6.5? Yeah, more on that in a minute.

Stage 6 is a slightly more moderate stage, starting with a face-kick climb out of town, but then hooking in to Boreas Pass road, which gently slopes up to an aid station on the Continental Divide. From there, it drops down on the Gold Dust trail and loops back on another relatively gentle gravel grinder climb, back through the aid station, and down into town via Boreas Pass and some of the same roads/trails we’d climbed out of on the first day of racing. Basically, a giant figure-8.

Since Matt had helped me out so much during the week, I figured it’d be fun to meet him at the Aid Station and ride the back loop of the 8 together, treating him to one of the more fun descents and unique “channel” of the Gold Dust Trail without forcing him to traverse any stupidly steep or difficult climbs in the process. My GC lead was insurmountable, so I figured we’d just ride party pace and have a good time.

The start of stage 6 is a hammer fest up the bottom of Boreas Pass to get to the first section of trail (where the group bottlenecks and hits the granny gear). I was feeling my cross country/angry pace from stage 5 on top of the usual “6 days of racing” fatigue, so I didn’t do a good job with the hammering. I did go as fast as I felt able, though, and, as I had done before, I tried my best to grind up the steep spots rather than pushing. Eventually I made it out on to Boreas Pass and slogged my way to the top to meet Matt. I stopped to refill a bottle and he fell in with me to fly back down the trail.

We stopped once on the Gold Dust trail to help out a guy who needed a pump. On the enduro section following that, I realized that Matt may be having a bad day, because I dropped him going downhill (he’s got mad BMX kid skills, so he’s usually faster than I am). Once we were back on gravel and climbing back up to the aid station, it was confirmed- Matt was having altitude problems. Being the perennial momma bird, I stopped with him for a snack then towed him the best I could back up to the aid station. There, we handed out some Coors Lite (the PBR handup was already gone by then) and passed around a bottle of Red Stag. Matt rode off with Donna Miller and Devon Balet, and I took off to finish the course.

My favorite part of stage 6 is racing the whiskey to the bottom.

Later on that afternoon, we headed to the Quandry Grill for the awards banquet.

Susan and I were joined on the World Championship podium with the Angry Single Speeder. As you can see, Susan has her pinching fingers ready, and I’m hauling back for an Epic sized smack…

(of course, he’d given groping permission prior to his podium appearance)

While at the Quandry, there was much discussion of Stage 7 at the Gold Pan Saloon. Matt was feeling run down and drank a Red Bull and Vodka in an attempt to rally. However, as we sat later at the Gold Pan and the room started to get crowded, it was obvious that he was fading hard. He went and sat outside while I finished my drink and socialized with some of the nice folks from Osprey, who’d showed up for the Breck Bike Week expo. I went outside and found him sweating and looking pretty miserable on the steps of the building next door. So, I called off my stage 7 and we shuffled back to the condo.

The upside?  It did make Stage 8 (packing and driving) much easier.

The question of the night at the Quandry (via Matt) was, “how much would someone have to pay you to turn around, right now, and start riding the whole thing over again, backwards?” My answer? Nothing more than food and lodging. I loved nearly every minute of the race, and, if there were a 12 day version that included riding every course backwards, I’d do it in a heartbeat (I’m not sure if Mike McCormick, the race promoter, feels the same).

Now, as the winner of the official/unofficial Singlespeed Stage Race World Championships, I’m waiting on a tattoo appointment to get one of the “flowers” of my left arm tattoo filled in with world champion colors…

Yeah, I fell off the “write a blog post in the morning wait time” bus after stage 4. However, now that I’m home and have lots of spare time, I can elaborate on the fun of each stage…

Following stage #3, I was totally hosed (I can say that now since the race is officially over). After I’d cleaned up, I crawled into the bed and laid there, unable to sleep because my heart was thumping up behind my eyeballs. Eventually, Matt brought a pot of gluten free mac and cheese up to me, and I devoured the whole thing, straight out of the pot with a spoon. The remainder of the time before the podium/rider meeting was spent wallowing in bed and watching an afternoon COPS marathon.

So, the morning of Stage #4, I was kind of wondering what sort of legs I’d have. Last year, they’d come around well, and, luckily, this year was quite the same. After the first gut punch climbs out of town (the first climb is never fun because, being on a 32×22, I get passed by traffic on the way to the climb, then get caught in granny gear traffic on the way up), we rode a trail next to an aqueduct through Keystone. My moment of glory came when I rode all of the skinny bridges on one section of trail (ok, so they were ground level and 2 feet wide with a drop off on the left side, but I clearly remember skateboard-pushing over at least one last year).

After a steep hikey climb and the next aid station, we started the gravel road climb up to the Colorado Trail. Its pitches are just right for singlespeeding comfortably, and I fed off of the misery of all the granny geared riders as I passed them. I was starting to feel better about descending as well, and was only passed back by one person on the way down to aid #3.

The climb out of  aid 3 was a gut puncher, but I decided that instead of pacing myself and walking early, I’d start riding some of the steeper stuff- just to see what would happen. I still walked a requisite amount, but I did decide at that point in the race that I should start doing some squats and whatnot to make my legs stronger. I finished stage 4 feeling better than the day before, putting another chunk of time into my competition.

That afternoon, feeling as though my body was starting to absorb the effort instead of resisting it, I shuffled around with Matt in downtown Breckenridge, poking around in some of the touristy t-shirt shops before going to the evening riders meeting. I don’t remember what night this is from, but for the most part, Matt stayed back at the condo during the meetings, because he’d cook stuff like this:

(Buffalo burger, rice, wilted spinach & garlic, and sweet potato fries covered in cheese and bacon)

The next day’s challenge was stage #5- the Wheeler Pass stage. The course changed a little from the previous year- omitting the Peaks Trail climb and adding a climb on Miner’s Creek road instead. I was sorely tempted to try to repeat my effort from last year, where I rode & hiked through nearly the entire “peloton” to catch the front of the Open Women’s field, who’d started several waves ahead of the singlespeed women (Wheeler is the only stage to use a “wave” start, and SS Women got the short end of the start stick and went LAST into a singletrack climb). Trying to avoid a repeat of the previous year’s wave start, I asked Mike at the rider’s meeting if, since there were only two of us, he’d just toss us in with the Open Women, and he told me that’d be no problem.

That was only partially true, because, Thursday morning (which would later be dubbed “Throat Punch Thursday”), he announced that we’d start with a giant wave #3- one back from the open women. I guess he couldn’t have the singlespeed men, who were also stuck in there, getting butthurt that the SS women were one wave up? I don’t know, but at least it wasn’t in the very back.

The course started with a quick climb up the ski hill to spread things out before dropping down a little and turning onto the Burro Trail. I don’t really know what it is about the Burro Trail, but I like to hammer the hell out of it. It’s rooty as hell, kinda rocky, and there’s multiple lines up most of the pitchy spots, so if you’re in “hammer” mode, you can take the “f*ck these roots” line straight up past 3 people who are taking the “eww, roots” line off to the side. I went cross country pace up the climb prettymuch the entire time until I reached the hike-a-bike section of the Wheeler Trail. At that point, I had only gained a little time on the open women, so I decided I’d just stay in my “spot” in the hike line rather than racing through everyone like I had last year.

At the top, there was bacon. Last year, since I was racing my heart out of my chest, I hadn’t taken the bacon feed. This year, I had to make up for it in spectacular fashion, not only taking the bacon feed, but somewhat humiliating myself in the process:

(photo credit to Eddie Clark, who later asked to make sure I didn’t mind him posting it)

The descent off of Wheeler Pass is a widow-maker. The trail above the treeline is skinny, steep, off-camber, and lined with rocks and bushes that want to grab your front wheel and send you cartwheeling into more rocks and bushes. I wrecked on that section during the Breck 100 a couple of years ago. The next part of the descent, once you’re back into the treeline, is more steep, rocky, and tricky. I wrecked there at last year’s Breck Epic when I was doing my best to out-descend Jennifer Wilson for the stage win. This year, with a huge lead for overall 1st, I decided I’d play it safe (Dax Massey, who was in the men’s SS lead, wasn’t so cautious, and had a hard wreck, breaking two ribs, puncturing his lung, and ending his week of racing). I made it down and onto the bike path without incident.

The bike path is singlespeed purgatory. I had multiple people offer to let me draft, but, with the exception of the faster downhill section, I wasn’t staying on any wheels of anyone. One guy even tried to push me, but I yelled at him right away to stop. Pushing is only a valid SS gear when it’s you, pushing your bike.

In previous years, the course went from bike path to the Peaks Trail. This year, it was re-routed (to avoid dogwalkers/hikers) to go up a terrible climb on Miner’s Creek Road before dropping to the flat part of the Peaks Trail. It was the one time this week that I cursed at hike-a-bike, mostly because the climb before was fun/rooty and on singletrack, and the Miner’s Creek re-route was exactly the opposite and gained about 500 extra feet before descending back to the Peaks Trail.

By the time I got to the Peaks Trail, I was in Angry Singlespeed mode. On the short punchy uphill or techy spots, I hammered past anyone on a granny gear with whatever was left in my legs, making short work of the final few miles of the course. Throat-Punch-Thursday, complete. All that was between me and the SSSRWC (singlespeed stage race world championship) was a somewhat easier stage 6.

Last year, for stage 2 (which included a large climb and descent section of Colorado Trail), we were treated to cold, all-day rain. I finished that day mildly hypothermic with the worst case of “ice flipper” hands I’ve ever had. (side note- I think that anyone who has done much riding in the high mountains will have a story that includes the coldest they’ve ever been on a bike being in the month of August). This year, we were treated to mostly gorgeous blue skies (one “normal”  5-minute shower rolled through the course area, but I managed to skirt it).

I was excited and slightly nervous to ride the big climb on the CT. The other two times I’ve done it (Breck 100 and 2012 Breck Epic), I’ve ended up hike-a-bike-ing a fair amount. However, this year, as I mentioned previously, better gearing and fitness meant for good times most of the way up (I took the hike option for several short, steep spots in the name of self-preservation). Even more fun? I had a working fork for the first time in a hot minute, so I was able to go a little faster on the awesome 6 miles of downhill on the other side. I’m still mostly slowed down by my brakes, of course, but the new fork makes a big difference in comfort and fun factor.

With all of its fun singletrack and good weather, stage 2 was another great day on the bike. However, the weather report for stage 3 was looking a bit more ominous. With a 40% chance of rain later in the morning, and two trips over the Continental Divide (French Pass and Georgia Pass), I packed a rain jacket and a hand-saving pair of water resistant fishing gloves (pics and more about those when I’ve got more time). Both of which came in handy during the very difficult day. The best part of the day was the Colorado Trail descent off of Georgia Pass (it goes from flowy and open to rocky and steep within a half mile). I found myself nearly sitting on my rear wheel on several occasions. The 2nd best part of the day was finishing, because I was starting to feel pretty rough with fatigue yesterday.

I finished in just under 5 hours, knowing I’d won the day, but assuming I hadn’t won by nearly as much, given my slower pace. However, I found out at the podium meeting later in the day that Susan, my lone competition, had wrecked on one of the early descents, and had a rougher day than I, losing about an hour and a half. I’ve now got a 3 hour, 26 minute lead for the overall 1st place.

That’s pretty awesome, but I’m not without my own issues. I am pretty sure I have shingles. I’ve got a spot on my back (between my shoulder blades) that started aching a lot last week. I thought it was a knot in my muscle, but then a couple of days ago, a rash popped up. Then, yesterday, a spot in front of my arm pit started to ache- a pain that shot through my ribcage like a knife. This morning, another small rash spot over the pain. I asked the internet for advice, and turns out, it’s probably this: WebMD Shingles. I’ve decided other than some ibuprophen and topical corticosteroid, I’m not going to a doctor until I get home. The antivirals and oral corticosteroids that can be prescribed have some sucky side effects that would not add to my stage race enjoyment. 

Gotta go… time for stage #4!

Ok, so I haven’t said much since Dolores, and I DO have some fun photos and stuff from the couple of pre-race days in Breck, but I figured I’d post real quick about yesterday’s stage since I’ve got a few minutes before I have to get to stage 2 this morning.

First off, I have Matt here with me, which has already made life soooo much easier. I can come in and drop bottles in the sink, and by the time I get out of the shower, the bottles are clean and refilled, and the condo smells like lunch. He’s also on drop bag duty, so he’s been riding my drop bags down to race HQ every morning at 7:30am while I sit around and drink coffee. As I type, he’s giving my bike a once-over and making sure it’s ready for today.

Yesterday’s stage was tough (ok, they all are, but that one’s a hair gnarlier because of the French Gulch climb in the middle). As I mentioned previously, I’m going with a lower gear this year (32×22) than I did last year (32×21). The combination of better fitness and gearing means that I’m riding a lot more and walking a lot less. The combination of riding more/hiking less means that I’m going faster overall…

Yeah, it’s only two of us in the category, but, the stats that make it really awesome include coming in with a time of 4hrs, 10min… ~30min after the first open woman (same as what Dax, the lead male SSer did vs. the open men), and 40 minutes faster than last year.

I couldn’t have had a better first day. My pacing and nutrition was spot-on, my legs felt great, and, I ended up with nearly an hour on 2nd place. The only “downside” to my day was the enduro classification- between having fork problems, being on a low gear, and not quite being acclimated to the speed of the descents out here, I’m likely to be waaaay down in the women’s standings. Luckily, today, the fork issues are solved- the SRAM neutral support guys replaces my old dual air SID World Cup fork with a brand freakin’ new soloair SID World Cup. Holy awesome.

I gotta go ride now…

Stage 7?

What- haven’t you ever heard of the 19th hole on the golf course?

When I started the Breck Epic, I didn’t even know that there was something called “Stage 7.” I did, however, know that up until this point, I’ve trained my ass off, been early to bed/rise, sacrificed the consumption of many beers and all sorts of highly caloric food, and proceeded to race harder than I ever thought possible. All of those things, when combined in a chronic manner, can lead to burnout. I’m not saying that I’m burnt out by any stretch, I’m just saying that I have fully celebrated Stage 7 in a way that is satisfying to the burnout-prevention soul.

Last night, after the final awards ceremony, I headed over to a local dive bar with a bunch of other racers. I had a couple of beers (really- just a couple… they’re stronger at altitude) and proceeded to dance to cheesy pop club music for at least the next two hours. Today, I had breakfast at the Blue Moose (favorite breakfast place in Breck), sat by the river and drank coffee, laid around for a while, and ate lunch at Empire Burger. They have an all-natural, local beef burger. I got one with fries. Gawd, it’s to die for.  After a short ride, I lounged around, packed, and met the last remaining racers I knew still in town for pizza (and a couple more beers).

It’s all about decompression. The mental aspect of preparing for and executing a race like the Breck Epic is equally as hard as the physical aspects. Of course, I love doing it. I also love acting like a normal human being for a few days after it. Tomorrow, I’m heading back towards Memphis. I still love Memphis, and I still consider the Syllamo Trails to be more difficult (technically speaking) than anything I’ve found on my most recent adventure.

Ok, so maybe the high pass, over-the-treeline descents are more terrifying. At least there aren’t as many rocks up there. The rocks around here don’t get slippery when they’re wet, either.

I’ll be sad to leave, but I miss home equally as much as I don’t want to leave here. Hopefully, next summer will include more Epic-ness and adventure.

The final stage of the Epic was an “easy” course day, with only around 3500ft of climbing. At last night’s singlespeeder get-together at the burrito place, most of the guys agreed that today was a parade lap- sort of like the last stage of the Tour de France, but with PBR instead of champagne, and no sprint at the end.

Jen and I talked a little at the start. It was kind of an “I’ll race if you’re racing” thing, but we ended up just hanging out & riding together at a pretty easy pace for the duration of the course. We had our battle yesterday- She didn’t really let on to how she felt, but I was pretty wrecked. So, she was nice on the climbs, and I ceased to descend like I had a death wish. We stopped at the Boreas Pass aid station and took a shot of Maker’s Mark. It made the final descent- a slightly rocky & gnarly jeep road- a little more interesting.

After hanging around at the finish and watching some more racers come through, I headed back up to the condo to un-chamois and eat some lunch. It’s now that I’m sitting around back at the condo with nothing to do that I realize I can act like a normal person for a few days instead of worrying about getting an afternoon nap, getting enough post-race calories, getting the right type of calories, getting plenty of electrolytes with my water, making sure my bike is ready for tomorrow, or whatever else it is that needs to be taken care of the afternoon following the other 5 stages.

I’ve got 2 more hours to kill before the last awards ceremony and nothing to do but think about what a great week of racing it’s been. I think I’ll have a beer.