Hey, I’m “Equally as impressive…” as the fast chicks!

Breck 100 article on Singletrack.com

I picked a heck of a race for a first try at a singlespeed 100.

With a reported 13,719 feet of climbing- much of it on singletrack, the Breckenridge 100 is considered one of the hardest 100 mile races in the U.S. (and, yes, before you ask… even harder than the Leadville 100).

I arrived at Carter Park early and set up a small pit area, and soon enough people were gathering for the neutral rollout from the park to the beginning of the course. At 6:00am, we were off. Loop 1 started with the tallest of the climbs (a hair under 12,500 feet) over Wheeler pass (the same climb I was on a little over a week ago when I ran in to the insanity that is mountain weather). I did my best to pace myself on the way up. Even though I was feeling good, I walked the pitches of road that were redlining me.

Once we were off of the jeep road and on to Wheeler Trail, I had some bad luck. Going up one sharp uphill pitch, the guy in front of me stalled out. I tried to put my foot down, but the ground dropped away so steeply from the side of the trail, there was nothing to put it on, and I somersaulted down the hill sideways and slid another 10 feet or so. Luckily, the ground was soft, and I rolled into a good tuck until everything stopped spinning. The descent on the other side was precarious- the trail is steep and covered in a lot of loose dirt and rocks. Even though I was being more careful than usual, I still managed to fall and split my shin on a rock. The two spills were enough to shake my confidence a bit the rest of the way down.

After a few miles of bike path, the course turned back up the Peaks Trail. After the initial climb, that’s one of my favorite sections of singletrack- a lot of rooty, punchy climbs that suit an aggressive riding style. I was thoroughly enjoying myself when the singletrack gave way to the pavement on Ski Hill Road to head back into Breck/Carter Park.

I made a quick pit stop before starting loop 2, though it wasn’t quite quick enough. As I was heading up the crazy switchback hill out onto the course, the 68/32 mile races started their neutral rollout. They got to skip the first loop that the 100 mile riders rode and began their races on our loop #2. This meant that as I was trying to pace myself on the initial climb, I was forced to either speed up or stop and get out of the way for charging 68/32 mile racers. That sucked. A lot. I lost several minutes waiting for conga lines of those guys storming up the trail.

I eventually dove back in when the guys wearing white cotton gym socks started showing up.

Once that nonsense cleared out, the course followed part of the Firecracker 50 course to the French Gulch climb. This is the same one that I’d suffered through 2x in the Firecracker course. I’d fully support operations to strip mine that mountain into oblivion.

After getting through that part, it was mostly downhill for a while to an aid station where one of the workers thought it’d be cool to tell people that the next aid station was only 3 miles away with a little climb. He acted dead serious in saying it, but I was suspicious, so I filled both of my bottles. Other people weren’t, though, and tried to cover the following rather difficult portion of the course with only 1 bottle. To make matters worse, the next aid station (which was much further aweay than 3 miles) was out of plain water. Luckily, the trail snaked along the outer part of a golf course, and many of us refilled at their water fountain.

Somewhere along there, I rode with a woman who said she was in the 100 mile SS race, but I never saw her on the results sheet (even as a DNF), so I don’t know what happened to her.

During that loop, I started getting some really bad pain in my right big toe. It felt like an old running injury from a couple of years ago, so I was hoping that I could avoid getting off of my bike for anything because every time I walked, it felt like my toenail was trying to explode off of my toe. That was prettymuch the only time I was hating life during the race, and luckily, the final loop was reletively mild.

Loop 3 was, by far, my favorite. During my preride the week before, I’d taken a wrong turn and gone up a horrible, rutted, steep dirtbike trail from Indiana Creek to Boreas Pass. So, I was plesantly surprised to see that the course was routed on a much more rideable jeep trail. I made the time cutoff over Boreas by 40 minutes (plenty of time, but I’d like to not even have to think about it in the future). The descent from Boreas onto singletrack to Como was AWESOME! It went from a slight, flowy downgrade to rock gardens that were really fun to pick through. Once I made the turnaround at the Como aid station, I headed back up what seemed like an endless hill back through Boreas Pass.

The nice thing about that loop is that it ends with 10 miles of almost all downhill riding. It gives you time to relish in the fact that, barring a catastrophic accident, you’re going to finish a really, really tough race. I crossed the line in 12 hours, 53 minutes. Apparently, I was the only SS woman that finished, and my time was good enough for 5th place overall in the women’s race (all age groups- geared/SS).

F***ing Awesome.

After a podium photo and some food, I headed back to the hostel to get cleaned up and get out to celebrate. I ended up at a nearby bar (aptly named the “Dive” bar). The night almost got off to a bad start when the “way too drunk” guy started hitting on me and getting waaaay in to my personal space. I told him to leave me alone and tried to ignore him, but he was persistent. I told him that I was going to beat him if he didn’t leave me alone. Apparently, the bartender overheard and had one of the emplyees escort him out before things could get out of hand.

At the bar, I met a really cool British couple who was in Breck for a vacation. I also met an aspiring country music artist and all of his friends, who, after a few rounds of drinks, sang along with “She Thinks my Tractor’s Sexy” when someone played it on the jukebox. Really great way to end one of the hardest race days I’ve ever had and the best road trip I’ve ever been on.

Did the damn thing. On the singlespeed. 12 hours, 53 minutes, and 5th overall of all the women that had finished when I left the race venue. Time for beer.

I tried to chill as much as possible today, though I probably did a bit more walking than what’s “recommended.” I went back to the Blue Moose for breakfast… seriously, they have the best coffee of any place I’ve been on this trip. I wish they would open at 4am for a pre-race meal like the one I had before natz.

After consuming mass quantities of cheese omelet and coffee, I went back to the hostel for a little while to let it digest and catch the end of today’s stage of The Tour (Schleck had better dig into his suitcase of courage when it comes time to TT). Next up- massage… it was niiiiiiiiiiiice (though not quite as intense as the one I had in Frisco a couple of weeks ago). And yes, my legs are still a little sore from the hike down from Elbert on Wednesday. Shut it.

After, lunch and some work on my race resume. Somehow I’d lost the previous file, so I ended up having to go back on USA Cycling and re-do most of it. By the time I was finished, I wanted to ride around a bit and stop by packet pick-up. A couple dozen laps of the pump track were in order as well:

So, now everything’s ready to go. This is it. The culmination of my trip. The reason why I’ve been on the road for the past 3 weeks, riding and pushing my bike up every possible hill along the way. I’ve been staring at Wheeler Pass all day today- every time I’ve sat down someplace, it’s been there, giving me the “face off ” look that fighters give each other when they step into a cage fight. Time for bed…

I was totally planning to ride Loop 2 on Saturday morning, but managed to oversleep and miss the group that was leaving at 7:00am from Carter Park. My fault- I’d stayed up too late the night before at a place simply called the Irish Pub. While I’d been eating dinner, I’d seen a lot of younger people heading in, so I figured I’d go have a beer and check it out. The locals in Breck are very friendly… I ended up hanging out on the porch next to a fire pit for a couple more hours just talking to random people.

I digress…

So, Saturday, I woke up and went to breakfast at the Columbine (other favorite spot besides the Blue Moose), packed the car, stopped by the Laundromat, then headed out to Winter Park.

Winter Park is a ski resort that’s opened its lifts and runs up to downhill riders in the summer. I’d never been to a downhill course before, and had almost no idea what to expect. I eventually found my way to the race headquarters. They suggested pre-riding the course, but I’d need to buy a lift ticket to get to the top.

Lift tickets are $24 for a half day.

Um, no thanks… Isn’t there a way to ride up there?!? Sure. Take the access road.

So, I went back to the car and changed. After waiting for an afternoon rain shower to pass, I made my way up the “hill” (and by “hill,” I mean 1700 foot climb). I waved at the groups of DH guys along the way. I realized that climbing is seeming easy on a geared bike. Once at the top, I found the course markings and started making my way down. I took it pretty easy- the course was generally pretty mild singletrack with bermed turns, random small jumps, and occasional roots and rocks. There was only one uphill pitch, and it was positioned where you could carry a lot of speed into it. Pretty straightforward.

I figured since I’d get a lift ticket with my race entry, and the lifts would open to racers at 8:30 the next day that I’d just save my legs and preride once more in the morning. I changed and headed to the Rocky Mountain Inn and Hostel in nearby Fraser (which, other than the absence of The Tour on TV, was probably the nicest hostel I’ve been to).

Sunday morning, I got up and continued what has become a fun side project of my trip- breakfast at local spots. This time, it was a cheese omelet at Sharky’s in Fraser. Delicious.

I got to the race check-in, picked up my number and lift ticket, and got ready to go. Once I was back at the lift, I realized I’d never used a lift before and had no idea what I was doing. Luckily, the guys in line with me were nice enough to explain how to get my bike on to a moving bike rack before it turned and headed back up the hill. My second run was good- I noticed a few more subtle things about the course and smoothed out my turns a bit more (having never been on a DH course, I’d never really taken bermed turns at high speeds, so it was a learning experience).

I rode back up, hoping for one more practice run, but by that time, the Pro categories were close to starting, so I hung around, warmed up, and chatted with the other women who were lining up with me. Turns out, 11 expert women had signed up (2 others in my age group). The start was going to be crucial, because once you’re on the trail, passing is hard to do. They were mostly local, and very familiar with the course. I told them I was from Memphis, and I liked going fast.

We placed our bikes for the LeMans start. Some of the girls were complaining about it, but thanks to last year’s Cyclocrunk races, I’ve got them pretty nailed down. When we started, I managed to be the 3rd of the group to enter the trail (the initial gravel lead-in was about 250 yards up about a 10% grade). The woman on the front immediately took off down the hill. To my dismay, the two in front of me did not follow. 2nd place was all over her brakes and 3rd was afraid to make an agressive pass. 1st was still bombing down the hill and putting massive amounts of time on us. Eventually 3rd and I took a low line around a turn and got around the “all over the brakes” girl. I was millimeters from rubbing her rear tire on several occasions, but she wasn’t going to let me pass easily. I finally edged by her on a wider part of the trail. In the process, I gave her a pretty good bump.

She yelled at me. I wasn’t there to make friends.

By this time, we were deep into the course, and the leader was well out of sight. I let go of the brakes and let it fly. I soon caught sight of her. Every turn, she was a little closer. Unfortunately, though, her initial lead was too great for me to cover, and I rolled across the finish 12 seconds behind her. She was just turning to look back up at the hill when I rolled up and was startled that I was as close as I was (I would be really interested to know how large her lead was before I got around the other riders).

I was a little disappointed, but pretty excited nonetheless. The awesomeness of the day was just beginning, though. I wanted to get in a few more runs before my lift ticket expired, so I got back in line. Lucky for me, I was one chair behind Dejay Birtch and a couple of his friends (Rob and Andy). They paused for a few minutes to look at the map on top of the hill. I took the chance to go say hi. I ended up tagging along with them for a couple more runs before we went back to the base area for the podium presentations…

By then, the lift ticket was expired, and I was ready to get back to the hostel, clean up, and head to Leadville. Days like that are what I’m here for.

Leave it to me to pick the National Championships race as my first singlespeed race. (I guess it makes about as much sense as aiming to do the Breck 100 as my 2nd one)

Breckenridge is a cold place at night. After a couple of nights of tossing around in the combination of cold and altitude, a hot mug of coffee and a cheese omelet at the Blue Moose on race morning were my savior.

We were early enough that I had plenty of time to get prepped and warm up a little before getting into the starting area. I’m not gonna lie- I was nervous. The other women looked fit. A lot of them were locals that were familiar with the trail (and the altitude). I still felt like I could do well, so my heart was racing before we ever had the signal to go.

Once we were off on our first of two 25 mile laps, one woman took off on the first climb. I knew better than to try and follow her- if I blew up in the first 5 miles, the remainder of the race would be Hell (in a bad way). So, I paced the other women. Once we were on singletrack, things seemed to spread out a bit. We hit the next climb thats steepness forced us into a combo of walk/ride. A woman from Colorado Cyclist disappeared, and I was left leapfrogging with a Bach Builders rider.

This is where gear choice and playing up my strengths paid off…

After the Hell that was the French Gulch climb, I noticed that she was spinning a slightly higher cadence than me- she could stay on her bike a little longer on the worst climbs, and I was overtaking her on the flats and descents (I was on an 32×20 and she a 32×21). The last part of the course after French Gulch had few steep grades (both up and down), a long upwards grade (the two-way section), and a long descent back in to the start/finish area. At the end of the first lap, I had a good lead over her. I knew that if I could be ahead after French Gulch that it would take a heroic effort on her part to stay with me.

So, that’s exactly what I did. I made sure to pace myself going into the 2nd lap. She caught back up to me on French Gulch… which, by the way, was one of the most painful experiences of my cycling career. Apparently, it topped out over 11,500 feet (according to the “locals”), was covered in baseball-sized rocks, and was unbelievably steep. Every muscle in my body was anaerobic and screaming for mercy, but I knew that I could not let her get ahead of me. I’ve never felt anything like it in my entire life. All I could think about was how much the pain would be worth it in order to stand somewhere on the podium.

We reached the top at the same time, and I hopped (crawled?) on to my bike and jumped in front of her onto the singletrack. All I could think of after that was to just keep spinning as fast as I could, stay off the brakes, and let the gear and the descents take their course. Once I got up the final “two-way” climb and started the last descent, I knew that I just needed to ride smart in order to hold my place. (OK, so I put my race wheels through some things that race wheels should probably only be subjected to in “race” situations.)

Who am I kidding… I rode with little regard to my own safety. It’s Nationals for Devil’s sake…

I ended up finishing in 5 hours, 28 minutes- good enough for 3rd place. I am totally stoked. Not that I don’t want to win, but I know there’s no physical way I could have gone faster than I did.

(me, wondering wtf did I just do?!?)

I love singlespeed.

…and National Championship podiums.