Breck Epic 2010, Part II

So Saturday, those of us in Tent City hung out and got to know each other a little bit. Being surrounded by these folks is great because it shrouds this insanity in a wrapper of normalcy. Of course, we're gonna ride uphill for 8 miles as a "warmup;" then fly downhill for another 5 miles at breakneck speed, trying to get around the slower riders in front of us as we head further and further into the remoteness of the Rockies, repeating it for hours until we are totally spent. Only to get up and do it again the next day. "Isn't this great?" "Of course, it's freaking awesome." And so we get a reprieve from the "What are you nuckin' futz?" crowd.



And this is where I insert, yet again, that I do this not because I am extraordinary, but as a testament to the fact that anyone can do this. All you have to do is try. You CAN. Isn't THAT a cool thought?



Sunday we lined up for the 8:10 start and headed out, in a very roundabout way to a place called Pennsylvania Gulch. (I love that word: "gulch." I wish we had "gulches" around here. Maybe I'll informally change the name of the street to Woodland Gulch.") The thing that really stands out about Sundays stage is the rocks. They were loose and sharp and there was a ton of them. Shale scree just filling the downhill lines. There was no avoiding it and many sidewalls were ripped open like a kitten in a den of jackels. I was still getting my "wheels on" and I wasn't taking any unnecessary risks on Day One, so when a husband/wife Duo team from Minnesota flew by me on one downhill, I said "fine" and figured I would never see them again. ("Jeez, they are crazy/good.") Turns out that our paths would cross all week, both on the trail and off.



Going the "wrong" way down the Flume.



It's funny how someone will pass you on a climb, then you will pass them on the descent, then you crank up a long hill together and repeat. The moral that you quickly learn is that we all have different strengths and in many ways, it all evens out. Unless your name is Jeremiah. And of course, the talk of Breck, and probably any event she enters, was Wendy Skean. Talk about inspirational.

Then, after each day's stage, there was the daily post-race meeting under the tent led by Mike Mac our fearless race promoter and color commentator. We reviewed the day, what was good what could be improved for the following day. His responsiveness, flexibility, fainess and good humour kept everybody relaxed and in the proper mood. Then we reviewed the next day's stage and answered any questions or concerns folks had. Mike goes out of his way to make sure that this is a "race" that includes all comers. With an emphasis on preserving the back country, safety of the riders, promoting the sport and fairness for all. Did I mention that he has a wicked and "colorful" sense of humor?

So this is pretty much the rhythm of the days: rise for an early breakfast; prepare for the day (bike, clothing, energy/fuel); ride for about 4 or 5 hours; shower, change and rest; race meeting; huge buffet dinner; more hanging out and then early to bed. All in all, not a bad life.

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Oops, woke up to this on Monday ...




The mountain's blocking the view so you can't tell if all hell is about to break lose, or if there is blue sky just on the other side of that ridge and is about to shine on. As a result, many folks were struggling with deciding what to wear. Turns out that we dodged a bullet and that it was a wonderful overcast day. A little bit of rain around Aid Station #1 kept us cool.

As Monday was the stage which last year beat me down, it was an exhilerating feeling to be flying through those same parts this year and feeling good. I really put the screws to that section of trail, almost as payback, and felt good doing it. Of course, another long climb ended that section and I was again humbled by the course, but I was still moving well and definitely keeping my eye on that buckle.

Two days down and I'm feeling alright...