Leadville 100 2009 -- Much better outcome this year than the first time...

“It’s not the mountain we conquer, but ourselves.” -- Sir Edmund Hillary

It’s hard to describe the suffering dished out by the Leadville 100 course. Start in the highest town in America at 10,200 feet of elevation, mix in 14,000+ feet of climbing and some pretty rough descents and you’ve got the makings of a suffer fest -- but one that’s pretty satisfying to finish. My last Leadville 100 was a mechanical disaster with 6 bike breakdowns along the way. It took a year off to get to the place where I was ready to come back and try for some redemption.

There’s a silver belt buckle for every rider that can finish within 12 hours. Funny what grown men will do for a trinket.

Here’s a (OK, not so) brief summary of the Leadville 2009:

Registration Day: Driving into Leadville for the first time is a bit of a shock. The town’s only major employer closed its doors 20 years ago, leaving it with the highest unemployment rate in the nation. The town is still recovering and looks pretty rough. Thanks to the Leadville founder Ken Chlouber, the Leadville 100 and its sister races are a major source of revenue for the town.

Six-time champion Dave Weins embodies the spirit of this race. He shows up to the mandatory pre-race rider meeting on Friday, gives encouragement to the riders, signs autographs and is so emotional about this race during his speech that he gets emotional and has to cut it short. A great guy.

Medical checks and registration done, it’s time to pre-ride, check every bolt on the bike and organize bags for the feed stations. Being adopted by the Nebraska contingent is a bonus – really nice group of guys riding and a great team of wives and support crew. My parents joined in for support this year along with Connor and Kent’s 7 year-old son Dillon – they will form the heart of the team at the critical Twin Lakes aid station to feed us twice at ~40 miles and ~60 miles. Tomorrow is my parent’s wedding anniversary and they are spending it doing this – I love you guys. Happy Anniversary! Big pasta feed at our house, then bed at 10p with Bike, clothes, bags ready to roll.

Start: up at 430a. To start by 530a. 39 degrees and rain, not good. Lance effect in full force – helicopter hovering overhead (helicopters in Leadville!?!). Mom, Dad, Connor, Dillon and the entire crew are there to see us off. Kent lines up next to Lance and Dave. David right behind. Steve and his Chattanooga boys and me with the Nebraska boys are grouped together somewhere in the pack of 1400-1500 riders. The starting shot gun blast goes and they are off to Twin Lakes and we are off on a 105 mile journey across the Continental Divide. The rain let up just prior to the start and we descended to the dirt with a rainbow above us. We were hoping that was the last of the precip. Not to be.

First section: St. Kevins climb – went well for Kent. He was in the Armstrong/Weins group and hung in even though the pace was high. Lance brought a group of pacers and they floored it at top of climb and Kent wisely let them go. Lowell and Chris from Omaha killing it up St. Kevins, we’re all up to the top after an hour or so from the start. Rain starts pouring on descent. Not good. Climb about 30 minutes to the Powerlines. Nebraska boys aiming for 10-10:30 total time making good time. Jim Maaske and I descend and climb together, yo-yoing back and forth. Descending the Powerlines section in the rain was a bit like Crisco in a pie-pan tilted at 45 degree angle – mud, very slick rocks, 3-foot deep ruts and tight crowds. Add to that the buzzing of evaporating rain on the high tension wires ahead and it’s a really challenging.

Twin Lakes
Rain gone, sun out and a wild crew meeting us with fresh Camelbaks, waters and food. Connor tells us that Lance is setting a record pace and Kent is top 15, David top 25, Steve Jarrett is top 30. Wow. Let’s hear it for the flatlanders! Me, I’m chasing Jim and am thanking God that the rain has gone and that I’ve gotten 40 miles in without flats, etc. this year. Dillon holds my bike while Connor refills my Camelbak and goes to work like a quarterback refilling my pockets with food for the climb. Dad and Mom pitch in with some great encouragement and we’re off to the big climb.

Columbine
Seven miles up at 10%+, many sections mid-teens. We cleaned two tough/steep sections at bottom and start to hear screaming. Over the rise comes Lance. He’s descending from the turnaround above us. He’s flying, covered in mud and dressed in black and looking skinny, really skinny. We yell encouragement as he come by us (the course is an out and back). He doesn’t look up, teeth gritted, he’s hammering. About 10 minutes later, Dave Weins comes by in second. We yell at him to go get Lance, repeating his encouragement that “it’s not about the first 80 miles, the last 20 miles determines your fate in this race.” He actually thanks us, tells us we’re looking strong and wishes us luck. A people’s champion.

Kent comes by about 10 minutes later in 15th place, then David in 30th, then Steve in about 35th. He’s killing it. But, he’s got altitude sickness and has just spend the last 15 minutes in the woods losing his breakfast.

We’re climbing up to 12,600 feet of altitude and I’m starting to feel what Steve was experiencing. Jim is suffering too, my head starts to really ache and I’m feeling dizzy and nauseous. Jim starts to lose his breakfast and I’m on the brink of the same. But, we keep on pedaling with short breaks to clear the dizziness. The last forty minutes of the climb are too steep and rutted to ride. The rideable lines are taken by the leaders as they descend, so we mortals are reduced to pushing. Boy, I needed to train for this. My back and arms are killing me. Not to mention my head and belly. We’re supposed to be eating, but I can’t get anything down. I’m having to stop and just stand to get rid of the dizziness. Poor Jim can’t keep anything down. I don’t know how he’s doing it. I begin to feel like our 12-hour deadline to win a silver belt buckle might be slipping away.

Then, is starts to rain and sleet. Big blow mentally. Not only suffering, but now add freezing to the list.

We finally get to the top and a guy walks up and says, “How are you feeling?” I say, “not so good.”

“Well, you don’t look so good – what’s wrong?”

“My head is killing me, I’ve had to stop to get rid of dizziness and my stomach feels like Vesuvius.”

“Son, you’ve got altitude sickness, you need to get down from here now. If you’re not up for that, I can get you medical assistance.”

“No, no, no, I'm going.” I yell up to Jim that I’m taking off b/c I descend like a wuss and head out before I get hauled off the mountain. Actually, I’m running away from the medical guy who’s heading towards me ;)

The first part of the descent is down ruts of loose rock – picking a line that will keep the bike up while not hitting any of the people coming up is a trick. Both Jim and I make it down to Twin Lakes in one piece. Dad, Mom, Connor and Dillon are great to still be there. Dad asks how much more riding we’ve got before the finish. I look at my computer and it says we’ve been riding for 6 hours 30 minutes and only 15 minutes off the bike. “We’ve got 5 hours of riding left.” He looks at me like we’re nuts. We are. We’re an 45 minutes off our target pace due to all of the stops on the way up. We fuel up and push on.

Back to the Powerlines

This part of the course mixes climbing and flats. I’m starting to do the math in my head and am quickly figuring out that we really need to push the pace to make it in on time. This is probably the best part of the course to make up some time. Powering on the flats is just about the only thing I do well on the bike and I try to keep Jim within sight and keep pushing. We hit the new single track climb and I can see Jim just below. He’s really gutting it out and we’re yelling encouragement to each other. I push up a few more sections and look down – no more Jim. Oh no. I slow up a bit at the top, still can’t see him and latch onto the group that was behind me to work together on the flats to the base of the Powerlines. The headwinds are brutal – about 20mph constantly. Guys can only pull at about 15mph. I took a taste of that up front and quickly pulled off to the shelter of the pace line.

Powerlines:

The bad part about the Powerlines is that even though Columbine is really hard, Powerlines is five miles of section after section of 15%+ grades after 80 miles are in your legs. It’s brutal and I’ve been in counseling for the better part of two years trying to get over my first experience with it ;) Still doing the math, I’m afraid I’m not going to make it.

A guy in our group named Brian from Monument, CO (it’s common for riders to introduce themselves to each other as we work together) is over-the-top encouraging. He’s exhorting everybody in our group to climb and not push. It’s great. We ride up the first 21% section and finally hit a section that’s too hard to stay on the bikes. As we hop off, there’s a family that has hiked up to encourage the racers. One of the guys in my group recognizes the Dad as a member of the local sheriff’s department. They have Gatorade, water, oranges and Tostitos. They walk beside us, feeding us. I ask the Dad/Sheriff how far to the top and he says we’ve got a 40 minute hike from here, shorter if we ride most of the sections. He tells us we’ve got 3:15 left to make our buckles and that we can do it if we stay focused and don’t get “lazy”. Love the hard-nosed encouragement. Really, the guy was an angel at that point. For the first time, I start to believe we’re going to make it.

We push for 20 minutes and reach a rideable section. There’s a hiker from Arkansas there who tells us we’re going to make it, we’ve got 20 minutes in the bank ahead of the cutoff now. We get on, he pushes each of us and we start to ride.

The altitude sickness starts to rear its ugly head again. I lose the group when I have to stop to shake the dizziness but connect with another group who is pushing, riding too. I’m losing time, but have nothing left. Going as hard as I can go. Everything hurts – badly. I’ve never hurt this badly on the bike. My legs, neck, back are killing me.

The Top – finally, reach the top and start to descend to the last climb. Touch the brakes as little as possible to try and make up some minutes. Get to the bottom and ask the official how long the next one is – 3 miles to the top.

St. Kevins –
Start to do the math again. Still too close. This climb actually feels pretty good and I’ve got a few guys to climb with. At the top, Sprite and pretzels served up by the Carmichael Training Systems team. I asked how much time we have -- 80 minutes to go the last 11 miles – a mix of climbs, descents and flats. I wait for Jim for a few minutes and then the guys tell me I should go. Leaving the constant servings of Sprite was tough.

This part of the race really adds to the hurt quotient – steep ups require some pushing before hitting a 2 mile descent and then the flats to the dreaded Boulevard. My altitude-effected calcs are telling me to push it above 18 mph on the flats and the legs are protesting but a little bit of a tail wind helps keep it above 20.

Boulevard
As we turn onto the Boulevard, we’ve got 4 miles of mostly up with loose rocks. The race official says you’ve got 4 miles and 31 minutes. Quick math – keep it above 8 mph and we’re there. This is a soul-buster part of the course. When you’ve done 101 miles and the race is called the Leadville 100 AND you hear you’ve still got 4 miles to go uphill, it combines for an easy nutty. Had that experience last time, this time even when knowing what to expect, it’s still hard to swallow.

I can only muster 13-14mph, going as hard as I can now go. Picked up a guy from Leadville and we trade pulls. Turning onto the last half mile, I’m seeing we’re going to make it with 15 minutes to spare. But, there’s one more climb to get over to the senior center, then down to the final rise to the finish line.

Locals are at the end of their driveways in lawn chairs cheering , “You’re going to earn the buckle. Let’s go Enservio!” (had the Enservio shorts on)

The last two blocks are mayhem, people lining the barriers two and three people deep (even after 11 and a half hours). Cow bells, cheers, shouting your number, your jersey. Can’t help not smiling. Then there’s a red carpet for the last 20 yards and Ken Chlouber himself going nuts on the PA calling out your name and hometown.

Above the crowd noise I hear, “Dad! Dad! You did it!” Up in the grandstands to my right I see Connor, Dillon and Kent as I cross the line (taking my hands off the bars to fist pump, I almost crash the bike with 2 feet to go ;).

What a feeling.

The upside to burning 8,000 calories? Ravenous eating for the next 24 hours. Why not start, like, now? Ever the gracious finisher, Kent grabs my bike and hauls me over to support for a warm serving of Ramen noodles. Dillon makes sure my bike doesn’t leave his sight and then steers it through the crowd and packs it in our van (Dillon, I still owe you an ice cream for your support buddy!).

Meanwhile, Jim guts it to the line in 12:08, beating the official cutoff by more than an 50 minutes. Amazing finish.

Kent, David and Lebo had a great race. We brought a buddy of ours (David) over from France to do the race. His first trip to America (and we do this to him!) He rode a good chunk of the way with CTS coach and author Jim Lehman. David was in the US for the first time and pretty nervous about the altitude, etc. Jim was great to him – encouraged him, cheered him on and brought him across the line in 26th place. What a great ambassador.

Saw Robert Coreale from the Etape trip several times. He was riding great also.

Results for our group:

Kent McNeill – 13th place (!) - 7:45
David Renvoise– 26th place – 8:09
Lowell Peterson– 253rd - 9:43 (!)
Steve Lebovitz – 340th in 10:09 (!)
Chris Peterson – 343rd in 10:09 (!)
Robert Coreale – 567th in 10:51
Jon – 832nd in 11:46
Jim Maaske – 902nd in 12:08

35% of starters didn’t finish.

We did and we got our trinket. ;)

Let's hear it for the Flatlanders!

Pics to follow in a couple of days.