It rained last weekend. Not to be held out of the woods Mo and I gladly received a big dose of hypothermia to go waterfall watching.
I took twenty photos but the best two are not what you call traditionally “good”. One has water spots and the other a panorama with the waterfall totally ignored. I guess much like life it is not the aesthetic but the feel. And the feelings that “feel” invoke. If it is good, it is good.
Yesterday was a great ride but actually I was unsuccessful at completing my goal of riding from Middle Cottonwood to Truman Gulch. So today I tried again … in reverse.
So I rode up Truman Gulch Trail. IT started out the exact opposite as yesterday. It was nice out in the morning and the weather deteriorated as I continued.
When I hit the 18th mile it was obvious I was not going to be successful today either. It was a full out blizzard around 7000 feet and at 34 degrees quite dangerous if I broke down.
So just 400 feet higher, which took me 30 minutes to slog I turned around. I shivered violently the last hour descending into town in a downpour. Again I had a date at noon. Always good to have a date when your done adventuring.
I woke up, wrote down my itinerary for the day, and said goodbye to a sleepy Mo. My plans were to to ride up Middle Cottonwood and then North on the Bridger Foothills Trail. From there I would come out at Truman Gulch. The ride to the trailhead was wet and it looked like storms were moving in. I was optimistic as I headed up Middle Cottonwood because it appeared that it was going to clear.
As the trail turned upward it started to hail … then snow. I was riding with a new device to hold food. One of the goals were to see how easy it would be to eat from this thing. I found it difficult but it is not the bag’s fault. The side hill single-track was so exposed and steep I was consistently getting vertigo. Scary stuff … but tremendously fun. I encountered a half dozen ultra runners who told me I was in the wrong place. I suggested that I was indeed at the right place. The last runner by said the “Bostwick” was impassable.
Then I went up into the clouds. It was 7500 feet and 35 degrees so the occasional pushes were welcome to warm me back up. I tried to save my warm gear for the delicious bike ride down but I discovered that I was so cold that if I didn’t put them on I would be jeopardizing the plan. It was now full out snow so I wasn’t getting any wetter except for the sweating part.
The views and terrain just kept getting better and better. The clouds were ripping through the trees and snow stuck to their appendages. It was quite a surreal sight.
As I topped out at a saddle a couple ultra runners named “Bostwick” I thought I saw the trail curl up the ridge. Later I would discover that this trail I saw was off my usual plan. But at the time I figured I was still on the Foothills trail. It went up … straight up. I packed my bike on my back and schemed that I could do this on the actual Great Divide Trail in the wilderness areas.
At 8500 feet I am abandoned plan & turned around. The snow was picking up and a new friends arrived. High Winds. It was time to go home. Besides all that I had a date at noon.
As I hiked the bike down I stopped a couple times to regain balance. The drops on the South side of the ridge was dizzying with the clouds rolling up the slopes and a eerie black and white near vertical landscape looked more like a crater on Mars.
As soon as I mounted the bike I was in my element. On any other bike maybe I would have been sketched out by some of the steep rocky and muddy sections but with the 29er Salsa I felt more centered and felt really comfortable coming down off any drop. The bike is awesome.
As the clouds broke I could see sun in the valley. My spirits already lifted with the excitement of the decent topped out at a very high grin inducing level. I rode through gorges, past waterfalls, and around steep slopes. Green alpine meadows greeted me with budding flowers and a unreal immense green.
Descending 4000 feet is fun. Period.
What is on tap for this weekend? I wonder this. And at the same time try and draw from last weekend’s ride around Hyalite Lake. I have been posting photos from this trip so maybe I should give a little narration. And by doing this maybe can come up with some adventure ideas for this weekend.
It was getting late so we just parked at the main parking lot by the dam and headed out. At first I thought it would be too much for a recovering ACL patient but walking is no problem so we walked most of the trail. The West side is all single track while the East side is dirt road. So we started off with the desert first … the single-track. It want long before we broke out into our first grand view.
IT is so nice to be out on the bike exploring together again. I wanted to frame the moment.
Nothing brings two adventurers together more then a grand view. In a week this field will be strewn with wild flowers. Maybe we will come back here this week and camp.
As we neared the end of our ride it rained … hard … on us. We were moments from the car and instincts said to make a run for it. Instead I stopped to enjoy it. The outdoors. Nature. And snap off a photo of a rainbow. Maybe we will camp up here this weekend.
Yesterday Mo and I went to Hyalite and rode around the lake. Super fun and took some pretty awesome photos (coming soon). It’s nice to be outdoors again riding among the wildflowers. Now … back to work … yuk.
Carrie shrieked and looked into the receiver.
“No freaking dial tone … shit”
“But … this is the same diner I used to … oh no”
“What”
“This is the intermingled suspicious theory. This phone only works in the brain-machine interface theory”
A hand grabbed my shoulder.
“I am Hans. This all must end. You must leave.”
I struggled away and turned to face him.
“I will cut to the chase. Human descendants might not survive long enough to achieve an advanced civilization capable of creating machine theories or worlds that host simulated people with artificial intelligence comparable to the natural faculties of their ancestors.”
“What the hell are you talking about”, I turned to look at Carrie.
My eyes darted back and forth and my brain would not admit what my eyes were seeing. It is not what they WERE seeing but what was missing.
“CARRIE….”
“She is gone and if I don’t explain why, if you don’t leave, all will be lost”
“What …. where”
“Informing an artificial person that they are living in a theory would defeat the authenticity of it— better that they genuinely go about their daily business, for all intents and purposes, given a high-fidelity historical reproduction of the real world”
“But we are real humans … shit”, I suddenly realized I just gave away my identity.
“Don’t worry, I know. Also … Epistemologically, it is not impossible to tell whether we are living in a theory, who are we kidding, a simulation. However, imperfections in a simulated environment might be difficult for the native inhabitants to identify, and for purposes of authenticity, even the simulated memory of a blatant revelation might be purged programmatically. Nonetheless, should any evidence come to light, either for or against the skeptical hypothesis, it would radically alter the aforementioned probability. In a nutshell you believe I am here to purge you. I am not. Something has happened since you and others have extracted.”
“W h a … t”
“Forget all of that. A so-called inter-reality or mixed theory physics experiment correlating real and virtual pendula suggested a phase transition. I induced a experiment. Don’t you see what is happening?”
I look around. I am really confused. Everything I thought I knew …
“This is not a theory after all but your consciousness. It is my job to run experiments to bring you out before your theories become our reality. Depending on the nature of the theory it may be possible to exit by several methods, among them, waking up in the parent world. We can not do this. Instead a mind transfer from the simulated world into a biological or your cybernetic body that exists in the parent world … but with a phase shift. Because on that phase you are about to die. We must hurry. You have no blood pressure and your veins have collapsed. You have another chance. This will work because you can also be transferred into other simulated worlds based on events within the parent theory or world, (i.e., death).”
With that Hans turned me around. Surprisingly I had no strength so I swiveled very easily. Something happened. Like tunnel vision. But at the other end of that tunnel I saw Carrie. This was not a tunnel at all but my eye looking through the lens of a camera. And Carrie was exiting our extraction vehicle.
“Ready? This place is cool but we better get going. We have so much to do. Set up the pit area. And you wanted to do a practice lap, right?”
“Wha …”
“Hello”, she snapped her fingers. “Earth to Bill … the 24 Hours if Round the Clock … earth to bill”
In the time we have been together Carrie and I have traveled to not only the suspicious theory that we extracted from but others as well.
For myself I come from the brain-machine interface. Two men, John and Jacob, entered from outside my machine, directly connecting their brain to the machine. For years the machine transmitted sensory data to me, reading and responding to my desires and actions and in return; in this manner I interacted with the simulated world of 2112 and received feedback from it. The two guys who found me interrupted the machine’s attempts at inducing me to forget, temporarily or otherwise, that I was inside a virtual realm. And slowly I became ready for extraction. I remember looking into John’s eyes at “the crossing” as he suggested I head to Moon Pass to find my extraction device. He would head towards Dobson Pass in hopes of finding a telephone. I knew there was no phones in Dobson.
The suspicious theory I found Carrie in was different then mine. Hers was a virtual people theory. In a virtual-people theory, every inhabitant is a native of the machine. They do not have a “real” body in the external reality of the physical world. Instead, each is a fully simulated entity, possessing an appropriate level of consciousness that is implemented using the simulation’s own logic. As such, they could be downloaded from one simulation to another, or even archived and resurrected at a later time. It is also possible that a simulated entity could be moved out of the simulation entirely by means of mind transfer into a synthetic body. Since she did not have a body anymore it was my mind that spawned my version of her. And she was able to take it on and extract. I do feel funny that she is a figment of my idea of a perfect mate. But it was her eyes, her soul, that captured my heart. That part is real.
It is not good to go back to your original suspicious theory simply because the machine has a lost pointer and continues to search for it. They do that so the theory or virtual world remains intact. The more people we extract the more the machines fall apart. I used to hang out in the emigration suspicious theory before I met Carrie. I liked this one because getting in was much like my own theory, the brain-machine interface, but to a much greater degree. On entry, the I could use a variety of hypothetical methods to participate in the machine including mind transfer to temporarily relocate my mental processing into a virtual-person. After the journey is over, my mind was restored along with all the new memories and experience gained within. Mostly my selection of hypothetical method was trying to ride my bike 300 or more miles at a 24 hour race in a place called Spokane Washinton. Only humans would suspect this as impossable.
Where Carrie and I ran into difficulties is the intermingled suspicious theory. A simulated reality being dynamically constructed and modified using real-world matter and energy within an enclosing container or hunk of land. Upon entering such a space, we would effectively feel immersed in the simulated environment, with a variety of potential methods being used to convince the human users of the possibility of extraction. An intermingled theory supports both types of consciousness: “players” from the outer reality, Carrie and I, who are visiting (as a brain-computer interface) or emigrating, the humans we were trying to reach, and virtual-people who are natives of the theory and hence lack any physical body in the outer reality.
Our mistake was to trust the emigrants. We were blind sided by the fact that a master machine had started to create bots to enter the intermingled suspicious theory. One of them convinced us to extract them and take them to the virtual people theory to look for a lost relative. We did not know it was a bot and once in Carrie’s home theory it called in the machines. And now we had taught these bots our mechanisms. And now they were after us. We didn’t know where to run but we needed to at least get out of this theory … fast.
Carrie went to the phone first …
In transit, or as we as we call it an extraction, there is a moment of pause. It isn’t a perfect process and we have lost some. But I have been through it so many times I just relax and take a mental break. A break from the chaos … from the consistent fear. My transit vehicle is a 70s movie set flying saucer … funny enough. The place we just escaped reminded me of Carrie, and how we meet. The diner, the old phone booth, my rendered craft of transportation.
“If you were to star in the next Sci Fi dimensional experience what would your characters name be”, I typed into a instant cyber net program.
I often used this device to patrol for potential rebels. I always used the subject of SDE, or what we used to call movies, to get a feel for the entity behind the occurrence. If I was chatting with the system it would steer me away from re-creating itself. Humans can role play but machines seem to have a problem with it.
I got no answer and started to believe this was the system. Before exiting the conversation I decided to play a little with it.
“Ok … calling you Carrie”
The ICP still showed the presence of some entity on the other end. Then suddenly the status bar showed that it was putting together a response so I waited.
“You are yum!”, the text flew across the screen.
Interesting response no doubt. It appeared to be a machine because it did not make sense and since it was avoiding role play it made sense. But something was wrong. It seemed to be giving me a name.
“Sci Fi dimensional experience – hmmm don’t know characters well enough … “, more text followed.
Again did not seem to be a human response. But there was some humor to it.
“Doesn’t matter … Carrie … if that is your real name”
I decided to play along. Sometimes the machines were fun to play with. But I couldn’t play to long or give away the location of my connection to the CN.
“follow the white rabbit ?”
Of course! This was a human, pretending to be a machine. I found another like me. There were others. I tried to keep my excitement at bay.
” Ah nice. Here is my card …. my name is Libby”, I typed.
“Can I ride in your spaceship?”
“So you know?”
“hehe going to the postoffice to talk to some aliens right now..”
Interestingly enough this validated to me that this was another human. First off there is no such thing as a “postoffice” in 2112. Maybe 99 years ago this would of made sense, but not now. And aliens … no such thing to machines who viewed all other conscious objects as potential threats to the system and were always flagged for removal.
“I need to show you something. Can you get to 47.473011,-115.925414?”
“Yes, give me 3 hours”
I used the usual device to arrive at my destination. My spaceship from a 1970s movie totally flew under the radar of the machines. If the human imagination wanted these silly craft then so be it. So as far as a program was concerned it would just render it. This only would work for 20 minutes. Every 20 minutes it would run a inventory program that would notice that this render was not imagined at all but just showed up. My craft would totally not make sense in this world. Carrie would see it and do one of two things. Call in the clean up bots or know for certain I was from the outside. If Carrie was a bot then I would simply abort. Unlike using phone booths to summon the ship I could pop out of the system immediately. The ship was a render but my existance a consciousness. Once my consciousness saw coast clear then the rest would follow. This was part of the transit.
I arrived at 47.473011,-115.925414 and everything was cool. I went inside a diner. Her eyes were so beautiful. “Is she one of them?”, I thought to myself. “Can she be pulled out of the system?”
“Aliens?”, I smiled and looked into her eyes.
She giggled, “thought you would like that”
I knew instantly this was someone I would be with until the end.
“ I need to show you something”
“Okay .. I’m ready …”
The year is now 2112. I think of it as 99. In a couple months it will be 100 but even that theory is in jeopardy. Why 99? Because it is … or has been 99 years since …
“Libby they are coming … we need to get out of here fast”, Carrie shouts.
“We must leave … NOW”
There is a suspicious theory that this reality we are currently in is simulated … perhaps a computer simulation or whatever they use … to a degree not unlike “true” reality. But there are differences. It does contain your minds which may or may not be fully aware that they are living inside this world. This is quite different from the current, computer rendered concepts of reality. One can tell simply by noticing the participants are never in doubt about the nature of what they experience. Simulated existence, by contrast, would be hard or impossible to separate from “true” reality. But I doubt … and Carrie does too.
We run into a dinner and a old man is inquisitive about our origins and where we are going. A local wanting to chat probably. His speech is telling as it slows. It is a scheme to slow down our progress. But we can not just bolt. If anything suspicions happens there would be thousands of them.
“Where is your bathroom”, Carrie asks politely.
A woman behind the counter gestures to the right.
We walk slowly around the corner and to my disbelief I see it. A telephone booth. It is from like the early 1900s no doubt but these are the things I notice. For everyone around here it is the norm for 2112. But I know it is 99.
The Art Of Racing 24 Hours :: I was being hoisted high. But I don’t mind because I knew what it meant. In 24 hour solo racing no one remembers the bike. It is said that a racer whispers to his bike things. Memories and words spoken late at night when all seems lost. When a bike dies it becomes a human in another life. And it is these “things” … this collection of experiences and whispers that mold the human. My name is Gonzo and I want to be human someday.
Our last lap was long and I knew something was happening to Bill. My tubes seemed to get hot from the sun so I am guessing his condition had to do something with the 80 or so degrees it was out there. We stopped at some abandon check stations and he rifled through the mess for water I think. He was thirsty. One time he did find water and we went faster for a while.
But now we were at the finish line after counting down the hill climbs together. This is how I learned to count. Bill likes to count things. The finish line was abandon as well except for a few people that know us. It was nice to see them. As he held me high I noticed the crowd had gathered in another area. The announcer instead of mentioning my owners name was shouting out numbers. Once in a while someone would jump up with joy and approach him. I found this curious behavior. When I am human I will never attend one of these … they are silly.
Bill walked me to the tent and sat down beside me. As the last riders trickled in I learn of the somber finish line details. There were attempts to get the announcers attention but the curious number calling continued. It doesn’t matter to me though. I don’t need the attention. I really did enjoy being lifted into the air. When I am human I want to celebrate this way too.
People are gathered around him now and he is getting some attention. He deserves it. We rode over 300 miles this weekend. His girlfriend is rushing in and out of the timing tent. At first she comes back with ice and puts it on Bill’s knee. Then she comes back with a bike chain. I don’t like it. I am picky that way. I only wear Wippermann.
But the last time she comes back there are three people I don’t even know.
“Sorry … I just wanted to get you a blanket and …”
“Can you tell me what is going on”, the first guy said.
“Um, well … I just rode 300 miles”
Now I can’t see Bill and I am getting angry. I wish bikes could talk. If I could I would of shouted at them to leave him alone. They were asking him questions and he was answering. He wanted to do things but they would not let him. Like get up and go to the outhouse. More and more people showed up. Some of them carrying machines and wires. They hooked him up. Mo left a 4th time and came back with lots of flowers and stuff. She looked awful and we consoled each other as these people seemed to be abducting him. If I were human I would go rescue him.
“He has low blood pressure and I cant find a vein for an iv”, one of the fancy dressed individuals said.
“I have a low heart rate and usually my blood pressure is lower then normal”, Bill adds to the conversation.
“No, no that is not right. That is not normal”
“Wait a second everyone lets just re-access”, Mo suggested. She is wonderful. And she talked to them and they listened. Finally. Someone was listening to her.
I was happy when they allowed Bill to sit up and finally stand. He looked over to me and I him. Things would be ok.
Thankfully he was rescued by Mo. I like her a lot … and Bill does too. They came and got me and we went back to our pit area after a while. It was nice being a family again under our pit tent. Things were finally getting back to normal. I wonder though. After all the effort we went through … why didn’t we get to celebrate. Stand on one of those podium thingies … I hear it is pretty nice. I have yet to deliver him to a podium but I am not worried. That will come in time. When I am human I will win races.
Bill and I had a great ride. I sure whish I could of delivered him to the podium today but that is OK. In the end we are together and that is what is important.
Before a bike is reincarnated, the bike’s soul is freed to travel the land, to run across the high mountains for as long as it would like. I learned that from a program on the National Geographic channel, so I believe it is true. Not all bikes return as human, they say; only those who are ready. I am ready.
Special note: I am writing this blog from my bikes perspective and have borrowed the idea from The Art of Racing In the Rain by Garth Stein. The reason is not that I think it is cool but wanted to post details and not write about my true feelings on how the race was handled in the end. The race organizers had a lot on their plate like someone setting the dumpster on fire. Lots of things happened to botch the ending of a truly great race but I don’t want to use this post to air my grievances. I will write out a statement to the organizers themselves to maybe have a positive outcome.
Lap 11 felt better but not optimal. My stomach was fine and I had not cramped all day. The problem was my lack of caloric intake yesterday. As someone I respect is preaching, “Hydration in a bottle and nutrition in your pocket”, I seemed to be struggling with the nutrition in the pocket deal. But now Mo was making quinoa and stopping at the pit to down something was making a difference. What was hurting was the metal aspect and the lack of sleep. Hallucinating while riding is disconcerting. The biggest hit to how I felt happened as I arrived at my pits 42 minutes past midnight and reportedly in 4th. This confused me a bit, behind the leader now by 5.5 minutes. I thought I was in second and how the hell was everyone surging past me. I sat down to eat some quinoa and put on some warmer clothing. I really wished I had the strength to quit. #51 Chris Brown also seemed to be making a move and now was back in a solid second place a minute and a half ahead of me. We glanced at each other to download hurt information and I slipped back into the darkness.
Lap 12 was about going through the motions and slipping into a dream state I was able to crank out a 1:29 lap, much slower then planned. I was obviously in need of a mental boost. Most of the time was spent in the pits eating and putting on warm clothes. Mo suggested my lap times were still in the 1:10 range. Around 2:11 Am I slipped away from my pit again feeling a tiny bit better with warm clothes and a belly full of food.
Lap 13 was much the same and still in 4th place just 17 minutes out of first place. Again the discussion in the tent was how much I had slipped back from the front while the others seemed to be pulling away. How in the hell did everyone get so strong. It was obvious I was in the company of some pretty fast folks. Wondering if I could hold top 5 I walked away from my pit just after 3:40 AM and towards a dark blue sky. Dawn would be coming soon.
Lap 14 I did much better time wise on the trail but the pit stop took a bit longer. It was getting COLD and I had to go all winter riding gear. Mo suggested I start downing some hot coco/coffee and I have to admit … it felt good. I left the pit 35 minutes off of the lead and apparently I had stopped the bleeding and I was not going to get lapped after all. At 4:50 Am the daylight started to appear and my energy levels started to level off. Darn … I think I was feeling good.
Lap 15 is a huge turn around. During the lap I started going faster and I felt more motivated to nail every section. It felt like it went by real fast and as I had enough light to see the misty landscape I figured I would stop in to start removing lights.
“Sweetie! You are in second. Vince looks bad and he just went by 36 minutes ago”, Mo grabbed my arm.
I still lost a minute on that lap but I was feeling great. I slammed down the rest of the quinoa and gulped a mug of hot coco. The pit area was now buzzing with energy and I think we both new I was about to surge. I went out on another lap around 6 Am with full intent on attacking real hard.
Lap 16 went by real fast and I came into my pit at full speed to get news on how I was doing now.
“Second!”, shouted Mo as I ripped off my remaining lights and started to take off.
“Vince came by 9 seconds ago”
“What!!!”
I ripped through the timing tent and sprinted out on course. I was hunting for a black and red jersey.
I past numerous solo riders on my 17th lap and I made sure to do it with such authority that no one would follow. Approaching the pit I wondered how I was going to be able to sustain the pace for the next 5 hours. Did I attack too early?
“Your in the lead!!!” Mo proudly announced and gave me a fresh feed.
“Oy gosh I don’t know if I can keep this pace”
“Your doing great”
“OK … bye”
My 18th lap went slower and I decided to slip into a defensive mode. I was careful not to crash or have a mechanical. And if any solo rider approached I would jolt.
“Your doing great sweetie you were 9 minutes in front of Vince and he is spending a bunch of time in his pit now.”
Lap 19 I slipped back into a survival dream state. It was a longer lap and I was real happy to arrive at the pit because at time I felt like I went to fast and I was too exhausted to go on. But as it is bread into me I kept forward momentum. I fully expected Vince to take back his lead, after all I had erased 30 minutes in 1 lap. Darn, I totally played into his hand. He was resting and now I was vulnerable.
“Vince has exploded honey he is now 24 minutes behind and someone new, Russ Moul is in second 11 minutes behind you.”
That confirmed it. Just like in Frog Hollow and my surge past Dave Byers, this guy was going to hunt me down on the final lap. I spent no time in the pits and headed out for my last lap. If I could come in moments before Russ but not until noon I could win this thing. And 1 more lap is all I had left.
The 20th lap was slow but counting off all the sections made it better. As I counted the last climbs and the last “rock garden sections” I went faster and faster. Before I knew it I was standing on top of the last climb just 3 minutes from the finish line. It was 11:50 Am and I was in 1st place. I wanted to wait until I was certain noon was going to pass before I made my grand entrance to the finish line. Some riders appeared at the bottom of the climb and to my amazement one of them had a solo plate. Holy cow, this guy wanted to race. I busted down the hill and towards the finish line.
The crowds had gathered along pit row and it was chaos. Teams were vying for positions and to get that last lap. I wanted to see if this other solo rider was surging. I stopped at the finish line ready to hoist my bike. I unknowingly passed my own pit where Mo would of told me I was more then a half hour ahead of the next guy. But I had not and I stood there wanting to take the win and finish.
“Will he go another lap folks?”, the announcer blurted.
I looked towards pit row and searched for a solo plate.
“Boooooooooooo”
I looked back at the timing clo
ck and the start/finish tent.
“yeaaaaaaaaaaaaa”
I needed to wait a full 20 seconds more to take the win with 20 laps. Of course going out on another lap would mean a certain win but I had no water and no nutrition for another. I looked and squinted back towards the riders coming towards me.
“Boooooooooooo”
Screw it, I thought to myself and with that I starting running towards the timing tent.
“Yeaaaaaaaaa …. 3 ……. 2 …….”
“BEEEEP”, my transponder was picked up by the lap sensor.
“… 1 BANG”, a gun went off at my ears and I left the timing tent for another lap. How would I finish this lap? If I didn’t I would be disqualified.
Mo and I set up our pit and camped out Friday night before the 24 Hours of Round the Clock. We got a optimal spot right on pit row.
Morning of the race I went over my new plan … that is to pace myself and try a new hydration scheme.
After the first lap I was sitting in 11th place 6 minutes off of the lead. #51 Chris Brown the eventual solo single speed winner was in the lead.
Lap 2 I had worked my way up to 9th place just behind Peter Lambros a friend from Missoula. I don’t know how I worked my way up since I wasn’t working at all and just trying to stay at a low zone 3 heart rate. But now we were 10 minutes behind. Vince Haag who would later finish behind me in our age group and 3rd overall was now in the lead with Chris slipping into second.
Lap 3 I stopped for lube to discover I was still in 9th. Mo let me know I was ahead of pace and was doing great. Although this was good news I was frustrated with how slow I was climbing. But I had to stay in my zone. I was now 14 minutes off the front losing another 4 minutes. It was still to early to start worrying about losing time.
Lap 4 I worked my way up to 7th place as everyone started to find their rhythm. Vince was still in the lead 15 minutes in front. I know full well this is when everyone starts thinking of building a lead with eventual hopes of lapping competitors so I was concerned that everyone would start pulling away. One racer was already lapped. I was super impressed with how well this large group was sustaining this pace and wondered if we were in for a record setting weekend.
Lap 5 I started to hold the distance between the leader Vince Haag and myself at 13 minutes. As a bonus I was now in 6th place and started to feel confident the slow pace would pay off. But there was something wrong as well. I wasn’t feeling well and it was because I could not get food out of my pocket. My jersey was like a belly shirt.
Lap 6 I was back to riding with Peter Lambros and we discussed when we would be putting on our lights. I suggested we could get in another lap before we needed to worry about it. By 6:30pm I was standing at my pit totally feeling awful for some reason and started to eat nutrition while standing. I expressed that it was impossible to eat out on course and the new plan, hydration in the bottle and food in the pocket, was harder then I thought it would be. On the plus side my stomach felt great and no cramps ever surfaced. The new hydration was working wonders. I was now in 5th place but had slipped back to a 14 minute gap off of #21 Vince Haag.
Lap 7 7:35pm I was back at the pits and was feeling slightly worse. And I was still not eating on the bike and thought the fueling was the issue. The results started to show that I was still keeping on pace because I was now sitting in 3rd place but still 14 minutes behind Vince. As we put on my lights Mo suggest she make some quinoa pesto if I wanted for my next pit stop. I agreed that would be tasty because nothing else sounded good. I passed Peter as he was fumbling to put on his lights and never saw him again.
Lap 8 It was now the lonely night hours and the quinoa that Mo was making started to stabilize my energy. As I gazed into her eyes I could see her concern. I was starting to look awful. Now in 2nd place I mounted my bike for another lap a full 16 minutes behind Vince. I was succumbing to the conclusion this guy was going to stay solid and slowly build a lead on me. To make things worse … I couldn’t counter because I was feeling like shit.
Lap 9 I came in right at 10pm to find a concerned pit helper. She gave me lots of encouragement because I was really doing well. The results didn’t show it though because Vince had built the lead into 20 minutes. We both agreed this guy was crushing it. The guy was amazing and I was becoming un-amazing. I think I felt my worst at this time and the results backed me up … back in 4th place.
Lap 10 By 11:21pm I was already done with lap 10 which compared to last year meant I was doing real well. But the leader board said otherwise on that last lap.
“Just tell me to stop and we will stop this madness”, I told her.
“I can’t do that”
“OK, I better get going then”, and with that I jumped on my bike and rode off into the darkness. … only 5 minutes behind the leader.
Of course there is my Facebook page but really that isn’t a good resource for following someone’s progress. So here is my Twitter feed to the right. This weekend I will be attending the 24 hours of Round the Clock in Spokane Washington. So until I return you can visit this page for updates. Our plan is to have Mo tweet updates from my phone … possibly maybe photos but we will see. Some resources:
DIRECTIONS TO RACE SITE
From I-90 heading east: Take the Maple St exit and go north on Walnut for 4.5 miles. At the major intersection of Francis, go left. Continue for 2 miles and Francis becomes Hwy 291. Continue on 291 approximately 3 miles. Turn left on 7 Mile Rd. Go across the 7 mile bridge and take the first left. Look for signs to the start and camping area.
Today I am working remote but not much work was accomplished due to my ever increasing distraction of a upcoming behemoth effort. Tomorrow we leave for the 24 Hours of Round the Clock in Spokane Washington. OK! back to work …
Ok I am back but darn if I feel ready. I think I need to do some more research on lap times and what it would take to beat last years record. … OK! Back to work …
Damn! I cant concentrate. I better make sure my packing list is up to date so we don’t leave anything behind. let’s see. Tent, Check. Bike Stand, Check. Action Wipes, check. Carbo Rocket … um, what I have left … grrrr, check. OK! Back to work …
No I need to find some information on body PH levels … no time to research that now. Back to work …
Awww, forget it. I am outtta here. Time to go get ready for the race.
We had been climbing for about and hour so I stopped to take some photos and to wait for my partner to catch up. Recovering from a recent injury she was taking her time. I had a chance to take a big breath and take in the sights. Sure is nice to live in such a beautiful place.
Suddenly I hear a loud grinding sound. I jerked around in time to see the jeep bearing down on me. My eyes locked onto the drivers and I knew just moments before the impact that his intent was to kill me. I should of stayed home to pack for the up coming race. But no here I was and now the time has come. Bam! I jerked a couple times and then heard a voice, “Are you alright”?
It was the dentist. I had fallen asleep while he was drilling my teeth.
“Did I hit a nerve”, he asked.
“No, fell asleep, I need to get some stuff packed”
Today I headed to the dentist and for the first time in 10 years or so had the chompers looked at. A nice woman worked on them and did her best to rough up my gums. I got to meet the lead dentist who I may add is a super nice guy. I like them so much I am going back tomorrow. The new job and the new benefits … and being able to take care of some lingering issues. A new start … now that I have spent some time in Bozeman I am able to start blossoming. Much like the flowers up in Sourdough Canyon.
My visitor has gone home and I am now in complete realization that I need to get ready for the 24 Hours of Round the Clock. My plan is to get the Turner built up for a spare bike and work on my 24 Solo List so that tomorrow I can just gather and pack.
Boneshakerbike 
