was getting kicked around some. The next part of the course I remember after a couple of wide open S turns was a drop that had 3 lines; over rocks onto a wood transition and into a bermed turn, a less droppy but rockier line and the "ride around" which sent riders into a field where we had to pedal hard to get back onto the track. I opted for the ride around but around is not exactly accurate: it was more like straight down. I walked it, sliding down to safety. Great, how in the world was I going to do this during the race, I worried aloud. The trail kinda mellowed after that. For the race we had to connect to the end of another track. After entering a rather smooth section of trees, we immediately had to navigate our way around an off-camber and tight right hander littered with baby-heads and small tree stumps that could catch a pedal easily and send you flying. I picked my way through it and ended up at a rock drop that I had to stop and look at. Ryan was standing on the road on the other side, with some ladies who were kind enough to tell me where to ride. I wasn't able to muster the guts with an audience but knew I had to figure it out before race day since this would be the ending of at least 3 of the runs. After crossing the road, the track again picked up where it left off, in a graveyard or rocks and boulders just begging riders to crash. At the end of that nonsense was a drop that had a root as thick as my thigh at the edge of it. It was gnar enough that a photographer was standing there awaiting the carnage. Speed was the only thing that would keep riders from the jaws of that hell. I made it down and then stood up to get some speed going as the trail opened up. It bermed again and dumped into the last of the rock gardens. A women was there, wheels up when we approached. Great! Not what I wanted to see. We stopped to make sure she was OK. We continued onto a gravel road that lead to some jumps and berms before we finally came to the end. It wasn't as bad as I had pictured it in my mind. But there were a couple of spots that had me very concerned, if not down-right scared out of my baggies.

Click here for a video of the track. This is NOT me and we did NOT do the wooden jump at the end in the race. Thank God.

Image by VeloNews. Our van is not in the shot.

The lifts closed around five so we moseyed on into town and hit the grocery store for some weekend provisions. Not really ready to hang out in the parking lot, we walked over to the city park where festivities were taking place for the bike tour people and whomever else wandered by. Tents started coming down with the onset of some serious wind. One lap around the park and and we decided to head back up the mountain to our little sand lot. More campers and people had arrived. One of them was a young dude from the front range. A new pro, he was racing a custom Erikson hard tale, which was interesting since he himself was a builder for Boo Bicycles. He was nice enough, kinda odd in a air-head kinda way. Played the "uke" as he called it. Actually, that was pretty sweet. He couldn't light his gas stove worth damn but he sure could belt out some Jack Johnson. At one point Ryan got so fed up with junior trying to hook the gas up to his stove that he went all parental on the guy and pulled out the Dad voice, sending a clear message that we were not in the mood to be blown up in a parking lot by the likes of his hippy ass. We had trail to shred, for Fuck sake.

The next day we were up early with the sun. Scrambled eggs and coffee and banana bread were on the menu. I did spy a coffee shop at the resort when I went to the public bathroom and scored a couple of real coffees to get even more amped. Soon we were on the lifts and up the mountain. We probably did 6 or 7 runs that day, mostly practicing the techy bits. I finally got the rock garden at the bottom of Lower Avery and made myself ride my ass down the steep drop that I had walked/slid the day before. I rocked the drop at the end of the bridge on Avery as well. The whole day and really the rest of the weekend, my mantra was "My bike is capable. I'm capable." I seriously repeated those words over and over, out loud, in the cocoon of my helmet whenever I came up on the nasty stuff. I never really got the nerve to jump the table tops. It's my achilles heel. But I did get my bike feeling like a couch so I was enjoying myself for the most part. At the end of the day, we were both amazed how much we had improved in such a short time. Obviously repeated runs helped us remember the right lines but more importantly, that we had the guts! 

Before the last ride of the day, we got ourselves registered. Part of the process included having our picture taken with our bikes and documenting our bike and drive train components. Part of the rules requires riders to use the same bike the whole weekend so this was their way of preventing cheating. They didn't ask about wheels or tires, which we thought was kinda strange since those things could provide an advantage depending on the track. 

I felt pretty good about doing the race. The mandatory race meeting wasn't revealing, other than we weren't racing down from a higher peak that was on our maps. I had no expectations other than to not wrap myself around a tree. The goal was to just get down the mountain and have a good time doing it. 

RACE REPORT

Enduro racing is being defined in real time. The format is loose. Timed descents with some pedally bits to keep it from being a downhill specialty. Gotta have some fitness too! How the day was going to unfold was a mystery. There was no traditional staging area. The only thing we knew was the approximate time each race was going to start on each track. We had three runs to do each day. The first one began at 9 am. Pros would go first, then amateurs by age group. And guess who's age group was dead last? The old ladies! But I didn't mind, really. I was glad that the men wouldn't be breathing down our backs. With only a 30 second lapse between riders, one of my biggest fears was that some DHr would come barreling down behind me and bulldoze me right off the hill. I couldn't have been more wrong!

Image by VeloNews. I was sitting next to the photographer.

We arrived at ground zero. Event tents lined the walk-ways. A DJ was on the mic and spinning the tunes. Riders were everywhere, of every ability. We weren't sure what to do once we got there so we got on the lift and headed up shortly after 9 am with all our gear and food in tow. That was dumb. There were some 280 riders that had to get down. That's two riders every minute, so 140 minutes. That's over 2 hours, which is how long I had to wait until it was my turn. But it wasn't all sucky. I was in the freaking mountains, on a gorgeous morning, participating in an amazing race with others of the same ilk. Ryan and I kinda stayed close to each other at first. I felt like a stranger in my own skin. Here I was with all of this gear, on a bike that was faster and more capable than I. Did I look like an obvious newb? Was I going to make a fool of myself? So many riders weren't wearing full faces for the first run, a combo of green and blue. I felt like I was over dressed. 

Soon Ryan was in line, chatting it up, making new friends. The ladies were sparse. A few here and there but as the time passed, we slowly gathered together to meet and do what women do: bond. Most were primarily from Colorado or the West but there were other states represented as well as a woman from Ireland, Shona, who was there on vacation with her boyfriend and decided to sign up. We ranged in age from twenties to mid-forties and everyone was super nice and supportive. We were brightly dressed in striped socks or flowered shorts but that was where our girliness stopped. Once atop our bikes, bad ass was pretty much what we were.

Finally it was time for the ladies. You could always tell when the ladies were on the course. Hoots and hollers went out for each ride. Racing for fun, for sure. Soon it was our group's turn. I had taken a few pedal strokes up a gravel road that was near by to wake the legs up. With all of the sitting around, I wasn't sure if they were going to respond. My quads were still soar from the previous day's practice too. 

I rolled my bike up to the start line. I tried to relax as I stared at the track in front of me. I knew what coming once I hit the trees. Some flowy single track, followed by a low jump line that ended with a larger table top that would drop us into some bermed turns. That was all I could remember so I just told myself to ride hard and enjoy the ride. 5-4-3-2-GO! I hit my garmin and it didn't start so I hit the button again and it stopped the timer. I hit it one more time to get it going. I was kinda flustered. Focus, focus. I could hear my breathing in my helmet. I was standing up crushing the pedals. My quads were already on fire. I kept telling myself to relax and let the bike do what it's meant to do. Go into the turns with confidence. Stack the arms and look ahead and take it all in cuz you're racing downhill! After it was over, I was elated. I was upright and felt like I handled myself just fine. Out of 9 women, I was somewhere in the middle so that was pretty cool. 

And that's how the day went. We raced for a few minutes and then had a couple of hours to either do other runs or eat or rest. WAY different than any XC race for sure! Ryan had earlier start times than I so I was by myself most of the time. That was kinda a bummer until I got to know a few of the other 40+ chics. Deb from Seattle was killing it. She was super fast. Sylvia was from Denver and was an obvious natural at the techy stuff since that was her passion. Jackie from Breckenridge was always ahead of me on each run and I could never catch her, though I got close a couple of times. Cheri, from Boulder, was there to document the race for 303.com and though wasn't being totally competitive, was holding her own just fine. I hung out with her the most. She was there by herself, her family back home. I just thought, how cool is that. Mom is racing enduros while the hubs and kids are chillin at home. These were women I could relate to for sure! 

After the day was over, I found myself in like 4th place, only seconds above 5th. Ryan was 7th. We both were so surprised at how that happened but it helped our confidence going into day 2. 

The next day was more of the same. Somehow our group had widdled itself down to only five riders, so all we had to do was complete each run to get onto the podium. The first stage was way more pedally, so we opted for our XC helmets. I used my smaller c-back so I could at least have water while I waited. The track went out onto some stellar trails that were flanked by flowers. I blew a corner early in the race and had to compose myself. I was hoping I'd catch Jackie on that run but she rode really well. The trail dove up and down and in and out. Sometimes I didn't see a corner until I was on it, due to the over growth. I used my breaks a lot that run but I managed to pull out the win! I was in shock! After that run, all of the riders had to pedal back up to the top. Luckily, I had left my full face up top so I didn't have to ride with it on. It was HOT! I did the 5th stage wearing my full face with my XC helmet strapped to it. It worked out just fine. Stage 5 was my least favorite track, with some steep descents and tall berms that begged riders to rail. Roxy doesn't rail so it was a pretty slow race. I think I got 4th or something. Finally it was the final run on Avery. As I rode up the lift for the final time that day, I mentally thought through the course. I knew I could ride everything but also, any bad judgement could end it for anyone. It was a thrill to race that course. And it was fun! At each gnarly section, I'd just focus on the task at hand. After getting through each one I'd think ahead to the next section and so on until I was down. I almost slid out in one of the final corners, taking a line I hadn't all weekend. Dumb! But the clean run and solid effort landed me a second place finish on that stage and quite amazingly, on the 2nd step of the podium, something I never would have thought was possible and quite frankly, something I'll probably never forget. 

The podium presentations were a blast. All of the amateur winners were given a bunch of swag and medals. I was very proud to be up there among the talented riders I met that weekend. We hung out with everyone, drinking free beer and telling our war stories with our new friends, which went well into the evening. We drove into town for the much desired burritos and margies that we rightly earned. Seemed it was the place to be; many others racers were there as well. We shared a table with Cheri and shared our many stories of bike lore. The restaurants owner even pulled up a chair after Ryan complimented him on his plaid pants. We all got an earful of his dating successes and failures and about life in a mountain town, which is really just like living in a rural small town, where everyone knows everyone else's business. After we said good bye to our new friends, Ryan and I strolled the main street. We saw a couple eating ice cream and we practically threatened them less they tell us where they got theirs. (Sylvia was in the hippy ice cream parlor too. Bikers are the same everywhere!) 

Third Bowl 

Big Al's Bicycle Haven chainless downhill bike

We ended the day walking about, taking in the last two days, amazed at all that we accomplished. We came into it not knowing what to expect, not knowing what we were capable of and we came away with so much more than we imagined: new friends, new skills and a new belief in ourselves.

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Tons of professional photos of the event. See galleries at bigmountainenduro.com under pess tab. 

Team Geronimo did a great write up of the event.