Breck

Breckenridge is a small little ski town in Colorado. It sits at about 9,300 ft. elevation-wise. It was the setting of the Breckenridge B-68 and B100 that Dan, Calvin, and I participated in last week.

We rode some of the course, about 4 miles, on Friday, and it was scary. The elevation and the fact that we were riding cliff-like singletrack definitely worked out lungs over in just a few short miles. The descent, although rocky and rooty, was pure sweetness. The trail was really well built, with rocks laid out before every switchback to eliminate brake bumps, and some fat berms at the bottom that required almost no brakes at all. The descent erased all of my fears regarding elevation and climbing (coz going downhill on sweet trails makes going up easier, right?).

Saturday morning Dan got up early, I remember trying to say good luck but already being back asleep when he left. He had a 6 AM start. Calvin and I rolled over to the start at around 8, setup an ezup, and hung out. Dan rolled through starting his 2nd lap around 9, and our race started around 10AM.

We had a neutral start that went uphill on the road for maybe 2 miles. By then everyone was so spread out it wouldn't have mattered to have a neutral start. Soon after, we jumped onto one of the nicest singletrack climbs I've ever ridden. The quality of singletrack must have got me excited coz I started picking riders off one by one. I passing 100 mile racers quite constantly throughout the day which was so nice as it gave me a target to chase down all afternoon. The uphill climb lasted for about 12-14 miles and got more steep and technical the higher we got up. We were all walking the last 100 meters of the climb. After a bit of level singletrack we hit a fireroad that was built like a 4x or Dual Slalom course, with sick 'jumps' every 50 yards or so. Since it was a race, I pumped through about half of them, and just launched off of the other ones. As troublemaker says, "on a long ride, you've got to look for stuff to keep it fun." I was having fun, and not looking far to find it. Next we got on the Colorado Trail which involved a bit more climbing. I was riding with two others on 29ers who were spinning their 22/34s the whole time. I was a bit jealous since my low gear was a 32/34. The next 10 miles or so was more amazing singletrack.
Soon after, we hit a road followed by a dirt road with a gradual climb back into town. After pushing the singletrack sections I was getting tired, and the climb almost took me out. I was worn out and considering quitting. Once I (finally) rolled into the finish area though, I got all adrenalized and forgot about quitting or even taking a rest until I was 5 minutes into my next lap, which quickly took us to a the most technical, steep road I've seen. After pushing, walking, remounting, riding and repeating several times, I just started walking up the dang road. One rider caught me and gained about 10 feet over the course of a half mile, so I wasn't losing much time by walking.
More up and down singletrack, a 12 mile grind on a dirt road, and some (by this time, miserable) singletrack, and I finished.
All I could down was gels and water the entire 7.5 hours. Gross. I couldn't eat for another hour afterward. My stomach was not happy, but not wanting to do anything about it either.
My back hurt so bad, as well as my wrists, shoulders, and buttocks, that the only somewhat comfortable position was standing over the pedals. Walking was quite nice too... Now I understand how being stuck in a room too low to stand up in and too short to lay down in is torture.
I did not enjoy thinking about anything bike related for a full 24 hours afterward. I hated bikes and what I had punished myself through.
And yet, by evening the next day, I couldn't wait to do another one.