2011 Almanzo Royal 162 Race Report- the race

The Royal 162 course

The results

After tossing and turning most of the night, I awoke to the sound of water dripping through the gutters outside our room. I quietly dressed and pondered what lay in wait for me. I headed off to try to eat some breakfast. As I nursed a cup of coffee and choked down a danish, the weather flashed across the screen. 44 degrees, scattered rain, windchill of 37 and a steady North wind around 15 mph. I went back to the room to finish getting ready and snapped a quick picture to set the tone.

Ready or not:

I finished my gear prep by loading my bottles and camelback with water before setting off for the start line about 3/4 of a mile from the hotel. The wind had a sting to it with the water hanging in the air as I hopped on the bike to ride. A few minutes later and I pulled up to a lot starting to fill with fellow riders for the Royal 162. I nervously alternated between chatting with some friends and riding my bike around the lot trying to stay warm and beat back the trepidation. As promised, Chris rolled us off with little fanfare escorting us to the start of the gravel. I'd estimate we rolled roughly 60 or so of us out of 90 odd entrants.

Finally, we were off and it was time to start clicking off the miles and relieve the nerves through solid strokes of the pedal. I found a semi comfortable spot around mid-pack of the main group and worked to try avoiding the gravel soup that was flying off the wheels in front of me. We were holding a steady but manageable pace to start. I fell back slightly on one of the first uphills and caught a face full of the wind. I knew it would be a mistake to lose the pack right away and start fighting the wind so soon. I hit the gas a little harder and latched back on to the pack so I could set in the draft for a bit more. All too soon though, I gauged the lead group of 20 or so was moving a bit harder than I wanted and I slowly drifted off the back along with single riders.

I mixed it up riding with a few people here and there starting around 10 or so miles into the race. My whole focus going in had been to treat this as a ride rather than race so my focus was solely on moving forward at my pace and syncing up with other riders as it made sense without taxing myself in the process. Soon, I found myself with 2 and then 3 guys. Andy (I think was his name) was the strongest in the group wearing a CRC kit and he soon rolled off the front leaving 3 of us riding but not really working together. Ian who appeared to be wearing a Little Guys Racing kit and Aaron from Angry Catfish dressed only in bibs, short sleeve jersey, and arm warmers kept rolling. Ben went down as we made the turn from flying descent to 180 degree uphill. We actually all made the turn, but the weird cross slope of the gravel laid him down, but he managed only a few scrapes.

The first 90 minutes or so we lucky in the fact it wasn't raining on us. We were just dealing with the cold wet air and sloppy gravel. I started contemplating taking off my rain coat or shedding my vest as I started heating up as we hit the various climbs. Being a 3 time veteran of the course, I knew the climbs were there and didn't sweat them. I'd just grind them out at a comfortable pace without digging too deep. It was part of my plan for the full day. Work when I needed to, but conserve energy where I could.

Photo by Crag Lindner:

The 3 of us rolled through Preston and kept right on trucking without a stop as we didn't need anything only 38 miles into the course. It wasn't until mile 46 or so that we made any stops and it was for a quick pee break for the other guys. I took the opportunity to stuff my pie hole with a Stinger waffle while we made a sub 1 minute stop. Aaron and I slowed dropped Ian off as we rolled along feeling pretty decent even though we were pretty thoroughly wet by this point. On the plus side, my shell was wet from the rain along with my legs and feet, but my hands and core were relatively warm even if they were damp from sweat and some moisture seeping in. Score for my gear choices!

Chris had provided us some information that there would be an offroad portion of the course somewhere along the way. The cue cards noted that we'd hit this about 56 miles in. I was due to reload my nutrition box and Aaron and I decided we'd hit the offroad section and make a short stop to rest and reload. As we rolled up to the private property we were about to ride through, we could see some of the lead groups coming back on the tail end of the off road loop. It appeared we were maybe 15 minutes or so back of some pretty strong riders including Charlie Farrow. We rolled the first grassy section of the course and were greeted by a full on CX course including run-ups, barriers, riding through a cornfield, and about every other surface you can think of. Pure mad genius for Chris to throw that in there. It may have been my favorite portion of the course. Aaron and I kept our plan and after the 1st run-up we stopped for a short nature break and reload. I stuffed my face with half a salted nut roll and filled my top tube bag with an assortment of goodies from my camelback before we rolled the rest of the course. Ian had caught back up as we were resting and the 3 of us rolled out to enjoy the rest of the offroad portion.

Back to the gravel we stayed together and rolled on. We still didn't really work together, but the shared suffering somehow seemed to make it better as it was still raining and we were all wet and cold to varying degrees. For some reason, I had it in my head that our last pass through town with any food/service available was coming around 90 miles in. In reality, we hit Harmony at 65 miles just a scant 7 or 8 miles after we'd just taken a relatively significant break on the CX course. We didn't have a choice other than to oll up to the gas station to reload on water and any fuel that we needed. At this point, it became pretty apparent that Aaron was suffering mightily with his gear (or lack thereof). As we started to warm up, it became very clear we were in a dangerous position. I had all ready reloaded with a liter of water and 2 glazed donuts and knew it was time to go. Aaron was figuring his options of dropping or continuing and Ian seemed like he could hang out for a bit longer. I made the call it was time to go, lest we all succumb to the dryness and warmth of Kwik Shop.

3 rollers with a hundy left to go:

Sadly, Ian and I rolled on while Aaron stayed back. With the rest of the conditions hammering us, I think he made the right call for himself. Ian and I started trading a few pulls after a short while, after a long pull I looked back and Ian had drifted a long ways off the tail. I made a judgement call to roll on my own as I was still feeling good and didn't want to pull in the reigns at this point. I feel a bit bad as I don't see Ian on the finishers list, but I had to ride for myself to maintain my plan. I started clicking off the miles thankful for what seemed like a brief respite from the serious climbs and just hitting the rollers. The tunes were flowing from the Ipod, my nutrition was still going well, and I felt as good as could be expected given the mileage and conditions I'd been dealing with. Beyond hydrating and eating, I kept my mind busy with the cue sheets trying to figure out where on the horizon the next turn would be coming from.

Over the next 30 odd miles, we'd get a fresh treat of being out of the semi-protected valleys and thrust into the rolling farmland where the wind could tear at us with abandon. I started closing on another rider at this point. I distinctly remember the absurdity of "chasing" him on a gradual incline while doing 8-10 mph due to wind and road conditions. The hilarity wasn't lost on me so at least my spirits were still as high as could be expected. Finally I caught up to Ben from Northfield around mile 90 or so. He was climbing equally to me or perhaps a bit better, but I was rolling the flats a shade faster and would really gain ground by pedaling the downhills in my big ring. We passed each other back and forth a bit, but ended up working together to conquer some of the headwinds.

The only real issue of the day sprang up for me in this section. My cue cards had been slowly getting soaked from the backside due to the road spray even though they were in my Banjo Brothers map case/cue sheet holder. The elements were just a bit too much for it to match. As I went to pull out the cue sheet I was done with, all I came away with was a chunk of that sheet and the next couple below it as they were stuck together and soaked through. I stopped to assess my options and pulled the wad of 5 or so sheets out of my holder. Carefully I managed to peel back the sheet I was done with and also separate out the chunks I'd torn off to piece my remaining sheets back together. Lest they get any wetter, I pulled a ziplock from my pack and stuffed them inside before returning them to the map case. I hadn't done this earlier as I didn't want to have to stop every time I was done with a cue sheet just to change it out. From this point on, my only stops would be for cue sheet changes and I'd address any other issues at those times.

As mile 100 appeared on my garmin, Ben and I had been working together again. We passed a random truck parked by the side of the road and were offered pizza, beer, coke, etc. Initially I refused and rolled right past while Ben stopped to take a look. The guy called after me that it was all neutral, so I turned back to verify as I really didn't want to operate outside the rules of the race, no matter how bad the conditions were and how tempting the opportunity was. The guys from Pirate Cycling League had gotten approval from Chris to set up the oasis as long as they offered it up to everyone on the 162 route. Woohoo! All I ended up taking though was half a Coke to down some more ibuprofen for my aching back. We chatted for a few minutes as I waited for Ben to wade through a couple hot slices and then we hit the road in under 5 minutes.

Ben must've felt pretty good as he tore up the following grade and left me in the dust. Shortly thereafter, we were back into the flatlands with the wind and I'd catch, pass, and drop him. We finally were back on the Almanzo 100 course around mile 105 and could see the increase in tire tracks. I knew the checkpoint was coming up and started really beleiving I could make it as I remembered how well I rolled the section after the checkpoint from the previous year. A scant 10 miles later I rolled into the checkpoint alone. I chatted with the workers for a few seconds as I peeled back my jacket to reveal #53. They asked how I felt. I really hadn't given it much thought until then other than I knew I wasn't really hurting. In all honesty, I felt many times better at that point than I had at any of my previous 3 Almanzo checkpoints. It was an amazing thing.

After the checkpoint, the rolling terrain starts again in earnest. I also knew there would be a good number more miles into that dreaded wind. I had passed a few tail end charlie's from the Almanzo 100 a few miles before the checkpoint, but now I could see more in front of me. Typically I'd catch site of them walking the small rollers that I was still grinding out and before I knew it, I'd be passing them. Even though I was only rolling 12 or so mph, the speed difference was amazing as they were barely pushing on having given it their all. I tried to say a few words of encouragement to each rider I passed. Hopefully it made some small difference to them.

I started my countdown at this point, 30 miles, 20 miles, 10 miles to go. With 20ish left to go, we hit the water crossing. Having seen it last year, I knew what I was in store for. My plan was to actually take the time to remove my shoes and socks, roll up my leg warmers, and to walk across barefoot. My plan worked beautifully! Until I stumbled about 2/3 across the channel and steadied myself by dunking my shoes and socks in my left hand completely under the water. Son-of-a-bitch!!! The two guys that had waded across just before I got there had a good chuckle I'm sure. I tossed my gear onto the bank as I stumbled out the other side with the sharp rocks poking my barefeet, taunting my decision even further. I sat down to wring out my now sopping socks and dump the standing water out of my shoes. This was the wettest my feet had been all day as well as the coldest, but I was 20 miles from home and it was going to take a bullet to stop me from getting there.

Water crossing:

2011 Water Crossing from Chris Skogen on Vimeo.


The guys from the crossing were long gone, but as I was gearing back up, Ben caught up to me and waded straight across. I really wasn't in the mood to be caught and passed by anyone at this point so I bid him adieu and started cranking up the quarry climb on the far side of the crossing trying to catch back to the other 2 riders. I finally caught them another couple miles down the road as we hit some more steep rollers. I made a pass and the stronger rider grabbed my wheel. He then came back around and started spinning up the climb as he was on a mountain bike with some smaller gears. I decided to have a little fun as I was feeling good at this point. The grade dropped and we were still climbing. I sat in his draft for a minute or two and then came around to take a pull. Once I got in front of him, I hit the gas. After a minute or two I looked back and he was all ready a couple hundred yards back.

We were getting close to home by this point and even though my knees were aching along with my back and right hip, my legs still had power. I was down to the last 10 miles, then BAM! Chris throws in the most devious climb of the day. Oriole road. That name is burned into anyones psyche that rode the course. It was new for this year and I wasn't expecting it. Last year we had backtracked nearly the last 10 miles of the course and I was expecting the same as we'd all ready hit some of it. Now with 7 miles left, here was a wall of a climb. I hadn't walked any climbs to this point and pride sure wasn't going to let me do it now. I geared down as low as I could (since my baby ring up front hadn't worked all day) and let 'er rip. 4-5 mph was all I could muster and I flipped to check the grade seeing steady sections of 20% with some as high as 23%. The climb lasted close to a mile as near as I can tell on my readout. Finally at the top, the road actually dipped and I could build up some speed on the rolling terrain.

I passed a couple more riders about mile 150 and had just caught another when it came time to change out the last cue sheet. Reluctantly I watched the 1 then the other 2 riders roll back past as I stopped to change out the sheet. Not willing to risk any possible missed turns at this point meant letting them go. As I flipped to it, I was overjoyed to see I really only had 3 or so miles left and that our mileage was done at 155.8 rather than 162 which I'd had in my head all day. Fueled by a gel I'd taken in prepping for the last push and the euphoria of realizing how close I was, I lit it up. I hadn't ridden that fast since rolling out early in the morning. Not realizing we were actually rolling south now, I had picked up a tailwind push too.

I powered past the two riders on an uphill section that I stood and powered through. Now onto flat roads and coming into the last pavement, I caught and flew past the final rider in my sights. I sprinted out of the last corner and down to the school where Chris was waiting with open arms and the remaining people were clapping, cheering, honking, and making any noise they could. It was spectacular. 13 hours and 24 minutes for 155.8 miles for 16th place. I was a finisher! I felt fantastic.

One happy camper:

I'll see if I can come up with some thoughts and feelings about the whole ordeal in another post, but suffice to say, this was a near perfect race for me in planning, execution, and completion and I can't ask for anything more.

2011 Almanzo Royal 162 race report- gear and prep

I'm not sure where to start, but I figure you can never go wrong by thanking those that got you to where you are. I know I pedaled every mile of the race, but without these people and products behind me, I wouldn't have had the opportunity to try. My thanks and gratitude go first to my wife and girls. They've spent hours and days without me being home so I can ride and train. They may not always understand, but they love and support me and thats what matters. Greg, Sterling, and all the guys at Rasmussen Bike Shop for equipment, nutrition, and repairs. These guys "get it" and that's just the way it is. Genuine Innovations for my CO2 needs (which thankfully I didn't need). Oakley for my eye gear that I eventually had to relegate to my helmet. To Chris "Almanzo" for daring to dream big and coming up with such a killer event along with his army of volunteers who have a firm grasp on what it is to have a dream. And finally to all my buddies that are out there training, racing, and riding with me, no matter how crazy the conditions or off the wall my ride idea is, I can usually con at least one of you suckers into joining me and that's saying something!

Bike Selection:
Bianchi Axis CX bike, Specialized Captain front tire, Kenda Small block 8 rear tire, Banjo brothers cue sheet holder and seat bag, and FSA K-wing carbon flat top drop bars, clip on rear fender, and down tube protector (aka crud cutter). The group is an eclectic (but stock) collection of 3x9 Tiagra brifters, Sugino touring crank (48-38-28), Deore LX rear der, and 11-32 cassette.

Riding gear (head to toe):
Specialized S-work MTB helmet, Oakley Radar with orange lens, Rasmussen bike shop cap, Pearl Izumi rain jacket, Rasmussen wind vest, Rasmussen wool jersey, Nike sleeveless base, Specialized deflect gloves, Rasmussen bibs, Specialized leg warmers, Swiftwick 5" wool socks, and Specialized S-works MTB shoes.

OK, now that all the gear geekery is out of the way, here are the ride stats for the Royal 162.

I signed up for the Royal 162 in January wondering what I might be getting myself into. As a veteran of 3 previous instances of the Almanzo 100, I knew at least part of the challenge that lay ahead in getting to the finish line of this event. However, adding 60 more miles of gravel and surpassing my longest ever ride of 125 miles (on pavement), would be getting me into completely new territory. My training wasn't exactly spectacular as I started the year strong and then hit a small burnout after my failure at CIRREM this year. That carried through most of March before I really got back on track and started logging some decent miles again. I mixed both cardio efforts doing fast MTB rides along with long steady rides on the CX bike plugging away miles fully loaded and into the wind. Those long windy rides really helped to pay off in the mental fortitude game. About the only hole in my plan was the lack of a really long ride. My planned 120+ ride got canned when I broke a seat clamp bolt at mile 40 and rode 22 miles back to a pick up point standing. So the longest ride for the year ended up around 70 miles.

Broken seat much?

The Gents Race in early April left another smoldering question in my mind. Would I physically be able to survive that long? 60ish miles of relatively flat gravel on a dry sunny day with a rotating paceline of teammates left me cramped and bonking hard by the end. How would I last for another 100 miles on my own? Was I getting in over my head?

Forced smile/grimace after the gents race

The week before the race, I knew I had done whatever I could training wise and there wouldn't be anything to change that. I spent the week with one eye peeled to a steadily worsening forecast and fretting about nutrition and what gear I'd need. I finally decided to pack an early spring type of ride kit and throw in a few optional pieces that would be a game time decision like my wool jersey and lightweight winter gloves. I also decided to toss the fender and crud cutter in "just in case" I wanted them. I don't think I'd be remiss in attributing a fair amount of success/failure by everyone this weekend to good/not so good selections of their gear. Finally, I was packed and on the road to pick up my compatriots for the weekend: Squirrel, Courtney, and Skids.

On the way

Feeling pretty good as we jammed to some tunes going down the road, I got a call. I'm notorious for leaving various gear behind, but this time I was confident my list was double checked and I was locked and loaded. My wife's voice came on the line, "Umm, honey, did you know there's a gallon ziplock filled with gels and stuff sitting on the couch?" "F#$k!" I believe was the expression that came out first. Nothing like heading off for the wild unknown and leaving 95% of your nutrition behind. I started grabbing salted nut rolls and candy bars at gas stations as we stopped along the way and would see what I could grab from the bike shop in Rochester.

Left at home

We got to Rochester and swung by the bike shop that was closing at 6 (but thankfully still let us in at 6:02) and I stocked up with some Stinger waffles, Accel gels, and Cliff shot blocks to hopefully keep me moving. At the packet pick-up/check in we tossed a couple beers back and chatted nervously about the expected race conditions for the morrow, before we headed off towards Spring Valley to find our hotel and some dinner. We each gorged on foot long subs and then rolled to the hotel where we were greeted with the fact that we'd somehow scored the jacuzzi suite for the next 2 nights.

We spent the rest of the evening futzing with our final gear and nutrition selections, but maybe me more so than the others as I wanted EVERYTHING in its place and ready for the morning. Since I'd be starting 2 hours early than the others, I didn't want to have to chase anything down. It was at this point I made the decision to go with my wool jersey and more winter oriented gloves. Sometimes it pays to have ultra endurance geek friends that like to blog. I've seen it elsewhere too, but basically George put it out there not too long ago and it stuck in my head that while you may will get wet, at least if you've got wool gear on, you're still going to retain some warmth from it versus most synthetic fabrics that today's gear is typically made from. Warm+wet > cold+wet! I headed off for a fitful nights sleep wondering what lay in store for me the morning.

Almanzo 100 race report- 2010 version

This is my 3rd year racing 100 miles of gravel in the wilds of Rochester, Minnesota. I was hoping this year would be my turn to tame the course that has managed to leave me feeling broken and battered in the previous installments. While my fitness and strength are ahead of previous years, I'm completely and utterly lacking in any long miles. There's one thing I've learned the hard way and that is many hours of short duration hard efforts don't easily translate into long days of endurance pace in the saddle. Sure you've got a fitness base, but after a couple short hours, that goes out the window and it's up to muscle memory gained during those long slogs. Ready or not, I was headed up with a few good friends to share the party and pain that are an integral part of this race.

Loaded up mommy van:

Squirrel, Fuller, Maria, and I met up Friday afternoon for the 3ish hour jaunt up to the race. Once in Rochester we quickly checked into our digs and got ready to roll back out two wheel style. We rolled down to the bar where pre-race check-in was going down. Chris and his band of merry volunteers were there greeting us with all the goodness that is packed into this race. Alas, us Iowans aren't used to needing to lock our bikes and we'd all neglected to bring the necessary hardware to do so. So, we opted for the next best thing and hauled all our bikes up to the 2nd floor bar area so we could stand watch while downing a few barely flavored waters. As the crowd grew, we all made some new friends and enjoyed a few more brews. Finally, my stomach said enough and was threatening to strike if I didn't feed it soon. Off we went in search of a suitable pre-race feast. The consensus was that we could hit the Famous Daves attached to the hotel. Before we could endeavor down such a path though, we needed more refreshments. A quick stop off at the beverage shop made sure our pallets would stay whetted as long as need be.

Bevvie run:

As the evening wore on, we prudently went to bed at a reasonable hour. With the start time moved back slightly, we were able to fully enjoy a good breakfast at the hotel before loading back up and heading to Spring Valley where the race has found a new home. As we pulled into the school parking lot, we were greeted by the site of several hundred cyclists getting ready to embark on a day full of fun, pain, and adventure. We finished our preparations, dropped our bags for the checkpoint, and headed up to the start line to chat with friends or in my case pace nervously about. I lined up around 5 rows back from the front knowing roughly where to cede myself.

Busy start line:

From the start the pace was pretty brisk, but I didn't feel like it was quite out of control. I yo-yoed in between the front pack and a smaller 2nd pack until we hit the first downhill a couple miles in. Knowing the size of the group and being pretty sure we were going down a pretty wild descent, I kept my speed in check expecting chaos. Sure enough, about 2/3 of the way down, bikes and bodies were stretched from ditch to ditch. I slowed up being sure to not stop and lend myself to the carnage, but took a look to see if everyone looked to be covered with care. While the scene was pretty gnarly, it looked like most escaped the worst or were being tended to so I rolled on with the lead pack now having opened a gap on the rest of us.

Smiling about early on:

We rolled off through undulating terrain that had a combination of most hill types from rollers to steeps to extended climbs along with some screaming fast downhills. I hit a max of 42 mph on one of these descents. Considering I'm a pretty conservative descender and even moreso on gravel, I heard tale of people hitting near 50 on some of the faster spots. I remember feeling pretty good for the first 40 or so miles and was working my way through nourishment and enjoying the ride. Then my legs started aching. I don't necessarily think it was the effort as I hadn't really pounded them hard anywhere, but the aching became progressively worse until the muscles were just screaming at me.

I tagged onto a few groups here and there, but eventually as I worked my way to the checkpoint, more and more riders would pass and leave me in the dust. I think I'd been sitting in the top 20-30 riders before the legs started heading south, but now I figured I'd been passed by another 20 or so riders. I worked my way down to the final directions on the cue sheet and noted the checkpoint was coming up. I felt like the last few miles into the checkpoint drug on forever as I'd been expecting it for so long. I finally rolled in and started digging into my drop bag for more nutrition, bottles, and some ibuprofen. Even with the leg aches, I still felt the best I'd ever had in the past 3 years rolling into the checkpoint. Definitely a bonus in my book. I was taking my time waiting for the drugs to kick when Fuller rolled in about 10 minutes back of me. Squirrel was another 5 minutes back and came in shouting for the beer he'd placed in the checkpoint cooler.

I decided to enjoy my respite and roll off whenever they were ready. All told, I spent a shade over 20 minutes at the checkpoint and enjoyed pretty much every second of it. Looking at the results, it wouldn't really have made much of a difference if I'd been out in 2 minutes or 20 minutes so I'm not beating myself up too bad about the amount of time I took. The 3 of us rolled out through the park enjoying some pavement until we saw where we were headed. Up, up, up was the name of the game as we exited the park on an extended pavement climb. I'd been rolling the hills pretty steady all day and just put my head down and started cranking over the pedals. I slowly rolled off the front with another rider that had joined our group. I figured the rest would latch back on as soon as we crested the hill, but instead we rolled on alone.

Leaving the checkpoint:

I paced myself out and started the slow game of reeling in or being passed by one rider at a time. Finally, we rolled down into the water crossing area Chris had told us about. It didn't look ridable and I wasn't in any mood to chance a full on bath, so I hopped off and enjoyed cooling my feet in the refreshingly icy water.  Out the other side and we were treated to another climb through what appeared to be a mostly abandoned old quarry area.

"Dry" water crossing:

Heading up through the quarry area:

Rolling up the next to last climb:

As we neared the last 10 miles, my spidey senses kicked in and I was pretty sure I knew where we were and where we were headed. Sure enough, we looped back into the first section of the course. We headed back to the downhill that was the site of the pileup and now became a long grinding climb out of the valley. I caught the final rider I would pass here and decided it was time to pour it all out over the last couple of miles. We'd been passing each other back and forth to this point, but I was bound to have the last pass and make it stick. One more climb that I clawed my way up and it was flat all the way back to the school and finish line. As in years past, the previous finishers were hanging around to cheer on those rolling in and Chris was there with a big smile, handshake, and congratulations. I finished it out in 53rd spot with a total ride of 6:45. Squirrel and Fuller rolled in a scant 6 minutes back of me after having chased me for a bit after that opening climb I'd gapped them on.

Race rig:

Best race yet:

All in all, Almanzo 100 is still one of my favorite races and I hope to keep doing it for years to come. The combination of people, course, and challenge all work in near perfect harmony to create what every race should aspire to be. Thanks Chris!

The face of a satisfied rider:

Some photos stolen from here

Almanzo Race Report (the unabridged addition)

Sorry for the delay in getting a race report posted, but a week's vacation had to be enjoyed and that surely didn't include typing out a full fledged novella regarding the trials, tribulations, and depth of emotions that surround racing through 100 miles of the most beautiful gravel Rochester, Minnesota has to offer. The plus side to 1900 miles and 30+ hours on the road is that you get a lot of time to repeat the entire experience in your head and develop some interesting thoughts about it. For those with ADD in the crowd, you can skip off to the brief recap here. For those interested in sharing the journey a potty break may be in your best interest if you don't like to stop in the middle.

Onward and upward. As I laid out in my pre-race planning, I set a few goals for myself before embarking on this years Almanzo 100. After all was said and done, I took my preset plan, conditions of the day, and worked them to the point that I was happy with the outcome.

Race packet extraordinaire


As most entrants of this year's iteration will tell you, the wind was nothing short of brutal. Roughly 25 mph sustained winds out of the northwest with gusts nearing 40 were the bane of most come race day. The early morning cool weather didn't really seem to affect me. I rode with my full finger lightweight gloves, a sleeveless base, short sleeve jersey, calf height socks, leg warmers, shorts, wind/water proof jacket, and a sweat cap. I never was cold during the ride even considering the 35ish degree windchill for the start. I assume riding throughout the winter has conditioned me pretty well for temps and I was happy that I also had the experience needed to pick out pretty much the perfect gear selection. The only change I made during the day was at the checkpoint I dropped the full jacket for arm warmers and wind vest out of my support bag. I have to give a huge thanks to Annie (the race director's wife) for agreeing to tote my support materials out to the checkpoint along with the materials she was hauling for a friend of hers that she was crewing for. I could have made the race running the setup I had on including nutrition, but it was nice knowing I had a little less thinking on my plate by having a crew, so thank you sincerely.

The Rassy death squad 5000 jersey of the day.


We rolled through town with a neutral start provided by Chris (the race director) himself who lead us to the first gravel of the day. I knew even with the rollout that I wanted to be up front in the pack when we started into the gravel as the first climb would be a selection process. As expected, the lead group made a breka this year, the same as last at the top of the hill. The difference being this year I was within spitting distance of them as they crested the hill. Unfortunately, spitting distance is not within drafting distance and they kept the hammer down to help shake off chasers such as myself. I soon found a strong pace and was keeping the pack pretty well in site for quite some time. Eventually, Dennis and a few others worked up to me and I joined in on their paceline with some yo-yoing on and off. They were still riding hard and eventually I worked my way off the back as the pace was putting my heartrate higher than I planned in order to survive the back half of the race. I eased off and started the long journey of riding mostly alone.

As we rolled into the first pass through checkpoint I was greeted by a woman excitedly telling me to turn left in lieu of right at a particular turn. Then she was saying something about the next turn and it was lost on me. Luckily I happened upon another rider waiting for traffic to clear and followed him through town with nary a missed turn. As we headed out of town, we hit the first hill worth remembering in my mind. The 4 lane super gravel highway that climbed for 3 miles out of town last year had now been paved over and rendered useless for our purposes. As luck would have it, there was a turnoff to a nice steeper yet shorter climb out of the valley. I approached the hills with less gusto than normal as I knew I needed to hold something back for the wind that lay in wait on the back portion of the course.

Nearing the 50 mile mark I decided to answer the call of nature that had been ringing for a bit. I hopped off the bike with nary a rider in site and was soon enough rewarded by the site of 4 or 5 riders working their way past me including Steve who I admit was riding well and closer to me than I'd anticipated. Damn, there's 5 spots down that I was going to have to push hard to get back.

As I remounted the bike and felt the wind pick up around me, my plan started to fray heavily around the seems. I suddenly had lost my legs. While I admittedly was having a bit of stomach churning before the stop, I had been pressing long enough and fast enough that it hadn't really been on my mind. Something was going wrong with my nutrition in very short order. My stomach began to do flip flops as I made every effort to keep the pedals turning. I was 15 miles from the checkpoint. I latched back onto another rider I had passed earlier as he now churned slowly past me. I vaguely remember the screaming rutted downhill where we were jumping the rain ruts repeatedly as the road serpentined down into a hollow.

I'm a bit fuzzy about the order of the climbs and places in this area, but somewhere we hit a beautiful stretch of Minnesota level B road which just means the gravel isn't as fresh as the rest of the roads, we rode more steep hills, and we passed the Masonic park in the middle of nowhere. The significant things that stick out for me in this stretch are started to completely lose my shit as I passed the Masonic park. Something snapped in my psyche and every emotion I'd been keeping in check to that point blew up. I was hurting, crying, pissed off, contemplating a DNF, and sick all at the same time. Then came the hill. I ended up in my granny gear and saw a 2.XX reading on my speedo. I literally wobbled and weaved my way to the top. As each corner passed, the pain in my legs was only surpassed by the grumbling in my stomach. Each corner poised the question in my head of whether or not I should stop to try throwing up. Each corner posted me closer to the checkpoint.

I'm sure this won't be the first time for me as long as I continue to push my endurance and boundaries, but diving deep into your own black hole of despair isn't a whole lot of fun. I sincerely considered DNFing at the checkpoint in Spring Valley. I knew what lay ahead if I furthered on. The wind would be worse and quite possibly there were new hills to be tackled as well. I made the checkpoint in 21st. Other than the nature break, I had yet to be off my bike even though at some points I was barely moving. My speed average had plummeted from almost 19 mph in the first 25 miles to barely 14. I reached Annie in the support vehicle and she informed me that Steve had only arrived a short time earlier and was still at the convenience store.

I was admittedly shell shocked at this point. I was surprised I'd made it to the checkpoint in 21st. While I hadn't seen too many people pass me, my mind was telling me that I was failing miserably and way off the pace. Every turn of the pedals had yielded nothing but protests from my legs. I grabbed my cooler and proceeded to lose my shit completely and thoroughly. It was dark, ugly, and spiraling downward at breakneck speed. I later apologized to Annie for what had to be a pretty unsightly showing of raw emotions in front of she and her daughter as I sat nearby on my cooler and contemplated my life that brought me to such a point. Steve came back from the store and stopped for a minute to check on me. Something as simple as asking how I was doing proved to be impossible to answer. I simply couldn't speak. I opened my mouth and no words would come. It was a new and somewhat intimidating place to be in. I finally croaked out that I was shelled and not sure what lay in wait for my continuance. Steve voiced a few words of wisdom to get some rest and respite from the wind and then figure things out before he headed off to finish out the race.

Feeling I was making something of a spectacle at this point I spied a sunny spot next to an adjacent building that would give me some relief from the wind. I picked out a spot and flopped to the ground. Some of the thoughts I found at that moment are more personal that I can really share, but suffice it say that I thoroughly questioned my sanity, my abilities as a man, and my failures as a father and husband. It had been quite some time since I'd been to these depths and not something to really aspire to hit on any regular basis. I munched on a quarter of a PB&J I'd packed as solid food in my support bag. As I rested, I slowly regained some composure and felt a bit better. Apparently PB&J has restorative powers that I was unaware of. In what felt like much longer than it really was, I slowly got myself back together, packed my support bag up, and bid adieu to the checkpoint.

I headed back into the grind. I knew it would be windy, but wasn't quite prepared for that level of ferocity. Soon enough I did find my form and my legs, though tired, were actually pacing along surprisingly well. I could make out a couple of riders in front of me and eventually I met up with a local Rochester rider by the name of Drew. At first I passed him and started opening a gap. Then we came upon Steve who was emerging from his own roadside stupor. I slowed my pace to try and work with him, but alas he was facing his own demons at that point and waived me forward. Drew had passed me back at this point and slowly I crept back to his wheel. Quite literally it would take a mile or two before I could close a hundred yard gap at the pace we were riding. 10-13 mph into the wind was about all we could muster at this point. We were leaning hard into the cross wind and literally hanging on for dear life during the gusts. At one point I had a gust move my front wheel sideways across the gravel even as I had my weight on it.

As I clawed my way back to Drew, we decided it was time to partner up and hopefully share some work. We actually worked out well drafting each other without guttering and sharing pulls into the wind. I began to look forward to our turns in this section as at least it would change the side of my face the wind was scouring. As we worked together, Drew and I exchanged some pleasantries, but mostly settled in for the grind. We managed to reel in another rider or two along the way and similarly one of us would drop and reattach from time to time as well. The finally time left me out in front of Drew and nearly catching 2 riders in front of me. Strangely enough, one of them was Dennis, who I assumed was all ready drinking chocolate milk at the finish line and hanging out.

I crept to within roughly 100 yards of the riders before we hit the pavement section. That was it as they both turned on the afterburners with the pavement and tailwind and were gone. My pace doubled and tripled at points as I too enjoyed the smooth tarmac knowing we were a stones throw away from being done.

The last cue sheet.


A funny thing happened as I neared the finish line. I felt great. I was definitely tired, but my legs still had more left in them. I was able to finish and enjoy the post race beers, schwag, and festivities of cheering for other finishers. I made it. I managed to battle back from a massive bonk/funk/failure mode and finished relatively strong. I was 20th across the line with a total time of 7:57:35.

The bike computer showing no bonus miles this year!

I'll post my afterthoughts separately, but a huge thanks go out to Chris, his wife Annie, and the rest of his family, friends, and sponsors that help make this race something truly special.

Almanzo brief recap

Considering we're heading out for a week tomorrow on vacation, I thought I'd be nice and jot down a few notes for all my slavering minions. I'll get a full on write up going when we get back. In the meantime a few shots and a few words.

The beginning

The middle

The end.

Even short stories have to have the 3 requisite pieces- beginning, middle, and end. In the beginning it was good- tailwind, chilly weather, and fresh legs. In the middle I couldn't decide which was most important- puking, crying, DNF'ing, or completion. In the end it was hard and the headwinds sucked, but it was worth it. I've got a lot to say about my 8 hours "out there" (since when don't I), but that will have to wait for another time. Preliminary placement was 20th out of 84ish starters and 64ish actual finishers (based on what I heard since actual numbers aren't out yet).

Almanzo race craft

As Fuller and I head off for Almanzo tomorrow afternoon, I thought I'd hash out my thoughts for the race. I have no delusions of grandeur. I have no reason to believe I'm going to do more than hopefully finish faster and closer to the front of the pack than I did last year. So, the discussion is really for my own benefit in figuring out how to make that happen by using what I learned last year. In no particular order, here are the things I'm planning to change up:

1) Better bike. I'm going with my Bianchi Axis CX bike versus the Giant Rainier 26" MTB this year. I'll have a huge weight savings (8+ lbs) and skinnier tires. I'm sure I won't be as fast on some of the loose sections, but overall, I know I'll be rolling at a higher average speed.

2) Less crap. I hauled a plethora of stuff last year on my back. I had extra clothes, a ton of food, and a bunch of extra water that I didn't need. This year I'm paring it down significantly. While I'm going to haul the Camelback up to the race, I'm not sure if I'll use it or not. I'm pretty sure I've got someone lined up to haul extra bottles to the checkpoint at mile 65 so I think I can survive on a couple 24 oz bottles in the cages and everything else in my jersey, bento, and seatbag. Weight off my back will be huge when climbing. I really hate the up down jerking of a pack even when its cinched down. I've also got a lot better grasp of what I need for this type of ride after having another year under my belt.

3) Don't get lost. I had 6+ bonus miles last year that were simple mistakes of not following the cue sheet and mileage indicators. I'll be paying a lot more attention to that this year.

4) Find a drafting partner. Last year we got our asses handed to us with a steady NW headwind on the last portion of the course blowing roughly 15-20 mph. It's forecast for the same this year. I rode mostly alone last year. I'd like to hook up with someone at the checkpoint to see if we can draft together and help kill off the monotonous parts of the wind. If not, I'll be employing my strategy from the past weekend. Set a steady pace and don't blow up fighting the wind. Wait until you can make use of it.

5) Don't blow up. I went hard the first 65 miles to the checkpoint last year. I felt pretty crappy by the time I got off the bike and had a hard time finding the energy to get moving again. It cost me time at the checkpoint and I bonked as I headed north into the winds. I'll be keeping myself in check by watching the heart rate monitor and pacing. Hopefully I can find some kind souls to draft with on the first portion of the course as well. With an additional 40 or so people riding this year, I'm thinking it's a lot more likely. I rode probably 80 miles by myself last year and hope I don't repeat that this year (unless of course I'm in the lead...)

6) Less time at the stop. Last year the leaders blew through the stop in roughly 30 seconds or so the story goes. I don't anticipate being that speedy, but I'm not going to spend the 40+ minutes I did last year relaxing and trying to talk myself into the last 35 miles. With hopefully having support this year, I'd really like to be in and out in 5-10 minutes at the most and just eat/fuel on the bike.

7) Eat/fuel while riding. I tried last year with some Hammer products- Perpetuem and HEED, but as I figured out late last year, those products weren't working for me and left me more bloated than anything. This year I'll be eating mostly gels and that type of stuff for the first portion of the race. I'll have something solid I can eat while riding for the start of the 2nd portion and continue on with the gels and other snacks. I'm also planning on running Accelerade for most of my liquids and probably a single bottle of water mixed in along the way. I'll be keeping my food handing in a bento box on the top tube. I'm much more likely to eat if I have it sitting in front of my face rather than in jersey pockets.

8) Ride my own race. It's a century ride. I've done it before and I know I can do it on my own. If it works out to hook up with some other riders and share some drafting/work, sweet. If not, I'll be going it on my own rather than attempting to alter my own plan of attack to try to hang on or wait for other people.

Goals:

I might as well publicly throw out my goals for this race. They're not exactly lofty, but considering I'm just starting my 3rd year into riding and 2nd year into racing, I'll take small gains as a sign of progress. Considering I really just want to ride my bike for 100 miles and enjoy the scenery, most everything else is a bonus.

1) 7 hours total time. This would be nearly an hour off last years total. Considering my average speed last year, I only need a very minor improvement in my moving average and to not get lost or spend more than 10 minutes at the checkpoint to achieve this. It should be pretty reasonable unless the course conditions conspire to kick my ass (which is entirely possible too).

2) Top 30 riders. With a field of 100+ this year, that would put me in the top 1/3 of the class. Last year I was 31st in which was basically the middle guy of the field. Who knows what the skills are of all the new riders this year, but I don't think its entirely unreasonable for me to think I can make the top 30 as long as most things fall into place.

That pretty much sums it up. Chris puts on one awesome race and I'm looking forward to having a blast again this year. I might even be able to snag a post ride beer this time. I was so strung out last year that a Coke was all I could think about nursing. See you on the dark side.

Almanzo 100 race report

Almanzo 100- May 17, 2008

100 miles of gravel should be tough, it should challenge you, but it should also reward. Almanzo 100 didn’t disappoint on any of those counts. While I could ponder and pontificate on the additional training I should have put in, the missed turns I made, or how much the headwind sucked, it is what it is and that’s all part of the race to the finish. As my buddy Squirrel so eloquently has put down in permanent ink- “Suck it up” is the only true option.

I tried to set no expectations for myself other than finishing as strongly as I could. This being my first true race, I just needed to finish. I’m too damn competitive for that so as last week focused my attention on the race I picked a few goals to shoot for. I wanted to finish in less than 9 hours total time out, in the top half of the field, and average better than 12.5 mph moving average. Considering my last gravel grinder put me at 10 hours out with over 8 hours of actual riding time, I thought these were good set points.

Friday afternoon found me picking up Squirrel for a dash north to Rochester. We’d be camping out in the race director’s (Chris Skogen) backyard. We arrived in plenty of time to take a quick spin to the shop that was hosting the start/finish line for the race. A stop for some supplies for the evening meal and we headed back to our host’s house. Calling it an early evening we turned in before 10. I tossed and turned most of the night regretting that I hadn’t brought any type of pad for my sleeping bag.

Saturday morning dawned early, chilly, and slightly overcast as I fought off the shivers and tried to decide the best clothing options for the day. I chose a sleeveless base layer, bibs, my new Rasmussen Death Squad five thousand short sleeve jersey, and arm and leg warmers. A breakfast of a homemade waffle offered up by an awesome host was downed and off to the starting line we went. Roughly an hour before start, we wandered around the host store and met some of the other competitors.

The weapons of choice were as widely varied as the competitors. Being that there were 3 categories- single speed, fixed, and open, the hardware ranged from simple to complex. One of the more interesting combos I ran across was a cross style bike with mono shock setup, running deep section HED rims and cross tires with a mustache type handlebar. I felt a bit outgunned with a hard tail mountain bike and 2.1 tires. The sun started to creep out as we inched closer to the 8 AM start time and I started warming up. Just as the race director was making the announcement to start lining up I made the decision to peel off the leg warmers and stuff them into my hydration pack. If there had been a few more minutes to spare, I’d mostly like have tossed the arm warmers as well.

The start:


With a field around 60 strong, we rolled to the start line for a mass rollout. As we had the first few miles rolling through downtown Rochester, I made sure to stay in the top 20 riders to guarantee I wouldn’t be dropped by any errant stoplights. The first little miscue came as the lead pack accidentally turned to cut through a parking lot only to find no outlet. A number circled back, but I chose the path of least resistance by hopping the curb and going across the parking. Score one for the mountain bike! I was in the top 3 for the first, last and only time of the day.

As we warmed up and rolled into the start of the gravel, we hit a couple small rollers to get us ready for the first climb of the day. A 200’ 8-10% grade blew the group into pieces. While I had gears and could easily make my way to the top, I quickly learned that I could only put power down by being seated. I had too much pressure in my tires with pretty small knobs that wouldn’t bite on the hard pack with loose pebbles on top. This would be a pretty common occurrence for the rest of the day which forced me to either climb seated or really work on smoothing my pedal stroke while standing. The main group of riders totaled somewhere in the low teens and were off like a shot from the top of the hill.

Squirrel enjoying the gravel early:


I worked into a steady pace trying to keep my heart rate in the lower half of zone 4 and began rolling off the miles. I tailed Squirrel and a few other riders in the first section and witnessed a rider go down. A very brief slow down to make sure he was ok and we picked the pace right back up. The miles now varied between flat and rollers with no major climbs for a time. Mile 25 found us rolling through the town of St Charles and enjoying another short stretch of pavement along with another climb as we headed up to and beyond I-90. This also turned us into our first real foray with the headwinds as we headed back west. After enjoying cross tailwinds strong from the northwest for the first jaunt, the headwinds hit hard.

We now stair stepped our way south and west varying between cross tail and head winds. Outside of the next pass through town of Chatsfield, we found the longest climb of the day. Close two 2 miles long and gaining over 300’ of elevation, we transitioned from tarmac back to a wide packed gravel road. I kept my pace up on the climb and slowly put some time on a couple fellows that had gained on me in the downhill into town. At this point in the race, seeing other competitors started coming mostly in areas where I could see more than a quarter mile in front or behind. For all intents and purposes, I was now riding alone.

Now focused on getting to the checkpoint in good time without making any stops, I made my first miscue of the race. I easily made the un-marked turn noted on the cue sheet, but was befuddled by a road sign that noted a turn to the right while there was also a route going straight. Convinced that the road turning sign signified that the route we were on also turned, I pushed ahead. I noted several riders that were coming up on me at the time, questioning my decision, but ultimately following me. Damn, it was a wrong turn. I paid no attention that all the bike tracks had gone straight being that I was so convinced I was right. After a mile, we all pretty much realized the mistake and doubled back down the road for 2 bonus miles on the route! At least I only drug 3 other souls along with me.

Squirrel and another fixed gear rider had caught back up to me at this point and pulled ahead for a short time. However, the road soon was to my benefit with flats and a few long downhills with very short rollers at the ends. I soon passed them and put time in the bank as well. I pushed along and rolled into the only checkpoint on the route in Spring Valley at the 62 mile marker. I was averaging well over 15 mph at this point and while I was starting to tire, I still felt good. It was time for a brief stop to reload on water (70 oz in the hydration pack and 24 oz on the bike), take some ibuprofen, and reapply the chamois crème. In retrospect, I spent too much time at the checkpoint as I was stopped near 30 minutes.

My legs felt strong and slightly recharged as I pulled out of the checkpoint and into the wind. This leg was to be almost entirely north into a steady 15-20 mph wind from the northwest. I pulled away from some riders on the first section out of the checkpoint only to start the downhill slide to bonksville around mile 75. My heart rate freefell by 30 beats per minute, my legs ached, and although I could tell myself just to stay on the bike, it wasn’t happening. On a small incline, I finally hopped off the bike and walked for roughly 100 yards until I could force myself back on. I felt like hell and knew it was going to be a rough finish with 25 miles of headwind yet to fight.

I struggled through another 7 miles and finally took a quick break for another gel and more ibuprofen. I stopped completely this time for about 5 minutes and focused on stretching out and getting my head together. I kept expecting riders to start streaming past me, but they didn’t come. I wasn’t the only one suffering the winds! I resigned myself to start back up and gladly found my pace slowly picking up. I was working through it.

Around mile 85 I made my second tactical mistake of the day. Not realizing that we were doing two turns in quick succession, I instead focused on the large figure dotting the center of the road ahead. Setting in the middle of an intersection was an ominous figure of a large farm dog. He was waiting ever so patiently for me to slowly crawl up to his turf. As I took stock of my options, out-sprinting him was quickly dismissed and the water bottle plan was put into action. As I approached, another large dog joined him. With about 20 feet left to go, I realized the main dog was indeed panting, wagging his tail, and friendly as could be. Whew, disaster avoided, or so I thought. I was so engrossed on finding a way to fight off a possibly hostile dog, I missed that fact that he was indeed directly ensconced in the middle of the intersection I needed to turn at. I rode 2 miles down the road before realizing I was indeed off course once again. If you’re keeping track I’m now at 6 bonus miles for the ride, woohoo….

I doubled back to find my mistake and was at least thankful for the tailwind that propelled me back. I couldn’t help but wonder how many people had just passed me while I was out exploring off course. The mistake helped fuel some determination back into my legs and I began riding with intent instead of desperation. I downed another gel and got back to work.

We finally hit pavement with about 8 miles left to go. I kept expecting there to be a turnoff to more gravel somewhere in there, but mercifully we were done. The torture was quite over though as the pavement turned to some short, but wicked rollers as we headed back to Rochester. I succumbed to a single rider in this section and couldn’t keep pace as he slowly pulled off the front. As we hit the city limits, I began to feel that bit of euphoria of knowing that I would make it to the finish. The final mile found me in a whole new world. I was physically and mentally drained, my emotions let go and the evidence starting pooling under my sunglasses. I made the final turn, the cowbell, the cheers, the finish line. I shot through and stayed on my feet long enough to check in until I could collapse against the building with my head in my hands. I was done.

The finish:


7:54 was my final time. 14.5 mph moving average. 31st place overall. As the field narrowed to 59 official entrants, I only missed my goal of top half of the field even though I handily exceeded both my average speed and overall time goals. I loved it, I hated it, I want more.

Link to more pictures and total results. All photo credits to Chris Skogen!

Ritual and Reward

Last night was another installment of the Ritual Ride with the PRC squad. I'm absolutely stunned at how quickly this ride has grown. I managed to make it to the first "pre-ride" and the first ride itself and the turnout has been nothing short of awesome. I think last night's count was around 55 riders total with at least 50% being women. If nothing else, this should tell you how sorely an event geared towards getting women involved in the sport has been missed in the area. The beautiful weather didn't hurt much either.

We took off a shade past 5:30 and did the usual rollout with the group splitting into A & B where the A group does an extra loop through part of Waterworks in order to keep the overall group a little spread out on the bike trail section plus keep us closer to arriving back as a single group. The A group wasn't attacking by any means, but the pace was nice and fast at 20-22 mph average for most of the ride. As per usual, once we hit the couple rollers outside of Orilla, I dropped off the back a bit and wasn't able to close back up by the time we hit the soccer hill. A couple red lights as we rolled back into town played in my favor though and eventually i caught the few riders left from the front of the group as we crossed Fleur. 34 miles on the legs and I felt pretty good when I hit home. Amazing how much easier it is to push skinny tires and a light frame after riding the mountain bike for a few days.

Today actually marks the 5th day in a row I've gotten to ride my bike. It's my 3rd commute in this week and I'm definitely starting to consider taking a more proactive approach to doing some commuting the rest of the summer. I've got about a 18-19 mile round trip depending on the detour I'm currently taking. Overall it runs about 35ish minutes on the mountain bike without pushing too hard. My biggest problem is that if I tried to ride slow enough to not sweat, it would take me almost an hour to ride in and that's too long. So, I'm set with taking baby wipe showers once I get in and just sweating it out once I get home.

I mainly rode in today to get a few shakedown miles on the mountain bike after tearing it mostly down on Tuesday night to clean and prep it for the race this weekend. The good news is that everything seemed spot on this morning with a new chain, greased and clean rear hub/axle, and a good general cleaning overall. I did find some loose spokes which I put a bit of tension back into. They were casualties of me tweaking the rear wheel during an endo this spring. The rim was tweaked just enough that we really had to tension one side and loosen the other. They apparently finished loosening on their own so I'll be keeping an eye on them in the future. I'll probably need to keep on the lookout for a good cheap wheel sometime this year and put this one into reserve.

I've been trying to avoid setting any goals for this weekend beyond finishing. However, I'm just too damned competitive for that idea to hold water. At least I'm going to try to set some hopefully modest goals considering my current conditioning and lack of long distance rides this year. I really would like to finish in the top half of the field which would currently mean about 30th place give or take. I'd also like to finish in under 9 hours total time out. I'm shooting to stay on the bike as much as possible and be self contained beyond a single water stop somewhere along the way. I'm carrying 70 oz of water on my back and another 24 of perpetuem fuel in my bike bottle so I figure I'll be good for 2/3 or better of the race on liquids. Obviously part of my fueling will be liquid, but I'm also planning some Clif bars, and various other goodies stuffed in somewhere. Beyond that, I'm going to try to carry a sane amount of spares and parts and keep my total pack weight under 15 pounds. We'll see how that goes. Wish me luck!