“Your from Nebraska?” the gal at
medical check in asked. “Yes” Steve
replied. “So you’re taking the high
altitude medication Diamox then?” she
asked. “No” Steve replied, having never
heard of it. “Oh Boy!” she said with a
tone of amazement and worry. “Good
Luck!”
“Oh Boy!” was right. Leadville is nestled in the high mountains of
Colorado and proudly bares the title ‘The highest city in North America” at
10,200 feet. We quickly found out that un-acclimated flatlanders are a sort of
comical novelty in this town. When folks
find out where you’re from and what you’re doing, they give you this mixed look
of positive encouragement followed by a look of sincere concern.
This winter when faced with the
opportunity to enter into the legendary “Race Across The Sky”, I asked a couple
of good friends of mine, Steve Jarrett and Chris Peterson if they wanted to do
it. We had 24hrs to decide and we all
decided that we would throw our names in the hat and give ourselves that needed
training goal for the long winter we were enduring. As they say….It seemed like a good idea at
the time. Two of my other good friends
Jim Maaske and Lowell Petersen were thinking the same thing and threw their
names in the hat. We all got lucky….. so
to speak.
Fast forward through the dieting,
training, and necessary equipment purchases, and there we were, gasping for
air, flat out winded walking from our car to medical check in. You know you’re at high altitude when a simple
walk up a hill leaves you breathing heavy. We arrived late Thursday night, for the
Saturday race. Friday would be spent
getting checked in and picking up our race packets, and then doing a recon ride
to check out the first major climb on the course.
“Did you know you are going to be
racing with Lance?” was the subject line of an e-mail I got from a friend who
had just read on VeloNews that Lance Armstrong would be racing this year’s
event. The added element of lining up in
the same race as the 7 time Tour De France champion, gave everyone that
attended a sense of thrill and excitement.
Start line with
Lance, Carmichael, Yeti Rider Cody and Kent
The morning of the race was an
early one. The race was scheduled to
start at 6:30am, in “Wild West” fashion, by the blast of a 12 gauge shotgun. I
was fortunate enough to get selected to start in the front staging area. I wasn’t sure what the environment would be
like with Lance racing, so I decided to get there by 6am to make sure I could
get into the starting area and staged in good position.
About 6:15 Lance and Chris
Carmichael showed up and came into the staging area. The fans and media went nuts trying to snap a
picture of the 7 time Tour De France champion.
I realized that everyone was distracted and slid myself up into the
first row while the other riders and fans were focused on his entry.
Lance entering the start gate. I am sneaking up to the front, just to his
right
So there I was, in sort of a
surreal moment, on the front start line right next to Lance and his coach Chris
Carmichael. Now make no mistake, I never
thought I would have such an opportunity.
I have been fortunate enough to meet Lance at a private dinner in
Wisconsin for Trek’s top dealers, and have ridden beside him in the Trek 100
charity ride raising money for childhood cancer research. I have seen him speak in several settings,
but never had the opportunity to line up and start a race with him.
I am not one to be “star struck”,
but I have to admit it. It was pretty
darn cool, as the crowd counted down to the shotgun start, to look over two
bikes and see Lance with his game face on.
I knew that even though it would be for a short moment, I would be
racing next to one of the greatest cyclists of all time. Sure, I was not in his league nor ever will
be, but that inner child in me can still dream, and I was having one hell of a
ride.
The gun went of, and the front
row surged towards the pace care. My
dream had started and it was time to have fun.
For the first 7 miles I rode right beside Lance and 5 time Leadville 100
champion Dave Weins. All the cameras
were there, and even though I knew none of them were there for me, it was a glimpse
into the life of a superstar. Around
every corner and bend in the road there were Lance fans cheering him on.
Yeah, those are my arm warmer next to LA (-:
As we were riding, I asked Lance
if he would be at Trek World in Madison the next week, as he usually is. He said “no, I will be recovering from this
event.” He said he had injured his back
while switching back and forth from his road to mountain bike in preparation
for this event. He had spent 3 weeks in
Aspen acclimating to the altitude in preparation for this event. He said his back was in a lot of pain and
that he had never iced his back as much in his life as he had this week prior
to the event.
As we turned the corner, the pace
car left us and the race was on. It was
about a 3 mile ride to the base of the first climb and I just hung right at the
front of the group with Dave Weins and Lance.
One of my strategies for the race was to be at the front going into the
first climb. I knew I would not be able to breathe well and wanted to make
other riders work to go around me, instead of work to catch up to them.
Off we go behind the pace car
Since it was a 100 mile race, the
pace was very comfortable heading into the first climb. As we approached the first climb, I tucked in
behind Dave Weins and looked over my shoulder and there was Lance. I knew I wanted to be upfront, but this was
ridiculous, I was clearly out of my league.
As we started the climb, I looked over my shoulder at Lance. I muttered “You might want to go around, I can’t
breath up here” and pulled to the
right. He and a couple of riders went
around and I set in at a pace I could handle behind them. I was in good position, sitting in the top 15
and riding my race at my pace. I thought
to myself, “No matter what happens the rest of the day Kent, you have had an
opportunity that only a handful of folks have had. You are riding and racing your bike with your
friends in the high mountains of beautiful Colorado and you have started the
day riding next to and chatting with one of cycling’s all time greats. His greatest work, I would argue, is not on
the bike, but is his work in promoting cancer research and awareness through
his LIVESTRONG foundation. With three of our five man crew from Omaha being
cancer survivors, and my father currently in a fight for his life battling
cancer, I oddly enough was more inspired by Lance’s LIVESTRONG attire, than by
his celebrity status.
I knew no matter what we all
faced today, in the end, we would be able to celebrate an event that pushed the
limits of human accomplishment. I
remembered the call I received from my father on the way to the event, asking
me for pictures and updates on how my race with Lance went as soon as I had
them. I could sense a bit if pride in
his voice that his son would be racing with Lance and I couldn’t wait to get
back to the finish to tell him about the start.
I made a pact with myself going up that climb, that I would endure
whatever this event could dish out, to honor him and his daily battle with
cancer. Nothing I would face today, would come close to what he endures on a
daily basis.
At the base creek crossing
after the first climb
I came out of the first climb
sitting in the top 30 riders and feeling fairly good despite feeling like I was
breathing through a straw. We hit the
decent and I managed to pick up a few spots there. Luckily altitude does not really affect your
ability to go down hill, so I pushed the descents as best I could to make up
for the lack of climbing power I had in the thin air.
Then we hit the flats and we were
off to the second major climb. Similar
to the E’tape in France, it was key to find guys to share the headwinds with
between the climbs. I found a couple of
guys who were willing to work with me and we picked up some spots on the way to
the second of five climbs. We made it up
and over this climb with no consequence, basically maintaining our overall
positions. As we entered the first feed
zone, I grabbed a bottle from our fantastic sag crew whom my friend Chris had
lined up with his buddies from Fort Collins.
These guys are our lifeblood in an event like this. They hold all our mechanical repair equipment
and nutritional replenishment needs.
They spend a long day waiting on the trail for us to come by and cheer
us on. It is a thankless job and we were
truly lucky to have these guys take a weekend off and crew for us. The race promoters make a special T-shirt for
crew members that reads “Leadville 100 Crew- We’re not here for a good time,
we’re here for a long time” Very
fitting!
After leaving the feed zone, I
knew we had a 30 minute ride to base of the beast of this event, the climb up
to Columbine Mine. My goal for the event
was to finish under 8hrs. Based on previous
year’s times, I felt that would put me into the top 25 riders, and I thought,
if everything went right, I might be able to pull this off. As we hit the base of the climb, I looked at
my clock and I was right on pace.
The climb up Columbine was a long
grueling 10 mile ascent up to the mine at 12,600 feet elevation. This climb felt very similar to the great
climbs of the Pyrenees that I have ridden and raced in France. As I was climbing, I was wondering if Lance
was thinking the same thing. I was hung
out by myself on the climb with one rider hanging about 100 yards in front of
me, and another rider about equal distance behind. As we crested above the tree line, I had not
yet seen Lance or the other riders returning down from the mine (which was the
50 mile turn around point). As I got about
2 miles from the turnaround I could see the gold LIVESTRONG jersey and the
green jersey of Dave Weins coming my way.
As Lance and Dave went by, I heard Lance say “Good job guys, keep it
up!” I thought to myself, “What? This guy actually took time to
encourage me while he was racing?” I
then looked behind me to the rider I was pacing with at this point and noticed
he was in Carmichael Training Systems
team gear. Ah…that made more sense. He must have known this guy. (-:
About .5 miles further I shifted
into my lowest gear and my chain threw into the spokes of my back wheel. I had to stop and dig it out, but luckily
only lost a minute fixing the problem.
Back on the bike and up to the top of the mine. When I got there, the check in folks said I
was in 22nd. I looked at my
watch and I was still on pace for the 8 hour mark. I filled up my bottles and off I went down
the descent as fast as I could go without hitting any other riders coming
up. It was fast and fun!
I started looking for my friends
and teammates on the way down. I knew
that Steve would be close behind, as he didn’t have the luck of a good starting
position, but he is a great mountain biker and without any major mechanicals
would have a good race. I was
desperately wanting to see each of them, Steve, Chirs, Lowell and Jim, riding
up to the mine. I knew if they were
there, they were well on pace to finishing under 12 hours and earning the
coveted Leadville belt buckle given to every participant who breaks the 12 hour
mark.
As I descended I saw each of
them, all riding within themselves and in good position. I was excited. I was thinking about how it was going to be
at the finish, seeing the sense of pride and accomplishment on each one of
their faces. I couldn’t wait to get
there. Then I looked at my watch, only
3.5 more hours to go to the finish. Ouch! As I went through the feedzone I heard “Come
on Kent, your doing great!” I looked up
and this woman who I have never seen before was cheering me on. She had her start list, and was calling out
riders by name as they came by. Now this
woman knew how to encourage someone. I
mean really, I have never been at a race before and have someone who doesn’t
know me from Steve, and is cheering for me by name. That is just another touch
that makes Leadville such a tremendous event.
As I reached the base I knew I
had two more climbs to go, and the first one, was the more difficult of the
two. It was the return up the Power Line
climb and is very steep, rutted and long.
Just as I started this climb, a cramp set in on my inner right
thigh. My leg locked out straight. I jumped right off my bike and started
stretching. One of the guys I was riding
with offered up kind words, “Work it out buddy!
You can make it”. That is the
one thing that is unique about mountain bike racing, you competition is often
as encouraging as the spectators.
I was quite a bit concerned. I knew I had two very tough climbs ahead, and
was not sure how I was going to make it up if my cramp didn’t let up. I finished stretching and massaging it and
jumped back on favoring my left side and giving it some relief until I reached
the base of the Powerline climb. This
is notably the most challenging climb on the course in terms of steep
grade. As I started the climb, my leg
felt surprisingly better. The cramping
had gone away and I knew if I could make it up this one, there was one more
climb to go and I’d be home.
I started up the climb. Half way up I saw the riders in front of me
walking. I decided I would keep riding
as long as the cramp was not setting in.
At this point, I was promising myself that I would not come back and
repeat this event ever again. My entire
body hurt immensely and the fatigue and lack of oxygen were setting in. What
business did I have making deals of that nature with myself in the state of
mind I was in?
I managed to make it up and over
Powerline climb and felt the rain starting to come down. Here we go again, I thought. As if the hypothermic E’tape Du Tour was not
enough 3 weeks prior to this event. I
had left my vest in the last feed station before the finish, and was left with
only my arm warmers. It was sunny back
then. Yeah, the good old days, back at
the base of the climb. It seemed like
forever ago.
As I descended, the intensity of
the rain began to intensify to the point I could not see very well. The rain was stinging my eyes and my glasses
were full of dust that had now turned to mud. I opted to shield my eyes from
the rain and “use the force” as they say in determining the line on the trail. The rain kept up all the way down the
descent. As I went around the last
switchback, I heard some spectator’s yell out “Go Omaha”. Ahhhh
yes, Flatlanders are an anomaly.
Seeing one racing at the front of Leadville is kinda of like seeing an
albino moose in the woods. It makes
folks stop and gaze in amusement.
I was out of fluids when I hit
the last quick feed zone going up the backside of St. Kevins climb. The support crew, at this feed station, was
awesome! They knew they were the last
folks you would see before the finish line and they were handing up cold
bottles, candy, whatever you wanted. One
guy looked at my buddy Steve and said, “what do you want?” Steve startled rattling off his requests and
the guy said “and how about some amphetamines?”
Steve laughed and jokingly said “If you got em”. The volunteer joked back “I didn’t just offer
you that did I? Well, we just ran out!”
I had been keeping track in my
mind and estimated I was somewhere near the top 25 when I crested the top of
the final climb. I had been pacing with
a group of guys off and on and as I descended, I knew if I was to break the sub
8hr mark, I was going to need some help.
When I reached the base of the descent, I could see several riders
scattered on the dirt road ahead of me.
I set off and started to bridge up to them. As I caught the first two guys, I commented that we had 30 minutes to get to the finish to break the 8hr mark, and if they would help, I thought we could do it by rotating. They agreed.
Keith and I pacing to break 8hrs
Shortly into that effort I looked
back and only one rider, Keith from Boulder, was with me. He said “well it looks like it is just us”. I said “Are you still in?” He said “Hell yes, let’s do it”. So, we kept rotating and came up upon another
two riders, each of which hung on for a while and then slipped off the
back. Keith and I were a good match and
the tempo worked for both of us. The
last guy we caught on the dirt road said to me when I asked him if he wanted to
work with us to break 8 “There is no way, that is going to be too hard”. I told him,“You are so close man, we can do
it, but it’s gonna hurt, just jump on and we’ll get you there” He jumped on and just as we hit the final
paved road to the finish he slipped off.
I looked at my clock it said 7:55.
I felt we could do it for sure now, and as we turned the final corner I
looked at my clock again. It said
7:55. Crap! How long had it been stopped. I didn’t know and I was hurting so bad from
the last 5 mile time trial, but knew if I missed that goal by a few seconds I
would not forgive myself.
Finishing stretch, only 1 more mile!
I stood up and dug deep pulling Keith
the last 500 meters to the finish. We
crossed the line and I just about puked.
I slumped over my bike and tried to not fall over from the dizziness
caused by sprinting at 10,200 feet.
Suddenly, over the sound of the big negative vacuum of my lungs
searching for air, I heard Keith….”Did you hear man, did you hear??!! We did it, 18th & 19th
and we had 4 minutes to spare!!”
I turned around and you would
have thought we had known each other for years.
I thanked him for working with me and believing we could do it. I knew that this was the best ride I had
coughed up in a long time and he was a major part of me accomplishing my sub
8hr goal.
As rewarding as it was, I found
even more enjoyment in watching my friends and fellow teammates come down the
finish stretch. At least I hoped they
were still my friends, after duping them into competing in this event. Steve disowned me for a few hours after the
event, but he came around. He had a
stellar ride and came in under the coveted 9hr mark at 8:46.
Steve with 1 mile to go!
I was excited to see my buddy
Chris finish. I was at the line waiting
and his wife called to check in. It was
10hrs into the event and she asked “Should we be worried that he is not in
yet?” I assured her he was on his way
and would be arriving shortly. After
only a year and a half in the sport, he came around the corner, out sprinting
five people to finish 311th out of the 800+rider field. He was slumped over his bike after they put
the medal around his neck, heaving for oxygen.
I waited to take his pic, but he wasn’t looking up. I told him to look up so I could take his
picture. He worked up a smile and said,
“This is the toughest thing I have ever done in my life”. Now, coming from someone who played the goon
on a college hockey team and has survived cancer twice, you know this guy has
had some rough days. I asked if I could
take his bike for him and he said “Not right now, it is holding me up”. We made our way over to the medical tent, got
him set up with some heat, coke, and ibuprofen and went back out to watch for
Lowell and Jim.
Chris with 1 mi to go!
Chris, with his medal
I was working my way back and
heard my buddy’s name come across the loudspeaker. I was so excited. Lowell and I go back a long ways and have
spent some very long days in the saddle together after his long tough bout with
Leukemia in the 90’s. In fact the
longest ride I have ever done was with him back then while raising funds for
the Leukemia Society. We have not been
able to ride together much recently, and I was so excited to see him come out
of retirement and bust out a fantastic finish.
Lowell came across the line with a big smile. That is something he
always has and why I just flat out love hanging with the guy. He and Chris huddled in the medical tent, by
the heater and dried out their feet from the rain. They were already laughing and telling
stories about the event.
Lowell with one mile to go.
Love that wind vest!
Hey Pete, we sell those at the shop (-:
Lowell with his medal
I left them and went back out,
knowing that a firefighter (Jim) would never be far behind the Police Officer (Lowell)
and sure enough, her came Jim. I was
very excited for Jim to finish, just knowing this would ruin his “roadie”
reputation. Sure enough, Jim is now an
official legend of the mountain bike. He
was so happy and excited when he came across the line, that I thought for a
minute he found the shortcut I was looking for.
But after further review, Flanders had officially finished sub 11 hours
and crushed his roadie status for good.
Proof Jim rode a mountain bike AND he had fun!
Proof he got his medal
All in all, it was an epic experience for all
of us. We all came home with our shiny
new custom belt buckles and managed to finish in front of the “Last Ass Over The Pass” award winner,
which is handed out for the last person to finish this amazing event. Goal accomplished! Now, what goals can we set for next
year? I think I’ll go back just to revel
in being watched like an albino moose in the woods. Now, where is that Diamox…..
.
The MCC wrecking crew
The coveted sub 9hr custom belt buckle
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