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Race Day: Sat Aug 15, 2015 photos The Start Racers are grouped into corrals for the start based on prior finishes and qualification races: gold, silver, red, green, purple, orange, blue, and white. First timers are placed into white unless they've earned better via a qualification event. My 7:03 at Wilmington Whiteface bumped me from white to blue, but was 3 minutes shy of getting me into orange. When I explained to the registration manager that I would have been faster if I hadn't stopped to rescue a child from the bottom of a well, she was amused and saw her way clear to give me orange. In the end, my starting corral didn't really matter--I wasn't going to do sub-11 or super-12 based on start positioning. I queued up at around 5:50a for the 6:30a start. With temperatures in the 40s, it was warm by Leadville standards. I was kitted up in 2015 Fat Cyclist red (SS jersey, bib shorts), arm warmers, and full-fingered gloves with chemical warmers. For pre-start warmth, I added fleece pants and a North Face jacket that I handed to Betsy at the 5 minutes to go mark. 
Start to St. Kevins The shotgun blast went off promptly at 6:30a. Four minutes later, I was rolling across the start line on 6th street just west of Harrison. (In mountain biking circles, "6th and Harrison" is somewhat akin to Marathoning's "right on Hereford, left on Boylston.") 
Even though the clock is running, the race starts neutral with a pace car (well ahead and that I never saw) down 6th for a right-left past the Intermediate School onto Route 4 and then a right onto Route 9. When we turned right onto the dirt of Tennesse Creek Road, it was game on. As a side note, the aforementioned Rebecca Rusch, who last year helped Elden's wife Lisa earn her first sub-9 finish at Leadville, was riding with a guy named Matt DeWitt (Hopkinton NH) from the Phoenix Patriot Foundation. Matt served in the military where he lost both arms. So Matt designed a few modifications to his MTB. For shifting, he uses his knees against his top tube (making SRAM road shifting seem downright easy to master). And for braking, he leans his butt back against a bar mounted behind and above his saddle. Matt beat me by 37 minutes.  credit: Linda Guerrette St. Kevins climb The first big climb is St. Kevins (pronounced "keevins"). It wouldn't be so bad except for the traffic. It's like a crowded CX start on a 7% grade. One rider puts his or her foot down and a LOT of riders have to put their foot down. I made it most of the way up the first steep section before being forced to dismount. Once at the top, we bombed down through a bit of woods before taking the right onto paved Turquoise Lake Road and a great descent (it's where I hit my max speed for the race of 40.9 mph). Sugarloaf climb/Powerline descent Next up was the manageable Hagerman/Sugarloaf climb (average 5%, with riders more widely spaced) and its spectacular views. At the top: the Powerline descent. Powerline is steep until the bottom, when it gets steeper. Traction is sometimes sketchy. Skills are sometimes sketchy (present company included). But I navigated it without a bobble thanks to the Tuesday training ride. On Tuesday, we climbed Powerline as a group, then met for a skills session led by Harlan Price. Harlan is a retired downhill racer with fantastic bike handling skills. He gave us some general tips and techniques, then descended partway where he could offer on-the-fly comments. He noticed that my rear wheel was sliding out and that my positioning on the pedals was off. For the former, he advised more front brake (which I'd been avoiding for fear of front wheel washout/endoing) and for the latter, he wanted me to have me pedals level, with front foot just a bit higher, and heels down. Despite more traffic, my race day time down Powerline was 14 minutes faster than the training ride (17m vs. 31m; of the 31m, 2-3 were due to a mid-descent wrong turn/relief stop). Right at the bottom, as the steep section was about to level out, a rider two ahead of me caught his front wheel in a rut and did a spectacular, relatively low-speed endo. He was immediately on his feet as I passed--hope he was okay.  credit: Athlinks Pipeline to Twin Lakes After Powerline, the race changes character. It's flattish to the Pipeline aid station and then from Pipeline to the Twin Lakes aid station (where we had our crew and tents for resupply). Our riding group numbered a dozen, which meant a steady flow of rider-specific water/mix/Gu/sunscreen swaps for the crew to manage. I stopped briefly at Twin Lakes outbound (40 mi), Twin Lakes inbound (60mi), Pipeline inbound (73 mi), and Carter Summit (91 mi). Strava shows 40 minutes of stopped time, which seems long--I didn't average 10 minutes per stop, more like 5. That's probably auto-pause kicking on during the hike-a-bike sections. Betsy masterfully managed my pre-written checklist, swapping the Ziploc bag bearing my pump, spare CO2, and various other items to a full Camelbak. She refilled my bento box with Gu, handed me 4 Hammer electrolyte tablets (I'd taken 4 at the start), and smeared some sunscreen over my dirt mask. Replenished, I was off. Columbine climb/descent After Twin Lakes, there's a bit of flattish terrain before the Columbine climb. The climb was harder than the Monday pre-ride, but not hugely so (1:45 on Monday, 2:03 on race day). On the way up, I saw and called out to Elden and Lisa as they made their separate descents (I must have passed Ben and Lindsey and Dave T as well, but never saw them). At the mid-race turnaround, I skipped the aid station, rode the unfortunate quarter mile or so back up hill, then stopped for a Gu before the big descent. My nutrition plan was simple: steady sipping from a Camelbak full of CarboRocket 333 Half-Evil, plus a Gu every 30 minutes. I pretty much stuck to that plan knowing that I'd be skipping Gu on the descents and making up the difference with the CarboRocket (333 calories per 24 oz). At the Carter Summit aid station near the end, I dumped the CarboRocket (excellent, but no one should have to drink 150 ounces in a 12-hour period) and took on water, having had enough chemistry for the day. I carried a short water bottle that fit my borrowed Cannondale Scalpel 29 Carbon 2's frame, but usually kept it empty and never more than half full (half empty for you pessimists).  The upper part of the Columbine descent is a challenge due to two-way traffic on a steep, narrow, and rocky jeep trail. Most of the uphill traffic is walking, and by the time slower, less skilled, and tired riders like me are coming down, the ones coming up are often even slower, less skilled, and more tired. Couple that with the descending line being the rougher of the two (loose rocks affectionately called babyheads), and the margin for error is slim. I nonetheless safely navigated my way down below the treeline (calling out encouragement to Team Fatty's David H as he made his way up) to the wider, gentler grades and bombed my way back to the Columbine base and the traverse back to Twin Lakes. Nothing's easy at Leadville, but I had vanquished three of the four beasts! (Pro tip: don't burn calories stressing over beasts to come--set a near term target and focus only on that target.) MTBers don't appear to have a natural affinity for pacelines, but with the moderately strong afternoon breeze now in our faces, I applied my best roadie charm and made a few converts. Twin Lakes to Pipeline Heading back into the Twin Lakes aid station, Betsy again stepped me through my checklist: back to my original Camelbak (newly filled), more Gu, more electrolytes, more sunscreen. Climbing the pavement before the transition back to dirt (and back to the headwind), I again convinced another rider to work together. I have to apologize to him--at well above six feet, he offered me much more shelter than I offered him. The stretch between Twin Lakes and Pipeline offers the only single track on the course. Outbound, it's downhill, meaning it was now uphill on the way back. Before I knew it, the single track was behind me, leaving a net downhill back to the Pipeline aid station. "Net downhill" is just that, though: net. The return to Pipeline includes a short (several hundred yards), steep (perhaps the steepest on the course) climb known as the Little Bastard. Trudging up that climb was probably the slowest I was all day. Mental images came to mind of Everest climbers slowly putting one foot in front of the other at great effort. With the 4 mile Powerline climb still ahead, I had my first doubts about finishing. (Sure, I had had doubts throughout the year, but when the shotgun fired at 6:30a, they somewhat surprisingly vanished.) Taking my own pro tip, I put Powerline out of my mind and thought only of the Pipeline aid station. My second of two drop bags was there (the first, bearing only emergency cold weather gear in the event of freezing rain or snow, was unused and well behind me at the top of Columbine), but unless I needed a replacement tire (I didn't), I figured I'd leave the drop bag alone and take a quick hit of neutral aid. Which is a great opportunity to rave about the Leadville volunteers. Having been one last year, I knew how hard they worked, and I knew how key they were to rider success. Rolling in to Pipeline, I wasn't even off the bike before I was offered a choice of Coke or water (I took both). As I finished them and tossed the cups into the compost bin, I didn't even have time to turn around before I was asked if I wanted some watermelon, and would that be salted or unsalted (I went with unsalted.) At the start and finish, at every aid station, and at countless road crossings around the course, the volunteers were A+ primo fantastic (think CRW or Mel S's P2P). As I was pulling in, Team Fatty's Cory B was pulling out. We exchanged hellos, but I resisted the temptation to ride with him. Sure, we were only a minute or two apart, but he's a stronger rider and I didn't want to risk blowing up trying to hold his pace (he'd end up finishing 30 minutes ahead of me). Properly refueled, I remounted, descended to the pavement, ... and was reunited with my good friend Mr. Headwind. I briefly worked with two other riders, but dropped the weaker one while getting dropped by the stronger. The latter connected with a group that stayed tantalizingly 100 yards ahead. Maybe I could have caught them, but I was again worried about going into the red with the Powerline climb right around the proverbial (and literal) corner. Powerline climb On the pre-ride, Elden reminded us that the Powerline climb is exactly 4 miles from the left turn off of the pavement onto dirt. The grade turns immediately up, but not strongly so--no, that's about a quarter mile in. When Powerline turns up, it turns up with menace. I passed the spot of the morning's descending endo and could hardly fathom that this had indeed been just this very morning--it seemed like days ago. The pros may ride the lower section of Powerline, but last time I checked, I ride for free. I dismounted and joined the half mile slow trudge. At the top of the first of Powerline's seven false flats, I remounted and descended to the next climb. I have no doubt that I dismounted/walked/remounted more on those 4 miles than any season of CX races put together. I don't know what it's like to ride Mount Washington (many of my Boston area friends climbed it the same day as Leadville), but Powerline's probably a good comparison. Shorter by 3.6 miles, its starting elevation is thousands of feet higher than Mt. Washington's peak, and if its average grade is lower, that's only because of its two built-in descents. [Ed. note: Powerline averages 7% overall and 13% for its steep section, versus Mt. Washington's 12% average/22% max.] It seemed to take forever, but I eventually found the top and started the Sugarloaf descent.  credit: Athlinks Sugarloaf descent I certainly wasn't counting my chickens, but the rule of thumb is that if you make it up Powerline with sufficient time to finish, you'll finish. (At Leadville, "finish" means sub-12, but times are reported for up to sub-13.) The upper part of the descent is loose but not too steep. I rode conservatively until we made the final hairpin right where the trail turned to dirt road. A man and woman apparently riding together bombed past--I stood up and cranked to join on. The woman couldn't have weighed more than 110 or so, yet it was all that I could do to hang on (my 1x11 gearing was fine at the low end, but spun out at the high end). So much for my considerable theoretical descending advantage. Carter Summit climb The dirt turned to pavement at a sharp left, then it was down for a bit longer until we reached the level of Turquoise Lake. Which meant that it was time to turn right and start back up the hill. The grade wasn't bad, but the 3 miles that deep into the race was. Eventually, the left back onto dirt and into the Carter Summit aid station came into view. I hadn't planned to stop, but a look at the time convinced me otherwise. From Carter Summit, it's about 12 miles to the finish. I dumped my CarboRocket, replaced it with some water, downed some watermelon (salted this time), and remounted. I was happy I wasn't the totally spent guy on the cot wrapped in blankets. Keep in mind that up to this point, everything that we were racing from the Columbine turnaround was course we'd already covered, and that this would continue until the final 4 miles. I'd been briefed that there was still some climbing to go after Carter Summit (and had descended that climbing only hours before), but at 90+ miles and high altitude, that briefing and recent experience fell prey to the wishful thinking of the word "summit." "Carter Midstation" would have been more like it. I continued up, finally recognizing the top portions of the St. Kevins climb that signaled the descent for real. St. Kevins descent I took it easy, not wanting to risk a flat or other mechanical. With an hour to go and less than ten miles, my prospects looked good for sub-12. Off of St. Kevins and onto the flats, I was quickly at the beginning of the Boulevard. The Boulevard The Boulevard is two and a half miles of relatively gentle grade dirt road climbing before the final mile or so on pavement. The Boulevard starts with a short steep rocky pitch that I rode while others were walking, then levels out. With sub-12 well in hand, I laid off the throttle and enjoyed the ride. (The Sunday after volunteering at last year's Leadville, I ran the Leadville 10k, whose second half was up the Boulevard--this year, I was so happy not to be running the Boulevard that I didn't mind the altitude or grade.) The Finish Off the dirt and onto the pavement at the Intermediate School/High School complex, there was one final short steep pitch before the finish line came into sight. I'll never forget that sight. Down a bit, then the final sprint up to the red carpet. (In hindsight, I don't recall actually seeing the red carpet, either from the final rise or as I crossed it.) I was spent, but had no need to punch it, and crossed the line with a time of 11 hours, 30 minutes, and 31 seconds. (My actual chip time would be 11h 27m 41s.) Leadville. Sub-12. I had raced across the sky. A year's worth of preparation and anticipation and anxiety quickly turned to satisfaction and elation and tears. 
Betsy greeted me, eased the Camelbak off my shoulders and me off my bike. We parked it at the BigRing valet and wash service and headed for a patch of grass to sit and decompress. Reliving the race would come later back at the house. Now, it was just about enjoying life. - Ken Chlouber, Leadville Race Series founder
Finish times, not chip times
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