Halloween Fun

Each year we have a Halloween theme around the pit area and this year the promotion team even decorated the course with lights and sounds which were pretty funny riding into during the early morning hours of sleep deprivation. The site of a grave yard with flashing strobes, sound tracks, led lights, smoke/fog machines, and decorations were very cool to look at while racing. Nice job everyone on the spooky forest. I couldn’t stop smiling rolling that section every lap with the anticipation of someone dressed in Halloween garb jumping out of the darkness to unsuspecting prey. I’m pretty sure I heard some blood curdling screams of fear from tired racers of both genders. I had to remind myself not to squeal like a girl if someone got the best of me in the darkened blind corners late into the morning blackness of fatigue.

Heritage Park vs MTB Rider

The course was close to 10 miles of well maintained terrain including short punchy climbs and tight single track sections that rewarded the more mountain bike sided riders. The ground also seemed to include more obstacles and bumps as the race progressed deep into the night. That was probably our bodies breaking down and becoming more susceptible to pain and confusion. At one point in the race my friend and winner of the single speed class Mike Pierce, who also rode one more lap than I did (stud boy=tough guy),  came around the pits about the same time I did and suddenly just turned around while we were riding on our next lap and started riding in the opposite direction. I yelled out to him “hey! whats up?” he babbled something and wondered off. I stopped and laughed at him asking again “Dude are you ok?” Mike asked “are we going the right way?” I said yes the trail is right here, lets get on it and ride bro!” he just smiled and shook it off. I like the crazy stuff that happens to our bodies and minds while we destroy them into deeper sleep starvation. I think that’s why our friendships as racers grow increasingly stronger beyond the norm over the years because we understand first hand just how much each rider sacrifices to do well at one of these events. I am really proud of Mike and his ride at the 24 Hours of Georgia he rode a bike with one gear and no suspension over a tough course not caring about his extremities especially his hands. They were toasted crispy black and blue the next morning. Great job brother on your tough ride.

Showing the Love

My friends and sponsors Bear Creek Bikes came through big time with strong support. I could not have raced this event without the help from my friends, that’s no joke. Shelter, food, equipment, support, pit crews, nutrition, etc. were all provided by the shop and my fellow racers from Bear Creek Bikes. Derek has been a great source of support going into the conclusion of the 2012 season. I have been dealing with the typical challenges that fall upon the motivated endurance athlete. Things like transportation, nutrition, equipment, lodging, training, scheduling, etc. I almost had to bail on a few races due to circumstance but Derek stepped up and helped with setting up our pit areas, bringing back up bikes, tools, food and anything I needed to get out and have fun racing. I really appreciate it my friend. That’s why we all race I believe. To get out and set our spirits free in the arena of camaraderie and competition.

Getting over it

I walked around before the start of the race with a ripping fever and felt like garbage. I told the guys at camp I wasn’t going to race. I woke up hacking some rough stuff mixed with blood for breakfast and realized I had a gnarly sinus infection. Milling around the pits in the a.m. pre race I had a hard time motivating myself for a 24 hour solo race. Chain Buster promotional wizard Kenny Griffin talked with me and convinced me to race. I settled on just riding as long as possible and bailing if my body needed to curl up and concede to severe illness if need be. This would be my personal battle for 11 of the 24 hours. I felt the lingering death subside close to midnight and started to feel less zombie like. The race was tough but somehow the sensation of pain and suffering were numbed by the illness. I was so plugged in to out toughing the illness that I made it out the other side blessed with the ability to ride non-stop and stand on the top step of the solo men’s podium. This blessing of a race is one of many this year I have had the privilege of experiencing. Thanks to all my friends and sponsors that continue to show the love by helping me express myself through competitive bike racing. Lets all remember to slow down and enjoy the ride. Life is always there to throw us a solid upper cut when least expected so remember to enjoy all the small victories to keep things in perspective. Chad

July 28th 2012, Waterton Canyon   —  It’s Saturday morning 08:15 a.m. I am near Denver, Colorado, about to begin an individual time trial attempt at the 2012 Colorado Trail Race.  The individual time trial is where you leave a certain point on a map at a certain time and arrive at another point (usually pretty far away) and keep track of how long in hours and days, sometimes weeks, to connect the two points.  In this race its 500 miles or so across the tops of the rocky mountains that can be a challenge to get to the summit of at times.  Let me back up a smidge…

The race is hard…

The Colorado Trail Race is an ultra-endurance mountain bike race — let me rephrase that… This mountain bike event is the most difficult, highest concentration of high altitude off-road bike racing that I have had the privilege to race.  Ever. Now it’s important to know that I am just getting my feet wet in this sport. I am sure to find and hear of many other great bike events in this country and abroad, however, I gladly submit my pain and suffering savings account from the Colorado Trail Race to compare against all comers. This hike/bike/hike-a-bike party that you meander through for close to 500 miles puts you in some amazingly beautiful God’s country and will reach out and put a hurtin’ on yer innards and yer outers. That’s emotionally and physically, folks. The sights you get to drink in are truly magnificent. Cameras just don’t do it justice.  Colorado is simply awe inspiring and majestic.

This long ride was more than just brutally physical. It was profoundly spiritual as well.

My goal of this account of the Colorado Trail Race 2012 is to try to put into words the depth and magnitude of my personal experience and how significant it was for me. I would also like to honestly describe the level of difficulty to ensure that the riders that have ridden this course before me and after can be given the credit that is due to them. Every rider has my complete respect and gratitude for crushing it in record time and for at least giving it their best shot. I stand humbled before you…

Jason Murrell- Legendary Mountain Bike Racer from Tennessee

So my friend and fellow mountain bike racer Jason Murrell of Tennessee mentions to me (last year maybe?)  that he is considering racing the Colorado Trail Race. I  hear the words “colorado trail” and my mind spits out “ho hum a trail ride way out west… woopee.”  I am being foolishly honest here. I’m an ignorant Floridian bike rider — I understand this now.  I literally didn’t give it much thought because of the name “trail”.    ( I now think the Ball Buster 500 would be more catchy or The Colorado Root Canal with no pain meds… ok, sorry, I just get fired up about this stuff.) So one day (months later) I decide to look at this race and the info on it. I finish reading about the “CTR” (Colorado Trail Race) on Stefan Griebel’s blog site (climbingdreams.net) and I was afraid.  Seriously, I felt fear in my legs and heart and mind. I have never felt this type of intimidation from a bike race before. You want to know a secret?… I LOVED being afraid of this event. I had just unknowingly embraced a new conquest. So with this new goal in the back of my mind I set about trying to figure out how to go about training for a high altitude race that is nearly 500 miles and has lots of climbing. Did I mention climbing? Well after about 4 minutes of thinking in my Florida living room I realize there is no way to train for this thing here.  Not here at minus 11 feet below sea level and straight flat roads as far as the eye can see.  So the thing to do is just go out and do it.  I am very pleased with this thought. There have been many times in my life just before big decisions that I jump into (half brained) for fun and they turn out great. That sweet knowing smirk plants itself on my mug and the feeling of fear/stoke begins brewing in my gut.

Preparation…

With a few weeks to go before the race I realize the importance of considering some gear choices and the significance of maybe knowing where in the hell I’m at or some clue at least. Maybe time to look at a map of the U.S. or Colorado or heck even the route maybe? Those mountains can get pretty big at times I’m told. A week or so before the event and I actually start considering gear and think that being from the south I may need a few extra things other than sunblock and a pair of shorts.

So 3 days before the event (see a trend?) I go out and buy some last minute items with the last few dollars I have towards this journey. The words shoe-string budget are generous. I’m totally strapped. Pulling up lint from the pockets here. Broke. However, while I am trying to think of a way to get myself and my bike to Colorado something inside me feels that if I can just make it near Colorado I have the fitness to ride the bike to the start if necessary and that if I make it to the start everything will be fine after that because I am in my element of bike racing happiness and ready for the unknowns in the wilderness at that point. However I am worried about the unknowns and the what ifs before the start. I don’t have the cash to cover any of these things. At work I ask my coworkers for a little sponsorship in gas money. Two guys slip me 10 bucks a piece and wished me luck. They say something like “try not to get killed out there” and “we’ll see you when you get back.” I told them don’t be surprised if those high altitude climbs don’t chew me up and spit me out sending me homeward bound tail tucked.  I was very appreciative and knew that 20 dollars would buy me about 200 or so driving miles.

Heading out towards Colorado day 1 of the drive

I realize I have to rely on my gut feeling that things are going to be ok,  just make it out there and things will be taken care of. Think Kevin Costner “Field of Dreams” ghostly voice whispering in his ear… Build it and they will come…(baseball field, old baseball players? anyone? So my voice is whispering in my ear … just get out there and things will be taken care of, and I’m thinking dude this is totally wrong. I have no cash, no plans, no prep, no clue etc.  The voice chimes louder now, Just Get Out There And Things Will Be Taken Care Of.  I’d like you to know that I heard, felt, this voice in my gut while rested and with normal vital signs and under no influence of medications or alcohol.  After challenging the comforting all knowing “voice” gut feeling with a dozen or so what if scenarios I decided what the hell,  I’m going!

Red Eye Drive

Passing by the St Louis Arch

So with not enough gas money in my pocket and my faithful vintage Honda Accord Wagon, I head west towards the Rockies across the Appalachians and Smokies and the similar but similar and oh so similar stretch through Missouri, Kansas and East Colorado sections of the U.S. After a strong push straight through from Florida to Colorado only stopping to cat nap in the rest stop areas I make it to Denver. The drive was long but important as it allowed my spirit to forget current day to day flashes of distraction and embrace the incredible journey that was right around the corner. This passion was building to a crescendo and I couldn’t wait to sink my pedals into this monster called the CTR.

Getting close to Colorado. Really tired at this point.

I made it to Denver with a low fuel light burning bright in my dash. Amount of money in my pocket? Zero dollars. I just made it without having to park the car on the side of the road and ride the bike to the start line. A sweet thankful smile to the gut feeling of it will be taken care of… That night I get a call from my brother saying he can send me a little money through western union. I get this call in the Wal-Mart parking lot where I plan to sleep in my car. I take a chance and call a friend near by hoping to score a couch. They are awake and tell me sure thing come on over we have a room for you to use.

The feeling of gratitude was very deep because I put myself out there with no money, no plans, no clue. But things were being taken care of. I began to believe  that things were going to be incredible on this trip. That next morning I pick the money up from the store feeling like Charlie from the Chocolate Factory movie. Whistling down the aisle I toss some food into the basket, buy a drink and head out to Waterton Canyon.

So it’s Saturday morning 08:15 am in Waterton Canyon and I’m geared up and sitting on my bike at the start of the 2012 CTR. Two days before the group start. I’m riding an individual time trial without fanfare or a sea of mountain bike riders in my midst. I was already blown tired from the drive and staying up late the night before helping my friend’s two boys with their bmx bikes. We got them tuned up and dialed in for another season of thrashing about the neighborhood.

I loved helping the boys — it reminded me of when I was that age. We enjoyed our bike maintenance time and then spent some quality time riding our freshly tuned cycles through the neighborhood trying not to disturb the neighbors that late night with our laughter echoing as we cruised the local trail in the dark with the boys in tow broad smiles fixed on their faces.  Then I got some shut eye in an incredibly comfy bed.  It was the last hours of blissful slumber for some time I reminded myself. I pulled the comforter tighter and savored it.

Starting the CTR

Waterton Canyon — Starting point of the CTR this year and it’s time to roll out. I’m 15 mins past 8 o’clock sharp my intended start time. Oh well that’s gonna be a theme I imagine as I start the first long climb of many. I notice that the Colorado trail is a magnet for athletic freaks of all walks. (Who, by the way, were all very friendly and loved to be outdoors!) Take note fellow Floridians and others, try smiling and waving next time you’re out running or riding your bike! So I’m grinning ear to ear waving to anyone on the trail and I roll along side two guys that ride this area frequently and they ask me which section of the trail I am riding. I say I think I’m attempting all of the sections. They look at each other and then at me with knowing smiles. Sweet… They like the thought of it and share future prospective dreams of riding the CTR themselves and wish me luck as I head off up the trail. I thank them and continue on.

Getting lost

As I approached the first section of single track after the initial climb I realized it was time to try out the new gps unit I bought on the car ride out to Colorado. So I push some buttons on the gps unit beginning to “trust” the purple line on the screen. I soon run into the first split on the trail and I can’t figure out which way to go. I see a guy that is dressed in safari type garb. Maybe it was just a hat and khaki shorts. Anyway he looks over and sees that I’m lost. I ask which way is the Colorado Trail, while distractedly staring down at my gps screen.  He looks back like “really guy?” and points to the sign that says COLORADO TRAIL this way.  The sign was about 3 feet from my front tire.

In my defense, I was already really tired from the multiple day drive and lack of sleep. I say thanks and for some reason, ignoring the sign and his correct advice, follow what I believe to be the correct route on the gps screen. Well after a mile down the WRONG path I turn around learning my tough first lesson in the CTR. I get back to the place where the nature guy is still grooming a section of the trail and he sees me again and stops working and starts staring at me wondering whats wrong with me. I just tip toe by trying to look distracted and looking up at the trees whistling as I mount up and click into my pedals rolling into my first section of this amazing route. Taking a moment to take it all in the guy just shakes his head in disbelief thinking this poor fellow, he needs help, and goes back to his work. Ahh, if he only knew how cool I am, I thought to myself, grinning. I just got lost in the first 300 feet of this 500 MILE ride (ok maybe first 3 miles but still…) I start howling and laughing out loud as I shoot down a twisty bit of tasty single track with leaves brushing my arms as I begin to settle in for a long fun ride.

Words of Wisdom

using the new filter system for drinking water

The next group of guys I run into are a group of mountain bike riders and one of the guys named Kyle (a local rider I met at the trail head that happened to live near me in Florida a while back, crazy stuff) asks how far I plan to ride? I answer that I really don’t have a plan. I’m going to just go as far as I can and hope for the best I say. He suggests that I camp out before attempting the first higher altitude pass. I tell him thanks for the advice and after riding together for a while we part ways after reaching our first creek crossing and they started to head back towards the trail head. For the next few hours I climbed alone pondering whether I should attempt the higher altitude pass or stop and rest. I figure on pushing through. I’m alone out here it’s getting dark and I’m turning a small climbing gear that requires considerable force. I am really starting to respect this ride and I’m not even through the first day.

The Ride to Bailey

Beautiful rock formations on the way to Bailey

While rolling through the country side I happened across two other riders on the way to Bailey. I can’t remember their names but enjoyed the company while it lasted. The first rider was from Colorado. He was from the Breckenridge area I think. The second rider was from Virginia.  She rolled with us into Bailey for a bite to eat. Man was I glad to sit down to a hot meal and cold drink. I think for me one of the most rewarding things about riding these types of events is meeting other like-minded folks that love to challenge themselves but also the way depriving oneself of normal conveniences turning into lap of luxury type of situations like in Bailey.

We sat down at a restaurant and ordered food and drink and it felt like winning the lottery to me. I loved the food and the short time spent relaxing and grinning a lot through fork shoveling and gulps from our drinking glasses. After our meal we rolled together until the others found a place to camp for the night. A storm was headed our way so they held tight and I rolled on after our good byes and good lucks were shared. As I pedaled down the road portion of this section in the rain a Garmin team car passed me by. In my bike-nerd imagination I tucked into my aero position on my mountain bike and imagined myself in some European super race with me in a breakaway and my team car rolling up along side to shout words of profanity I mean encouragement to hasten my pace to the finish line. I enjoyed the distraction the car provided me. I pedaled an extra 10 miles without thought thanks to my vivid imagination and that team car.

Kenosha Pass

Kenosha Pass has some road climbing before it and I have to admit I enjoyed the smooth cadence of motoring up that mountain road. It had rained already and I liked the fact that mother nature was not pulling any punches. At the end of the road section the trail turns off into a parking area and then into some off road track with rocks and roots (good stuff) I kept climbing for some time when I started to feel different.  I can’t explain it. I just felt “off”. I felt strong and was breathing well but I just didn’t feel right. I kept pushing on the pedals. After more time passed and I found myself having trouble staying on the bike.

This is very abnormal for me. Later I find myself dismounted and standing next to the bike. I continued to walk next to the machine using it as a walking aid to stay upright. I was having trouble staying on my feet. I try a test and set the bike against a tree and try standing without support. Whooomp and I’m down. Head first to the ground like a rope tied to my right ear and wham I’m down. I laugh and get back up. Slowly. I stand. I fall. Slight chuckle this time. I get up again. I stand. Wait for it. Boom, I’m down again. No laughter this time. Now I start to realize something’s up.

So I grab the bike and start walking up the trail. I don’t make it very far and I start to get a little worried. I knew the altitude could possibly chew me up and spit me out. I stop moving and order myself to lay down and try and think. It’s dark, rainy, windy as hell, I am higher in elevation than I have ever been in my life and I like that I’m in a tough patch. I feel alive. I feel scared, too. I am out of my element and I respect mom nature in a big way. I try to sleep for a little and I fall asleep for maybe 35 minutes and I wake up freaked out. I can tell the air is thin up here and I worry it is making my symptoms worse. So I’m in a hurried state as I get to my feet and lean on the bike as I start speed stumbling into the night. As I move over rocks and other invisible tripping hazards I began questioning my plan of getting to Breckenridge.

Looking up at the incredible starlit sky I say out loud to the trees above “you’re nuts!” The words are quickly carried away with the whipping wind. This makes me smile in my state of discontent. I’m genuinely concerned at this point and allow scary thoughts to pass quickly into my minds focus painting not so great outcomes of my bike ride. A whitish glow distracts my thoughts up the trail in front of me. It’s hard to discern but I see that it’s not natural. I focus my spot light on full power towards the object and I recognize it as a cooler? What? I’m out here in the middle of freaking nowhere, way the hell up here in some K-2 type of stuff in the pitch black night and here sits a white cooler by itself. I start scanning a 360 degree pattern looking for God only knows what. Hunters? Campers? Fishermen? Oh man, this ain’t right. I’m thinking there is probably some kind of crazy stuff in that white box (body parts?)

So after looking around for a while not seeing anyone for miles and miles I reach over real careful like… expecting some horror film type shiz and I crack the lid while squating as low as possible with squinted eyes and funny shaped lips coupled with scrunched neck. Creeeeeeeek… holy crap! I can’t believe my eyes! This crazy cooler in the middle of freaking BFE is loaded to the gills with fresh soft drinks and candy! Oh thank you sweet JESUS! I was in a bad way prior to this heaven in a box just a few hundred meters back. I am not going to lie. I freaking cried and laughed tears with snot flowing freely at the same time while insanely snatching at this chilled nectar of high fructose corn syrup life saving juice with fists full of candy bars and trail mix while I danced a jig right there on top of whatever place that was and sucked down a Mountain Dew like Popeye eating spinach.

Boom … I was back! and after proper thanks and praise were given to God (mumbling praise through a mouth full of snickers bar) and praise to the folks that left that cooler there. I remounted my bike with revival type boost and throttled the hell out of the rest of the mountains for what felt like a really long way. I didn’t stop riding hard till I came into Breckenridge the next morning. I learned later this was “trail magic”. God Bless trail magic!

Day 1:  Ride time: 23 hours 25 mins.  Sleep time: 35 mins.

Post Breck

This part of the ride starts to get fuzzy from sleep deprivation and lack of knowledge of the course. I remember lots of rocks and hiking or really slow climbing type riding. Anyway, after a short while I laid down just off the beaten path where runners and riders alike were out enjoying the day. I used an arm warmer to cover my eyes and just went to sleep right there. It made me smile each time someone would go by without disturbing me. I found it funny laying down for a nap at 10:30 am with the sun shining brightly. 45 minutes later I got up and continued on.

10 Mile section- great views from up top

I hiked a lot and even got to pedal a little here and there. For me hiking next to the bike is not normal. Where I come from if you are walking next to your bike that means you have big problems. It either means you’re broken or the bike is broken. So walking next to the bike felt funny. Good news that day, I had a lot to find funny. HA HA HA. Hoo Hee. Oh boy you see that giant pile of rocks as far as the eye can see? Well that’s where your headed! So the better part of this day was spent taking in the sights and pushing the bike over this and that hill over yonder. My next stop was for food at the Copper Mountain Resort, I think.

10 mile smile

A large storm with lightning and heavy rain blew in and encouraged me to sit and enjoy a nice meal while waiting this one out. After dinner my server was really cool, she slipped an extra order of hot fries in a to go bag with a wink and wished me luck on my ride. After downing my fourth cup of hot coffee and a little self pep talk I mounted the bike and took off up the mountain.

Delusions and Difficulties

Next up…  crazy ribbon-like goat track through the grass and rocks inviting thrills and spills at every tire rub along the way. By now I am becoming adequately fatigued. It is dark again and I am taking falls off the bike resembling a drunken cowboy riding out of town on his horse backwards and asleep. At one point I lost my balance and started to fall over to my left side which happened to be a steep grassy hillside.

I guess my sleep riding technique got the best of me because I fell over and could not get out of the pedals quick enough to catch myself. So I get launched off the bike down the hill with a huge backpack stuffed to max capacity with some heft to it. This pack created some serious gravity propulsion for my big head and over weighted torso. Wham I hit the ground running in total darkness as if sprinting down into an abyss like out of control fall. My mouth is stretched into the fully opened “OH CRAP!” configuration at this point with my arms in the super man position straight out and praying I stop soon and with as little damage as possible.

I think I ran the quickest 25 yard dash of my life because after road runner leg spinning wildly at 180 steps a minute I left my feet and dove through the air taking full flight thanks to my super ruck sack on my back. FOoooomm I’m Flying! weeoooooo Boom I hit the ground with arms out (Pete Rose style), chest scraping and crash landing with 20 yards of icy cold wet grass and rock to use as a bowling alley and me being the bowling ball. I envision sliding all the way down into the valley bellow a mile or so down.

These hills have a way of being ridiculously high and long. I stopped sliding and jumped up to avoid embarrassment and remembered that there is absolutely no danger of anyone  seeing you fall out here in the middle of nowhere at 3 am in total darkness. So I swallow my pride and dust off the bigger chunks of turf off my body and remount my steed. Thank you Lord for not letting me get hurt I say out loud and continued pushing through the night. I notice a small white light flickering down in the valley below. I wonder if its another CTR rider? I push on giving me something to think about and pretend I’m racing again. The next morning I laid down for another nap under the suns bright light. This is the second time I get some rest during the daylight hours. I seem to enjoy riding through the dark without sleep? Maybe I’m too tired to notice. The nap was less than an hour and back on the bike again.

Shortly after my morning nap I rolled up on a single through hiker. Her name was Wendy and she was hiking the entire CTR trail by herself. Another amazing human being out here doing her thing. I really was impressed how she could carry all of her gear on her back and still move as fast as she did down the trail. We chatted about our experiences thus far and wished each other good luck before parting ways. She was headed towards town for a place to sleep that night. I was jealous of her plans and had to put it out of my mind ignoring the fatigue and strong desire to rest myself. I think Leadville was coming up somewhere along the way.

I make it into Leadville and stop at a local restaurant for some grub. Good food and good folks. The locals actually knew what the CTR was and impressed me with their enthusiasm for cycling. After Leadville I rode into another hail storm before climbing higher into the mountains. Wow those stones of ice can beat you up. I ran into two more CTR guys riding in this section. Wayne and Glen were from Denver. We rode into some trail together and before I know it they are on the gas and motoring up the way out of sight away from me. Wow, these guys are not playing around I think to myself. I could tell they could ride well from the speed and grace they displayed while perched upon loaded mountain bikes. Soon it would be night time again and we all pushed for Buena Vista hoping to get something to eat before the stores closed for the evening.

Buena Vista

Coming into BV we rode around twin lakes and through some fast fun switchback technical stuff with rocks and other hurt you bad type obstacles. Super fun riding trying to outrun a massive storm coming our way. The rain that came down with that storm was the hardest rain that I have ever ridden in. This stuff was blowing sideways and poured down so fast it flooded the road a half foot deep creating a shallow lake to ride through for miles. It was crazy and I actually enjoyed the challenge of staying upright without getting blown off the bike into a ditch. Once inside BV I headed for food and shelter.

Oh thank heaven for 7- Eleven. I fueled up on food and drink here. I also slept in a bed at a local hotel this night. It was so sweet to shower and wash clothes and eat! The next morning after sleeping in a bed for the first time in a couple of days I relaxed and enjoyed a hot coffee with a tower of waffles swimming in a warm bath of buttery syrup. After a killer breakfast and donning clean clothes I headed out of BV for the next batch of long climbs and sweepingly sweet single track descents.

Finding my way

Moment of Clarity

It was during this particular section that I found myself at this place on a mountain top and looked out across the land and sky imagining what I had already ridden and what was still to come. As I absorbed the beautiful view through my eyes my heart started to fill with emotion as well. Sensing a recharge in good vibrations I closed my eyes and stretched my arms out as wide as possible feeling the warmth of the sun on my face and the energy in the air. With closed eyes I just embraced my inner thoughts for a moment.

All of the energy my body had used up over the years in physical exertion pushing the limits that seemed to define sanity seemed to collect into one massive surge and come back full circle channeling its way back into my body. As I stood there eyes closed, head back, chest and arms opened I felt with crystal clarity that I belonged here on top of this mountain with my bike. This is you. The real you. I simply was put on this earth to push the envelope and that this was the truest form of myself. I have never felt a more honest and pure personal truth in my lifetime.  I was born to do this. To embrace these challenges and conquer them. I am completely at home while participating in these arenas. I have always wondered what makes a person do the things they do. In my case of riding and racing bikes I could never put my finger on it.

Heading out of BV. Storm headed our way

Some people might say we are trying to over come an insecurity or deficit. Some say we have an adrenaline junky thing happening. Well to anyone that is curious I say it just feels absolutely right. To become synchronized with natures rhythms and be at one with yourself in the present moment is about as pure a thing as I know. So forget trying to quantify it or label it or understand it. It is what it is. Simply put… PURE.

Toughing it out…

So the next section of CTR involved passing by some hot springs and swimming pools with folks out for a nice day with family. I really wanted to stop and do a cannon ball type maneuver off a diving board but I didn’t want to get their clean pool muddy with my crusty clothes and body. Later  I heard from some riding friends that when they rode past this section they expected to see me up on a lifeguard tower or sliding down one of the slides whooping it up with the best of them. I liked the thought of that. I was sorry I missed the opportunity to goof off and make some laughs.

I rode the next sections toward Salida alone and looking forward to a hot meal. Hell, any meal would do at this point. Just before dropping down near Salida while still up in the clouds I spot a dark large animal hiding behind some trees. I stopped the bike and got quiet so I could verify friend or foe. I thought it was a grizzly bear. It turned out to be black angus. Yeah about 10,000 feet up in the air. Here sits a giant black cow and tanish colored cow friend to boot. I was weirded out by this. I didn’t know cattle would live this high up. Who knew?

High Altitude Beef

Later down the trail I was whooping it up blasting down the single track and break neck speeds and the herd stood up and starting running around. I cracked up laughing at the ruckus I created and then almost broad sided a monster of a bull as he galloped across my path at full tilt. I almost soiled my shorts on that near miss. Serves me right I hear my grandmother tell me from upon high. I deserved that I thought as I thoroughly enjoyed the remainder of the descent.

I found a restaurant not too far away when I reached a highway. I enjoyed the break and the food while gazing out the window at the killer mountain range in the background. That range was part of the next section. I had better get going I figured and got back to riding my bike into a nice rain storm and nightfall. I later was sitting down in the rain off the trail when Ethan Passant rolled up to me in the dark. I asked if he was Ethan or Jefe? He said Ethan and I introduced myself.

Ethan is a hell of a mountain bike rider. I’ve seen his results through the years of mountain bike racing and they are impressive. We rode and hiked together for a handful of hours looking for a place to rest. We eventually settled into a place and ran into Jason Murrell so we all attempted to get some shut eye. I ended up having to get up and start riding again. I told the guys I’d see them later on and pedalled off. I was cold and wet and panting like a dog. I rode till the sun came up ( my third morning sunrise ) and stopped to thaw out and just enjoy the sun rays on my cold and tired body. I heard a rider coming and opened my eyes to see Jefe making his way past. I smiled and said hello while sprawled out on a hill above him. He looked at me with this look of who the hell are you? I smiled knowing he was calculating his position in the race and I was not computing. He probably didn’t know I started before his start time.

Thawing out after a wet frosty night

Jefe kept rolling on and I happily returned to my supine position taking in the beautiful views and vibes. Soon Ethan would ride by and I got up and resumed my rolling vacation. These two guys would end up battling all the way to the end breaking the record for fastest time. It is important for me to express my respect for these two guys and everyone else with the courage to attempt these types of events. They continue to push the envelope of what is known and make it unknown for most.  Riding with other like minded athletes in this unbelievable playground provided me with a profound sense of groundedness. This tribe of exceptionally gifted athletes that came from all over the place to ride this trail and risk it all for the simple recognition of their peers. This awareness and fellowship among fellow CTR riders made the entire trip worth while for me personally. I was blown away by every rider I had the pleasure of riding and sharing experiences with.

Apple or BUST…

So it is like day four by now and I find myself riding a section of unrideable trail. More walking and stumbling about wondering where in the world am I? I have now been moving 4 days and around 3 hours sleep to this point and I’m officially tired and clueless. I must have walked 90% of the day I can’t really recall. I was told by another rider in passing that this guy named Apple had a tent set up for us to get some liquid and food resupplies from. I really liked the thought of getting something to eat and drink and possibly conversing with another human being after being lost in the wild for so long. It started getting dark and I was the equivalent of a piece of burnt toast under water getting snacked on by little starving ravenous minnows. I decide that I should lay down on the ground and try to recharge. I think I slept for a few hours and I remember hearing a rider coming up the trail. I popped my head out of my coma sack and yelled hey! hold up a sec! Who is that? So this war torn dude that looks no better than myself gazes in my general area and says hello? I feel like he was staring right through me as if maybe I did or didn’t exist. This is part of the cool trip you take when venturing into the depths of great fatigue. I say hold on man I want to ride with you. He informs me than he is currently involved in a race. As if to say I’m a racer dude and you’re just some guy out in the woods. This is my interpretation while totally slap happy at the time. I find this funny. Here is this guy (Dan Miller Lionberg, on a singlespeed) loaded down with ultra-distance gear and here I am loaded down with the same type stuff on the same trail. I think, yeah, no kidding I am racing also or what do you think I’m doing out here in the middle of nowhere on my own lying on the wet ground at 2 in the damn morning?

So we finally catch a clue together with our combined 4 synapes firing and we start turning the cranks with purpose fixated on this Apple guy’s tent somewhere out there in the dark future. As we climb our way through the unknown we converse first from Dan’s point of view, which is extremely analytical, especially at this time of night. He is churning out all kinds of data.  Ok, he says, while crushing up a goat track of baby boulders between breaths…” it looks like we have another five thousand two hundred and fifty nine feet of vertical to climb before we descend another eight hundred and eleven just after that it’s looking like another seven thousand or more straight up and if you factor in the current barometric pressure readings with our four of five more peaks we, um”… his voice fades to quiet as he recalculates his last projection of our impending doom and Hell ride for the night.

Dan Miller-Lionberg, Jason Murrell, Chad Parker, Cat Morrison (Apple’s Place)

At this point I am in a groove and all I can think of is to crush the pedals and keep the bike upright. Just lay down the power I think and we can make it to Apples tent. Lay down the power I chant to myself in the darkness. Dan chimes in again..” Ok I got it now .. beep beep his computer seems to be conversing with him now… Its gonna be six thousand, four hundred and thirteen feet before we really get to some good stuff beyond that he calculates while pounding some serious effort into his machine. I realize this is Dan’s way of thinking and it is a stark contrast to mine. His seems to be scientific where mine is more boxer like. I just want to pound the pedals until I hear the bell ring to stop or in this case we reach Apple’s tent. So the boxer in me hollers out from the darkness while concentrating on not catching a large rock wrong and keeping the pressure strong on the pedals…” OK, Dan, I get it! Damn! we are in climbing Hell and there is no end in sight! Does that about sum it up?” I laugh while grimacing and make it to yet another climb.

We seemed to hold a good pace and before I realize it we rolled into Apple’s place. It was awesome to get something to drink and eat. I was cold. I was frozen and cold on top of that. We were wet and tired and hungry and frozen. We used the stuff there to warm up food and drink and went about grunting and growning over food stuffs and liquid nurishment. Pretty primal stuff really. Ughhh ohhh, yemmmm. ohhh boy. ummm sooooo gooooodddddd. hee hee hee. hmm hmmm. That type of goofyness. We crashed hard asleep for a few hours and had the opportunity to visit with other CTR racers that descended in on that place like a bunch of Serangetti predators at the only watering hole for a hundred miles. We would see Jason Murrell, Chris Miller, Glen Meader, Wayne Keith, and Cat Morrison all that morning.

Starting to feel like home. Sunblock, flat, fast.

We looked pretty rough but all had good spirits despite the fact we were riding zombies. We talked with Apple when the sun came up and took a group picture and rolled out once again. Cat was all business and rolled out first. We later would see her while blasting down some sweet flowing downhills. It felt great to let it rip after picking our way through that last tough section. The next section for me was really nice. It felt like home being flat for a while.

I could set cruise control and give my brain a rest while taking in the wonderful views of the gorgeous landscape. Dan and I rolled this section together enjoying the sunshine and tolerable weather conditions while they lasted. Soon there would be more climbing, snow, and crazy tundra stuff going on.

Damn the Vertigo…

Dan Miller-Lionberg

So it is getting later in the evening and Dan and I run up on Chris and Matt getting some rest on the ground near a trailhead parking lot. ( quick personal note- I read in Chris Miller’s blog about the sacrifices he and his wife Esther made this year for each other in order for the two of them to accomplish their goals this year. I was really moved by this dedication for each other and to themselves. I want to say to them congratulations on  figuring out what is most important in life. Amazing dedication and athleticism has netted you both great results in sport and life. Well done. Keep it up!) So we all eventually started making our way up to the next section of snow covered trail. I am from Florida so to see snow at this time of year after just getting sunburned earlier that day is just bizarre.

I can’t believe I’m walking in snow.

Once it was dark and we were committed to climbing into this tundra place I was struck once again by the elements. I simply could not ride the bike due to vertigo. My legs felt strong as well as my intentions but I couldn’t stay in the saddle without falling over. I had to walk. Dan was patient and helpful in ensuring that I stop to filter fresh water to make it to the next town. He also made sure I was absolutely ok with us parting ways. I insisted. I told him he was holding a great pace and that I could not forgive myself if I held up his time by not feeling well. I told him to go on and that I would eventually be ok. I had to endure this before on my own and I would make it out ok. I remember feeling really grouchy/combative. I think these are symptoms of the high altitude putting excessive pressure on your brain but I’m not sure. I’ve heard it can mimic brain injury but I’ll leave that to the pros of high altitude medicine.

Dan getting it done

I was deeply bummed by having to say goodbye because of a severe balance issue while having good legs but it was the right thing to do. I ended up having to walk for an extremely long time. I think I walked for 24 hours after that before I felt good enough to ride again. Dan went on to set a fantastic time for a single speed rider. I am really proud of his ride. He is the kind of guy that is really personable and unassuming when you meet him but man what a monster on a bike. The dude just kills it and takes it in stride. My kind of rider no doubt.

Lots of rocks and more rocks. Did I mention rocks?

The longest hiking section for me happened between the tundra area and the section before Silverton. I lost a lot of time not being able to ride. It is in this section that I had Cat Morrison try and tip toe over my sleeping body that was lying in the middle of the trail with my backpack and bike blocking the way. I was a walking zombie and decided to sleep to try and regain cognitive function. I could not figure out where I was. I did not know why I was there. I don’t think I remembered my name. So I thought it smart to lay down on the trail until someone could tell me what the hell was going on and who I was exactly.

This is where Cat would try and slip by without waking me. I heard someone and I said HEY wait! Who is that? I poked my head out of my zombie cocoon. It was Cat. I said something like why are we here? and who am I? This is not a joke. I really didn’t know. I couldn’t make sense of the mountains all around me. I’m from Florida and this stuff is not what I am used to seeing. So Cat says, oh you’re in whatever section of this and that and you’re racing the CTR and we are headed in this direction. I was impressed with her awareness and knowledge of the trail. Damn these local folks I thought to myself. They are really up on their trail knowledge and they all are a bunch of FREAKS when it comes to kicking ass on a bike. So I ask Cat if she minded me tagging along. She says, no problem, I’m just heading down there to refill my water supply. Cool …we are off and running.

I had the opportunity to read Cat’s blog about her ride on the CTR last year and I enjoyed her story. I enjoyed riding with her that day. She mentioned that she was a little bummed about being behind a little or not reaching her goal of breaking the female fastest time. I had to step back and ponder this for a moment. I had this crystal clear feeling come over me and told Cat that a simple time for this ride or that one does not define you as a person. You define you. Hell, she had been defining herself all day by kicking my ass marching up these God forsaken goat cliffs that went on forever.

I guess our exchange did right by us because we pressed on with renewed vigor. We passed the time chatting about whatever came to mind and I witnessed first hand step for step what makes Cat such a fine athlete. She is a machine. Gender doesn’t play a factor in this equation. Cat is a fierce competitor and she won my respect that day for sure. I told her all I could think about was a cold beer and a hot pizza once we got into Silverton. She mentioned she was focused and probably not going to hang out too long in town. I said no worries and good luck with her ride.  I, on the other hand, had a different plan. I had to get my brake looked at. I had been riding with one brake and one brake only with a lot of weight on board. Dangerous stuff out there in the steep stuff. I also was ready to chill big time once in town and cold beer and hot pizza was first on the list.

Silverton…. bang bang gunblasts and loud train whistles

Once into town walking past old western cowboy dudes doing a shoot out show for the tourists and seeing the old train that liked to blow its cool horn frequently I found a cold beer and a cheeseburger with sweet potato fries. I also got my brake fixed. While walking over to the bike shop in town I ran into Glen and Wayne. I was happy to see the boys from Denver. They mentioned getting a room in town and I asked if I could shack up with them. They welcomed me to join them and I was pretty stoked at the thought of sleeping in a bed that night. Lets see a beer, burger, and a bed. Wow life is good. Oh yeah a hot shower! Man I felt so good that night sleeping in a bed.

We stayed at the OLD hotel there in town. I think the Grand Imperial? Anyway Scooby Doo and the kids would LOVE this place. Talk about creepy old haunted type pictures on the walls with creeking floors and rusty hinges with smells of a couple hundred years of cow pokes and what nots cruising in and out of that place. Funny for sure after being out of your mind tired. I think this was day 5 or so and I had slept 5 hours till then. It was time for a real nights sleep. During the night I awoke with need for ibuprofen. That meant me having to walk the few flights of creaky stairs past a dozen crazy old pictures with the subjects eyeing you where ever you were in the room. Oh great I think to myself while strolling down stairs to get the pain meds. I’m gonna see a ghost or something dumb and scream like a girl in my screwed up totally sleep deprived self. I hadn’t slept much in a really long time by now. So with the hairs standing tall on my neck and a good dose of Scooby Doo fear I got my meds and made it back to bed with only hearing the ghostly sound of piano playing and gun slingers of old laughing and chasing gals down the hallways… The next morning we rode outta town to embrace some serious climbs on the way to Durango.

Durango is beautiful and fun to ride

The next sections were great because they were unique in color and terrain. We pushed hard and would stop for pictures. Then push hard somemore. I had run into Wayne and Glen a few times in the last few days of riding the CTR. These guys were doing this thing right. They would ride like mad dogs all day and then hit the chill switch during the evenings and live the high life. Sleeping in and eating hot meals = high life.

This is my guess on there style of trip. In no way is this factual, more of a light hearted jest in the wake of the CTR’s punishment that it dishes out to all who attempt it.  We enjoyed riding together and it showed. We rode hard and laughed a lot. I later found out that these too had plenty of podium finishes in all types of mountain bike races short and long and even some ironman triathlons to top it off. I just shook my head smiling. Damn these

Getting close to the end

Colorado Freaks. Where do they keep coming from? Everybody I meet out here is capable of putting you in a severe state of distress and also at the same time comforts you in the ”your not the only one kinda vibe”. After some long hours in the saddle that day we would run into some Durango mountain bike club type folks that were so friendly and enthusiastic about mountain bikes and the CTR. We would crash at their campsite that night and get up the next morning to push hard for the finish. The brakes on my bike had gone out again leaving me with one partial back brake. This would prove to be hazardous to my health as I would crash multiple times at a high rate of speed scaring Glen and Wayne a little I’m sure. The good news is that I had all my fingers and toes when we reached the end.

Towards the end with maybe 10 miles to go we ran into Jeff (Breckenridge) who was a little out of it and Tim from South Africa. Jeff was really funny. He looked at us and asked well what do we do now? I yelled something like a war cry and said we haul ass to the finish! He took off like a man possessed. At one point screaming out loud Jeff grabbed his bike and ran full tilt up a steep incline disappearing around a corner. I loved that move. I laughed hard at his warrior spirit and dug in. We all rode our asses off that last section. I’m talking some really dirty, tired dudes here. We all must have taken the whip at least a few times giving it so much stick to try and get a gap on the next guy. A classy ride by all that day. Ton of fun giving it hell all the way to the end. Wayne’s wife was waiting for us at the end.  We all ended up meeting at a pizza joint in Durango for beer and pizza. I was so thankful for the ride and the place we ate. The food was great and the company was priceless. Lots of great memories with so many colorful characters illuminating the way on our journey of self discovery.

Glen and Wayne

I would end up getting a ride back to Denver with these guys and crashed at Glenn’s place then Dan’s in Ft. Collins to ride and race the following days after the CTR adventure. All in all a life changing event. I grew as an athlete and a person on this trip. I learned the values of focusing on whats really important and not worrying about smaller trivial things. Living in the present tense is easier said than done. Try discovering your frequency and the things that really drive you as a person and most importantly finding the job, friends, places, spirituality etc., that allow contentedness to settle upon you, these are the things we should be focused on. The inner first then the outside world. Self worth is greater than net worth. These current times we live in being dominated by electronic gadgets and gizmos so easily distract our attention from the self and allow us to create a distorted view of not only ourselves but of the world around us.

So it’s time to wake up sleepy heads! Get on your bike and go for a long ride with a friend. Don’t forget to enjoy the ride. It’s the only one we got. I thank God and all those that came across my path in this wonderful ride to help me make it through seamlessly. Things were taken care of completely. Every time I came in real need someone was there to give aid. I feel very fortunate to have had such an experience and will not forget it. I look forward to sharing new challenges in the near future. God Bless and God Speed.

What its all about. Joy

Apopka Preserve

RACE DETAILS

The Huracan 300 this year started with a bang. A fellow by the name of Chris from Virginia and Cade out of Gainesville, Fl.(Super Cool Bike shop) thought it would be cool to giddy up from the word go. I figured why not throw a monkey wrench in the plans of myself and others and roll with these two. I had a great plan of slow and steady with lots of patience and wisdom etc. Ha what a joke. Not two minutes into it and I decide what the heck lets just go wide open till something fun happens type deal. Why not? I can’t stop grinning for 5 miles knowing the world of hurt I just invited into my life.

Speaking of hurt. About 30 miles in… Chris, Cade and myself are headed east on the forest service road headed towards the old naval bombing site when Jason Murrell (Scott’s Bikes) Ocoee, TN and Shey Lindner (C-town Bikes) Conyers, GA. come freight training up from behind wearing appreciative smiles from the pace of the last 30 or so miles (or was it … nice one buddy…. now it’s our turn to turn the screws of pain smiles?) …so smiles all round !  It’s now five rolling down the road. Then after a while it became four folks. Then Three. The pace remained quick for the first 100 plus miles or so and I was the first to tap out between Shey, Jason and myself. Up to this point we all shared the pacemaking, route finding etc. with due diligence and respect.  Jason Murrell and Shey Lindner are top notch athletes with great sportsmanship and integrity. It was a real pleasure to ride with them.  And then there were two.  Chad=0, Shey/Jason=1

Somewhere after Apopka Preserve…So I find myself nursing a rear flat tire while climbing some hills in Clermont, FL. shortly after saying goodbye to my two riding partners. I missed a turn and added 6 miles of hills to the route. Oh Joy! another gross error resulting in mucho time burned up by poor navigation. By now the legs are talking. The feet are talking. The part of your body that interfaces with the bike seat are talking the Most I think. My hands from not wearing gloves due to leaving them in the car are talking…. you get the picture.  So after squirming around on a rear tire with 12 psi in it, I decided to invest half of the flat repair kit I’m carrying to fix it. (Along comes Murphy) I “fix” the flat and I’m off! Not 10 miles down the road I feel a major squishy weird feeling rear tire again! oh boy, not good. Bombing down sweet downhill sections of this ride at 30 plus with a flat is really COOL! sarcasm kids, sarcasm… anyway ride this thing like this for 10 miles or so and I pump the tire up at a 7-11 and buy some food at a local store. Daydream walking around doop to doop dee dooooooop deeeee doooop!!!!! oh yeah we are “racing” our bikes I have to remind myself. Shoot. GET BACK ON YOUR BIKE!!! GET BACK YOU FOOL!!!!!!!! I sleepily remount my steed and pedal off into the great void beyond.

Attempt number three to repair flat tire. So I notice that I’m currently in third position getting near the half way point and I’ve been rolling on a flat tire for yet another 15 miles or so. I realize that there are two riders approaching in the distance and they are closing the distance between us every time I stop and mess with this tire. I choose to just keep nursing this flat till I can’t stand it. I can’t stand it happens shortly after in the dark in an orange grove with mosquitoes so thick I imagine letting them suck enough of my blood to just simply lift me in the air and like a cool breeze just surf the winds to the finish on my new waterless, foodless, bloodless body. FOCUS. FOCUS. You’re fixing a flat I say out loud to help remember what I’m doing out here by myself in the dark with my new friends the mosquito SWARM sampling every section of my body like butchers at the meat shop choosing how to dismantle this massive meal they found. Ahhhhhhh you little rat bas#$@##^@&&^^#& I call out in the dark to no one listening swatting wildly in all directions with my micro pump as the weapon of choice with no avail. I found that if I walked in figure 8′s at a fast pace while trying to seat a massive balloon wire bead s.o.b tire on my rim that the bites were reduced by 20% or so. Attempt # 38 on the tire before it falls off rim again…. the fog/sleep stare creeps in as I am circle 8 racing with myself in the sand walking faster and faster sinking deeper and deeper trying to out run these biting bastards in my MTB shoes burning a now shin deep trench into the soft sand holding an ultra micro super mini bike pump (smaller than pinky finger, good for??), two tire levers, a tube, a tire, a rim…….as I speed shuffle in circles my thoughts wonder…. the fog thickens… Lets see thats 1 million skeeters minus 20% from increased wind velocity plus…..  I start to wonder with my mind again…. Shoot FOCUS. Fix your tire or DIE out here from blood loss I think.  About this time Chris from Virginia and Kelly from the Carolinas rolls by. Great, I think. just lost a lot a time in the bike repair business out here. They say hi and roll on into the dark chatting it up. I want to be with them. Looks like me and the tire have a few rounds still left to fight.

DING DING ….. in this corner at 2 and a half pounds!!!!!!! I finally get the wheel on. I ain’t gonna lie. My eyes may have miffed a tear in there somewhere accompanied by an inaudible low moan/high whine mumbled whimper joined by quivering lower lip. I can’t be sure but it most likely was the running sunblock in my eyes, dirt, ddt,  allergies or whatever. Sooooo the good news is… the tire is on the rim and on the bike. The bad news is that the tube has just enough air to give it “shape” = maybe 14 psi. This also means the tire is not seated on the rim fully, also all co2 cartridges are empty and all tubes used up and no working pump either. In other words dead in the water if anything happens to this bike. So while keeping fingers crossed while riding I look back at the egg that is doing the job as my new rear wheel flopping and bouncing down the path with every pedal stroke. flop, flop, ping, whop, wop, fffloopp, flop…… I am happily racing away in the darkness from the death from above swarm of mosquitoes hot on my trail on my newly fixed tire! woo hoo.  wop wop wop I “speed” down the path. bounce, bounce bounce, bounce this thing was shaped like an egg and was egging me to death and screwing with my guts big time. I can attest that after several hours of real world Mtb testing that the round shape of a tire beats the oval shape hands down. Rest easy tire makers rest easy. Man this is FUN! I remind myself as I force back the vomit and bile every fifteen times the wheel turns over. Flop Flop bounce llloppp mmmmffffgghhff ……swallow…. gulp…… ugghhhh the gravelling figure creeps into the distance.

Somewhere near the first logging road filled with sand past Lake Louisa I decide I must stop and sleep to “reboot the hard drive”. As soon as I stopped the bike I fell asleep for a lightning fast 5 or 6 hours before remounting the Moots with surprising amounts of motivation and strength. So for breakfast I push on the biggest gear possible through this soft sand redeeming myself from last nights bout with Murphy’s Law. Day two was just incredible. I was able to choose a speed and sustain it with vigor much to the delight of my recently damaged ego thanks to my warrior friends out on the course riding their souls from their bodies. After a few hours of ground pounding I stopped for breakfast.

Breakfast was divine. I sat at a bar stool and still had my helmet on with lights attached. Dirty, tired, sweaty, looked pretty rough I’m guessing by the sparing, careful looks from my bar mates. I really don’t think anyone had the courage to try and start that odd conversation. I don’t blame them. I would have left me alone too. I looked as though I just unearthed myself from a grave site. So after leisurely enjoying an incredible breakfast I headed north for home knowing maybe a hundred or so miles left in the race. Cool I thought… It’ll be sweet to make it home for dinner with the boys and talk about the crazy encounters we all ran into congratulating everyone for a job well done.

The Withlacoochee Trail was a blast. I managed to roll into a massive herd of cyclists at a weekend biking festival of some kind. I stopped and asked if a rider could snap a photo of me and the bike to prove I actually do ride a bike sometimes. I seem to be camera shy and love taking pictures of rides without me in any of the pictures.

Warning! attempt at humor eminent:

I said thanks and rolled out to do secret “battles” with unsuspecting grand mothers, fathers, kids, dogs, really anyone I could hunt down and pass with ego boosting super power to the last leg of the race. I must have “picked” off hundreds of them! Boy was momma gonna be proud. The euphoric high sustained from crushing so many cyclists in such a short time made it hard for me to hold a straight line cruising down the path in the aero position of awesomeness- (nose high in the air, smiling ear to ear with victorious smite, chest puffed out proudly- not too proudly to increase wind resistance mind you, arms thrust pridefully strong towards the sky.) Weaving wildly up the path I read a sign describing the event as a “teach your kid to ride” or ” 5 k’s with the grandparents” or something like that…. I’m pretty sure I was really low on sugar at this point. But hey, a win is a win!……… right?

The next stop at a gas station was a good one. Friendly folks with a sense of humor and all the groceries a guy could eat. I love eating. So with the brain back in working order and the body obeying all commands I make it to the section of Halpata Preserve. This is the point of the route that turns east for home. Feeling like a horse that senses the barn is near I keep the speed as high as possible.

The journey home eastward got fuzzy with tight twisty single track bits getting ever so technical with little switchbacks zig zagging back and forth for a long time. The flowing fast parts of this section were absolutely awesome to ride at speed. Then on to the job of picking through to slow ziggy stuff then back to warp speed testing tire adhesiveness with the wet pine straw and sometimes “icy” slick forest floor. The end was near I could tell by my gps that it was going to be over soon and I had the feeling of wishing it would go on for a little longer just to stay in this cool state of mind I seemed to be in. I also was really proud of everyone that stayed in the fight and stayed on course for this years Huracan 300. Outstanding job to everyone out there. I really was glad to reach the camp site and finish line for this race. All I could think of was a hot shower, a hot meal, and a warm bed.       One out of three ain’t bad.  The shower was stolen from me by some dude that figured he would go for the ultra endurance record for excessive hot water wasting while “showering” record. Apparently he shattered the old hot water use record for some time because I barely made it to the shower stall creeping through the scalding hot steamy cloud of his post record breaking shower bumping blindly into doors and walls undetected by deadened senses. Once in the shower I was not greeted with the warm embrace of cleansing hot water saying “welcome home friend” ……no, this was not to be. Instead I was greeting with a stream of clear piercing ice shards of water screaming out to say “HERE’S YOUR WATER YOU PANSY!!!! NOW GET A SHOWER ALREADY AND SUCK IT UP BUTTERCUP!!!!!!

No worries I smiled as the gooseflesh bunched up electrifing my remaining nerve endings with searing discomfort. Ahhhhhh the life! I muster up a quiet barely discernible ”Thank You Sir May I Have Another” with that, a broad grin of deep content filled my soul and I can’t stop grinning as I scrub off 300 miles of dirt, blood, sweat, bug guts, spider webs, stingers, thorns, sharp fuzzy unknowns, etc. from my legs and body.

After the shower I get in the car and make it to the local steak house in Ocala and proceed to destroy the steak, potato, vegetable, and massive dessert meal placed in front of me. Once finished the waitress says ” I can’t believe you ate all that food!” I returned a contented smile and returned to the camp site for a comfy night of sleep in my bed of wet pine straw and drizzling rain through my already wet bug bivy and sleeping bag waiting for me. Ahhhh the life, I remind myself. It really doesn’t get any better than this, I think, as I fall fast asleep in my soggy cocoon.

And you thought the ride was long huh?

Congrats to all. Thanks to the folks watching and cheering for us on the route. It was a really great time and I look forward to the next one. Happy trails everyone!

Till the next one,     Chad Parker

We brought our daughter 5 and son 3 years old to compete in the kids race. They were awesome. We rolled out on single track through the hills and these kids were tough as nails. They fought up the steep stuff and bombed the descents like seasoned pros. They even took a number of spills and handled them all with great poise. Mom and Dad were very proud and honestly surprised at how our kids rode in the mountains of Alabama.

My race started shortly after the kids were done. After a bit of a hairy start, (a wide bunch trying to fit down a narrow path kinda thing) we started to spread out and settle in for the pain fest that was about to begin for the remainder of the day.

The rock sections we climbed were great. They required choice lines and even power distribution to get a good run up. My favorite type of course by the way are ones that allow you to use bike handling coupled with power elements and a few sketchy type obstacles for good measure. I hope we use this course next year as the final race because it was challenging and rewarding at the same time. I ended up with a picture perfect race from start to finish getting the lead and holding it till the finish. Great job to all those that turned a lap at oak mountain that day. I am really content on winning the series championship for 2011 this year. Lots of work and time invested this season paid off with sweet dividends and top results. I can’t wait for next season to crank up. We have some of the strongest and nicest riders around and we are all gunning for a top step finish at every race. Hoo  yah boys and girls enjoy the winter season and we will see you guys in the new year! Happy Trails,  Chad.