Tag: JPFATPERSUIT

[Part 1, Part 2, Part 3]

The Journey, The Teacher

I awoke to Kim covering me up with a blanket but drifted off again. Then my eyes shot open and found that I had been out for 30 minutes. By the time I got myself together and out the door to the Man Cave I had been stopped for an hour.

I rode to the end of Quaker Lane and then over to the Sawtell Resort then doubled back on what seemed to be the snowmobile trail West. But soon I realized something was wrong. No fat bike tracks and the snowmobile trail seemed to disappear underneath drifts. I climbed drifts and walked for about 15 minutes before consulting my GPS. It was now obvious I went off course. I tried to cut over to what I “thought” would be the official route. After 20 minutes of swimming through arm pit deep snow I just returned to the point where I left the course. Which I may add is what you are supposed to do.

Once on route someone pulled up to me looking for  Rebecca. I gave no advice because I only knew she was out here somewhere and reportedly “hurting”. The person convinced me that I was “almost there” … “closer then you think”. Which … I was not.

But in perspective to the entire ride I was almost there and the energy started to return to my pace. I even started to hopefully catch people. I was flying and hoping I was indeed almost there.

Then a rider appeared. I stalked them for about 30 minutes and when they stopped and started walking I rode up. I didn’t want to start racing now because I felt I was getting shelled again.

It was Rebecca.

“Are you OK, is there anything I can help you with”, I asked.

“I don’t know, I am spitting up blood and have asthma …”, her voice trailed off.

She looked pretty bad and my concerns were that eventually she would stop and get cold. “Do you want me to send help”, I inquired.

“No way”, she came to life for a moment. “I don’t have $500 bucks”, referring to the “rescue fee” in the race rules.

“Well you know what to do then …”, I suggested while at the same time berating myself for saying something that stupid. I meant that I had respect for her and I knew she had the capacity to make it out. This was Rebecca Rush for god’s sake.

As I rode off wondering if I should of done more I realized that my energy levels was also draining. I flicked on my GPS and calculated that I was going to be out there maybe three more hours. Still on Stamp Meadows Road I really did not want to ride any more. I thought.  And I went into my “safety place”, a dream state where I could sit on the couch and think about things while outside in the real world my body would be on auto pilot.

I thought about expectations and perspectives. One should not sit in a certain perspective where expectations were possibly unattainable. I mean for me to expect this trail to be groomed was the wrong expectation. And this is what the adventure has taught me. My mind raced back to the last check point when I asked  JayP if the rest of the trail was groomed. The answer was a snicker and finally “No”. I ran into a snowmobile ski rut and stepped off my bike. Nope, not groomed.

When people, both real and imagined, tell you that it is “all downhill” or “your almost there” you should just smile and giggle. Who cares. No expectations means not to buy into it. Be comfortable in the moment and don’t expect these things. I came out of my dream state to focus on my GPS. I was lost again.

I went back and forth on Old Shotgun Road, one of the very few times we got to ride on a road, about 50 yards worth. After settling down I found my way again and rode with new enthusiasm, new trail, maybe almost there, maybe downhill. Good thing I now was not expecting it … because it was all false.

A hard mile or two of power line riding lay in front of me. I checked in with my body and it told me no way. I immediately went into my dream state. I could not bare reality.

I was alone and really I had to keep going. I had been going for almost 30 hours, right? I knew I could keep going. I really did not need didly-squat. I was right where I wanted to be. I was content. I slipped out of my dream state to really savor the rest of the ride. I passed the final test … and was about to graduate from JayP’s “Facts of Winter Life Challenges”.

The last three miles I soaked it all up. This spaces I experienced both real and in my head were rare. It was finally over but it did not need to be.

I rounded the last corner to see my partner waiting and one person who obviously was going to document my finish. I stopped to hug Mo and searched inside myself for the old Bill. The one everyone knew. But he was missing. Nothing left. No competitiveness. Just a mellow adventurer with a new perspective.  With appreciation. And no expectations.The goal really wasn’t the finish and the journey  became the teacher.

[Part 1, Part 2]

Two Top Divide Dreamland

I was finally at the West Yellowstone checkpoint. I had been at it for 14 hours and it was a welcome thing to be indoors and get warm. Bonus! There was tons of yummy looking food. But I needed to stay on my diet of fats and stay away from carbs. I had not bonked yet in fact felt nourished … just pooped from riding. And I did realize that I had not eaten anything in a while. I looked around for my drop bag, because inside it was a soup mix I made special for this time of the event. Soup with chia seeds, butter, and MCT oil.

No drop bag. JayP scoured around and others looked around as well. Couldn’t be found. I felt a little discouraged. Trouble with the stove earlier in the day and then all the flats. And now my food was missing. I did what any panicking long distance racer would do. Served up a huge serving of stew and settled into eating a pound of candy nuts…. so much for the diet! Then I went next door to a toasty fireplace, put my feet up, and devoured 4 poppy seed muffins. It was like a luxury cruise.

I knew I was no longer in ketosis and if I wanted to continue I needed to take along a garbage bag of carbs to keep going. But I was not going anywhere. Not while I had good eats and a comfy spot in front of a fireplace. Then T-Race stirred … seems it was time to head back out. I searched my mind for excuses but they all seemed lame. Shoot … I might as well get going too. Besides I was feeling great now… high on poppy seed muffins!

Just as I asked to be “signed out” Jay approached me with my drop bag. I figured great I was all set and stuffed it into my frame bag. Yes, stuffed it into my frame bag and set out into the night. No, I did not get hot water and make my soup. I have to plead insanity because without a bunch of carbs … or any nutrition besides jerky bars this was a suicide mission.

It didn’t seem like a suicide mission … at least in the beginning. The trail was now groomed and hard as a finely packed dirt road. The riding was really enjoyable. In fact I could say suddenly I was having fun. Then the pitch turned upward. My mind went back to a discussion at the last checkpoint where Jay described these climbs as “punchy”. I was off my bike and hiking straight up to the Continental Divide. There is a range of mountains between West Yellowstone and Island Park where the trail called Two Top Divide Trail runs. Once upon the divide it wiggles into Idaho, back out, and then returns a couple times before dropping back down towards Henry’s Lake and the winds coming out of Red Rock Pass.

Once into a place called Tygee Creek Basin I was becoming exhausted and searched my bags for some carbs. Nothing but powdered mix and jerky bars. I should have stopped and made hot water but it was cold and I spotted lights coming my way. I climbed over the high point at about 8,200 feet and paused before descending.There were these ghostly white figures in the landscape. Beautiful monoliths that were once trees and rocks. But now they where huge statues of ice and snow. The stars above me were out in force and seemed to engulf me and the white goblins on that ridge.

My surreal world was interrupted by bike lights coming my way. I turned and bombed off the ridge. The decent was huge and I wanted to take advantage of any gravity fed “Free” cycling I could. I figure if I am not walking it is a good thing. And if I cover ground fast … well that is just pure awesomeness. The goal was to cover 125 miles as quick as possible right? My tactical error was to not stop and put on an extra coat.

At first the descending was fast and furious. Then after 10 minutes it became soft and I stopped paying attention to the contours of the trail and forgot about crashing. My pedaling became effortless and my wheels left the ground. I floated down the mountain in a dreamy haze. I let mother earth take over and let my senses drift off until I was in this world of comfort. No longer did I even need to breath. Everything was being taken care of.

I woke up to bright lights combing my way. I was picking myself off the ground and decided to bundle up. I was shivering when the light reached me. I expected it to be Tracey but instead a man’s voice shot out, “are you OK?”

“Yea, just putting on a coat”

“Pretty cold out eh?”

“Yea,” and as I pulled my puffy coat over my head the man with the light disappeared. Then I woke up from what seemed to be a dream. Did I really see someone just now? I started riding again. But the trail would not stay in focus. I fought back the urge to fall asleep.

Every time I encountered another person I shook my head and it made them disappear. I was involved in so many scenarios I couldn’t tell if I was dreaming or awake. I started to make a check list to determine if I was awake. If the scenario did not include a bike I was asleep. I sifted throughout the worlds until I found the one where I was riding my bike and put on the breaks. I stopped and stood there for a moment to give myself a pep talk. “Do not sleep, you will freeze if you sleep, do not sleep”. Something hit my leg, maybe a crocodile. I looked down to discover the biggest snake I ever saw. I screamed.

Something woke me up, I think it was someone screaming. It was cold and my bike had pinned me down holding my leg stead fast into the snow bank. I walked my bike to an intersection 20 yards down the trail and flipped on my GPS. We were to go right. I spotted a warming hut and recognized it from a reconnaissance photo Jay posted a couple weeks prior. I ran to it and looked for a way to turn on the gas. I wanted to warm the place up and catch a nap maybe. But no cookies … the gas valve to the heater was locked. But all this excitement did wake me up and I felt like I could ride again.

I rode the rutted and difficult route into the valley and as the sky turned from black to dark blue Tracey finally caught up to me. I was relieved to have someone to ride with. To keep me awake. And safe from the sleep monsters. We rode exchanging leads and words here and there. Companionship is what I need at this point. I needed reality, something concrete. And chasing Tracey through the drifts did just that.

When the sun rises it changes everything. In 24 hour racing all you have to do is make it to daylight and you get this extra surge of energy. The sun is a beautiful thing. When it came out on day 2 it did it’s magic again making my mood change from despair to hope and optimism. Tracey and I pulled into the final checkpoint at around mile 100 called “The Man Cave” at about the 25 hour mark. I proceeded in taking all my gear off dreaming of a hot bowl of my soup I had been carrying around. Word at the checkpoint is that Rebecca was “hurting” and everyone looked “ragged”, much like I probably felt. Tracey came alive and was out of there in a flash. It was the last dash to the finish line. I felt no such urge. I had this weird feeling that I needed “a moment”. I made my soup and fell back onto the couch.

In moments the dreams started up again but this time I knew I was safe. I welcomed them … fast asleep upon the couch in a place called “The Man Cave”.

[Part 1]

To West Yellowstone

Between the adrenalin from the send off at the first checkpoint and riding pretty hard the warmth was finally coming back to my body. I paused at the base of the Chick Creek Climb to take off all the layers. I was really excited that 40+ racers from this morning had packed the trail up the climb that I had to walk earlier.

The route basically makes a lolly-pop.  Then on the second time around the loop we take a right onto a trail  to West Yellowstone. The climb was perfect and I barreled down the Fish Creek Trail. I kept my eye on the GPS and 6 miles from the checkpoint I stopped.

I starred in disbelief as two or three fat bike tracks made a right and went up a narrow snowmobile trail. Walking tracks confirmed my fear that this ride so to speak was over. To the left was a sign signifying that indeed this was the trail to West Yellowstone.

After two hours I managed to walk 5 miles.  I ran into some snowmobilers stopped alongside the trail. One was taking photos and the others cheering. It really lifted my spirits. Gave a reason to the walking. As the evening wore on I got on my bike more and more. I imagined that Andrew Kulmatiski had rode all of it and  must be ages ahead by now.  I just wanted to get to West.

I was at mile 46 when JayP  came by on a snowmobile again. It was all I could do to crack a smile. It was so hard to keep riding in the unsettled terrain. And it was snowing again. And apparently we were near the top of the climb for the day.

Earlier on the climb someone had passed me riding his bike. I was astonished to see someone  riding. I was getting killed by everyone that found a way to ride. So after the sound of JayP’s machine faded in the distance I let out  air until I had 3 pounds or so in the back tire. I jumped on and was happy to learn I could start riding. With just under 20 miles to go this was great news.

Think about it. Walking at 1.5 miles an hour just how long would it take me to get to West Yellowstone?  Right! And I was starting to believe I would not make the cut off. But now I was riding and it felt good. I caught back up to the fella that had passed me earlier.

“When is the cut off in West, do you know”, I asked.

“I think it is 6 in the morning”, he answered.

Darn … I could definitely make the cut off. I kind of wished I could be taken out for going to slow.  But now with my new found riding skills on a super soft tire I was guesstimating I could make it by midnight.

I passed one more person who announced that he “sucked at this kind of riding” to gain 3rd place. I started watching  Rebecca‘s and Andrew’s tracks. And it looked like Rebecca caught up to Andrew. And at times maybe even took the lead. I could only imagine the battle unfolding at the front.

It got dark and I made note about the beautiful alpine glow … but did not care. Seems I was getting close to West Yellowstone and started to descend, which seemed more cool then the great views. The riding got better and better. And so did my hopes of finally getting to West.  Beyond that … I had not made up my mind. About continuing past West. It was incomprehensible. Then the grade turned upward again. Not another climb?  No way?  Or was this flat and I was just not able to pedal any more?

The climb out of Dry Canyon was brutal. Finally I succumb to the torture and stopped. I looked down and I had been ridding the rim. I had a flat tire which made this seem like a steep climb. Maybe I had let out to much air, or maybe it was the drop in altitude, or the temperature.  Whatever the reason I decided to just pump it up and continue.

I had stopped drinking and eating thinking I was so close to West. But really how stupid is that? The GPS clearly showed I had ten miles to go. I wasn’t almost there. But I just trudged on and wanted to get this leg over. And besides the pedaling was a lot easier now. When I passed a sign for Whiskey Trail I picked up a fresh groomer track, nice and hard. Sweet.

I could start to see lights, West perhaps? But then the pedaling got hard again.  Another flat. Shit! I proceeded on pumping it back up … again. Mike Barklow  pulled up.

“Are you OK?”

“Yea”, I lied completely, “just had to air up a flat.

“I know how that goes”, he shouted and accelerated down the hill. He could smell the barn as well.  I finished up and headed down after him.

Then he pulled away and I knew why.  And I was right.  Stupid tire was flat again. I took a break and change out my tube, something I should of done the first time. After 20 minutes I was on my way again. Completely proud because this time I took off my gloves and did what needed to be done and then got warm stuff back on. Previously at the “boil water station” I failed to take off my damp gloves and waist time.  I was starting to feel like a pro out here. Two miles down the trail I was warm again and on the outskirts of West Yellowstone.

“Yea Bill”, I heard Jay yell as I opened the door to check point two, a nice condo in West. “How do you feel?”

“Yea … ah … OK I guess … kind of destroyed … a little”

First 30

“Expectations … and perspective. Have no expectations. Don’t expect a groomed surface, or to ride, that it is all downhill from here, or even that you are almost there. F all of that. Just be content that you are alone and you don’t need didly-squat. You can be right where you are and sleep, eat a warm meal, be warm, or fix any situation that comes your way. You have everything you need. You don’t need to be anywhere but the place you are right at any given moment. And enjoy that space. That space is rare … soak it up.” ~post race thoughts

I just helped Rebecca Rush power on her bike light when the countdown started. 3 – 2 – 1 and everyone exploded out into the frosty morning.  And just like that there was a huge bottleneck.  I saw T-Race go up and over the snow bank first. the racers in front of me decided to hike it. I kept my balance and powered over. Oh yea, I got skills.

The speed at which the big group rode together amazed me. I was expecting a slow roll out where everyone just settled into their own pace. I powered past Rebecca and she returned the favor. Wow, this was like a cross country race. My mind raced back to the 2009 world solo champs where Reba and I duked it out much the same way.

Soon the pace became reasonable and I took my turn plowing through the new layer of snow. The surface went from wind swept hard pack to rutted fresh powder and the pitch turned upward as we began the Chick Creek Climb.  Everyone was stopping to let the air out of their tires and the field finally spread out … way out.

I held on as much as I could with the denial that I had the best tire pressure. That is until I spun out and started walking. As soon as I reached down to turn the presta-valve on my back tire Andrew Kulmatiski rode off up the hill as if he found magic tires with plenty of traction. I vowed to get the widest rim/tire combination for next year.

I succumb to the reality that I needed to walk the climb. By the time I got back on and stabilized two feet later I would spin out and jump back off. So I walked, mostly. I decided to try to let more air out. That is when Mike Barklow passed me.  As he rode off I jumped back on and got a little farther before dismounting to walk.

Once on the Fish Creek trail it leveled out and I was able to get going again. Damn it was nice to be riding. And at a pretty good lick as well. Soon I caught up to Mike and passed him.  Then the pitch turned downhill and I ripped down it with reckless abandon. Wouldn’t it be wild to crash out before the race even started? As I neared the first Checkpoint I started shivering. I made the decision that I was almost there and would throw something on there. But one should never assume that they are “almost there”. Right?

I knew I was close when JayP came by on a snowmobile and shouted some encouragement. I picked up the pace. Soon I passed some pink flamingos. I should of taken the flamingo sighting as a sign of disillusionment.

I Rolled into the trail side tent station at about mile 30 and looked down to my GPS. 4:20 elapsed time … funny. I felt relaxed and reveled in the thought that my first “break” was at 4:20. As I put my bike down and surveyed the station Jay told me that he needed me to boil water. Sounded simple enough.

As I pulled my coat out of my seat-bag Andrew rolled out. I started the break out by making a tactical error. On my hands were my smart wool liners. Inside my pogies they seemed nice and toasty but outside they chilled my hands instantly. I didn’t notice it until I tried to put my jet boil together. My thumbs seemed like frozen franks and I tried to turn the knob. Rebecca puled in and was ecstatic about how things were going. My stove lit and I put the pot on to boil.

Usually you can hear a jet boil but this one was silent. I pulled the pot away to discover the wind had blown out my weak flame. It was so cold my canister wasn’t pressurized to sustain a strong flame. Now my fingers were really cold and I started to shiver.

“Put on your puffy Bill”, Jay walked by. Wax on …. wax off I thought. I nodded.

I searched around for my lighter. It had fallen into the snow. I put it into my coat as well. Now I was shivering so badly that when I pulled the canister off to warm it the burner fell into the snow. Shit … I stood up and announced, “I’m out”.

And as quickly as my fleeting thought to bail I grabbed my puffy and ran up the hill out of view of everyone. I needed to calm down. Rebecca had boiled and now was out of there. I just needed to calm down … and to warm up. Somehow.

As soon as I pulled on my puffy and started to walk back down the hill my body started to warm up. Upon arriving at the aid station it seemed that everyone in the race was there scrambling to boil water. One guy had a jetboil with a ignition switch … why didn’t I think of that?

I tried to light mine with matches and failed again. The ignition strip on the side of the match box had finally succumb to old age. I put the entire stove into my jacket and ran up the hill again to warm things up.

I returned to the aid station and moved my little cobbled operation into a snowbank, out of the wind. I made a little snow cave and turned on the gas. Almost a hour after arriving …  BOOF! The stove lit and I put water on to boil. And just like that I was back in the race.