Author: Bill

Time flies – it feels like just yesterday we were in Zion, and now here I am, diving into a new training plan for 2012. The season’s looking packed and exciting. Kicking off with a 50K skate ski race and some snow bike races, including a 24-hour one. Then there’s the usual mix of an adventure race, cross country mountain bike races, and those 24-hour races I’m keen on defending. Plus, I might add a couple of 100-mile races and possibly the Devils Backbone run.

I began my training last night with some core exercises, which honestly left me feeling more like an old man than a racer. It’s like being an old tree, shedding its crusty leaves, ready to grow anew come spring.

This weekend, my plan is to get some skate skiing in. Then, I’m off to Billings to surprise my mom for her birthday by cooking dinner (and she’s none the wiser since she’s not on the internet. Let’s keep it that way – no spoilers, please, or you’ll face consequences worse than any pain you’ve known… but don’t worry, you’ll live).

It was cold but I did not care. I figured as long as I kept going I could produce heat. Movement equals heat. And I WAS moving, although barely. To stay on my bike required weaving so as to keep my balance. Suddenly I noticed that I was not on a noticeable trail any longer. Just as I was processing the details … thud … I hit a something.  A split second before the thud I was gazing in amazement about how grassy and comfortable it looked under a tree. Before that, I was thinking, “what the hell is grass doing in the desert”? I heard coughing in the distance.

“Oh no, are you ok?”, I shouted. I was extremely concerned about my girlfriend’s cold and sat up to get a better view of the source.

“Whaaaat?”, a gruff voice mumbled.

I awoke immediately and looked around. There was a bright light on the horizon progressing ever so slowly from right to left. I realized it was a stranger slowly making his way along a trail. I didn’t want any one to know I had stopped so I hunkered down. I realized that I had veered off course and I had been dreaming.

In the days leading up to the 2011 Frog hollow 25 Hour Race my girlfriend was very ill, probably the effects of food poisoning. But as the big day grew closer and we picked up another friend she recovered. All was very well but hat was then and now I was in a 25 hour race. And I was cold, shivering, and seemed to be dazed and lost.

When the light disappeared over the horizon I got up and walked to the where I saw the moving lights. I found the course and began to slowly ride. Still weaving I was at least back on course and racing. I wondered how long I had passed out. I was letting everything slip away and this is not how I had imagined my first race with the girl of my dreams in attendance. Experiencing extreme fatigue and emotional pain I had to let my mind drift into a dreamy state. I  started to relive the moments leading up to that night.

Jill, Mo and I arrived at Hurricane in the afternoon so by the time we retrieved Jill’s bike from Over the Edge Sports it was too late for a pre ride. So we set up the pit and our  tents then gathered at some burn barrels to catch up with other racers. This included the race director Cimarron who was pleased to see Jill and I. For just a moment it seemed that they would talk Mo into riding as well but after contemplating what she had just went through she declined. So we meandered back to the tents and fell fast asleep.

I awoke to the sound of rain. I quickly got up and helped Mo put the sides on the canopy. As time progressed and the start of the race got closer the rain turned to snow.  Just as we were about to line up the sun came out and Jill seemed to be relieved.  This kind of shocked me. I mean I thought we were rooting for bad weather … right?

Soon the race was underway and I raced to the front of the pack to asses who I figured was solo and who was on a team. It seemed to me the trio way out front was definitely team so I must have been in the solo lead. I settled in for a long days ride. It became apparent to me that another rider was interested in my pace. The rider was John Todd Mallow and he kept pretty good tabs on me. I looked back at one point and noticed he indeed was a solo racer so I let him pass and caught his wheel.

Three laps later my quick pit stops put me out of sight slightly so I decided to pick it up a notch and try to put some distance on John.  But I was already going at a pace over my planned effort level and the new faster pace started to take it’s toll on me. At one point I was around 40 minutes up on him but towards evening time he had taken advantage of my long pit to put on lights and reeled me back in. Upon entering the pit Mo informed me that he was not only holding me off but was gaining some time. I sat down to contemplate and announced that I was done racing.

“He can just have the race, I am through. I am exhausted”

Mo did her best to just lend me her ear and patiently waited for me to regain my composure. I slowly put on my lights and went out for another lap. I was struggling to motivate myself and was riding pretty slow when a rider seemed to be closing in on me. I didn’t want to hold anyone up so I stopped and started walking my bike. Everyone asked if I was ok and I announced that I was just “taking a break”. Then John passed me.

It wasn’t long before I processed what had just happened and then my competitive side took over and I latched onto his wheel. I knew he must be hurting too and I wanted to see how fast he was going. if he was going strong I would just relinquish the lead and let him go. Surprisingly though, he was going slow. And then on top of a climb he just stopped and got off his bike. I figured he had trouble shifting and rode slower so he could catch back up. I really wanted some company and to monitor this guys energy levels. It is surprising that when you wait for another rider what that does to their phycology. They figure your just being nice and then when you do surge they let you go. I was hoping I could pull this trick again.

I rode away never to see John again. I was riding with new confidence. And I was happy to discover that this new pace that he was riding at made me feel better by the mile. The slower pace was giving me a chance to rejuvenate.  I was feeling a lot better until I pulled into the pits late that night.

“That guy you were racing has disappeared”, Mo informs me.

“Yea, I saw him drop his chain or something and I rode away. He will be back. I just need to …”

“It’s weird, I mean he is totally gone from the results. And some other riders are now on your lap … one guy is in front of you and …”

“WHAT”

“Another guy … is leading the race”, Mo looks at me with confused eyes.

There was a hint of concern as well. She studied me to see how I was doing because she noticed that I had been deteriorating throughout the night.

“Oh C R A P …. oh well!  Whatever. I quit anyway … I mean …”, I threw down my bike and sat down.

I waited 2 minutes before I finished my sentence.

“I cant ride that THING …”, motioning to my mountain bike, ” … any longer. I just cant”

Mo stood there and just let me talk about how I felt and listened contently.  All the while she gave me some meat sandwiches and food to try and jump start me.

“Well … can’t you just go out there and walk a lap?  And … just keep moving.  Your doing GREAT!”

I sat there and contemplated what she just said. I mean, this is what I would of told someone, just keep the momentum going. It couldn’t hurt to just go out and walk another lap. So I got up and silently rode off into the darkness.

I was now walking slowly along the trail when two more riders passed me and asked if I was ok. Again I just replied that I was taking a break. In reality I had been dream walking and now that I had relived the entire weekend while I walked I started to feel like I could ride again. I hopped back on and was back in the race. I just wanted to finish the lap.

The lap was long and I stopped one more time to doze off to only be woken up by a passing racer. But finally the lights of the venue popped into view and I slowly rolled into my pit.

“Are you OK?”, Mo looked at me with great concern.

“You are doing great still but that lap was really long. You are still in third place I think”

“What, third now?”

“Yea. That guy that was in the lead dropped out and then you  were in the lead again. But then you never came in and two other guys are out in front of you now.”

I thought back to those riders that passed me and asked if I was OK.  Darn they had just taken the lead from me. I slumped into the chair. It would be dawn soon and I was contemplating just resting until day light. I didn’t care any more about doing well, just to get this damn nightmare over with. I winced from pain coming from my sit bones.

“I think I will take a Motrin. I can not sit any longer. Otherwise I should just quit”

Mo quickly found the little blue pills and dispensed a couple to me. I drank it down with coffee.

“Wow, can I have more coffee … and some Laura bars”

“Yea, drink it all”

I grabbed three bars and finished the coffee. By the time I reached the top of the hill leading out from the timing tent I felt the magic of caffeine. Suddenly I felt great and the pain in my ass was going away. I sat for the first time in like 4 hours and began to spin the cranks. The pace seemed pretty fast and I kept taking it up a notch to test to see if indeed I was getting better. I stopped a couple times to wolf down a Laura bar and with each break I seemed to be going faster and faster.  Before I knew it I was on the pit row finishing another lap.

Mo leaped up from her chair dazed and discombobulated.

“Um … I think one of the guys has dropped out and so you are in second now … but I am not sure.”

She looked really surprised to see me so quickly. I grabbed the coffee container and started gulping. Suddenly I realized the contents were hot and I screamed and spit out hot coffee all over my bike. My mouth was now scalded and I started coughing. That must of woke me up because when I started the next lap I was out for blood. I ripped up the first climb and started slamming as much Carbo Rocket as I could swallow. This was the first time I was keeping the fluids down and it seemed to be working. I was firing on all cylinders.  I decided to rip out a lap so fast that I would retain second place and respectably close to the guy in front.

I put in one of the fastest laps of the race and soon I was ripping back up pit row. I came to a skidding halt and asked for status.

”Dave Byers is the guy who is leading the race. Um … I am not sure but last lap he had 45 minutes on you …”

This news seemed to bug me, how could this be. I just put in a real fast lap.  I glanced to my right and there sat Jill Homer my friend and fellow solo racer. She was sick and seemed to be out of it. It all seemed like bizarreo world at that point. I was losing a race and my hero was down for the count. I grabbed more Carbo Rocket and shot out of the pits.

“I will not be stopping any more … have Carbo Rocket ready”, I yelled back to Mo.

Another fast lap. I was on fire and I wanted everyone to know I was not going to lay down gently.  IF Dave was going to win this race I was going to make him work for it.  I came into pit row again and blasted to the timing tent only pausing to grab more fuel from Mo.

“30 minutes”, she said in a calm but stern voice as she handed me another bottle.

Another fast lap but the quick pace started to take its toll. My body started to fatigue but I reached down further then I have all year to keep it going.  Again I approached the timing tent. Mo step forward to give me one more bottle. This would be my final lap.

“10 minutes”

As I raced across the desert I knew that I would catch Dave and as I turned onto the final rocky section I saw his lime green jersey. About two miles from the finished I passed him.

“Go get-em”

It must be that they thought I was a team racer because I was going so fast. I looked back to make sure … YES … I just took the lead.

Photo credits go to Jesse Carnes and Pat Scharf. Click on the images to go to the source page which may or may not be visible depending upon the permissions.

I just sprayed Zicam into my mouth to try and thwart an oncoming cold. With a Frog Hollow departure date set for next Thursday this cold thing can not happen. Isn’t that how it always goes? Now I must gather and purchase 25 servings of Carbo Rocket for said race. Last night I finished unpacking from my trip to Missoula. It was a trip that I have been taking every other week for the past 9 weeks in a row. Last weekend our plan was simple. To do a cross race and then hike the high point in the Bitterroots.

First on the docket was the cross race. Also thanks to Red Barn for getting my cross bike rejuvenated mid season. I decided to race the old steed instead of my usual mountain bike. Just like normal I was running on no sleep and I was skeptical that my performance would be up to par. My training leading up to this race had a lot to be desired. But no matter because this was my last full of training weekend in preparation for the Frog Hollow .

My training plan had me doing a 3 hour hard effort (race was suggested) on Saturday and then Sunday I needed to do a 6 hour low key ride.  The combination of a cyclocross race Saturday followed by a nice hike on Sunday would fit the plan perfectly. And to ensure three hours of training Saturday I would do two races. Enter the 2011 Rolling Thunder.

Race number 1 was the masters race. I lined up per usual in the back. When I sized up my competition I felt a sense of dread.  Chance Cook who has won numerous state championships was right up front and so was a guy named Mark Knokey. Mark won the Rolling Thunder last year after I crashed in a final lap corner while leading the race. This year the Vertical Earth rider out of Idaho looked extra strong and focused. I had my work cut out for me.

On the first lap I was hanging out mid pack trying my best to not let the lead group gap the riders I was desperately trying to keep up with. The pace seemed fast and I figured that I would soon fade and get into a “just do my best” mode.

Soon a lead group of four, maybe 5, broke free on the second lap and I spent the entire lap just trying to catch them.  Soon I bridged up and settled in following them and resting up a bit. The pace seemed pretty high so at that point I was just trying to not get dropped.

I don’t know what lap it was but there is a straight section just before the start/finish line that I like to attack on. The group seemed to be going slower then normal so I decided to take the lead. This would ensure maximum announcer mention. I love it when they get excited. As I rode past everyone I decided to impress them with my speed and went extra hard. As I turned the corner I glanced back and I had a gap. I sprinted over the start finish line like it was the final sprint.

“Bill Martin is making his move”, the announcer shouted over the loud system.

“Keep it in Montana”, I heard John Curry yell as I went by his team area.

After putting forth a pretty fast lap, showing off to my friends and Mo, I slowed a bit so as to not blow up later on. Besides, I had a harder race to do later that night.  Mark surged hard and caught up to me. I figured why not work with him to keep Chance from catching on. I let him go by and caught his wheel.

“Watch out, Bill is a horse”, his teammate yelled from their pit area.

I took offense to that and started to make horse sounds. Then the track curved back around towards his excited teammate. “No your wrong … I am a mule”, I shouted as I went past him.

I took the lead on the next lap and started riding a little harder and soon Mark drifted back to Chance. Then the first mishap of the weekend happened. My cross bike’s shifters were already starting to strip out so I had like 6 out of 9 gears, certainly enough to race cross. But just as I motored away I stripped the rest of the gears out leaving me with one gear in the back and the two up front. So by using those two gears I continued to try and hold everyone off for the remainder of the race.

I went strong to the end and did a dance of victory at the finish line. It was a good race but I think I went way to hard. I should of immediately went looking for a back up bike or try and get my bike fixed. My sponsor Peter from Wild Joes even said I could use his bike (quite tempting), but I thought I could use the same two gear trick for the late night race.

Between races I Action Wipe(ed) up and enjoyed watching Mo’s cross race. I managed to run around the course catching her sometimes in 3 places per lap. Way more fun then recovering and keeping warm for the next race. But this would haunt me later.

Race number 2 was the late night show or the Cat 1,2 race. I upgraded the week before so I could be in the “show”. Right from the get go I knew I was in trouble but had faith that my “extra gear” would kick in and I would make my way up through the field.

By the end of the first lap it was apparent I had gone to hard before in the first race and had not recovered yet. As hard as I tried it seemed as though I was not catching the group. Still though I had faith that I would eventually start picking riders off.

I could still see the large pack which seemed to still be in one group just yards ahead of me when I started hearing a sound from my front wheel. I had broken a spoke and I slowed down to access the situation. It would only be moments before the remaining spokes would loosen and my front wheel would explode. I gingerly rode on.

After a while I deemed it necessary to continue the effort and stay as strong as I could for the friends and loved ones watching. As long as that front wheel didn’t collapse I would be fine I guessed. And I didn’t take any risks in corners and on the cork screw downhill.

What really took some wind out of my sails was on a re-mount after the run up. I slipped off my pedal thinking I was clicked in and landed on the cross bar. OUCH! To make matters worse I gouged my right ankle pretty bad. I limped for a moment and re-mounted, gingerly, even more then before, rode off embarrassed that this all happened in front of a large crowd.

After a while I deemed it necessary to “partake” in the cross festivities at the run-up. I started downing outstretched beers to the delight of the crowd. I can say beer didn’t slow me down but it did not help either. So I can take that off my potential “energy drink” list.  Once I grabbed some outstretched money.  So in the midst of the worst train wreck of a race to date I seemed to be having fun. Just at the end to make all things seem worse I got lapped effectively ending my race. I did a extra lap for good measure and slipped into the shadows to hide my embarrassed face. Thankfully Mo was there to take the brunt of my frustration and coax me into thinking I did well.

And that is the tail of two races, first and last. It was all good and I was able  to win  one for Team Muleterro, which I may add is hosting the 2011 MuleCross this weekend. It should be a fun course and a good time so come on out.

So many good things have happened to me in the last 4 months. Every time I start to get depressed because I am not “organized” or my “training plan” has been disorganized I have to remember that the root causes are really good things. One good thing, meeting someone very special, is a perfect example. I am also learning and discovering more new things. Like my ability to love and care. And because every good person in your life will add good qualities to ones life you pick up new things. Like courage, the courage to know when what you are doing is more harmful then the excitement of pushing the limits.

As I stood in the Rattlesnake Recreation Area parking lot the night was in full swing. The temps were dropping and it was darker than my favorite coffee. I had been quickly trying to prepare for the Sheep Mountain leg and stay warm at the same time. Another cold tremor came over me as I looked up in the sky for my friend the Big Dipper. Nothing there. The decision was mine alone. The question which seems simple was a complex one for me.

Continue and slog for 5 or 6 hours with minimal gear. I could carry a down coat in case of an emergency and could sustain myself easily over night until help arrived. So in reality my life was not in too much danger. It would be uncomfortable, sure. But what part of the RMVQ is comfortable? I was perfectly willing to take the risk. I wondered if this type of drive and intensity is the very thing that set my end to be somewhere deep in the woods alone. Is it the very thing that keeps loved ones at a distance in fear they would be the ones to come and find my body. Is it why up until last year I have been pretty much alone and single?

I could stop and call it a night, giving up on the RMVQ. This would be something new to me and the thought of it sent another round of shivers throughout my body. This was something I could not bear to think about. No way I would give up. And normally those thoughts would keep me going but this weekend I was not alone. Two good friends stood in the parking lot in front of me. I shined my headlamp in their direction once again, giving up on finding the Big Dipper. I saw concern and despair. It broke my heart. I couldn’t quit this effort because of discomfort but I didn’t want to cause pain in the ones that loved me. I decided upon a plan. But this plan would take courage, the courage to walk away from intensity and focus. To walk away from the Sheep Mountain leg.

“How about this”, I sat against Mo’s car, shivering out another bout of tremors.

“I don’t do this leg. I go warm up, eat, and then Norman and I will resume from Aid Station 3. Norman, can you do the rest of the RMVQ if I ride with you?”

“I can do that, yes”

So we packed up everything and headed off to eat brats and organize and comeback for the rest of the event. Norman busily conjured up some contacts on his smart phone and began the process of organizing aid stations with riders for the last half of the ride. I downed 6 brats and everything that Mo could cook up. Then we rested and waited  for our planned 1 AM departure. Our plan was to meet Alden and Lydia at aid station 4 in Turah. From there we would finish the RMVQ and turn a small setback into a successful effort. Norman dozed off and began to snore while I snuggled closer to Mo as silence filled the air.

Norman had set a phone alarm and when it went off all my ambition and focus was no where to be seen. I secretly wanted to get to it before everyone woke up and turn it off. I had been sitting there quietly contemplating what had happened so far and it startled me. I did not want to leave a warm house and food behind for some ten thousand more feet of climbing and tons of miles.  And it was cold outside to boot.

Norman took off 20 minutes before me and I promised to catch up. And that I did, after freaking out he went the wrong way, right in the middle of the MitTower climb.

Norman & I just topped out on MitTower and posted a cp Marcy Pic – 2:09 am via twitter

I twittered our check point arrival and posted a Marcy photo as Norman caught up to me at the top. We had a short moment discussion on “what the hell we were doing” and started our decent to the Blackfoot River. The downhill was chilly and I stopped a couple times in fear that Norman was involved in a mishap. But he always popped around the next corner shivering violently. I could tell he was getting cold and his figures were becoming a problem. Soon enough we reached the valley floor where it was way colder then expected.

It was so cold the river was giving off fog which made all the trees and landmarks a ghostly white. The ride to the swinging bridge was very eerie but soon enough we did indeed arrived. We were all frosted over ourselves.

Norm and I at swinging bridge – 3:10 am via twitter

It wasn’t long before we were approaching Turah and in doing so a car started to pass us. I figured it was either a drunk driver coming home from the bar at 4 am or Lydia and Alden. I got over as far as I could and prayed. As the vehicle passed I saw Alden’s gleaming face. He was totally stoked to ride.

And so we meat our compatriots for the last two legs of the RMVQ. The band of riders prepared and I downed about 4 Lara bars and a bunch of Jerky. Carbo Rocket was still keeping me going but I was ravished and needed something solid … and … YUMMY.

At check point Turah. Leaving with Lydia, Alden, & Norman. #RMVQ – 3:51 am via twitter

The climb from Turah is brutal. It climbs consistently for 3000 vertical feet except near the top where it kicks up for good measure. I was glad to have company because last year I got to the top and passed out until a cold breeze woke me up. The toll started weighing heavy on Norman.

“I am falling asleep while biking”, he gasped as he bent over his handlebars.

It wasn’t long though before we were all riding again and I was the first to reach the top. I had a moment until they reached me so I wet forth in posting a Marcy photo and tried to tweet/post.

Can see dawn now. on 5 corners pass waiting for Alden, Lydia, & Norman to summit. Hour or two from Deer Creek. – 6:29 am via twitter

While I did finally manage to get something sent off via cell phone it wasn’t as smooth as one would think. Three times I fell asleep while typing the message out. Thankfully my companions of the night showed up and I came back to life.

The rest of the journey over to Pattee Canyon involved logging roads near Miller Peak. It was cold so we stayed together for the simple warmth of our company and friendship. Soon the day light filtered out the darkness and our spirits lifted. Once again we started chatting as the anticipation of sunrise seeped into our consciousness like a good cup of morning coffee. Lydia pedaled by me signing some tune. These guys were doing great.

“This is what it looked like when I was going up Blue Mountain yesterday … about this time … um … was that me”, Norman seemed to be caught in a parallel world that many of us 24 hour racers know so well.

We stood at the top of the Sam Braxton Trail enjoying the sunrise. I had been messaging the aid station people that we were arriving early.

Alden, Lydia, & Norman … Andx i decending sammy b #RMVQ – 6:29 am via twitter

My text messages were getting a little hard to read. But I am sure everyone understood. We were approaching the end of a long 24 hour ride. But we had one more leg to do. As I approached the last aid station a lone figure appeared in the empty lot. I jumped off my bike and threw my arms around her. It was a good feeling, probably the best of the ride.

Then the others arrived. Julie … Ed … Laurie all trickled out of a car and gave everyone congratulation hugs. It was a good scene. Mo served me up some more food and explained that we arrived so early she didn’t have time to stop for coffees or anything else. Julie did manage to grab some joe but most importantly out fashioned Lydia as the best dressed rider of the event. There is no way to explain the outfit … had to be there … it was awesome.

What is commonly known as the Thursday Night Ride crew did the last leg with me. Norman, Lydia, Alden, Ed, Julie, and Laurie all stood with me on University Mountain to post the last Marcy photo. Then it was all downhill from there. Icing on the cake as you will, or the RMVQ’s version of Champs Elysées.  There was the congratulatory meet up at the base of MoZ and the finish just as previous years. And of course the breakfast at the Uptown Café. All good stuff.

The end went down as it always does in years past but this year it was new. This year no one finished the RMVQ but it was successful in many ways. Mostly though, I found the courage to stop the madness before it consumed me.   I am not riding solo any more, I have others in my life.

Maybe the RMVQ will never be finished again. Maybe … but I cant wait for next year. Sheep Mountain and I have a score to settle.

Riding to the top of Blue Mountain with my friend was great, I wouldn’t change that. But there are some side-effects to joy riding the first 3 hours of the RMVQ. Specially when your desire is to set a new record. I needed to make up a half hour by the time I hit the first aid station on Kona Bridge.  I rode at a higher intensity then the previous year but when I reached the end of the Grave Range I was even further behind pace. The big snow storm the days leading up to the event had the course super saturated and there were lots of huge puddles, each at the bottom of a screaming downhill. I had to slow down and find a way around. Then start a fresh up the next climb without enjoying the benefit of momentum from the speedy downhill. So the puddles got me.

I pulled into the first aid station with the idea in my head that this would be an epic RMVQ instead of a record breaking one. Already out was Norman who was determined to be the first non-Bill finisher. He took one look at the snow and bypassed the a-frame on top of Snow Bowl. I was anxious to see this snow and see if I could make it to the next aid station without abandoning the course. The RMVQ has been completed by yours truly every year since I started it and this year I wasn’t about to let it be the first to have no finishers. I was the only one left. I spent minimal time with my lovely aid person and headed up the long climb to the a-frame.

The climb was long but I expected it to be. What I never ran into was the huge snow pack reported earlier in the day. But as I climbed up the mountain everything got wetter and wetter. When I swung around the last switchback to the a-frame there was around 4-6 inches of snow. It was easy enough to pedal through but when I arrived at the a-frame it was apparent that I was going to have a “interesting” time descending the “Bear grass Highway” (A sweet single track section that in the summer is a hoot). I shoveled the snow from the front of the door and went in.

It seemed warm inside. That is because it was 34 degrees outside and dropping as the sun started to set.

“A frame snow bowl. 60 miles 10000 feet vert so far #RMVQ”

I typed this out on my phone and tweeted before I went out on the deck to post a “Marcy Photo”.

I put on every piece of clothing I had but as I descended I became cold. Add to that numerous crashes due to deep snow that had blown into the bowl. It was like descending a luge track that had 3 inches of fresh snow on top. The decent was tricky … but fun too. I reached Snow Bowl Lodge and ripped down to the Ravine Trail to begin my final ascent to get to Aid Station 2 in the Rattlesnake.

The sun had set and my lights burned into the dark ravine as I climbed a local trail known as, interestingly enough, the “Ravine Trail”. My goal was to make up time even though hopes of setting a new record had vanished with my slow decent into Snow Bowl. Now I was just trying to finish the RMVQ in 24 hours. Any more lost time and I would fail. I climbed fairly well and reached the top to post another “Marcy Photo”. Soon I would be in the Rattlesnake Recreation Area parking lot.

I shot down the “Drop Out” trail and my mind drifted to aid station 2. Would the parking lot party still be raging? How much snow would be on top of Sheep mountain? Would I be able to stay warm enough on the next leg?

“Shit”, I screamed as I neared “Sawmill Gulch”.

I left my flat pedals and snow boots in Bozeman. Now the question was how to get my booties to survive some extreme hiking on rocky terrain. The Sheep mountain leg was going to be epic enough. Now I had to do it with my bike shoes and clipless pedals. I shuttered and I though of how long of a hike might be in store for me on shoes designed to never touch the ground.

Soon the trail took its toll on my concentration to worry. I started grinning wildly and screamed excited phrases into the night air as I ripped around corners and dropped off the ridge.  I raced down “Sawmill Gulch” taking air off the big water bars and dashed into the “Maditory Singletrack”. This twisty piece of goodness took away all the pains of the previous 9 hours. I swerved around the trees as blissful and nimble as an owl. Music blaring in my ears I finally broke out into the parking lot and skidded to a stop. No one there except for one car, a recognizable car. It was Mo and Norman.

“Hey”

“Holy cow that was fast, I mean we figured it would take you 15 minutes to get off from Ravine but had no idea”

“It was fun, I am having a great time”

Shivers were rippling through my body. All the descending had frozen me to the core. Still … What a great ride so far.