What follows is a report from my experience at the Crested Butte Classic on October 1st of this year. I felt like starting with this race report since it was the first race I did after launching this blog.
Crested Butte is a destination that is on every mountain bikers list of places to ride before they die... The Crested Butte Classic 100 should be on every endurance mountain bike racer's list of events to do before they die. I admit, I was nervous just reading about this one; nearly 100 miles long and over 13, 000 vertical feet of elevation gained... and all of that taking place at over 9, 000 feet in elevation. The course is not marked (more on that in a bit) and there are no aid stations. For me, that was the appeal... something that was the polar opposite of a huge field of racers and all the madness and chaos that ensues in those sort of events. That is not to say that this race is tame or mild mannered... quite the contrary, this race has its own special blend of madness and majesty just waiting to punch you in the legs, lungs and brain. The CB Classic is comprised of three loops and is mostly single-track. I had ridden most of the trails that made up the race and they were all amazing pieces of track,even the roads presented their own challenges as they were mostly the straight up, death-march variety.
Crested Butte is a destination that is on every mountain bikers list of places to ride before they die... The Crested Butte Classic 100 should be on every endurance mountain bike racer's list of events to do before they die. I admit, I was nervous just reading about this one; nearly 100 miles long and over 13, 000 vertical feet of elevation gained... and all of that taking place at over 9, 000 feet in elevation. The course is not marked (more on that in a bit) and there are no aid stations. For me, that was the appeal... something that was the polar opposite of a huge field of racers and all the madness and chaos that ensues in those sort of events. That is not to say that this race is tame or mild mannered... quite the contrary, this race has its own special blend of madness and majesty just waiting to punch you in the legs, lungs and brain. The CB Classic is comprised of three loops and is mostly single-track. I had ridden most of the trails that made up the race and they were all amazing pieces of track,even the roads presented their own challenges as they were mostly the straight up, death-march variety.
For me, the night before the race was ominous enough to warrant my trepidation about what lay ahead. My girlfriend Becky and I rented a room from her former landlord and I was eager to cook my pre-race meal of salmon and whole wheat pasta and then sleep as much as possible. Well, the salmon and pasta were delicious as usual and as I got into bed I could hear the person who was renting the next room over talking on her phone... loudly. Now, historically I haven't slept well before any race but this was ludicrous! I refuse to take sleep-aids as I fear that groggy/hangover feeling and I should have brought ear plugs but had forgotten them. Anyone who has had an important race, job interview or whatever knows that if you can't fall asleep then the harder you try to achieve said sleep the longer you stay awake. I did my best and maybe, just maybe was able to squeeze out an hour and a half of what would be considered sleep by any stretch of the imagination.
I was already awake before the alarm went off at 4:30 a.m. and my next bad omen was about to rear its loathsome head. With such a long day ahead of me I had planned on eating three packets of instant oatmeal with blueberries and a plain wheat bagel. That sounded downright delicious when I got out of bed and I was looking forward to the challenge of cramming all of those tasty carbs down my throat as soon as possible so they would be digested and ready when I needed them. There were no instant oatmeal packets... no bagels... just the bowl and spoon for the oatmeal and the blueberries. Fortunately I had brought along a lot of energy food for the race. I ate three Honeystinger Rocket Chocolate bars and a Strawberry Stinger waffle. Not what I was hoping for as far as a satisfying breakfast was concerned.
The CB Classic is put on and organized by the not-so-evil genius; David Ochs. Dave is an awesome guy and is responsible for the Fat Tire 40 as well as the inaugural edition of the Alpine Odyssey: Leadville Qualifier. After a short, pre-race briefing we made our way up Elk Avenue towards the old Kebler Pass road just beyond the Brick Oven restaurant. The cold October air numbed my face and legs as steam poured out of my lungs with every breath. From the beginning it was obvious I was among some fast riders and the pace was downright brutal. As we passed through the Old Irwin town-site and made our way to the Dyke Trail, I moved up ahead of a few riders and readied myself for the first section of single-track. The Dyke begins with a downhill section and then it crosses several small creeks, going from straight down to straight up and repeating this pattern several times. As I crossed the first drainage and climbed up and away from it the rider behind me was none other than Dave OchsKebler Pass I wrenched on the stem while riding along and it held its awkward direction. Besides a near collision with some mule deer the ride back to the Brick Oven was uneventful and the sun began to warm things up a bit. After a quick check in a "The Brick", it was off to the truck/personal aid station in order to repair the stem and refuel. Becky was there and I showed her the stem just to make sure I wasn't going crazy. As I readjusted the stem, I watched many of the racers I had passed during the first lap go by on their way to the Lower Loop towards Slate River Road and the infamous and steep Slate d'Huez.
As I sped away from the truck I had to remind myself not to go too far into the red since there was still more than half of the race left to pedal. As the race crossed the Slate river and approached the tough, aptly named Slate d'Huez, I began to methodically reel in and pass other racers. I focused on my breathing and my cadence and shut out the pain that a climb like this causes. As I made the intersection to Washington Gulch Road I sucked down a gel and readied myself for Trail 403. Just prior to turning on to the Trail 403 I passed Aaron Huckstep and he asked if I had ever done the 403. I told him that I have never done it and asked if it was good. "Oh yeah, its good." was Aaron's reply. I had never ridden Trail 403 and wasn't sure what to expect. It was a nasty, unforgiving descent that rivaled some of the technical downhills here on the Western Slope, except it was longer and looser and had logs and roots in addition to the rocks and loose dirt. This is the kind of trail that demands 100% of your focus and attention otherwise you will get your ass handed to you. I managed to keep everything upright as I blasted up and over and through all the nastiness. As the trail gets to it steepest pitches you can see Schofield pass below you through the patches of 6ft. tall skunk-weed. As the trail turned to road I used the next stretch before Trail 401 to recover from the Slate climb and the 403 descent. Schofield pass is like an old friend and I welcomed the gentle incline and took the opportunity to eat some gels and get myself ready for the little single-track climb that stood between me and the ripping downhill that is Trail 401. This part of the race was a blur to me as I pushed the pace as high as I could down the 401 since it was the descent I was most familiar with and I did my best to make the most of every square inch of it. The 401 was already a fading memory as I headed back into town past Gothic and Mount Crested Butte. I made it to The Brick where Becky was waiting with my fresh camelbak and some more gels. Word came to me during this transition to lap #3 that I was in 3rd place! I couldn't believe it, I knew the last guy I saw was Arron Huckstep just prior to the start of 403. I was re-energized by this news and sprinted off towards the final challenge of The Strand, Brush Creek and Deer Creek.
After the steep slog to the Strand single-track I had no idea that I was about to make my only significant mistake of the race. As I sailed down the Strand I stayed right as I passed an intersection and headed down a muddy section of trail that then rose steeply to a closed gate. My mind was toast at this point, I had been pinning-it since 6:30 a.m. and now I had about 20 miles remaining. Something didn't feel right and I rode back to the intersection and the sign read Strand Bonus. I was even more perplexed since this section of trail was used in Fat Tire 40 that I had raced in June. I was supposed to be going from the Strand to the Canal Trail so I went back to the gate and then back to the intersection and then back to the gate and through the gate. I was boiling with anger inside and trying to keep calm and it was a terrible place to be mentally. I knew if I wasn't on the right trail that other racers had surely passed me somewhere by now and my 3rd place was all but a fading memory burned up by my fried mental state. I rode to the next trail signs and the post indicated that the Canal trail was in the opposite direction I was now traveling. More than pissed, I turned around and committed to the Intersection and the trail marked Strand Bonus. I saw another racer that I had passed previously heading towards me. I told him this was the wrong way and after a brief discussion he was in agreement. I followed this racer as I knew myself well enough to know that if I were to lead right now I would rocket through this section and risk blowing myself to bits which would leave me in a mangled state for the long Brush Creek and Deer Creek climbs that lay between me and the finish. As the Canal Trail gave way to the Brush Creek double-track I swung around the other racer and put my head down. I climbed as fast I could at this point in the race. I had reached that sublime state where the pain has been so constant that it fades and your mind is clear and empty. I race for these moments of divine clarity when the sum of what has come before surges through you and you act on a purely primal basis.
At the Deer Creek "Wall", I rode as much as I possibly could and hiked up the parts that resembled a ladder of roots with black earth oozing out of the space between each pale rung. Just as the trail becomes ride-able before the top of the "Wall", I was filled with the relief of being finished with the last truly brutal section of the race. But, as that wave of relief receded it revealed the reality of what was left and what was left was an undulating ribbon of single-track that never really turned into the descent you hoped it would. I pushed my pace as much as I could and I knew that I would be able to finish barring a crash or major mechanical issue. I took a brief moment to look around at the golden-orange of the aspens as they glowed like embers on the hillsides. Crested Butte is so beautiful and even after nearly 100 miles it had only become that much more endearing to me. I passed a rider standing next to his bike, I didn't recognize him and since nobody has a number plate there was no way of knowing if he was partaking in this glorious madness. Before Deer Creek's single-track ends it weaves through the aspens and becomes a rock strewn mine-field. Exhaustion was wrapping its heavy tentacles around me tighter and tighter and I bobbled on a rocky section and went over the bars. I sprung to my feet as best I could and did a five second gear and person check... No blood, no broken parts no more time to waste! The single-track now emerged from the aspens and revealed grassy meadows and the end of the trail. The rider whom I did not recognize as a racer rode up on me and said he was part of a relay where he and two other riders would ride one of the three laps and then their time would be combined at the end. We worked together for a bit on the dirt road that led us away from Gothic and towards Mount Crested Butte. I have always had good vibes from this section of the road and somehow I become re-energized every time I race over it. This day was no exception and before the pavement, I pulled away and pedaled with everything I had left.
I rolled up to The Brick in 9 hours 2 minutes and 21 seconds and in 6th place, less than four minutes away from Aaron Huckstep and just slightly further behind fourth place. I have no idea how many minutes I lost, by being lost. I know I added over 6 miles to my ride with all of that back and forth riding and my best guess is somewhere around 25 minutes or more. Nonetheless, I was overjoyed to finish so well in spite of everything that went less than right. Everyone ahead of me was either a resident of Crested Butte or the surrounding area. Next year I will not be making any wrong turns... and I will make sure I have the oatmeal and earplugs!
A big thanks to Dave O. for putting on such an amazing race! A bigger thanks to Becky for helping me keep it all together and making sure I was well fueled during the race!! As always, muchas gracias to Ruby Canyon Cycles!
As I sped away from the truck I had to remind myself not to go too far into the red since there was still more than half of the race left to pedal. As the race crossed the Slate river and approached the tough, aptly named Slate d'Huez, I began to methodically reel in and pass other racers. I focused on my breathing and my cadence and shut out the pain that a climb like this causes. As I made the intersection to Washington Gulch Road I sucked down a gel and readied myself for Trail 403. Just prior to turning on to the Trail 403 I passed Aaron Huckstep and he asked if I had ever done the 403. I told him that I have never done it and asked if it was good. "Oh yeah, its good." was Aaron's reply. I had never ridden Trail 403 and wasn't sure what to expect. It was a nasty, unforgiving descent that rivaled some of the technical downhills here on the Western Slope, except it was longer and looser and had logs and roots in addition to the rocks and loose dirt. This is the kind of trail that demands 100% of your focus and attention otherwise you will get your ass handed to you. I managed to keep everything upright as I blasted up and over and through all the nastiness. As the trail gets to it steepest pitches you can see Schofield pass below you through the patches of 6ft. tall skunk-weed. As the trail turned to road I used the next stretch before Trail 401 to recover from the Slate climb and the 403 descent. Schofield pass is like an old friend and I welcomed the gentle incline and took the opportunity to eat some gels and get myself ready for the little single-track climb that stood between me and the ripping downhill that is Trail 401. This part of the race was a blur to me as I pushed the pace as high as I could down the 401 since it was the descent I was most familiar with and I did my best to make the most of every square inch of it. The 401 was already a fading memory as I headed back into town past Gothic and Mount Crested Butte. I made it to The Brick where Becky was waiting with my fresh camelbak and some more gels. Word came to me during this transition to lap #3 that I was in 3rd place! I couldn't believe it, I knew the last guy I saw was Arron Huckstep just prior to the start of 403. I was re-energized by this news and sprinted off towards the final challenge of The Strand, Brush Creek and Deer Creek.
After the steep slog to the Strand single-track I had no idea that I was about to make my only significant mistake of the race. As I sailed down the Strand I stayed right as I passed an intersection and headed down a muddy section of trail that then rose steeply to a closed gate. My mind was toast at this point, I had been pinning-it since 6:30 a.m. and now I had about 20 miles remaining. Something didn't feel right and I rode back to the intersection and the sign read Strand Bonus. I was even more perplexed since this section of trail was used in Fat Tire 40 that I had raced in June. I was supposed to be going from the Strand to the Canal Trail so I went back to the gate and then back to the intersection and then back to the gate and through the gate. I was boiling with anger inside and trying to keep calm and it was a terrible place to be mentally. I knew if I wasn't on the right trail that other racers had surely passed me somewhere by now and my 3rd place was all but a fading memory burned up by my fried mental state. I rode to the next trail signs and the post indicated that the Canal trail was in the opposite direction I was now traveling. More than pissed, I turned around and committed to the Intersection and the trail marked Strand Bonus. I saw another racer that I had passed previously heading towards me. I told him this was the wrong way and after a brief discussion he was in agreement. I followed this racer as I knew myself well enough to know that if I were to lead right now I would rocket through this section and risk blowing myself to bits which would leave me in a mangled state for the long Brush Creek and Deer Creek climbs that lay between me and the finish. As the Canal Trail gave way to the Brush Creek double-track I swung around the other racer and put my head down. I climbed as fast I could at this point in the race. I had reached that sublime state where the pain has been so constant that it fades and your mind is clear and empty. I race for these moments of divine clarity when the sum of what has come before surges through you and you act on a purely primal basis.
At the Deer Creek "Wall", I rode as much as I possibly could and hiked up the parts that resembled a ladder of roots with black earth oozing out of the space between each pale rung. Just as the trail becomes ride-able before the top of the "Wall", I was filled with the relief of being finished with the last truly brutal section of the race. But, as that wave of relief receded it revealed the reality of what was left and what was left was an undulating ribbon of single-track that never really turned into the descent you hoped it would. I pushed my pace as much as I could and I knew that I would be able to finish barring a crash or major mechanical issue. I took a brief moment to look around at the golden-orange of the aspens as they glowed like embers on the hillsides. Crested Butte is so beautiful and even after nearly 100 miles it had only become that much more endearing to me. I passed a rider standing next to his bike, I didn't recognize him and since nobody has a number plate there was no way of knowing if he was partaking in this glorious madness. Before Deer Creek's single-track ends it weaves through the aspens and becomes a rock strewn mine-field. Exhaustion was wrapping its heavy tentacles around me tighter and tighter and I bobbled on a rocky section and went over the bars. I sprung to my feet as best I could and did a five second gear and person check... No blood, no broken parts no more time to waste! The single-track now emerged from the aspens and revealed grassy meadows and the end of the trail. The rider whom I did not recognize as a racer rode up on me and said he was part of a relay where he and two other riders would ride one of the three laps and then their time would be combined at the end. We worked together for a bit on the dirt road that led us away from Gothic and towards Mount Crested Butte. I have always had good vibes from this section of the road and somehow I become re-energized every time I race over it. This day was no exception and before the pavement, I pulled away and pedaled with everything I had left.
I rolled up to The Brick in 9 hours 2 minutes and 21 seconds and in 6th place, less than four minutes away from Aaron Huckstep and just slightly further behind fourth place. I have no idea how many minutes I lost, by being lost. I know I added over 6 miles to my ride with all of that back and forth riding and my best guess is somewhere around 25 minutes or more. Nonetheless, I was overjoyed to finish so well in spite of everything that went less than right. Everyone ahead of me was either a resident of Crested Butte or the surrounding area. Next year I will not be making any wrong turns... and I will make sure I have the oatmeal and earplugs!
A big thanks to Dave O. for putting on such an amazing race! A bigger thanks to Becky for helping me keep it all together and making sure I was well fueled during the race!! As always, muchas gracias to Ruby Canyon Cycles!
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