Breck Epic: Stage 2

Stage 2- ColoRADo trail

Stage 2 POV video from Jeremiah Bishop

There was no doubt in my mind that the elevation was affecting my sleep. On top of usual race day jitters from running the upcoming day through my head, the thin air was causing me to be much more fitful and feeling like I was only dozing and never really sleeping. Day 2 cracked bright and early once again, but at least the course today was promising better flow and more fun. I'd ridden a good chunk of the course several times on various trips and was looking forward to the massive descent from the West Ridge of Colorado trail.

I got up and tried to focus on getting some food shoved down my throat. Given yesterday's ass kicking and the poor night's sleep though, my body rebelled at the very idea. My usual greek yogurt topped with granola sat there staring back at me until I gave up trying to eat it. I turned instead to a piece of toast and some coffee as the only things I could muster the energy to eat. I was pretty sure this didn't bode well considering the 40+ miles and near 6,000' of climb on tap for the day.

I ended up sitting in a chair trying to get a bit more rest in lieu of forcing anything more on my rebelling stomach. I guessed that I'd just have to try eating from the gun during the race and hope I could keep up with enough calories to push through the day without bonking again.

Our start today would be staggered with two groups heading out 20 minutes apart. The "fast" guys and gals from the 6 day race would all be stacked up front and then the balance of the 3 day racers and cat 2-3 racers would be starting 20 minutes after us in an attempt to keep the singletrack bottlenecks from being too bad at the start of the race. We lined up for our neutral rollout and I hopped in with the rest of the singlespeeders who were placed near the front of the gates in some type of cosmic inside joke given the neutral rollout speeds that would see most of us flailing along valiantly as the majority of the geared back would roar past us. I made some idle chitchat with a few of the other guys standing around, but mostly sat in silence hoping the day would end better than it was starting.

Soon enough we were rolling along in a big pack until the first flatish/downhill where the aforementioned separation occurred between the haves and have nots regarding shifting. We'd use this rollout a few more times through the week so it became a bit of a challenge in seeing where I could gain speed or time. Typically we'd roll up Wellington on a shallow grade and I'd reattach myself to the pack and start passing people again that I'd rather be in front of when the heavy climbing started. My legs slowly warmed as we jumped straight into climbing up Gold Run Gulch Rd twisting and winding up the steep but rideable grade.

I ground my way past Dicky at one point making a joke about hiking so early, but soon enough I'd be back off my bike for another day of walking and riding. I started questioning whether or not that 32x20 was such a great gear selection at this point. Over the top though, things got moving again and I soon found myself in a string of riders with one guy in front of me. As things pitched downhill it became pretty obvious he wasn't feeling the gravity love. We called for a pass and I turned on the gas creating a gap with a few others including Dicky following my lead. We found a few others riding a similar pace and held a nice line with some witty banter and even joking about Dicky taking an apparent header off a bridge on Day 1.

As we hit Galena ditch which is a long flat section of relatively fun and mostly non-technical singletrack, the geared boys and those with legs feeling spinnier than mine, took off again and left me to my own devices. Given my feelings from that morning, I had made my peace with riding whatever pace felt sustainable for the day. Keeping my focus on goal #1 of finishing all 6 days was foremost in my head. We wound our way out to aid station #1 which would be shared a few times from different directions throughout the week and I kept right on rolling knowing that the climb to the top of West Ridge was going to be a grinder, but waiting on the far side was one of my favorite descents anywhere. The feeling of flying back down from the top of the Colorado Trail is one of the most gratifying experiences you can have on a bike down there. The trail is almost perfectly pitched to encourage blinding speed and the trail hazards are relatively minimal with the exception of some quick approaching switchbacks and occasional downhill rock gardens.

Once we were down the trail, we switched back towards Keystone Ranch and trails I hadn't been on previously before we wound back around to aid #2 at Dredge Boat. While my stomach hadn't been really bothering me to this point, it was begrudgingly accepting whatever I threw at it whether it be my Kate's Stash Bites or the CarboRocket 333 Half Evil I was chugging along with some plain water. With 12ish miles to go, I still felt ok especially considering the semi-onerous start to my morning. I kept my stop quick grabbing a reload on some fuel from my drop bag and then beginning the next churn up the jeep road leading out of the aid station. Grinding my way up, I found it mostly rideable with very limited need for walking. I was beginning to really question my gearing choice though given the extended amounts of time I found myself with a cadence in the 40's and 50's.

Somewhere in here, my stomach started feeling a bit sour once more. In hopes to head it off at the path, I stopped and tried downing a few of my ginger/peppermint capsules that I've used before to successfully settle my stomach. I nearly chucked them back up though as swallowing them didn't go quite to plan and I had to gulp them down to dislodge them from the back of my throat. Feeling a bit queasy now, I enjoyed the last downhill stretches of ZL trail before we began the last road climb of the day. A few riders had passed while I was stopped, but for the most part I was on my own again. The lower pitches were rideable, but as I neared the meat of the climb, I was off and trudging again.

Rolling up Slalom:

Once at the top, it was rolling track that inched us ever closer to that last rush of speed that would carry us to the finish line. Looking back, I'm beginning to think they purposely chose the downhill finishes on the first couple of stages to etch those memories in our heads over the punishments we'd faced earlier each day. As it were, I hauled ass down the last bits of singeltrack to a welcome finish and surviving another day. My teammate Andy who was racing the 3 day and had made up the 20  minute stagger and passed my on the Colorado Trail portion was still there and we chatted for a few minutes about how at least I didn't feel as terrible as yesterday. I survivded the day once again in 11th and holding onto the not last place singlespeed goal.

A peculiar feeling crept into my head though that I better exit stage left quickly and head towards the condo as a rumbling in my gut began to recur. I bid Andy a hasty adieu and jumped on my bike coasting down into town. Just as I rolled into the edge of town proper, all the liquid I'd been taking in the last few hours decided it needed out in the most urgent and direct route possible. Before now, I wouldn't have guessed that I could vomit while still riding my bike, but not only did I manage once, but ultimately 3 times as gravity swept me back into town. I sincerely hoped the few droplets of rain were going to gather and wash away the mess I'd left on the road, but whatever the case, I needed to hit the condo and hit it now.

Getting back to the condo, I headed straight to my room to lay down and hopefully keep any further episodes from happening. Once I later emerged and explained my situation to my condo mate, we began to piece together that my heavy on the protein diet, a touch of altitude sickness, poor sleep, and racing hard were all coming together to kick my ass. I pretty much decided to scrap my recovery food plan at that point and follow along with whatever he was eating since my diet was killing me at this point.

We ended up at Luigi's pizza down on the main drag and aptly enough, ordered the Hangover as one of our pizzas.

Given my day, it actually hit the spot rather well as we watched a deluge of rain pour down on unsuspecting passersby. It appeared my wish of having my stomach contents recycled sports drink that I left upon the streets of Breckenridge washed away were coming true. Maybe this would be a good omen for the days to come.

Breck Epic: prelude, pre-riding, and Stage 1

Stage 1- Pennsylvania Gulch

Stage 1 POV video from Jeremiah Bishop

With all my prep, planning, and packing now behind me. It was finally time to point the 4runner to the west and haul some ass. Luckily I didn't have a co-rider at this point as I'm not sure where their stuff would have fit.

I packed everything and then some. I tossed the roadie and trainer in as an alternative to spinning around freezing my ass off trying to warm up in the mornings. I even brought out a pair of rollers for my condo mate to use for his warm ups since he would be limited in what he could bring on the plane.

I opted to drive out on Friday thinking it would give me a chance to get there, relax for the evening, get a nice preride in on Saturday and then fill the rest of the day with the whole packet pick-up, condo loading/sorting of the things, grabbing some groceries, and attending the pre-race meeting. My teammate Jason and I took a nice spin up Burro Trail since its close, part of the course, I've ridden it prior, and it's a nice little cross section of what Breck riding is all about. It would also give me a chance to check out my gearing selection of 32x20 which had been recommended by Dicky who has raced this thing more times than I've been to Breck... Definitely go check his recap of the race out as its much more fun than mine.

After the pre-ride I thought I must have just the right gear. It was too heavy in spots, too light in spots, and just right in very few... Ahhh, singlespeeding, always the right gear because its the only gear. In any case, it felt decent, my legs felt decent, and I cleaned the rocky sections that I was anticipating being more difficult so all in all, I felt about as good as I could facing 6 days of the mostly unknown.

In the nightly race meeting they discussed the upcoming day's stage to give us a course overview and some beta on what to expect from the trails. Having poured over a ton of data in prep, I knew this day wasn't a gimme or even a nice gentle easing into the race. No, this was a full on sink or swim toss you in the deep end kind of day to start. I assumed if I could at least survive Stage 1, I'd have a chance to get my legs under me and get on with the rest of the week. Coming into the race, I set two goals for myself. #1 finish all 6 days and get my buckle. #2 don't be the last place singlespeeder.

The day broke early. Too damn early. After a typical fitful night before a big race sleep exacerbated by breathing the overly thin air at 8500' above where I normally reside, it was early. I got up, cleared my head, and started the daily routine of trying to eat, shuttling my drop bags to the race HQ, and then coming back to suit up and get my final few things ready to roll to the start line. Today was a mass start with every racer rolling the first few miles up the pavement staged in loose groups of our riding peers. I was nervous, but still excited to get on with the day. I got in line with Jason and Andy from the shop and snapped a picture to commemorate memorialize the start.

A few words of encouragement from Mike Mac (aka the ringmaster of this circus) and we were rolling along in a sea of high anxiety, knobby tires, and thin mountain air. The slow grind up the pavement was a nice way to stretch the legs and got my head into riding my bike. I dropped into Aspen Alley at the start with a group of 10 or so riders in a small pack. We soon wound our way down a bobsled track of dirt trying not to let our exuberance write checks our handling skills couldn't cash.

Pretty quickly the string of riders started spreading out as we hit the rolling singletrack and we started settling into our own personal grooves. I was feeling good and kept trying to remind myself to throttle back given the long day(s)/week ahead. Some 6 miles into the ride, we hit the first real steep grades and I finally succumbed to walking my bike as we climbed up towards our first foray into 11,000'+ territory. Knowing full well that walking was going to be the name of the game in numerous spots over the course of the race, I was mentally prepped and didn't mind the distraction. It was a bit of a kick in the pants watching the people with cogs the size of roadie front rings grinding their way up the hills and slowly distancing me.

As soon as I could, I hopped back on though determined to catch up to those geared riders wherever I could. I spied another singlespeeder trudging along ahead of me while I was still grinding away. He too was commenting on the people riding their eagle equipped bikes and how pleasant it must be. He spied me though and complimented the single. As it would end up, Corbin and I were similarly matched in overall pace and would spend a fair bit of time riding with or around each other throughout the rest of the week.

Leaving Aid 1,we hooked up for a blast through the fast and twisty section of Baker's Tank relishing the tight by Colorado standard tree placements adjacent to the trail. We had a flatish transfer over to Aid 2 which was a scant 6 miles distant. I knew what was waiting after Aid 2 though as it was the venerable climb up Little French. While only a mile in length, it was much more walking than riding on the single. Once that was slain though, we were treated to the flume trail and some more downhilling before we reached the climbs back into the Lincoln Park/Prospect Hill areas that reignited the climbing for the day.

Somewhere around mile 27 or so, I could feel my stomach beginning to sour and my energy beginning to wane. I'd been pushing solidly all day, but felt like I was doing a good job of not going into the red and keeping up with my nutrition. Something was definitely amiss though as I found myself jumping off the bike to walk at almost any pitch that looked even remotely steep.

My riding compatriots unhitched themselves from me at this point and I limped along at whatever pacing I could manage. The gnarly chunky descents and the steep uphills interspersed with varied singletrack had taken their toll on me. I was running on fumes and still miles from home. As we descended back to French Gulch I knew we had a climb up V3 trail before we got to bomb to the finish line at Carter Park. I should have been able to climb V3 even on the single, yet I found myself trudging slowly along almost every pitch in the trail. My heart was pounding, my legs shaking, and my head was telling me it was time to be done. Once I finally crested the hill and could start descending Barney Flow, I finally got a little relief and some solace in the fact I'd at least survive stage 1.

As I descended into the park, the emotion of going deep and making it through the day started coming out and I had no energy left to suppress it. Crossing the finish line half crying, half gasping, half smiling, I collapsed on the ground next to one of my former teammates that came out to cheer on stage 1 finishers. I was done, cooked, gristle. I managed to find my way over to get my day 1 photo taken and then headed back towards the condo. At that point, I wasn't even sure I had the energy required to get myself and bike back up the stairs once I got there.

I finally made it back and all I could do was lay on my back with my legs in the air, hoping the pain would slowly subside.

My will to live crept back in as an hour or two passed. I got some food, some rest, and cleaned up, but I wasn't sure how I was going to keep this up for 5 more days. My roomie and I slid over to the evening's racer meeting and podium ceremony. We were definitely repping two opposite ends of the spectrum. I was focusing on purely surviving each day while he was focused on the podium. But in the end, we were still just two guys excited to be racing our bikes in the mountains of ColoRADo. As it was I'd end up the day in 11th. At least I was mostly on track with the daily goal times I'd written out a few weeks before the race and had stuck to my desk as a reminder of what I needed to focus on.

Tomorrow has to be better, right?! I mean its the Colorado trail and one of my favorite descents off the top of Westridge.

Epic Dreaming and Prep

I honestly don't remember how long ago I dreamed up this crazy idea. I think it might have been clear back in 2013 when I felt like I was actually on top of my riding and had the world by the ass before things came crashing down around me and I found myself in the rut of not riding, only fun riding, or getting half assed in shape again only to piss it all away in the subsequent months following whatever type of bike event I deemed necessary to have some modicum of fitness to get through. In any case, whatever continual and residual fitness I'd built up over continuous years of racing and training back in 2013 were now wiped away and I'd be starting over.

In 2015 I decided to get a little more serious about this whole Breck Epic 2 year plan. I'd been following the race for years and have had a number of riding trips out to Breck as well as having had one go at the Breck 68 (which was probably a lot bigger race than I should've tried at the time). I figured I could talk at least a few of my fellow partners in crime into volunteering with me for part of a week and thereby stamping our ticket to get into the race the following year. We'd use it as course recon and then be primed to have a better shot at finishing this monster off in 2016.

As it worked out, my powers of persuasion are pretty limited so only Taylor and I volunteered while the rest of the crew joined us later in the week for some fun riding after our work was done. We ran course sweep 3 days and worked an aid station the other day. We met some other amazing volunteers and had a great time. Even if you never plan to race it, I'd wholeheartedly recommend doing some volunteer work for the race if you're so inclined as the people are awesome.

Between the two experiences we got a great cross section of what the race had to offer, the daily logistics, and a nice preview of various stages. I left that week with a renewed spirit for wanting to ride and race my bike. I was in ok riding shape and while I wasn't in top physical shape, I survived the riding we did and vowed to come back stronger and fitter when we actually needed to race. I snapped a couple shots before we left Breck to remind myself I needed to get to work.

As so often occurs, Taylor and I signed on for the race and life happened. Between family health issues and a work project that ate me alive, I deferred my entry to 2017. Through 2016 I made a bit more serious attempt at regaining my bike legs and being more fit in general. About mid May the wheels fell off as work became busy to the point it was all consuming. Once my goal race of Cheq 100 was knocked out mid-June I only logged another 1-2 hours on average per week on the bike the remainder of the year. Plug in many 12+ hour days mostly confined to an office chair stuffing my face with whatever fast food was close at hand and evenings filled with enough beer to make me forget the day enough that I could get up and do it again the next day and it was a recipe for digging myself a deep hole. Thankfully, I kept the camera hidden, but toss on 20-25 lbs of fat on the above pics and you'll have a good idea of what I was fighting.

January 1 I decided I was going to really hit it hard and give myself a fighting chance to finish this race. I figured I needed a challenge to rise to and keep me honest about the work I needed to put in. While I have ridden and raced singlespeed for years around the midwest including a number of single day endurance races on the single, I've always taken gears to Breck. I was at least somewhat confident that if I took gears along, I'd be able to survive the week barring bad luck. Toss singlespeeding on this dumpster fire and honestly, it was a challenge that I didn't know if I could complete. This would be something totally outside of my comfort zone and to the point that it would drive me along on those days when I hated the very idea of jumping on the trainer or going for a ride. It took me quite a while to even sign up for the singlespeed class or to tell any of my friends that I was seriously only taking 1 gear to the race.

I didn't really have the resources to direct towards personalized coaching and have always kind of worked my own plans out anyway, but I knew I needed structure. Having run through a few of their plans in previous years, I decided to get serious about following a progressive training path using Trainer Road as my guide. I figured if I could stick with their base, build, and specialty plans with almost 8 months laying in front of me it would keep me accountable and give the structure I needed to my workouts. As it were, crawling on the trainer at 5 in the morning or 8 at night isn't the most conducive to enjoying life, but it kept family interruptions to a minimum and my training on track. I tried to get some long(ish) outdoor rides in on the weekends or on the occasional evening, but for the most part I poured hours of time and gallons of sweat into the trainer. I spent more hours on the trainer than outside in the run up to Breck.

As winter gave way to spring and summer, I still found myself indoors for the most part. The trainer had become a necessary evil. The downside was missing all the riding with friends, but at the same time, those social riding hours weren't going to haul my still too fat ass over the continental divide multiple times. Luckily, the weight and fat were slowly burning off as the previous 6 months of living in my office ratcheted down to a dull roar for the most part. I could see some glimmers of hope starting to resurface as my fitness levels came back up.

Determined to stay on track, I struggled through my share of issues when it came to training. From influenza putting me off the bike for over a week, to riding a trainer outside our pop-up during vacation, to hitting a hotel recumbent for over an hour, to spinning on the trainer for 3 hours the day after launching 8'+ into a ravine off a bridge, I made it work.

I kept the hammer down as long and hard as I could between the prescribed abuse Trainer Road was dishing out and my own self inflicted ideas of what I thought I needed to do for preparation until finally there just wasn't any time left. I'd done all I could and now it was time to taper into the race and see if it was enough. I worried clear through the start of Stage 1 that everything I'd done to this point would be moot and the mountains of Colorado would take one look at me, chew me up, and spit me out like the piece of gristle I was already feeling like.

100 hours on the bike, 110 hours on the trainer, 18 hours of core and strength, 28 lbs and 7% fat lost over 7.5 months.