Author: Bill

“Hi Gina, I am so sorry to put you in this position but I am going to miss the pre race meeting tonight and will not be able to load up the aid station bins … um … I am thinking about just turning around and going home.”, I babbled to the race director over the phone as I drove towards Butte at around 95 mph. I had missed it, the “big race” of the year and I was totally frustrated. I wouldn’t of even been able to call the director and apologize if it were not for my good friend who drove all the way to the Outdoorsman in Butte to alert Gina to the situation.

“No worries Bill … really … this is no big issue. We have you covered. Just meet me at the starting line at 5 AM sharp an I will get you all squared away”

For the last two weeks I have been totally off the radar and in my own world of new town new job. I haven’t updated or even posted any social web updates. I guess when things feel good an outlet, like my blog, this blog, isn’t needed as much. But as I mentioned to a friend this morning I do not want to become distant to the people who matter most. Specially now that my friends, um family, for the past 6 years are in another distant place. All I needed was a reminder that they are still out there. I was not forgotten, in fact I was expected. Besides, I could let down Chad who had my bike ready to rock and traveled all the way from Hamilton to participate.

So I arrived late at Homestake Pass and plopped down my tent and drifted off to sleep. I was there at 5 AM to sign up and get my timing chip. I scrounged up enough bottles to fill with Carbo Rocket and stock the check station bins. I went back to my car to put the final preparations on my race get-up. GPS, some tools, two tubes, one taped to my frame, and of course a couple Action Wipes … just in case.  I glanced at my watch and realized I had ten minutes to start time. I suddenly realized I had no bottles or Carbo Rocket to start the first 20 or so miles. I asked friends but no one had any to spare. I quickly grabbed a bottled water and lined up. And then we were off.

I often wonder if I am the only one who struggles the way I do with certain life events. It seems to me no matter how much I think I have moved on it is not until I reach a certain point in some event that I realize I have been carrying some sort of baggage.  For one year I have been haunted by my poor performance of last years race. And now that I was careening down a mountain with David “Tinker” Juarez. I glanced back to see that we were pulling away from the field and I internally berated myself for going out so hard. I realized that even though I was not peaking for this race and I wanted to hang back I had a vendetta with the Butte 100.  John Curry joined up and the three of us rode on.

Last years Butte 100. I totally focused on that one race and it ended up the worst disaster of the year. I was lucky to even finish the damn thing. No matter how many times I thought I was over it I couldn’t help but feeling some bits of disappointment at times and think back to the “why” and “what if”. I even tried to put a band-aid in place by re-designing my training philosophy. And then there was the “my friends accomplishments are more important” excuse.  I felt, quite suddenly, that I had to put that bad experience to rest. I guess moving forward is the only way to put distance on “things”. All this swirling around in my head as I rode behind John and Tinker … and we put more distance on the chase pack.

The worst thing you can say, in life, is that you want to do it all over again. And I don’t.  It was a good year, found love, found pain, and lost. I wouldn’t trade it for the world. Why then would I want to do the Butte 100 the way I did it last year all over again?  I decided to back off and let John and Tink climb up into Elk Park ahead of me. I slowed to a maintainable pace and that, in the long run be the right thing to do. Last year I blew up hard after going all out for three hours. This year I decided I could go faster by going at “Bill Speed” … which is slower then “John Speed” or “Tinker Speed”. The rest of the first 40 miles went on without a hitch. I eventually got my bottles of Carbo Rocket and continued on with my sustainable pace which provided me with a great un-stressful ride. I really enjoyed the Nez Perice Trail much more then in years past.  Then I hit Pipestone.

Only one woman finished the Butte 100 this year and she came in late at night. I did talk to one woman who got pulled at mile 80 for missing the cut-off. Everyone was telling her how far 80 miles was and that given it was her first race how big of an accomplishment she had done. However she never agreed that she did well. I could tell that she will be back next year. I could almost see in her eyes she was planning her revenge mere hours after she was shuttled back to the venue. The look I had last year.

Pipestone is the lower part of the course. In the winter it is where we go to ride. It is hot and dry. It is like a desert, Tinker called it a desert. This is where I almost cracked. I didn’t want to go on but somehow I just kept going. At times the sand was so soft I had to walk my bike. Sand slogging I call it. The sun was intense and I felt like my exposed skin was frying like bacon in a frying pan. The sand underfoot was so hot it was baking my feet inside my shoes. I just kept drinking Carbo Rocket even though I felt that any moment I was going to throw up. Then I got internal chills. I imagine myself falling to my knees first and then just going down face first. I was going to become vulture food. Plus I just knew this would be a cramp fest once I got on my bike again.

It seemed like an eternity until I finally reached the 50 mile checkpoint. As I approached I contemplated quitting. Maybe I am just wasting a good life span. I am finally starting to realize that the cloud of a bad job has lifted. I feel great at the new job. Just yesterday I went across the street to a store that is just like the Good Food Store and had some chicken curry soup. I sat there eating and looking out
at the mountains thinking how cool things were. I started to feel like I had arrived. And now that i was entering the start finish area to complete 50 miles I started to hear cheers.  No way I was going to quit. I was only 50 miles away from finishing.

I finally did start cramping but a quick dose of endurolytes held them at bay. The last 50 miles was uneventful as i just continued on at my sustainable pace. I started to feel better just as a storm came in and dumped some cold rain on us. That felt so good. The more I rode towards the finish the better I felt. Another 100 miles and I would have this race in the bag. Darn short races 😉

I have been doing this race for so long that everyone knows me and the last aid stations were like going along visiting family on a long road trip. Next thing I know … I was done. It felt good to put in a solid effort but not to the point of burying myself. Sure I almost died in the desert but overall I feel that I could of gone and been up there with the leaders, maybe even set the course record myself.

But I held back a schooch and now I leave tomorrow for my second hundie in two weeks. This one promises to be just as grueling. You never know … maybe the  Butte 100 whipped me into shape.

3rd place in my 5th Butte 100.

• 2007 – 07:25:30 (Old Course)
• 2008 – 9:49:50
• 2009 – 10:52:35
• 2010 – 11:27:36
• 2011 – 10:29:31

It has started to rain finally so I guess I better head for home. The week started with a couple of 90 degree days and ended with some cool 60 degree versions. Tonight is spectacular. I really don’t know what I am doing, just riding around. Some tunes from One Republic blasting from my iPod shuffle now. I ride my bike when I don’t know what to do. Today I read some posts from my old Thursday Night Ride group in Missoula and now I wonder if I made a mistake. Is this home sick? I keep riding on…o/o

For those days we felt like a mistake, Those times when love’s what you hate,  Somehow,  We keep marching on.

I am finally settling in and even have found some time for rides. This Thursday my friends and I rode a long toot around a place called Mystic Lake high in the mountains. My  mind has been busy with  constant reminders that I have a couple 100 mile races coming up. That makes me panic a little. Tonight as I ride and the tune “Marching On” blasts out more lyrics I think about a close friends recent battle in a hundred effort . I keep riding on …o/o

We’ll have the days we break, And we’ll have the scars to prove it,  We’ll have the bonds that we save,  But we’ll have the heart not to lose it.  For all of the times we’ve stopped,  For all of the things I’m not.  We put one foot in front of the other,  We move like we ain’t got no other,  We go when we go,  We’re marching on.

I round the bend and now on the home stretch I coast a little and think about the future, even the near future. At 5 AM my friend Paul rolls into town and we will drive to Missoula. A drive to watch another dear friend race in a national series race. I stop at a light and it comes into focus, beyond the city elements. Beyond the stop light and street signs. Out in the distance. The mountains, they beckon. I guess I have it all. Friends, bonds, and a place to ride to remember them.

There’s so many wars we fought, There’s so many things we’re not,  But with what we have,  I promise you that,  We’re marching on

And I continue to ride on…o/o

I don’t know what happened to the relaxed and easy approach to introducing myself to my new surroundings. I was so relaxed that I didn’t leave Missoula until 1ish depending upon who you talk to. In any case I planned to go at the new adventures slow as to savor the experience. That is until I got off the second exit on I90 in Bozeman. I had one foot out my car door and immediately we needed to “get ready” for the “three sandwich ride”. In Missoula lingo, Thursday night ride. But this was no TNR.  It started out innocent enough, a climb up the Leverich canyon trail.

Soon we reached what seemed to be the top, I say “seemed”, we would climb more later. Around 2,000 feet up we ran into a old mine. After that and some more climbing, then we began the “Moser Maze” trail. When I saw a sign indicating mileage of 4, 8, and 9 I knew I was in for some riding.  We had already done like 15 miles and given I just finished a 24 hour race I was willing to turn back and start preparing for my apartment hunt. Hogwash … this is your first ride.

After the “Moser Maze” and some more tough climbing we rallied at the top of the “Time Warp”. That “Time Warp” was so much fun. Including “roots”, a term we just didn’t have in Missoula. It was great. And just like the TNR in Missoula we had a meet up with the “other group”. Some things never change.

Next up was the “Cow Pasture” or was it “Cow Prairie”, or maybe the “Cow Trail” Well, whatever, it was fun and reminded me of Spring Gulch in Missoula where the worn single track was mischievously tricky and could result in a wash out if one was not careful. And there was the not so careful header into the mud. Not me, but someone else who I may add was warned about the “swampy section”. About 36 miles later as the sun was about to set we were barreling down the “Sourdough” trail being cautious for hikers, of course.

So my first day in Bozeman had nothing to do with finding a apartment and everything to do with my first ride. I cant wait for some solo journeys to discover some more of these areas. As much as I love group rides the excitement of discovering things on my own is pretty fun too.

OK … time to find a place to hang my bike.

I have made a trip to the Good Food Store, possibly the last time, to gather supplies for my trip this morning. I have cleaned up my mountain bike for  a Thursday night ride Bozeman style. I have packed the beetle with enough stuff to sustain myself until I find permanent lodging in the Bozone. But am I ready to accept the choices that I made?  To late. Once the snow melts from the mountains it is hard to keep the water from reaching the ocean.

I remember a movie once, the Matrix, forgot which one. Anyway, the idea on how choice works. I forget the exact dialog. I could look it up and quote it but here is the lowdown as I understand it.  In the movie choices are made before they come to our attention. Our task is to find out why we made that choice.

True for me because I believe everything happens for a reason and is just part of the flow down life’s path. Wheels spin and gyroscopic forces keep you up and moving down the path. The choice to manipulate the handlebars is yours but if you think about each choice your trip down the path is going to be a rough one. It is best to just let your instincts take over and get into that Zen like zone and just enjoy the ride. If you don’t reflect on certain choices you can not learn from faceplants and general mishaps.

Darn, just drove by Drummond. I wanted to stop for a break. Oh well … what is that? How am I blogging while driving? I have talked my bike Betty into taking dictation as I drive. We will type this up later and upload it at a Wi-Fi spot. Probably in Butte at a coffee shop.  A break from the drive, like a lake nestled in the mountains. A temporary stop on the way to the ocean.

 

Even in the film Neo (I think is his name) didn’t believe in fate because he resisted wanting to believe that  he didn’t have control over his own life. My point being that I am scared that things will not work out but comforted that they always do. It is all fate now. Or is it?

I did make the decision to accept the position and move away from the comforts of Missoula. Ahh heck, sit back and enjoy the ride … right? What if I was sort of forced into this path?  Trees don’t consciously make decisions but they have their place, an impact on the surroundings. A tree-well is evidence of that. I am getting sidetracked … where was I?

So here is a thought. If you don’t pursue change then you are resisting  fate. A tree that doesn’t grow straight is not a misfit at all. In fact they make the best photos. I look at tress like this as the brave ones, making unconscious changes in a world of straight. In the end their fate is more endearing and photographic then the norm. Change is good.

I am going to Bozeman today to scout for lodging. I am following the path that I have chosen. Right this moment I am driving down the interstate and can not help but think that this road symbolizes life right now. I got on this route and I know where it leads. But when I arrive all the factors and variables of life will take me on a journey that no one can predict. If I hadn’t set this all in motion I wouldn’t of been on tis road.

This road to my future home. A place to launch all new adventures. A place to fall in love. A place to get my heart broken. A place to grow. A place to heal. A place unknown. A place mysterious. A place fresh and new. A place I have chosen. I am barreling down the path and now fate can take over. Hold on, this should be fun…o/o

I am moments until I walk out the door at my present job. Free from low wages and the burden of how to pay bills and eat at the same time. Free from so much more. My closest friends know of which I speak. It all stems from a decision and then a execution of that decision. I decided I wanted more and then followed through by accepting the job at MSU. It all came real this morning when I placed the acceptance letter in the mail. Tomorrow I am planning on heading to Bozeman and looking for an apartment. Totally exciting stuff. Momentum has now taken over.

This weekend the process of “taking the plunge” played out as well. Sometime you have to just put one foot in front of the other to get the ball rolling. But first you must decide to move that foot. Then momentum takes over. Oh … and this post may seem to have lots of photos of Norman … a stand in body double for me.

I knew there was a better way to spend the 3 day holiday weekend then to sit around town, doing chores, and watching TV. I wanted to do something better. I wanted to go camping, hiking, and exploring. I wanted to get out of town and replace the paved roads with wilderness. I wanted to be by a stream or lake roasting something over a open fire. I wanted, no needed, to be outdoors. But I had stuff to do and a move to plan. There was so much to procrastinate about.

Finally I made a decision. A decision to leave behind the concrete jungle of metro Missoula and head into the woods. I deputized my friend Norman to head up this movement. It wasn’t long before he showed up ready to haul stuff and my lazy ass away from town.  Next thing I know we are looking for a camping spot 22 miles off the beaten path near the State Line Trail just south of Superior Montana. At first I was grumpy and totally rebellious. The shock of being out in the woods with just a tent, sleeping bag, and some meat to grill was a little like giving up caffeine cold turkey. Deputy do-it plopped us at a closed gate and so I went to bed but not before some other cranky inducing events.

First off I forgot my headlamp and was forced to navigate with iPhone illumination. OK, I could deal with that. But then sitting by the campfire even that light was “Snuffed” out.  I was starting to unwind by the fire when my camp chair collapsed to one side. The fire location was on a steep grade and I just fell over. Problem is that the beer, Coldsmoke of all things, proceeded to tip into and empty its contents into my jacket pocket. Yep! Same pocket that held said iPhone. FAIL. But I had set this decision into motion and now I was out of town a long way from the comforts of home and I had to live with it.

So I went to bed, light-less, disgusted, and grumpy. The next day was a different story. I awoke with optimism. I didn’t feel rushed. I thought it would be a good idea to walk up the road to see how far we could get before snow turned us around. I grabbed my coffee mug and thankfully my camera and we were off.

The end of the road was under a half mile, but then there was that waterfall. Hmm, wonder were that trail goes? Next thing I know we are at a half frozen lake. Hmm, wonder what is up the next draw? And moments later we were standing at a mostly frozen lake. Wow, this was a full fledged adventure. All set in motion by making that decision to get out of town and executing it. Hmm, wonder where that snow field goes? After all the snow was surprisingly crusted and easy to walk on.

We broke out into a grassy bowl lined with huge snow drifts. Hiking up the bowl was easy enough and so the journey continued. As we left that valley floor the giants started to emerge. First it was Illinois Peak. Then Gold Crown, Wisdom, Cascade, and Sherlock Peaks. Once on a main ridge-line we quickly gained the summit of Oregon Peak to the waiting arms of other snow covered peaks. High above Missoula Lake, where I wanted to camp, I could see that it was completely frozen with the road leading to it under 6 feet of snow. We plopped down to soak it in and declare the “morning excursion” a success.

Norman sat in the grass as I left the summit to “practice” my open ridge balance. There was no danger from a serious fall and in the process discovered some pretty cool alpine flowers and rocks. I picked up some quartz and snapped off a couple shots.

I thought back to what could of been. What if I dedicated myself to finish my chores and start packing for the move? I could of been at City Brew sipping some mud and pounding blueberry scones. No, this was much better. And I am so glad I decided to get out of town.

Before long Norman caught up and we finished the jaunt with some boot skiing and tobogganing down the snowy slopes of Oregon peak. And this was just the beginning of the weekend.

So now I have this iPhone that no longer works very well and a lot of packing (giving stuff away) to do.  Right were I need to be at this time and space. Before long I will be living in another zone … Bozone (Montana nick name). I feel refreshed and more energized because I got out into the woods. It all pans out once momentum takes over.

I have 4 days of work at Univision left and a 3 day weekend in front of me.  Usually I would be ready, packed, and prepared to get into the woods for some adventure. Instead here I sit at City Brew in kind of a post 24 hour race fog without direction. I do yearn for lakes, rivers, mountains, trails, and camp fires. But with so much moving stuff pending it is hard to focus on just relaxing. It has got me in a funk.

I figured if I could put together a plan to do some outdoors activities with friends then I would be forced to get out and enjoy. But too late for that, everyone has already found things to do. So here I sit at City Brew ready to walk back home to unpack from last weekend.

I could do chores.  Get caught up on my training stuff and get a new training plan in place. Maybe do some online apartment hunting. My bikes do need cleaning, extensive trip to the car wash, type of cleaning. Then I could stop by Target and get some plastic bins for my new great idea.

Oh! My new idea? Instead of card board boxes I plan on getting three giant plastic bins. One for the kitchen, one for the living room, and one for bedroom and bath. Just three. And then give or throw away the rest. Imagine moving with furniture, bikes, and just three bins.  That is my goal. In fact I have been entertaining the idea of moving by bike and just leaving everything behind for anyone who wants it.

Maybe I’ll just go home and start packing for those bins or better yet get my car cleaned up. I think the best plan is just to step one foot out the door and begin walking. Walking will lead to new adventure or at the very least getting something done. Going with the momentum theory. Carry on …o/o

How can you measure life’s greatest moments when life itself is so relative? I don’t think you can, really. Because we are all human, which exposes life’s random nature. We are each a complex unique entity, but an organize jumble of DNA. Organized, but subject to unexpected results. I would like to try to measure my life’s greatest moments just to show how a bunch of complex organisms, each with their own relative ways of measuring things, can factor themselves into one of them for me.

When I first moved to Missoula mountain biking was a distant memory for me. In fact I moved here with a old broken Trek that I had from my previous mountain bike life. I was into hiking and photography back then and mountain biking was not really on my radar any longer. As I look back two factors evolved me into who I am today, Missoula’s great trail system, and TNR. If it were not for TNR who knows what other random path I would of taken.

The TNR or Missoula Thursday Night Rides is a group of people I hooked up with back June 10, 2004. I heard about them when I stopped into Adventure Cycling to ask if there were any mountain bike groups in town. Someone at the front desk said that Julie Huck has a group that meets on Thursday nights. So I inquired about more information and learned that the next ride was up Grant Creek. It was there that I met up with new people and did the Ravine trail, my first TNR ride.  I have rode almost every ride in the last 7 years since then.

Over those 7 years each of the people I have met, rode with, become friends with, have collectively made the TNR a big part of my life here in Missoula. They have become my family. Last night we did the Treasure Ride to the top of Sentinel, even though I technically didn’t ride due to hands that are still injured from last weekends 24 hour race. On top of Sentinel an event took place that forged another notch in my timeline. A mark that measures out another great moment in my life.

Previous 5 greatest moments that I can think of at this time:

• The big hug after the 24 hour solo world championships.
• Starting line at a world cup with my parents in attendance.
• Seeing Ross finish the Butte 50.
• Sunrise moment with Jill.
• Second win at Vermont 50.

The big hug: I guess measuring great moments would be hard if we didn’t have emotions. I mean, define what a great moment is. For me a great moment is a combination of peak emotional happiness. Not only a peak of accomplishment but the emotions of reaching it with other people. To reach a goal of racing in the world championships is pretty big in itself but to enhance it with three other people makes it pretty intense.

I don’t remember much of the race because I had to go to that special place to hide from the pain monster. When I emerged from the darkness and that guy put a medal around my neck I made a b-line for my friends. Bob, Rich, and Sten were standing at the sidelines next to the media photographers. Their eyes glossed over with emotion we all hugged in a moment that is one of the greatest of my life. Absent from that hug but ever so present in my heart were my family back in Missoula. Also Paul and his family who just moments later showed up in the pits so very proud.  The TNR gang who if were not for them I wouldn’t of been there. I think last night ranks up there with “the big hug” if not my all time greatest moment.

World cup starting line: I mentioned my “previous mountain bike life” earlier in this post. There was another time when I was all consumed with mountain bike racing and I had some pretty great moments. But there was one specially great moment that really did not have anything to do with reaching a goal. In fact the World Cup race at Mount Snow Vermont was a “elite” category race and not part of the world cup pro race. Also I came in last due to some miscommunication and severe dehydration. My greatest moment is such only because in hind sight after what happened after the race. My mom was so excited she rushed up to me as fast as she could with her walker. So proud she figured I had won the race. I suggested that she take a look at he leader board but she said she didn’t care. In her mind I had won. So my greatest moment was standing at the starting line before that race listening to the national anthems play and seeing my parents in the crowd who already thought I was a winner.

Seeing Ross finish the Butte 50: Last years Butte 100 was one of my worst mountain bike races ever. My entire season hinged upon it but I totally blew it. At the end I was sitting upon the ground totally devastated. Then Ross came in. Again a hug was commissioned and as I looked into his eyes I saw everything that defined that moment. I saw our friendship that started with a Thursday Night Ride and how he talked me into going to Idaho for a race, re-starting my race passion. I saw the inspiration that my own passion sparked. I saw self pride, a father that has devoted his life to his family finally do something big for himself. His accomplishments would inspire his own family. That was one of my greatest moments, realizing that I didn’t have to win races. All I had to do was try.

Sunrise with Jill: Sometimes a great moment can come at the least expected moment. A complete change in direction. To release focus on a goal and just look around with a fresh view. Coming to the end of a journey before the end of a race sounds confusing but for once in my life I choose a moment over ambition. A friend over a race. I choose to have a great moment because up until that sunrise lap at the 25 hours of Frog Hollow I was driven. I was driven by many motivators and focused driven by past daemons. A special friend and a beautiful sunrise. A connection and a moment in time that is so rare could not be reproduced. How many people stop before finishing a race to watch a sunrise with a special friend.  Truly great moments can come from decisions. There is a saying to “stop and smell the roses”. I stopped and watched a sunrise with my friend. A great decision indeed.

Second Vermont 50 win: When you finally realize a talent and gain confidence and respect for yourself it is a special moment. Finally to be good at something, to find your place in the world is special. To win back to back Vermont 50s confirmed it for me. All my racing career I had taken a back seat to a dozen top level racers in New England. I was good but it just so happened there was other awesome talent in the region too. My best result in a regional big race was 12th. I was good at something but never really felt it was my sport. As I pulled away with 12 miles to go to take my second VT50 I realized I had a special gift. I had never felt so strong against people I never thought I could beat.

To this day I look back how it felt to pull away with such power and never really duplicated that moment until recently at a 24 hour race. Since then I have arrived in this world, I am a ultra endurance athlete.  My greatest moment was realizing it. I still hold my bike above my head to celebrate wins, I picked it up at the VT50.

Merging in a new great moment: But now my top 5 greatest moments has changed. Last night was a cumulation of all my top moments and how they have molded me into the person who the group on top of Mount Sentinel gathered to say good bye to. During the evening I listened to story’s and how my mountain bike madness has affected others. How lucky am I to have found the Missoula Thursday Night Rides and taken from that weekly gathering some of my greatest friendships. Some of my greatest moments.

In the next two weeks I continue on down life’s path in a new direction leaving Missoula. I know where my greatest strengths are stashed. It will be back in Missoula, on some trail, in the form of a group. My family.  And I will return regularly to enjoy the bonds I have made. Yep, last night was right up there, maybe the best moment of my life.

This year’s 24 hours of Rapelje was what I considered highly anticipated. The TNR community as well as most everyone I knew were talking about it. But I must have missed the memo saying that no one was going to show up. Team Muleterro showed up in bigger numbers then ever before. Norman, Lydia, and Katie showed up to represent team TNR. But looking out across the field that used to be completely packed I wondered where everyone else was. According to the towns folk, the most awesome race promoters ever, the rains were keeping the phone lines busy. They were assuring everyone that the race was on no matter what. They even re-routed the course which I can say was super awesome. So even with a not so stellar turn out I did run into some competition and learned something about myself in the process.

Norman asked me what my goals were before the race. I thought about it for 4 minutes and blurted out that I wanted to learn more. Learn more and just try to go with my usual game plan. Every 24 hour race I seem to learn so much more. More about my body and it capabilities. More about myself as a person. And more about life in general. I also wanted to see if I could go a full 24 hours on nothing but Carbo Rocket 333. But mostly … just learning.

I learned that I am a super grouch before a race. I want things my way and feel like since I am a big hot shot solo rider should garner special attention. When someone pokes fun or pushes in on my plans I snap back and mumble around like a old fart pissed off at kids in his yard.  Weirdly enough I didn’t believe I was a hot shot 24 hour racer. I have always felt that I didn’t have what it took to really race a 24. Maybe this is why I was grouchy, because I was so freaking nervous some dude would show up and school me on my home turf.

Friday I managed to do the same and was prepping MY area for battle the next day. In reality it wasn’t MY area and in fact I had set up shop under Paul’s tent. And to make things worse he brought his family. So there I was hording in on his area unknowingly. We had set up tents so fast we didn’t pay attention until it was too late. The pit row collection of tents were to elaborate to re-arrange so it appeared I had to move my operation. So I pouted, gathered my stuff, and ran like a little baby to bed in the back of Norman’s truck (thought I forgot to bring tent poles). I tossed and turned all night.

In the morning things got sorted out and I was welcome to use the tent. I felt pretty bad about the night before but was to busy getting ready to make proper amends. Next thing I know the canon went off to start the race. I started out walking, then slowly jogging to my bike. My goal was to start casual and keep my heart rate low. This was my race to learn how to do that. You know, that thing called pacing yourself. And I started out pretty well. 5 minutes later I lost control and started working my way to the front of the field.

As I worked my way up through the field I came upon Rich and asked him where we stood. He told me that there were a couple mules ahead and that he would see me when I came around to lap him. I assured him I was going to lay off the gas once I reached who ever was leading the solo race. As I surged ahead and let him know that a guy was a late arrival.

“Does he look like a threat?”

“I think so, I mean he looked like a real serious mountain biker”, I didn’t follow up with my next thought. That he looked a awful lot like Chris Eatough. Maybe the dude came out of retirement for a taste of glory. If that was the case I was in for  tough 24 hours. I didn’t think I was up for it. I nervously rode away while waiting for the late comer to catch up to me.

I passed a couple more Muleterro riders and neared the front of the pack. There was two guys way out front so I set my sights on them and kept on the gas. Soon I realized it was another solo mule in second. And the guy was riding pretty quickly. I caught up to him and asked if he was planning on blowing up. He seemed to be planning to ride hard and rest often. I laughed, sounded like fun.

I tried to win the first lap without blowing a gasket. But as I blazed through the pits in hot pursuit I could only  muster second. I ripped through the timing tent like a crazed madman and tore out after that first place team rider but he was no where in sight. What a show off!

Slowly I brought my heart rate back to a reasonable rate and started to let all the irritated team riders pass. Surely a solo rider can’t beat multiple riders, each resting between laps. But I kept an eye out for the hundred series plates, the solo series, and that mysterious guy.

As the laps wore on that guy became a legend in my head. Hunting me like wounded prey. Following my bleeding wounds from the initial laps until he could finally catch me from behind and sink his teeth into my jugular. Possibly end my Rapelje domination and expose me for the solo poser I was. I waited for my fate. And waited.

I knew this mysterious dude was still behind me but somehow I started convincing myself it was nothing, just a paranoid thought gone awry. Who knows, maybe I didn’t even need to keep riding strong. At the pits everyone was telling me I was “in the clear” and had “nothing to worry about”. And I started to believe it in a small way. As I passed Rich he assure me that he would never catch second place because the guy was really riding strong. The thing was if I was a lap up on Rich and this guy in second was a hour in front of him, then that put him right behind me like 20 minutes back. Then the storms hit.

Nothing will take your mind of competition like the will to survive. And nothing will put you in survival mode like a thunderstorm dumping cold rain on you while snapping you out of hypothermia with large lightening bolts. It was like riding through a waterfall at times as my light system lit up a wall of water in front of me. I am not saying it surprised me, I mean, this is Rapelje. It is expected. But expecting a heart attack doesn’t make you any more prepared.

I did two laps in the storm, the first one just a prelude to the second. The first lap was nothing but a pre-soaking for the main event. As I headed up one of the climbs mid course the rain started to fall for the second time. This one was a much larger dumping and I assumed even back in the pits they were running around trying to batten down the hatches. I expected full disarray when I arrived back.

At first the rain was gentle but with every mile it became harder and harder. The sky lit up occasionally with lightning and I could see the landscape running with water. Something felt squishy and I realized the trail was becoming too greasy to ride. Like riding your bike down a water slide greased with vaseline. And in some places like peanut butter that would stick to your tires and roll up the prairie floor like a rug. That is until your bike would just roll no more. I hopped from sage brush to sage brush to avoid touching the ground. Amazingly my Turner mountain bike was very proficient at sage brush hopping. I literally was riding at times over sage brush to knock the mud off the tires. It kind of worked well except it soaked (pardon the pun) up a lot of energy.

But that is Rapelje … right? It is.

Just like we have been doing for the last couple years I took extra time in the pits to de-gumbo the drive train and try to find my Carbo Rocket buried under tarps. The pit area looked like it had been hit by a hurricane and every one standing around looked a little tattered. I reached out to my friend and received a huge hug. A hug that said everything was alright and it somehow warmed my hypothermic inner core. Soon I was on my way again and back out in the dark. I posted my Marcy photo and took some time to reflect out on the far reaches of the course. Then things started to spiral downward in terms of attitude and strength.

First the thoughts. Why? What is the purpose? Why cant I just lay down a go to sleep? Then the body started to jump ship. Dizziness set in and I had to hover close to the bars to keep from toppling over. I got nauseous and wanted to just barf. Most of all I wanted to crash. Any excuse to get closer to that ground so I could rest. Sleep. I walked every hill and the laps started to become never ending. I couldn’t bear it any more and stepped of the bike at around 5 AM to watch distant lightening strikes.

“I am done riding. I quit. This is so fucking stupid. I am going to walk my bike in and go to bed. I don’t need this pain”, I whispered to the empty expanses around me.

I haven’t felt so alone in a long time and wanted to weep. All alone. This insignificant grain of worthless human in the large universe spread out before me. Lightening struck again and the blue prairie expanses made me feel even more alone. I looked up and saw a star here and there but nothing recognizable. No big dipper … nothing but my coward heart beat slowing, steadily, steadily. I wouldn’t of minded if it stopped entirely. Suddenly a rider came bursting into my headlamps. Surely it was a team rider going so fast this late in the game.

“Hi Bill, how are you doing?”

“Um, … I, … watching the lightening. that’s all. Just bored, kind of. Um …”, I was embarrassed to be found looking so weak. I really didn’t know what to say. I saw his number plate, 1 something … a solo. And just like that he was down the other side of the ridge and really going fast when he disappeared into a gully.

Suddenly something took over my head and body. I was kicked out of my own host. Condemned for being so weak and vulnerable. Something strong and fierce booted me out and left me to die. To parish out on that prairie. The beast leapt onto the bike and started riding away.

The solo rider that was up ahead could of just taken the lead. He WAS the mystery rider, the one that has been stocking that weak, lazy excuse of a racer giving up on the ridge. I am in charge now and there is no way this competitor will ride away from me.

The beast swooped upon Zach Guy of Bozeman so fast he almost ran him over. Zach could not out run him and desperately sprinted at every opportunity to shake the daemon. Rolling into pit row the shadow swung into my pit area and stood waiting … watching.

It was the sunrise lap and the headlamps no longer needed. Zach was hard to recognize in the early morning light mostly because for the first time he was no longer the mystery rider. He was on the same lap as the leader of the race now. And he had a glimmer of hope that if he stayed strong he could catch up to the leader and win the race. He set out on another lap. His style is remarkable. He rides strong and his standing stride a majestic dance on the pedals. He was riding now as strong as ever and was pulling off the perfect plan. Just as he hit the initial single track the shadow swooped in and attached himself to his rear tire. Again he couldn’t shake him.

Numerous attempts at freeing himself from the shadow failed and approaching the last bit of roller coaster hills to the pits he started talking to himself. He seemed to be unraveling and a inner dialog was taking place. Alas he was realizing that he couldn’t shake the predator on his wheel. Reality is hard to accept sometimes. For every lap that he rode with the shadow it was a failed lap at opportunity. If he couldn’t shake him and make the attack stick he would finish a lap behind.

Another lap started and again the shadow followed. The daemon had endless power and nothing that Zach did could shake him. Finally cracks in the young riders performance started to show. When a mis-handled rock section sent him into a mud pit the shadow passed over him and disappeared over the ridge. Finally free of his pursuer he got up to collect himself.

The sun was definitely up when I reached the spot I wanted to stop and enjoy the new day. It was beautiful. The expansive prairie made up of a spring time green littered with sage brush and wild flowers. The sun golden, warm, and blinding suddenly put down it’s light onto the naked valley. I stopped for a moment to reflect. This is a special time for me just as the lap where I post a tribute to my dog Marcy. This lap was one to remember a dear friend. A sorely missed friend. I reached out and was hoping somewhere in another part of the country someone was enjoying the same sunrise. I heard a chain rattle against a chain stay.

Another rider was coming and I had to get going. I was a lap ahead and needed to stay out in front. I didn’t want young Zack to get any kind of confidence. I plunged down and across the Hailstone Valley and started the climb up the other side.

The rider turned out to be my team mate Sten and I rode the last part of the lap with him. I was feeling pretty strong and I had a good handle on Zach who was still behind me in a mud pit somewhere. I felt that I needed one more lap to take the win. With 1 more Zach would have to pass me again and then be back before the 11 AM cut off time to put in another lap. Even then I would win by finishing the 15th lap before him.

My friend Lydia stepped up to the task when I announced I needed someone to ride with for my final lap. I was happy with that and excited to reach last years mileage mark with her. She was headed out for another lap for the TNR three person team. Who by the way went on to take second place.

Out on the course her pace was so fast I couldn’t hang on. I found myself slipping away again. Dizziness, weakness, and soon enough I was off the bike starring into the distant prairie with a million mile stare. The laps were long so I did a mixture of walking and coasting with one butt cheek on the saddle at a time. My body-to-bike interfaces could no longer stand the torture.

I was around 5 miles out and walking up a hill when my friend Chad from Helena rolled up.

“Hey, are you ok? You need anything?”

“Um, … I, … just taking a break, passing time. that’s all. Just bored, kind of. Um”

“Will you ride with me”

“Sure, I can do that, thanks”

I jumped on my bike and finally got the pedals to turn again. Chad rode me back to the finish line. I announced that that was my last lap. We crunched the numbers and indeed I would win the race. I changed out of my wet 20 hour plus rags into a fresh kit for the finish line photo. I had six shots of espresso combined with coco and a chocolate muffin to celebrate my efforts. I had been dreaming of chocolaty goodness all morning. In the meantime Lydia and Norman prepared my bike for battle. Wishful thinking I told them. No way was I going to ride another lap. Norman wanted me to ride a victory lap with him but I declined. My hands and ass were just to painful.

Suddenly a cheer erupted from the small crowd gathered at the timing tent.

“Go Zach, Go, you can do it”

I looked over and to my astonishment this kid was ripping out on another lap. I looked at the clock but my brain couldn’t do the math. If he came in and did it before the cut off time he could actually put in a lap and win the race. That is what my panicked braid told me anyway.

“Imposable”, I thought to myself as I watched Zach and about two other teammates pace line the road out of town.

Just then someone brushed by me so hard I fell to the ground. I looked up to see the man in black dawn my bike and ride after Zach. He looked like me. Even wore a Muleterro kit. But this guy was relentless and strong. He could not be beaten today. The shadow.

“Poor Zach”, someone in the crowd said as I entered another line on the time sheet. “Bill Martin 10:00”.

Zach kept looking at his watch. His mates were pulling him down the road at 30 miles an hour and when they got to the single track he was barely hanging on. Again he glanced at his watch. Then again. It was obvious he was doing logistics in his head but it didn’t look good. He would have to pull out a sub hour lap to set out on a winning lap. Suddenly as the sagebrush opened up into a grassy meadow atop a ridge the beast blasted past him.

“This lap will be a new record for me”, he grumbled as he raced away from the struggling riders.

“Whoaa”, Zach responded and relaxed on the pedals. He knew the chances of the win were over.

At 11:09 AM I hoisted my bike at the line to celebrate a victory as my team mates cheered on the ritual. The last lap was just minutes off the initial and fastest laps of the race. Zach rolled in a bit later to cheers from the crowd, a great performance and fan favorite. Another great race with a competitor who helped bring out the best in me … or not.

I did learn that I do have the ability to do amazing things. In the past I have doubted my abilities as a 24 hour racer. I left that person back on the ridge broken and dead.

Just over 2 days to go until the 2011 installment of the 24 Hours of Rapelje. Tonight I am meeting up with my friends Norman, Lydia, and Katie to go over weekend details. They are going for the 3 person team title and secretly plotting to beat me. I know, unfair, right? The weather looks, well, like Rapelje. Chance of thunder storms. Actually I have never been to Rapelje and see a day that has not included some severe weather. But that makes Rapelje, Rapelje.

I am stoked, super stoked. This is like Christmas time for me. All my play mates gather and we ride our brains out. Can’t get any cooler then that. The loop (http://tinyurl.com/24ofRaplelje)  starts out a ride through the high plains marked only by surveyor flags but in time wears into some fun single-track. The race sponsors  Stockman Cafe put this race on to raise money to keep themselves and the town open. It is a great little arrangement and we are treated like gods. We even get out photo put on the wall in the restaurant for every year we win the thing. It is like the 24 hour hall of fame. And they have been putting this thing on for like 11 years. Like I said, my favorite race.

I have my photo on the wall two times. In 2009 the race was canceled after 7 hours in which I was leading at the time … whew. Then in 2010 I won, 235 miles at 14.72 miles per lap, 12,912 vertical feet of climbing. At the time it was my record for mileage.

This year should be another great adventure and I plan to keep everyone updated if I can. Rapelje is notorious for not having any cell coverage. Forget any internet, again, the charm of this little town. I will post a plog Friday before I leave with links to follow. In short just go to twitter and follow the hash #rapelje24.

Time to pack…o/o

 

I can remember the excitement as I prepared to work for Sikorsky Aircraft. It was a job offer much like my current one and whith it a great opportunity. I had no clue what I was in for and I left behind my home and friends in Plattsburgh New York. Everything was a new and exciting adventure in Connecticut. In the end though, I was not cut out for corporate life and just wanted to get back to the mountains. I decided that I would give up a bit of my career for a quality of life that I needed. I needed the mountains for some odd reason and I couldn’t explain it. I moved to Missoula and it was the best move of my life. I have lost and loved here and wouldn’t trade the experiences for a pile of gold.

I eventually scored a job that I absolutely loved. The only problem was that I couldn’t pay the bills and the company couldn’t offer me any more. Enter my last transition. Since I switched from my first job in Missoula to the current one I have been tentative to make another job-hopping move and have been waiting for a real opportunity. Unfortunately Missoula never produced any real opportunity.

The job I am now leaving gave me a sense of being trapped in a bad decision. Moving from a job that I loved to one that paid more. The only thing that made sense is that was offered more cash that I needed to pay the bills. It was a whirlwind, starting with the scary interview, offer, and my acceptance. It all happened so fast I didn’t have a chance to back out and ever sense I have always had this sense of dread walking into the doors every morning. At first I was happy to finally start paying bills and get back into racing. It was a perfect bit of income so I could play. But all that dried up and the pay has even decreased. Time to move on and step out of a rut. Time to pick the lock on my cage and fly free.

I am going to work for Montana State University in the Information Technology Center and I am quite stoked. There I can grow, learn, and prosper unlike anything I have been offered in Missoula. So now I have a sense of freedom and optimism. Moving from a unhealthy situation to a nurturing one. And the best part is that the salary is double that of my current position. So making more not necessarily means I have to make a sacrifice. This feels good.

The only bad part is that I must leave Missoula. I do love this place but I am not unhappy to leave it. Sure I have great friends and a local network of mountain bike trails. And it is impossible to think I can live without the Bridge Pizza or Big Dipper Ice Cream. Just as the winds change so does life. I can stay put and wonder what all the doors would of opened into. I am jumping into this one and while I leave so many things behind I am optimistic the new adventure will produce happiness. I must follow the wind.