Rob Verhaaren's LOTOJA 2008 report

LOTOJA 2008
Rob Verhaaren
Masters 35+, No. 352

Lotoja 2008 was the culmination of my “rookie” year of road biking. I
bought a 2008 Trek Madone 5.2 for my 38th birthday on September 13, 2007. Lotoja
was on September 6, 2008. Lotoja is a 206 mile one-day bike race from Logan, UT
to Jackson Hole, WY encompassing 9,000 vertical feet of climbing over three
mountain passes and some spectacular mountain scenery.
Going into the race, I had ridden 7,500 miles during the year, including 3,900
in the four and one-half months leading up to the race. My training partners were
Dave Collins, a dedicated workhorse, friend and reliable riding partner, and Mike
Norberg, a very experienced and successful rider with an endlessly positive attitude,
who naturally took on the role of team mentor and coach. We also rode the race
with two others from Mesa, Arizona: Rick Frost, a veteran of the race who had won
his Cat 5 group in 2007, and Jim Auwen, an extreme endurance rider known for
rides that seem crazy to mere mortals.
The week of the race, I had my bike checked by my usual mechanic and
specifically asked that the spokes be checked. The bike seemed to be in good riding
condition, shifting smoothly and responsively in the weeks leading up the Lotoja.
[Within the three weeks before the race, I had ridden the Tour of Utah 300 Warriors
event (98 miles and 14,500 vertical feet of climbing from Park City, UT to Snowbird
ski resort) and the Desperado Dual (200 miles and 8,000 vertical feet around the area
of Bryce Canyon/Panguitch, UT ) – without mechanical issues and with the bike
feeling dialed-in.] Nevertheless, I had a sense that my bike was strained. I just
hoped I could get another 206 miles out of it without incident.
The mechanical problems started the night before the race. After taking my
bike off the travel rack, I did a typical pre-race once-over and discovered that my rear
derailleur was not pulling the chain up to the easiest gear in the back. I hustled to the
bike shop for what appeared to be a quick fix. Now I was apprehensive but hopeful I
would get 206 miles out of it. After all, it had been riding well the last few weeks.
Rob, Dave, Mike and Jim at the Start
Our Masters 35+ group was the third group off line at 6:31 am Saturday
morning. The weather looked like it would be perfect.
I was just settling in at mile 30 when a spoke in my back wheel suddenly
broke. I was dismayed that after four months of training my target time was out the
window and I would be riding without my riding partners. It looked like it would be
a long day. Fortunately, I was able to borrow another rider’s cell phone, call ahead
to our support crew at the first Feed Zone and ask that they have a new back wheel
ready for me. To my good fortune, my back wheel held together until I reached the
Feed Zone. I quickly switched the wheel, grabbed my provisions and was back on
the road without losing any time. Wow! Crisis averted! Awesome!
New Wheel
At mile 40, I was still feeling lucky about the wheel when my luck ran out.
As we were starting the first long climb up to Strawberry summit, I heard something
snap, and I suddenly could not shift my back gears. The cable to the back derailleur
had broken, and, without the cable to hold it in place, gravity pulled my rear
derailleur down to the hardest gear.
At first I was not sure what exactly had happened and thought I might be
forced out of the race. For a while I kept up with my group by standing on the
pedals for long periods of time. As the climb got steeper, I was quickly running out
of energy. I realized I was not going to be able to hold my group for the remaining
10 miles of the climb. I told Mike, Dave, Rick and Jim I would see them in Jackson
and dropped off the back.
A guy riding with us, Eric Martin from Draper, UT, asked if I wanted to try
to fix it. We stopped, he tried, but he quickly realized it was not fixable. I was
astounded that Eric would sacrifice his race to stop and help me, a total stranger.
Eric rode away, and I plodded along the best I could.
As I labored up what was supposed to be the easiest climb of the race and
with 160 miles to go, I briefly, but not seriously, thought about abandoning the race.
I started thinking about the next two more difficult climbs and wondered if I would
even be able to turn the crank. But I thought, “Hey, this is just a different adventure.
It will be a story to tell. I won’t get my target time, but I will still enjoy a memorable
experience and feel great at the finish.”
Approaching the top of the climb, I caught Jim. Generously, he offered to
switch bikes with me. I had to chuckle; Jim was something else; he was actually
serious about giving me his bike. At the top of the summit, there was a mechanic. I
stopped, he looked at it, but he could not help me. I kept riding.
On the decent from Strawberry Summit, I tried my front derailleur and shifted
to my large front ring. “Good, at least my front derailleur works. I can ride the
descents and flats on my big front ring and climb with the small front ring. No way
to get out of the hardest ring in the back. OK.” At the bottom of the descent, I was
riding alone in a head wind. I slowed until two guys caught me, a Cat 4 and a Cat 5.
I jumped on. “I can’t believe a Cat 5 has already caught me.” They were strong.
Spent from the climb, I just drafted behind them while they took turns pulling. Soon
a larger group caught us, and there was Jim. I rode in that group with Jim until the
Feed Zone 3 where Bridget was waiting for me. She had learned of my troubles
when my riding partners had gone through, and she felt bad for me. I felt bad she
would spend the day alone since the rest of our support group had gone ahead to stay
with the Mike, Dave, and Rick. I told her everything was good and that I would see
her at the next support stop, Feed Zone 5.
I was in good spirits as we approached the second climb, Geneva Summit.
Jim fell back. I stood on the pedals as long as I could, then kept plodding in the
saddle to the top. Over Geneva. “Hey, I did it.” One more climb to go.
I was nervous approaching the climb to Salt River Summit, the toughest of
the climbs. I kept a positive attitude by telling myself that it was steep but that it
would not take long to get to the top. As the climb started, I alternated standing on
the pedals and sitting in the saddle. I was barely able to turn the crank even while
standing, and I was being passed by lots of riders. A few more Cat 5’s were passing
now. “Crap.” One asked, “Why are you in that gear?” I responded, “It is the only
one I have. My derailleur is broken.” – This was a conversation I would have with
numerous riders along the way. People said they could not believe what I was
doing.
To keep my mind occupied up the climb, I was counting how many pedal
strokes I was taking. At the sign marking 1 Km to the summit, I started counting
strokes – 650 to the Summit. Lots of people cheering at the top. I looked around for
anyone from our support group. No one there. Then someone said, “Hey, Rob.” It
was Eric, the guy who stopped to help me back on Strawberry. It was good to have a
friendly, familiar person with me.
We started picking up speed on the decent. I felt ecstatic to be over the climbs
and still in the race. I was taking turns pulling. Our group kept getting bigger as
strong riders came from behind and as we caught and swept up groups in front of us.
The pace was fast, faster than I wanted. My legs were spent from the climbs. If I
rode in the small front ring, I spun too fast and could not keep up. If I rode in the big
front ring, I was pushing too big a gear and draining my energy. I felt weary and
started stuffing my face with the food I had with me. I started to feel better. I was
running low on fluid and fuel as we approached Feed Zone 5. I was looking forward
to seeing Bridget and getting the menu of food and fluid items I had planned for that
stop.
Feed Zone 5 was the usual chaos with riders searching for their support
crews and support crews running out in the road to get to their riders. I did not see
Bridget and stopped and called out her name a few times. My fast riders were
leaving. No refuel. Bridget would worry about me. [I learned later that she had
gone to ask the Ham Radio Operators to locate me.] If I waited for her, how long
would I wait? I chased after my fast riders. “No fuel. I still have a little left. Only
30ish miles to the next Feed Zone. I can ration and make it. I can get neutral
support at Feed Zone 6. An adventure. I am going to enjoy it.” The group
continued at a solid pace as I nursed my remaining provisions.
On the way to Feed Zone 6, a suburban came by with a woman sticking her
head out the window. She was yelling my name. It was Ruth Collins, Dave’s wife.
I waved. “I’ve been found! I am sure they will call Bridget and tell her where I am.
I hope they will wait for me at the Feed Zone. I am sure they will.” My spirits were
lifted, and I continued on. Then I saw a group of riders stopped on the side of the
road ahead. “What is that about.” I spotted an Arizona Brumby jersey. “It’s Rick!
Hey, there is Dave! And Mike, taking a pee.” I could not believe I caught them. I
felt a huge sense of relief and exhilaration. I yelled at them as I went by. They yelled
back and cheered.
I reached the Feed Zone just before Mike, Dave, and Rick. Someone from
the crowd called my name. It was Ruth and the rest of the crew. I start whooping it
up, yelling “Yeaaaah. WhoooHooo.” I am usually not that animated. I wondered
what they and the rest of the crowd were thinking. They stuffed my pockets with
food and water. Bridget was not there yet but on her way. Dave arrived as I took
off. I pedaled slowly while my riding partners got through the Feed Zone.
After watching my group ride away 110 miles ago, I am now back with my
group for last 45 miles to the finish. “This is amazing.” Then I shift from my big
front ring to the small and throw the chain – “This is unreal!” I hop off the bike and
put the chain back on just as Dave, Mike and Rick catch me. They are calling me an
“Animal” and congratulating me on my perseverance. I am overjoyed but too tired
to know how to respond.
Head winds up the Snake River valley!!? According to the race organizers,
we are supposed to have 20 mph tailwinds! We are losing time. I am getting tired
as we do short rotations at the front. There are a few guys sucking our wheel. I tell
Mike and Dave we should make these guys do some work, and I drop back to make
the other guys take a turn at the front in the wind. I realize we are not going to make
it to the finish in 10 hours at the current pace. I hear Dave asking Mike about the 10
hour mark. I do not hear Mike’s response. Mike is in his usual positive mood,
chatting with everyone in the group and pointing out the scenery. Mike is calling
different guys by the nicknames he has given them, “Mangy Matt”, “Wheel Suck” .
. . “Hey, there is Eric.” He jumps on and rides with us.
Within 5 Km to go, Mike starts congratulating everyone on the ride. I am
thinking, “Please, no more mechanical issues.”
Now, I see the finish line. I hear Dave say he is going to let me go across
first. I wave Mike and Dave up along side me, and we call Rick up. Our support
group is there and cheering us by name. The four of us cross together at 10’08”.
I feel great. We talk and laugh in the beautiful afternoon sun with the snow
capped Grande Teton standing next to us. It is a beautiful moment.

If you'd like the article with Rob's photos, let me know.