Going Long and Hard.
- Thread starter Steve Vai
- Start date
Steve Vai
Endurance Guy: Tolerates most of us.
The Canyon Trail was like this for a while, and I imagine this is what most of the southern parts were like even though it was dark. North of this was open and very eerie. Overcast. Cold.
Steve Vai
Endurance Guy: Tolerates most of us.
HEY, I fixed my computer!! I'm pretty sure I've seen everyone since JayP at this point so I'll do a brief synapse.
Starting an Ultra Endurance event at sundown was a completely new experience for me. While I tried to adjust my sleep schedule in the days leading up to the race, most of my nights were spent anxiously awaiting start time.
We had a neutral start, I sat in the front group trying to get a feel for the other riders, none of which I knew. The pace was fast, but manageable. Not far in I chose a bad line with a couple others and went down pretty hard, snapping my mounting system for my sleeping bag. FUCK. My tool was the first thing I packed into my saddle bag so I had to unload everything onto the trail to get to it. Luckily I use an extra strap around the bars and was able to remount my bag and light. The process took a long time, 20-30 minutes, and I was now in DFL with no one in sight. I panicked, and pedaled HARD. Chasing. Burning valuable matches very early in a very long race.
I picked my way back through the field, slowly, one red blinky light at time. Heading down the hill to the waterfall at mile 33, I see the leaders coming up. Drop the bike at the trail end, grab my single LED off my fork and hike down to the falls. I was hurried and slipped around, landing on my booty a few time in the process. Back to my bike and up the hill I go. About half way up I realized my bike was overgeared, and had to push the rest of the way up. I contemplated running a lower gear in the weeks leading up to the race, but never actually changed it, my second mistake.
At the southernmost part of the course, I went the wrong way. I climbed up a paved road for a mile or so before running into a couple snowmobilers. They tell me I'm going the wrong way. Damn. Luckily it was downhill back to the course. I find the right trail and am greeted with a beautifully groomed surface and got to lay first tracks as the groomer came through while I was off course. At 20+mph I knew I was making up ground while the riders in front of me were in front of the groomer on much slower trail.
It was 20ish miles uphill from that southern tip to checkpoint #1. While I was worried about hydration before the race during this section, it wasn't an issue at all and I continued to push, picking off red blinky lights throughout the night.
Checkpoint #1 I was in 4th or 5th, there was a guy in the checkpoint with me, and he left a few minutes before me. Jay tells me it's 4 something in the morning, 11 and change hours to cover the first 80-miles, but I was back in the race. Out of the checkpoint we climbed, and climbed, and climbed. The effort and tall gearing started to catch up with me. My legs started to cramp and I was unable to spin fast enough to clear them out. I walked. I wasn't paying attention to how long I walked, but it felt like an eternity.
At the top of the climb, I catch Mike, who was sleeping on the side of the trail. I stopped to see if he was OK and while I was there Todd caught us. We rode together for a bit while the sun came up, it was overcast and visibility was poop. I was so looking forward to the sunrise.
This is the first picture I took during the race, about 15-hours in. The trail was soft and not well used here. I switched between riding and walking as the snow changed. Some sections were deep, some were fast. I stopped when I needed to eat, but my stomach felt weird, and I felt like nothing was going to stay down for long.
I pushed the bike for hours along the Black Canyon Trail. It was desolate and overcast. From here this view was hundreds of miles in every direction. I knew there was a road to the East but it was lost in a sea of trees and snow. Hours go by. Walking. I was about 20-miles from Checkpoint#2, but at this pace, in these conditions, it was 9-10 hours away, and I was out of fluids.
I came across an intersection and took out the map of snowmobile trails Jay gave us at the rider meeting, I was stoked that I actually carried it along. I knew I wasn't going to make it West Yellowstone, I knew no one would be able to get me if I bonked on the way, so I headed east towards the road. Even that would be hours and hours so I went into survival mode to get out under my own power.
The trail was mostly downhill as I headed East off the ridge, the snow was deep but I could ride.
My short cut put me back onto the course just before Checkpoint#3. Anyone following along might have seen me jump into 2nd at that point but it was just a Trackleaders glitch. Neil went by me almost as soon as I got back onto the route. Flying. He was obviously not having the same reaction to being at elevation.
Once I got near the road the trails were more used and packed down, most folks don't venture out as far as we were. At 22ish hours I hit the road. 120-miles of the hardest riding I've ever done. As I started the final couple hours back to the lodge, a volunteer passed me on the road. He threw my bike in his truck and drove me to checkpoint#3, where I refueled and put my legs up for a while. Neil came through and ate breakfast. He honestly looked like he was out for a 2-hour stroll. It was awesome and depressing at the same time.
Jay gave me a ride back to the lodge. After a hot shower I spent the next few hours throwing up. The elevation or the effort had taken it's toll. I was wrecked. Cold sweats, leg cramps, holy fuck I thought I was going to die. I don't remember falling asleep, or calling my wife, what time it was, nothing. Just out cold.
The following morning I ate and felt pretty good. Watched second place finish. Ate food, drank a lot of water. Started taking my bags off my bike and such. After lunch and podiums one of the volunteers asked if I wanted to ride part of the Tour Divide route, I of course said yes.
He stuck to the road, but I once again ventured out into the snow even though my body wanted nothing to do with it. The views were worth every agonizing pedal stroke.
After the ride I spent the evening with Petervarys and Merchants. I could listen to Bill and Jay exchange stories all night, but I had to pack my bike and gear.
An experience I'll never forget and with only 7 people finishing the 200-mile route, this proved to be the hardest Winter Ultra on the planet. I'll be back next year to take another swing at this monster.
Starting an Ultra Endurance event at sundown was a completely new experience for me. While I tried to adjust my sleep schedule in the days leading up to the race, most of my nights were spent anxiously awaiting start time.
We had a neutral start, I sat in the front group trying to get a feel for the other riders, none of which I knew. The pace was fast, but manageable. Not far in I chose a bad line with a couple others and went down pretty hard, snapping my mounting system for my sleeping bag. FUCK. My tool was the first thing I packed into my saddle bag so I had to unload everything onto the trail to get to it. Luckily I use an extra strap around the bars and was able to remount my bag and light. The process took a long time, 20-30 minutes, and I was now in DFL with no one in sight. I panicked, and pedaled HARD. Chasing. Burning valuable matches very early in a very long race.
I picked my way back through the field, slowly, one red blinky light at time. Heading down the hill to the waterfall at mile 33, I see the leaders coming up. Drop the bike at the trail end, grab my single LED off my fork and hike down to the falls. I was hurried and slipped around, landing on my booty a few time in the process. Back to my bike and up the hill I go. About half way up I realized my bike was overgeared, and had to push the rest of the way up. I contemplated running a lower gear in the weeks leading up to the race, but never actually changed it, my second mistake.
At the southernmost part of the course, I went the wrong way. I climbed up a paved road for a mile or so before running into a couple snowmobilers. They tell me I'm going the wrong way. Damn. Luckily it was downhill back to the course. I find the right trail and am greeted with a beautifully groomed surface and got to lay first tracks as the groomer came through while I was off course. At 20+mph I knew I was making up ground while the riders in front of me were in front of the groomer on much slower trail.
It was 20ish miles uphill from that southern tip to checkpoint #1. While I was worried about hydration before the race during this section, it wasn't an issue at all and I continued to push, picking off red blinky lights throughout the night.
Checkpoint #1 I was in 4th or 5th, there was a guy in the checkpoint with me, and he left a few minutes before me. Jay tells me it's 4 something in the morning, 11 and change hours to cover the first 80-miles, but I was back in the race. Out of the checkpoint we climbed, and climbed, and climbed. The effort and tall gearing started to catch up with me. My legs started to cramp and I was unable to spin fast enough to clear them out. I walked. I wasn't paying attention to how long I walked, but it felt like an eternity.
At the top of the climb, I catch Mike, who was sleeping on the side of the trail. I stopped to see if he was OK and while I was there Todd caught us. We rode together for a bit while the sun came up, it was overcast and visibility was poop. I was so looking forward to the sunrise.
This is the first picture I took during the race, about 15-hours in. The trail was soft and not well used here. I switched between riding and walking as the snow changed. Some sections were deep, some were fast. I stopped when I needed to eat, but my stomach felt weird, and I felt like nothing was going to stay down for long.
I pushed the bike for hours along the Black Canyon Trail. It was desolate and overcast. From here this view was hundreds of miles in every direction. I knew there was a road to the East but it was lost in a sea of trees and snow. Hours go by. Walking. I was about 20-miles from Checkpoint#2, but at this pace, in these conditions, it was 9-10 hours away, and I was out of fluids.
I came across an intersection and took out the map of snowmobile trails Jay gave us at the rider meeting, I was stoked that I actually carried it along. I knew I wasn't going to make it West Yellowstone, I knew no one would be able to get me if I bonked on the way, so I headed east towards the road. Even that would be hours and hours so I went into survival mode to get out under my own power.
The trail was mostly downhill as I headed East off the ridge, the snow was deep but I could ride.
My short cut put me back onto the course just before Checkpoint#3. Anyone following along might have seen me jump into 2nd at that point but it was just a Trackleaders glitch. Neil went by me almost as soon as I got back onto the route. Flying. He was obviously not having the same reaction to being at elevation.
Once I got near the road the trails were more used and packed down, most folks don't venture out as far as we were. At 22ish hours I hit the road. 120-miles of the hardest riding I've ever done. As I started the final couple hours back to the lodge, a volunteer passed me on the road. He threw my bike in his truck and drove me to checkpoint#3, where I refueled and put my legs up for a while. Neil came through and ate breakfast. He honestly looked like he was out for a 2-hour stroll. It was awesome and depressing at the same time.
Jay gave me a ride back to the lodge. After a hot shower I spent the next few hours throwing up. The elevation or the effort had taken it's toll. I was wrecked. Cold sweats, leg cramps, holy fuck I thought I was going to die. I don't remember falling asleep, or calling my wife, what time it was, nothing. Just out cold.
The following morning I ate and felt pretty good. Watched second place finish. Ate food, drank a lot of water. Started taking my bags off my bike and such. After lunch and podiums one of the volunteers asked if I wanted to ride part of the Tour Divide route, I of course said yes.
He stuck to the road, but I once again ventured out into the snow even though my body wanted nothing to do with it. The views were worth every agonizing pedal stroke.
After the ride I spent the evening with Petervarys and Merchants. I could listen to Bill and Jay exchange stories all night, but I had to pack my bike and gear.
An experience I'll never forget and with only 7 people finishing the 200-mile route, this proved to be the hardest Winter Ultra on the planet. I'll be back next year to take another swing at this monster.
Mumonkan
Well-Known Member
it takes as much balls to know when to pull the plug on an epic as it does to finish. look at it this way, you didnt die, you have all your extremities still attached, and you got moose pics, great job holmes!
did the crash have you reevaluate anything about gear choices and setup or just "dont do that again" ?
ps: next time samsquanch pics.
did the crash have you reevaluate anything about gear choices and setup or just "dont do that again" ?
ps: next time samsquanch pics.
ktmrider
Well-Known Member
I agree with above post , takes a lot to say to your self that "it's over " and go into survival mode . Destination races are so much different then anything else , the dicisions you make on course can literally kill you . No shit . Put it behind you and move forward . Great race report . Altitude should be your biggest hurdle seems like your fitness is at that level . Training at altitude is key . Takes over a month to fully acclimate , I'm surprised your head didn't explode .
Steve Vai
Endurance Guy: Tolerates most of us.
There's the piece that snapped. I've been working on a re-design since I got back. I never thought about the possibility of flipping my bike during one of these races.
I fell about a dozen times during the race. The trails are groomed overnight and then chewed up all day long by snowmobilers. There's a 6inch section of smooth surface right up against the side of the track, like riding a skinny for hours. Sometimes a track will cut out from a side trail and put a groove in it and takes you down immediately. You fall into the deep snow off the trail which is several feet deep. It's soft but annoying. I saw marks throughout the race where guys have gone down in front of me.
I fell about a dozen times during the race. The trails are groomed overnight and then chewed up all day long by snowmobilers. There's a 6inch section of smooth surface right up against the side of the track, like riding a skinny for hours. Sometimes a track will cut out from a side trail and put a groove in it and takes you down immediately. You fall into the deep snow off the trail which is several feet deep. It's soft but annoying. I saw marks throughout the race where guys have gone down in front of me.
Steve Vai
Endurance Guy: Tolerates most of us.
February 28th.
Steve Vai
Endurance Guy: Tolerates most of us.
Peanut M&Ms, trail mix, fruit snacks. I had Skratch in my bottles up to Checkpoint 1 and then refilled with GuBrew (which upsets my stomach as well) Also had a RedBull at Checkpoint 1.
Mumonkan
Well-Known Member
surely someone in here has access to a CNC machine that can mill you out a nice burly aluminum bracket like the baryak its attached to?
riding in that precarious 6inch space for hours at a time takes a lot out of you, even if you dont fall. i remember a couple years ago riding my roadie in the slush covered ice and having to ride in frozen car tire tracks for miles that were like glass ruts, goddamn nightmare. when i stopped it was like i had a 4 hour long panic attack
riding in that precarious 6inch space for hours at a time takes a lot out of you, even if you dont fall. i remember a couple years ago riding my roadie in the slush covered ice and having to ride in frozen car tire tracks for miles that were like glass ruts, goddamn nightmare. when i stopped it was like i had a 4 hour long panic attack
Steve Vai
Endurance Guy: Tolerates most of us.
I definitely learned a lot from this. One of the biggest issues is I really don't have a way to experience these conditions here in NJ so I just have to go and see what happens. I spent hours with Jay and Bill, both legends in winter racing, and got a ton of great advice and tips for next time. Jay said we were supposed to sleep during the first night, and pushing through was a mistake. We were already awake for 12-hours when we hit the start line, so by the time we hit Checkpoint 1 we were awake for almost 24-hours. By the time I called it quits I was awake for 34ish hours. It's a 2-day race and none of us thought of it that way. Neil has done the Tour Divide so he was used to sleep deprivation. Jay said he's probably the only guy in the world that could put out that effort. Jay would've slept somewhere.
I have the fitness to compete at this level but fitness is only a part of the equation. Tweaking my gear will help. The elevation will always get me. This is the only Winter Ultra at elevation so maybe next year I put in a bid for Arrowhead?
On the plus, I was never cold. I wore no gloves inside my pogies the whole race. None of my food or fluids froze. My Garmin lasted the whole time. I used a map to find my way out of an area I didn't know. My bike was one of the lightest set-ups there, Neil even took pics of it for his site.
I have the fitness to compete at this level but fitness is only a part of the equation. Tweaking my gear will help. The elevation will always get me. This is the only Winter Ultra at elevation so maybe next year I put in a bid for Arrowhead?
On the plus, I was never cold. I wore no gloves inside my pogies the whole race. None of my food or fluids froze. My Garmin lasted the whole time. I used a map to find my way out of an area I didn't know. My bike was one of the lightest set-ups there, Neil even took pics of it for his site.
Steve Vai
Endurance Guy: Tolerates most of us.
I've been working on a new "T section". Might be as simple as just using a heavier gauge metal for the support bracket. This one was an arm from an aluminum rear rack.
Juggernaut
Master of the Metaphor
As rad as theses races are, it's all the behind the scene/race within a race stuff that I find totally fascinating.
Do you think that incorporating materials that retain some measure of elasticity (at that temp) into the harness could reduce the chance of breakage?
I have a odd thought, so feel free to dismiss it out of hand. What if you design it to break free, but keep it tethered.
My thought is, in a crash violent enough to cause that kind of damage, having a system what had a controlled (and secured) breakaway and tool less reattachment could be the difference between life and death alone at night at 30 below.
Do you think that incorporating materials that retain some measure of elasticity (at that temp) into the harness could reduce the chance of breakage?
I have a odd thought, so feel free to dismiss it out of hand. What if you design it to break free, but keep it tethered.
My thought is, in a crash violent enough to cause that kind of damage, having a system what had a controlled (and secured) breakaway and tool less reattachment could be the difference between life and death alone at night at 30 below.
Mumonkan
Well-Known Member
tolerance to sleep deprivation takes a long time to build up, i think it might be the only thing im good at when it comes to bikes. and if youre racing ultras its a great "skill" to have. when 5 hrs is a good long nights sleep youre on the right track, lol
knowing when to hit pause is a big thing too. ive read lots of race reports from TD and 1200k's about racers that would push on for hours at the end of the day riding into the night, but they were so exhausted they were averaging like 5mph in zombie mode. every single one said that in the end they didnt gain any extra ground since they moved so slow at the end of the day, and wished they just slept sooner so they stayed fresher.
knowing when to hit pause is a big thing too. ive read lots of race reports from TD and 1200k's about racers that would push on for hours at the end of the day riding into the night, but they were so exhausted they were averaging like 5mph in zombie mode. every single one said that in the end they didnt gain any extra ground since they moved so slow at the end of the day, and wished they just slept sooner so they stayed fresher.