2009 Blogs
Every year since I have lived in Colorado, I have spent the 4th of July in Breckenridge partaking in an epic mountain bike race called the Firecracker 50, which is also the Marathon MTB National Championships. If you're racing the full monty, it consists of two 25-mile laps, with 5400' of climbing, starting at an elevation of over 9500'. It is truly a race that you need to bring your legs, lungs, and luck to!
The race begins at a leisurely time of 11am as a parade down the blocked off Main St of Breckenridge. Thousands of people line the streets, slapping us high-fives as we venture into the grueling mountains. After the neutral parade down Main, we take a left onto Boreas Pass road where the racing begins. The Pro Women start with the Pro Men, so the race took off like a firecracker. We climb on pavement and fire roads for a painful 7 miles before ducking into the woods for some single track. Knowing that I would be spending 4-5 hours in the saddle (all dependent upon my luck, legs, and lungs), I just put my head down and rode my own climbing pace for the first few miles, feeling good, but kinda bummed at how many chickies were already in front of me. I would guess that in the first 15-minutes of the race I was probably sitting around last. However, slowly but surely I began picking people off as the first 7 miles ticked away. As we entered the single track I couldn't help but smile...I had brought my legs and lungs, my bike was running great, and Breckenridge was the most vibrant and green I had ever seen it.
In the back of my mind I held my nemesis - Little French. It's a b*%ch of a climb which brings you to the highest elevation of the course at around 11500'. Not only does the feeling of breathing through a straw make this difficult, but it is a somewhat technical climb with big and little loose rocks, some slick roots, and a stream crossing. Plus, it always gets bogged down with dizzy people in their granny gear just trying to survive Little mind-numbing French. For three years I have come back to this race, once doing the full monty, and the passed two years competing as a team and doing a single lap; and never have I been able to ride it! But today I attacked it with vengeance. I rode it flawlessly, passing more and more pro-men and women. After Little French, the course grinds away for a bit before dropping into some fun and fast descending. At this point I was sitting pretty in 4th, after passing a flat-fixing Mary McConneloug on the side of the trail...hoping I wouldn't be in that same position.
Just a few minutes later and...pshhh. I was running a tubeless system and my tire burped, losing the majority of the air. I hopped off and CO2'd it back up. Quick fix and I was rolling again until about 500m and...PSHHHHH. I put a tube in and CO2'd it back up, only to see a giant slit in the side wall! I pulled a wrapper out of my pocket and covered the slit, but there wasn't enough CO2 left in the cartridge. With about 10psi in the tire I decided to risk it and roll on....slowly and gingerly, but embarrassingly slow. 10 minutes of this slog and one of my buddies came up behind me and graciously handed me another CO2 to get me going again. Luckily, after bouncing off rocks and roots with basically a flat tire, my wheels were still round and true.
Onward ho, I was probably back in last place, but determined to claw my way back up the totem pole. It's amazing what you can ride when you're determined! I rocketed down the switchbacks to the start/finish, fueling up on energy from the crowd, and embarked on my second lap. About 8 miles into my second lap, and 33 miles into the 50, my legs began pedaling squares backwards. The adrenaline and fighting energy had left me and I felt like I was spiraling into an infinite abyss. Knowing that I was also flat out of flat-fixing tools, the lure was overwhelming to turn around and ride back into the arms of the inviting and drunken heckling crowds. However, I also knew that this race is all about overcoming bad luck. So the legs and lungs were there, but the luck was not. I kept plugging away and by the time I had reached Little French for the second time, I was beginning to enter a second wind. Little Frenchie was my friend again and I was cruising up, picking more and more people off. The rest of the lap went somewhat-flawlessly and the smile was back on my face. Rain had begun to fall but couldn't deter me. Hugging a tree knocked me off my steed, but a quick cyclocross mount and I was back cruising.
I never made all the spots back that I vulnerably lost in my flatting mayhem, but I finished 10th instead of last in a very elite class of Professional mountain bikers. My legs showed up on the proper day and most importantly, I fought through layers of hurt and happiness, frustration, bliss, denial, smiles and frowns to overcome a little bad luck and enjoy the 4th of July with a race that has become a tradition.
Thank you, I couldn't do this without the help and support from Webcor Builders, Ed Westhead, Donn Kellogg, Kona, Williams Wheels, Kenda Tires, Excel Sports, Pearl Izumi shoes, Oakley, Skins compression and Chamois Butt'r.
The race begins at a leisurely time of 11am as a parade down the blocked off Main St of Breckenridge. Thousands of people line the streets, slapping us high-fives as we venture into the grueling mountains. After the neutral parade down Main, we take a left onto Boreas Pass road where the racing begins. The Pro Women start with the Pro Men, so the race took off like a firecracker. We climb on pavement and fire roads for a painful 7 miles before ducking into the woods for some single track. Knowing that I would be spending 4-5 hours in the saddle (all dependent upon my luck, legs, and lungs), I just put my head down and rode my own climbing pace for the first few miles, feeling good, but kinda bummed at how many chickies were already in front of me. I would guess that in the first 15-minutes of the race I was probably sitting around last. However, slowly but surely I began picking people off as the first 7 miles ticked away. As we entered the single track I couldn't help but smile...I had brought my legs and lungs, my bike was running great, and Breckenridge was the most vibrant and green I had ever seen it.
In the back of my mind I held my nemesis - Little French. It's a b*%ch of a climb which brings you to the highest elevation of the course at around 11500'. Not only does the feeling of breathing through a straw make this difficult, but it is a somewhat technical climb with big and little loose rocks, some slick roots, and a stream crossing. Plus, it always gets bogged down with dizzy people in their granny gear just trying to survive Little mind-numbing French. For three years I have come back to this race, once doing the full monty, and the passed two years competing as a team and doing a single lap; and never have I been able to ride it! But today I attacked it with vengeance. I rode it flawlessly, passing more and more pro-men and women. After Little French, the course grinds away for a bit before dropping into some fun and fast descending. At this point I was sitting pretty in 4th, after passing a flat-fixing Mary McConneloug on the side of the trail...hoping I wouldn't be in that same position.
Just a few minutes later and...pshhh. I was running a tubeless system and my tire burped, losing the majority of the air. I hopped off and CO2'd it back up. Quick fix and I was rolling again until about 500m and...PSHHHHH. I put a tube in and CO2'd it back up, only to see a giant slit in the side wall! I pulled a wrapper out of my pocket and covered the slit, but there wasn't enough CO2 left in the cartridge. With about 10psi in the tire I decided to risk it and roll on....slowly and gingerly, but embarrassingly slow. 10 minutes of this slog and one of my buddies came up behind me and graciously handed me another CO2 to get me going again. Luckily, after bouncing off rocks and roots with basically a flat tire, my wheels were still round and true.
Onward ho, I was probably back in last place, but determined to claw my way back up the totem pole. It's amazing what you can ride when you're determined! I rocketed down the switchbacks to the start/finish, fueling up on energy from the crowd, and embarked on my second lap. About 8 miles into my second lap, and 33 miles into the 50, my legs began pedaling squares backwards. The adrenaline and fighting energy had left me and I felt like I was spiraling into an infinite abyss. Knowing that I was also flat out of flat-fixing tools, the lure was overwhelming to turn around and ride back into the arms of the inviting and drunken heckling crowds. However, I also knew that this race is all about overcoming bad luck. So the legs and lungs were there, but the luck was not. I kept plugging away and by the time I had reached Little French for the second time, I was beginning to enter a second wind. Little Frenchie was my friend again and I was cruising up, picking more and more people off. The rest of the lap went somewhat-flawlessly and the smile was back on my face. Rain had begun to fall but couldn't deter me. Hugging a tree knocked me off my steed, but a quick cyclocross mount and I was back cruising.
I never made all the spots back that I vulnerably lost in my flatting mayhem, but I finished 10th instead of last in a very elite class of Professional mountain bikers. My legs showed up on the proper day and most importantly, I fought through layers of hurt and happiness, frustration, bliss, denial, smiles and frowns to overcome a little bad luck and enjoy the 4th of July with a race that has become a tradition.
Thank you, I couldn't do this without the help and support from Webcor Builders, Ed Westhead, Donn Kellogg, Kona, Williams Wheels, Kenda Tires, Excel Sports, Pearl Izumi shoes, Oakley, Skins compression and Chamois Butt'r.
