LOTOJA 2009

Here's my LOTOJA 2009 race perspective...

LOTOJA 2009

I had resigned myself to staying home the weekend of Sept. 12th. A group of good friends and co-riders had crashed on a high-speed descent three weeks previous on the Alpine Loop in the 1000 Warrior race, and I just lost my drive to get after it. I compensated my sadness by eating vast amounts of food that was entirely conducive to adding poundage. That, and a total lack of motivation to ride, had put me in a real nice position to talk myself out of going up to Logan this year.

As I struggled with my predicament, the thought came to me that what I was feeling was a grieving process. Dave, Steve, Mike, Wayne and Grant were injured, and I was able to continue to go out and enjoy what they now couldn't (at least temporarily). It didn't seem right to go, and I thought I would go ahead with the grieving thing and back out. Retreat would be justifiable, that was a bad scene at the crash site, and I don't blame some who went ahead and dealt with the situation that way and stayed home.

Along with the grieving thought came the thought that I would go ahead and do the race to somehow honor the fallen, especially Dave. This seemed right and when Wayne Smith called to ask if I was in, we both committed. Rick Frost is always in, though we didn't know each other the first two years, we always knew each other would be there the next year. Rick, his wife Jill and his family have saved me on some of my unsupported years and they've become my good friends.

Logistics associated with this race can be a bear. Driving 750 miles just to get to the start is one thing, going 200 additional miles to the finish is another. Lodging will be scarce in Logan and Jackson so if you don't reserve early, you're staying in another town. If your support crew falls through, expect to rely on others. The last two years the Frost's have saved me, including this year when Jill sagged for me and even allowed my son Taylor to ride along with them. Their daughters and a cousin were there so I don't think he minded too much...

Matt and Natalie Robbins welcomed Wayne, Taylor and I into their beautiful Smithfield home on Friday night. They are Wayne's good friends, we were glad to meet them and grateful for their kindness. We all did our pre-race preparations-trying to figure out our nutritional needs, going over the bike etc.

Wayne, Matt and a small group of friends started their day early, before the licensed racers took off. Matt was frustrated with four flats before he even got to Preston. Wayne got a little crazy and got ahead of his Natalie piloted sag vehicle so he missed some handouts. I believe he ended up finishing at a highly respectable 10:20 though, and that's pretty good for a first timer, not knowing the course and all.

I'm not sure how I felt on the drive over to the start. I had thought of doing some kind of suffer-fest in the name of Dave. You know, the old "don't take a draft the entire race" routine, but because I was reliant on Jill for support and Wayne for transportation and lodging that night, I felt I better try and stay with Rick. That would also take a lot pressure off Jill having to worry about two separate riders.

The weather was perfect, around 45 at the start and gradually warmed-up nicely to around 85. The next day it was cold and rainy so we really lucked out. I lost track of time and got out of the "catbox" just in time to shuffle into the start area and hear the word "GO". We were off, and other than a single rider hitting gravel and crashing out around a corner, and quite a few punctures (as Phil Liggitt would say) I saw no other incidents.

The first portion of the race is a mainly flat 30 miles to Preston Idaho (Napoleon Dynamite's hometown). Groups leave at 3 minute intervals and inevitably packs converge on each other, so the goal here is to not flat, avoid crashes, and get to the front for an easier handoff amongst the feed-zone chaos in Preston. We were able do all that and got out of town with a pretty large group. On the way to the Strawberry Pass climb I thought it was interesting how the UCSF officials on motorcycles tried to keep the groups separated. I was riding in the Masters 35+ category instead of the 45's because of the big Brumby group of riders that had planned on being there and riding in the 35 group. Anyway...we were watched like a hawk and when a few riders from one group got a little ahead of the other, the official would separate us and allow the entire other group to move up.

The race director drove by us on the Strawberry climb and by megaphone threatened to stop the race if anyone went over the yellow line again. I mean this guy was angry. I didn't see what he was crazy about but he was red-faced and scolded us hard.

I fell off the back about 2/3's of the way up the climb and was happy to see Rick near the summit at the neutral aid station. Rick admittedly was having an off day and decided to ride with me and my slowness. That's cool, I think we had a good time even though he may have gotten frustrated with my aid station delays. (more on my nutrition later, but I was just having an awful time trying to find food that I could eat and feel better with) On the way down Strawberry Pass and on the way to Montpelier, I decided to jump on a mixed tandem and draft for awhile. Rick was there, but fell off and caught on with another pack (it's a descent thing). I rode behind the tandem for most of the way to Montpelier. I tried to pull once but after a few minutes I looked back and was surprised to see them about 50 yards back. In talking to the woman on the back, I find out that they would be disqualified if they were found drafting. I'm so used to a PBAA event where it's a free-for-all, that I never even considered this aspect of a UCSF sanctioned race. I didn't care, I was pack-fill in this race and I knew it.

My aggressive riding style and "reckless abandon" attitude on the downhill put me into Montpelier a whopping 2 minutes ahead of Rick, it was HUGE. But alas, the big time gap I worked so hard for evaporated when I couldn't decide whether to have Vanilla GU or the Chocolate Outrage with caffeine at the feed zone neutral-goody table, and Rick was able to overtake me. Really though, we were just hanging out and trying to get to the finish.

Wyoming has a law pertaining to cyclists that requires riding in a single-file formation when on their roads. This was strictly enforced as I noticed quite a few lawmen eyeing us at quite a few locations along the race route. Just after entering that state, we found ourselves in quite a big group that now had to ride this way, and it was not fun. If riding anywhere in the last half of this long pace line, you were subjected to an interval-like experience. We would ride hard, well above AT for 30 seconds to stay on, and then slow down and so-on and so-on, and so-on. After about 30 minutes, we were done with it, Rick was smart and bailed early, me? not so smart and went about another 3 miles. I now was for sure in "survival mode" after that joyride. I rode solo into a headwind for about 4 miles to the next neutral aid station, by "neutral" meaning no support crews were allowed to stop there. Those stations were great and carried things like: oranges, bananas, GU's, granola type bars, water and Gatorade. Oh, and port-a-potties were there. I thought i'd be a funny cyclist and make a wisecrack...so after coming out of a john I made the statement to those waiting in line that "I really wasn't "going" in there, I just wanted to sit down and rest for awhile", not one person laughed.

Maybe they were a tough-crowd, or maybe it was the climbing that started right around the corner, I don't know, but I wasn't looking forward to it either. Rick and I both were riding to just finish and it showed in our climbing. He was climbing slow but I was slower and he had to wait a couple of minutes for me to summit. From there we worked real well together all the way to Afton. It was WAY more comfortable riding smooth and steady without the goofy accelerations some inexperienced riders can cause in a paceline. We had a good flow going with well-timed rotations, probably my favorite portion of the race. Jill and Taylor were there at the next feed zone in Afton, we fed, filled bottles and were off for more. It was here I may have made a crucial eating error, I downed most of a sandwich bag full of mashed potatoes. It was great while the feeding lasted, and I got satiated fast but I felt sick soon thereafter. My nutritional choices are all over the place. I really need to find a proper nutritional plan that works for me while on the bike, it really is the worst aspect of cycling to me.

On leaving Afton we found ourselves with two other riders and proceeded with the pace line and rotations, only now, (as much as I didn't want to accept it) I felt like my entire GI tract was full of mashed potatoes. Sorry Natalie, they tasted great, but they either went bad or I ate too much, probably the latter. Anyway, I took a pull, went to the back, and then proceeded to drift off the back. Rick, I know, I should've said something but I didn't want to delay you any further. Rick was about 2 miles up the road when he discovered my absence, I think he continued on but soon ran into some trouble.

I soloed along for about 30 minutes when I came around a corner and found Rick standing on the side of the road, bike in one hand and rear wheel in the other. I thought it was odd that he wasn't working to change what appeared to be a flat tire. When I rolled up to him he told me his rear wheel suddenly went goofy and was wobbling. I thought it might be a broken spoke but it turned out to be a cracked rear drop-out. Funny thing is that Jill saw it first, regardless and sure enough, Rick's day was over. He was pretty upset about it, not tantrum-mad but disbelief-mad. He was 140 miles in and wouldn't be finishing. He told me he would look to maybe find a relay team's bike to borrow, but that never worked out so he went into support mode and I think he enjoyed that for a change.

I don't know how much time I spent there with him trying to figure out what to do but with no solution I had to move on. Not as much fun without Rick for sure, but in my fragile (mashed potato filled) state, It was still a sobering realization that I had 70 miles yet to go while feeling this way.

I didn't think i'd die from eating wrong, so I moved on and eventually rolled into Alpine Junction where the Frost's and Taylor once again provided food and drink. I never really recovered from some of my mistakes earlier in the race, and I expected the annoying back, neck and shoulder aches but I didn't expect my traitor of a knee to give me so much trouble. Spinning was no problem but I couldn't stand on it. I had stood to stretch around mile 60 and it just gave out. Enough with the complaints, I just kept going and finally as we entered Jackson, a 4 man group picked us up and pulled for the rest of the race, probably 10 miles. I made multiple offers to pull but they refused so I just sat in and was delivered to the finish. Out of respect, I kept my place and finished behind the blue team.

We had dinner at a BBQ place that night and of course we stuffed ourselves. Waynes friend got us a room at The Best Western Lodge in Jackson that night, and later, after falling asleep, we were awakened by a fire alarm. We were rousted outside and had to wait there for the fire department to clear the building. In all, I think we were outside for about 90 minutes. Turns out someone had started a fire-log in a gas fireplace-- nice. Next day, off to the awards ceremony. The 1000 Mile awards were handed out first so Rick and I were happy about getting ours and moving on with our lives.

Matt, Natalie, and Wayne had some brunch in downtown Jackson while Taylor and I went around the food vendors there and sampled the fancy restaurant food offered and listened to some live country music. It was cold and rainy that Sunday and again, I felt fortunate we had such good weather the day before. We eventually got into Logan and back to the rental car around 4 pm and headed for home.

It took a solid effort for me to drive straight home from Logan. As you can imagine driving 14 hours, a day after a double century, can get kinda uncomfortable. And with the fatigue, was probably not safe. But, home we went and we finally got into Mesa at 0630. Slept for an hour, then went off to work.

Remembering back to the finish on Saturday night I think about how I really enjoyed the leg soak in the cold creek water near the finish. I had sat there reflecting on many things for about 45 minutes and it was sooo nice. It was here that I was able to gather my thoughts. I thought this might be my last LOTOJA, and I told my wife Meri as such, but I can't get over it, I've got some kind of sick Bret Favre syndrome and I know I'll be back next year, crazy, stressful logistics and all. I thought about my body slowly breaking down with age and knowing I need to relax more in events like these, and i'm alright with that. I thought about Steve Beck and worried that he might want to give all this up over an unfortunate accident and how that would be tragic. Mainly I thought of Dave Collins and his place in all of this and the miracle that was. And how could I not think of him when no less than 30 people, seeing me in a Mesa Brumby jersey pulled alongside of me to offer their condolences, trying to find out from me how he's doing, and wanting me to remind Dave of their prayers for him through it all? It really was impressive the amount of people who had an interest in Dave.

Life gets confusing to me sometimes, why one friend dies and another lives, and because of the circumstances, the opposite outcome should have happened to each. Alright, that's enough, my brain hurts again.

I just had a good, though difficult time this year and i'll give it another go next year. Maybe start working on that 2000 mile award...