I have lots of mixed emotions about this.    When I first heard about LV100  I thought those folks were crazy.  I heard the stories.  I saw the movie.  I had no dirt experience.  But somehow I was intrigued.  What made these folks try this on single bike nonetheless on a tandem.  Really, this was crazy!

When I started mountain biking about 4 years ago I hired a coach.  Why?   I stunk at road and crit racing even though I trained with gals that were good.  I hoped that my coach would help me figure out how to train right; how to be ready to race.    The biggest compliment that I got on my first race, after hiring Julie, was that I had a game face…I looked different on the start line.  Well duh?  I was told that I was ready to race so I started that way.  I got smoked but I felt different.

Eventually I figured out how to be smarter than other Cat 3 racers which did not mean I was better.  But I learned that I was a better strategist and I could suffer for a longer time.    I got challenged and whipped.  But I was hooked at dirt.

The next year I raced Cat 2 and learned that longer distance was tough.  I was taught that there were only two reasons to not finish: an ambulance took you off of the course or your bike was in pieces (I took that as a flat was not a reason to quit).    Well this sucked.   The CAT 2 distance was challenging.  There were faster gals with more skill. But I never quit.   It was suggested that I maybe I was better at racing longer.    I guess that made sense: my 5K mph and my marathon mph were about the same.

I chose not to upgrade to Cat 1,   my goal was not to race at that level for the rest of my career.  I started to look at 4-hour races, 50 milers and 40 milers along with gravel.  I hate gravel.  I have no real reason.   Last year I kept entering races because I knew that my coach would cut me off when it became ridiculous.  But she did not.  Somehow I ended up at the 24-hours of Cumming Race.  4 loops of 100k each.  Now recognize that I had not successfully ridden 62K on any training ride.  I met the long distance guru Sarah and she help me to get my set up (cue cards……..why do I need those?)  How I got so lucky, except for knowing Katherine R, I do not know.   I guess when a long distance person meets another, even if a rookie, they know.  Through the grace of friends to be my support, keep me safe in a lightning storm (who knew you needed to be in a ditch?) and be there when I finished, I completed the race.

I met a new friend on that last lap loop that would be inspirational.  I thought that I was poser.  Until I realized that a guy I admired greatly hurt as much as I did.  When you both vow to get down this hill and ride up the next only to get about 6 pedal strokes in before dismounting and walking opened my eyes.  Everyone suffers, everyone sucks, and few keep going.  I learned that everyone hurts.  Some stop.  Others just keep going. Is either the right way?  No, well yes.  Both are correct for the person doing it.

What I learned is that I do not quit.  My tolerance to discomfort is above the grid.  My fear factor can be beat.   So I paid a good sum to go to Leadville.   I bought an appropriate bike.  I went to the Leadville camp and rode all of the course.  Got the crap scared out of me………….there is no way to describe what the surface is that is ridden upon.  The range of pitch…up to 24% grade.   Most folks say uphill must suck………….no!!!! Try riding down that only to run into more normal grades of 5-10% but just keep going for miles.  In the Midwest we go down the hill fast and right back up the next.-

I accepted what it was and went back home to hone my skills.   I did what I could and felt ready to race.  My prep was good.  My travel was awesome………….Shelley was a phenomenal cohort in all of this.    I thought we had a kitchen but only a toaster oven.  The one thing I must have on race day is Race Day pancakes.  I do not believe that I have raced without eating them.  What to do?  Figure out how to make them in the toaster oven.  My out of-the-box thinking turned out great pancakes.

On race day I woke up excited and ready to go.  It was a 30 min drive to the start.  A glorious morning.  Got to the corral and set my mind to race.  My plan was to be safe on the pavement and hit the dirt.  The full width of the road was full of people.  I settled in and pedaled.  It was beyond beautiful.  I rode the first climb that I walked at camp.  I watched the lines, moved up when I could. 

Eventually I saw the powerlines and the real climbing began.  I felt strong.  Prepared.  HR was in check.  Food was consumed.  I climbed and climbed.  Then it all went downhill…..fast.  When I was at the top looking down I felt the rush like on a rollercoaster.  An equal part terror and pure adrenaline.  My fear brain screamed, No, don’t ride this!  My adventure brain shouted, Go big or go home!!!  Let go and headed downward.  What a rush. But then it was too much and I needed to scrub speed but there was no flat in sight.  I braked and ‘cross dismounted.  A few riders went by and I was able to move across the washout and decide to walk the rest or ride it out.  I will only be here once so I mounted, grew a pair and started down.  As I got in the rhythm I was grinning from art to ear for conquering my fear.

There were still a lot of miles to cover. The first cut off was at 40 miles and 4 hours.  I tried to calculate my time to that aid station/cut off.   I tried to get a few folks to work with me but just got strange looks.  I pushed on and on like it was a time trial.    I rode like I belonged.  The miles kept coming.   About 7 miles out…. crap…..I was not going to make it.   I had already resolved that I would burn all of matches if I thought I was going to get pulled.  I put the hammer down…..I felt like it was a cross race.  There was so much climbing. The miles got closer but the clock wound down.   Push, push, push.   I hit the dam, shot across it and they waved me through.   Oh I was so lucky and so screwed.

I rode through it as my crew was still a few miles away.   I pushed to get there and received a hero’s welcome.  A gigantic confidence boost.  Chuck, Shelley and the rest took care of everything while I took a natural break.  I was back on the bike quickly headed toward the Columbine climb.  I reviewed in my head what laid ahead:  one mile very steep; five miles relentless, switchback climbing and the rocky, steep above the tree line.  2.5 hours of work to the top.  THIS is what I prepared for in earnest. As hard as this climb was it was the speed of the descenders on the other side of the road and often 4-wide that was the most nerve-wracking.   Every switchback was steep and blind.  The fear turned to power and to pride.  There are lots of areas that I can improve but I can climb.  On this day I was perfectly trained which lead to great form.   The view of the end of the tree line meant that I was close; also that the toughest part was yet to come.

The last mile to the top had lots of pushing the bike, short bursts of riding followed by walking.  I hit the spot where I knew I could ride it out.   The thrill of reaching the top is not explainable.   Trust me that it was worth everything that I put into it.  I had some Ramen and mounted to head back down.  I was aggressive but not stupid until I reached the switchbacks.  Then I let it rip.  So freeing to scream down, brake late and dive into the turn.  Then repeat.  Did I mention that I love my Rassy’s Specialized Epic Expert World Cup???

As I rode back to my support I checked the clock and knew I would be pulled at the next check point.  I told my crew no refiils needed and that I would see them on the other side of the dam.  I still rode hard.  I had a few miles to reconcile that my race was over.   I got to the dam, grinned as they took my wristband and timing chip.  The guys mentioned that I was the most smiling person that they pulled.  For me it was this:  I was perfectly trained, had stellar weather, a top-notch crew and, most importantly, I had the strength to finish.  I just ran out of time!

The guys asked if I needed anything?  Yes a cold beer would be great. Another guy in a truck asked what type?  Cold, of course!  He went to his personal cooler and handed me the best beer of my lifetime.  I rode no-handed across the dam, drinking my beer while sitting up and proud.   I just had THE race of my life. Sure it could have ended differently but it did not.  I was well satisfied of my journey to this destination.   I always remember that it is just a race (it does not define me) and that riding bikes is just plain fun!

Thanks to all that trained, supported, encouraged, and motivated me.  Most of all big thanks to Julie and Zoom Performance for mapping this journey!