Livestrong Challenge

This past weekend I had the privilege and honor of participating in the Livestrong Challenge in Austin, TX. Our team, “cancer sucks.”, raised $26,895 for the event ($20k + by team leader Kari Kehr alone. Awesome). Total raised for the weekend by all participants was $3.1 million. It was 3-days of emotional highs and lows, inspiration, and a fair bit of suffering over 90 miles of Texas hill-country roads.

Got to meet Chris Carmichael, Lance Armstrong’s longtime coach, which was cool. Incredibly nice guy, by the way. Saw Levi Leipheimer, Lance, Patrick “McDreamy” Dempsey and others throughout the weekend. But for me, the coolest part of the weekend was the unbelievable outpouring of support from people along the 90-mile course. People sitting and standing out in the heat and humidity for hours, clapping and cheering on each of the 3,100+ riders like they were family. A total stranger walking up to me as I am filling up my water bottle, shaking my hand and thanking me for what I’m doing. It’s times like that when it really hits you just how devastating and far-reaching cancer is. If you don’t know someone who has cancer or who has died from cancer, you are a truly fortunate human being.

My mother’s battle and eventual death from breast cancer was obviously on my mind the entire weekend. I also thought a lot about both of my grandfathers, as well as other friends and relatives I’ve lost over the years. I also thought of the survivors and those who are currently fighting their own battles. The 90-mile course was tough enough on it’s own, but trying to ride while trying not to cry makes it even tougher. One minute you’re fine, just focusing on turning the pedals over. Then you pass someone with a picture of their 6-year old daughter pinned to the back of their jersey, and you pray to God that you don’t see the words “In Memory of” above the photo. But then you do, and you lose it. The next minute you pass someone who has a “Survivor” tag on their jersey, and you give them a huge smile and a thumbs up as you ride by, and you feel inspired to hammer up the next of a seemingly endless string of steep grades. Your legs are on fire, your ass hurts from being in the saddle for over 4 hours, and it’s over 90 degrees outside with a steady 20mph headwind, but compared to what that person with the “Survivor” tag on their jersey has been through, you’ve got nothing to complain about. And you don’t complain. You put your head down, turn the cranks and thank God for the fact that you are alive and well.

Perhaps the only thing that rivaled the roller coaster of emotions was the actual roller coaster of a course we were riding. Just shy of 3,000 feet of elevation gain over 90 miles of ranch land in the Texas hill country. It seemed like we were climbing forever, with the occasional but way-too-brief downhill. Not the smoothest roads in the world, with a headwind for what felt like almost the entire route. The morning started out overcast and it felt like rain was a foregone conclusion. Then about halfway through, the clouds were gone and it got hot.

I rolled out with “cancer sucks.” and Peace Coffee Racing teammates Clayton McClagan and Cory Mortensen. We caught up to our other teammates who got to start with Lance Armstrong’s group, and stopped for a team photo. Then we all rode at our own pace. Clayton and I rode together, and we were absolutely flying for the first 40 miles or so. I’ve been in cyclocross mode for almost two months now, which means no long endurance rides, just short high-intensity intervals. Usually no more than an hour of riding. Well, I had basically just done about 2 hours of hill repeats at Tuesday Night World Championship pace and my ass was dragging big-time, with another 2–3 hours to go. I could tell the bonk was coming—had that hollow feeling where you are so hungry you feel as though you no longer have a stomach, just an empty space where it used to exist. Got to the next rest stop and I was just hoping to find a banana or a bagel. Even better was the box full of PBJ sandwiches and quesadillas. 3 sandwiches, a peanut butter and strawberry quesadilla (outstanding), some ClifBlocks, a Gu, and a bottle of Gatorade later I was a new man. The last 40 miles were 100x better than the first 50, even though the hills just kept on coming.

After our “safety break” near the end (some people in a minivan with a cooler full of ice-cold Shiner Bock), we rolled back towards Dripping Springs for the finish. The last few miles were lined with people cheering everyone home, with tons of people at the finish chute clapping, yelling and workin’ the cowbells. Cancer survivors had their own lane at the finish and each got a yellow rose. Very moving to watch people cross the line as they were greeted by family and friends.

One of the things I like most about Livestrong is their focus on the patient. A percentage of your donations goes towards research for treatment and hopefully a cure, but one of their main goals is patient advocacy and education. Just knowing where to start when you are diagnosed is an unimaginable task. Doing this ride probably isn’t going to result in a cure anytime soon. But it will give somebody the resources they need to help them navigate through the maze of specialists, insurance claims, employment issues, finances and so on. That is a very tangible benefit that you can see in action. I’m already looking forward to next year’s ride. I would strongly encourage anyone who has thought about doing it to join me. Whether you raise $250 or $25,000, ride 10 miles or 90 miles, you will know that you made a difference.

A huge thanks to everyone on Team Cancer Sucks. It was great meeting you all -- can't wait to do this again next year.

Top Photo: Chris Van Ert, Cory Mortensen, Clayton McLagan

Second Photo: Chris Van Ert, Chris Charmichael

Third Photo: Chris Van Ert, Clayton McClagan, and two ice-cold Shiner Bocks

Fourth Photo: back of our team jersey, with "In Honor of" and "In Memory of" lists

Bottom Photo: Team Cancer Sucks. Corey Mortensen, Liberty Lucken, Tom Crouch, Chris Van Ert, Clayton McClagan, Shawn Parker, Kari Kehr

Pork Chop Challenge CX

Headed up to St. Cloud on Sunday for my first-ever cyclocross race. I had no idea what to expect, other than 30-minutes of all-out suffering. I was not disappointed in that regard.

Ref called everyone up to the line and I got stuck 2nd row. Race starts and I'm about 10-15 guys back going into the first turn. I passed as many as I could before the first uphill and barrier section. When I went to dismount for the first barrier my legs were so jacked from the start effort that I almost couldn't stand up, let alone clear the barriers. The course then zig-zagged up and down some steep, punchy hills. The mountain bike handling skills definitely helped here, as I passed several people who were having to ride their brakes. It was the uphill barrier sections that killed me. Definitely need to start running some hills and steps (while carrying the bike).

Bell lap, and I really had no idea where I was sitting. I towed a Birchwood guy halfway around the course and he passed me on the first set of barriers. I got on his wheel but ran out of gas on the final uphill barrier. He got me on the line by about 2 seconds for 4th place, but I'll take 5th out of 55 for my first cx race. I was only a minute and some change off the leader. I'm pretty happy with how things went.

I definitely have some areas to work on as far as technique and cx-specific interval training. I also need to figure out who is who in the Cat 4 field so I know who to mark. I hope to get things sorted and dialed in the next few races and then upgrade to Cat 3 before the end of the season for an extra 15-20 minutes of suffering per race. We'll see how it goes.

Photos from www.skinnyski.com

Salsa 24 Race Report

The Team: "Peace Coffee Racing", 4-Man Open (Alan Eastlund, Joe Kjeer, Bryan Rhody, Chris Van Ert)
The Mission: Survive 24-hours of racing at Afton Alps and finish in top-three.

All four of us race in the Minnesota Mountain Bike Series and are teammates on Peace Coffee Racing. Joe was originally signed up to race solo. Bryan and Alan approached him about doing it as a team if they could find a fourth. That's where I entered the story. Bryan shot me an email asking if I'd consider it. Truth is, I had already been considering either doing the 8-hour solo or finding a team to join. Decided to do a solo 100-mile ride to gauge my fitness and mindset. The ride went well, so I was in.

I arrived at Afton Alps to find a sweet base camp setup: 3 EZ-Up's (one with a full-screen), tables, electric hook up with power strips to charge lights, food & bevy, and all the spare bike parts you could need. And, Joe's legendary MacGuyver shower, which deserves it's own separate write up. All of this was set up under a nice shady tree that was a stone's throw from the chalet and the start/finish/transition area. Perfect.

Alan "volunteered" to ride first and do the LeMans start (a 100-yard run up a hill, around a maintenance building then 100-yards back down to your bike to begin Lap #1). For no particular reason we settled on a rotation of: Alan, Joe, me, then Bryan. We were still undecided about how to handle the night shift, but we had plenty of time to figure it out.

Afton is a pretty brutal course. It is physically, technically, and mentally demanding. You don't get much chance to recover from all of the climbing and you can't afford to let your guard down on the steep, twisting, tree-lined rocky descents. It is either uphill or downhill, with only a couple of very short connecting segments that are "flat". The climbs vary from short and punchy to long and steep. There are three main climbs: Bridge Loop, Shady Lane and Manhandler/Whistler. These three sections are connected by a series of steep switchback climbs and rocky descents. Each 7-mile lap presents a leg-burning 1,150 feet of climbing. Painful to ride, really painful at race-pace. Punishing for 24-hours straight.

We had the racer's meeting and it was time to start. Alan was off for Lap #1 and the rest of us went back to base camp to get ready for our turn on the pain train. Expert racer extraordinaire, Sam Oftedahl, was the first racer through the transition area with a blistering 34-minute lap. Insanity. When Sam's teammate and top Minnesota pro racer, Brendan Moore, rolled across next with another 34-minute lap, the race for second place was officially on. Well, it was a race for second place the minute they registered. This is, afterall, the team (Team TrekVeloLag: Sam Oftedahl, Brendan Moore, Chris Fisher, Ben Moore) that won the 24-Hour National Championship in 2008.

The four of us got those first laps out of the way and we were all in the low to mid 40-minute range, which was great. I wasn't sure what to expect for lap times since the MnMBS race in May was a slightly different course, but I was hoping we could average 45-minute laps for the entire race. So far, so good.

We kept plugging away during the very hot and humid afternoon, trying hard to stay hydrated, get electrolytes in, and keep our fuel tanks topped off. We found ourselves in second place, a few laps down on the All-World team and a couple of laps up on third. The heat and humidity was taking it's toll and we were all looking forward to dark.

I had the first night lap and headed out as the sun was setting. I was only running a helmet light, which I won't do again. It's nice to be able to have the light shine where your eyes are pointing so you can look ahead of the bike. But, not having lights on the bars as well meant no depth-perception, which made it difficult to see little details on the trail like: rocks, roots, washouts, drop-offs. You know, the little things. There were several times where I took a descent way too hot and got bounced by something I couldn't see or where I tried to rail a corner only to discover it was loose, sugary sand. Fortunately, I kept it together and stayed upright. I decided to dial it down a bit, thinking it was better to lose a little bit of time in favor of keeping the rubber-side down. Gotta be in it to win it.

Joe had a minor crash his first time out after dark, but it was his next lap that will become the stuff of legend. Somewhere shortly after the Shady Lane summit he caught a rock on his front sidewall, went over the bars and ripped a hole in his tire (tubeless). He threw in a tube and got back on, only to have the tire blow off the bead a short time later. Joe tossed the tube removed what was left of the tire and proceeded to ride/run about a half-lap on nothing but rim. The large, "socially-lubricated" crowd at the top of Whistler was heckling Joe as they saw him pushing his bike up the hill. "He's walking! Get on and ride!", they yelled. When they got a closer look the heckling changed to, "Holy shit!, he doesn't have a front tire!!", followed by pandemonium. Fellow PCR teammate Clayton McLagan was Johnny-on-the-spot with a replacement wheel, and Joe rolled in to the transition area with a time of 1-hour. If you can have all of that happen to you and still turn in a 60-minute lap (at night, no less) you are a rockstar.

We had opted to continue doing one lap in a row for the entire race. For my previous three 24-hour races we had always done two laps in a row at night. This gives the other guys more time to rest and maybe even catch some sleep. I think one lap at a time was the right call. I didn't sleep at all for the entire 24-hours, but trying to drag your ass out of your sleeping bag after a fitful hour of "sleep" is much worse than not sleeping at all. Don't get me wrong, we were all tired, but once you get on the bike the race switch gets flipped and it's just kind of automatic. You can sleep when it's over.

The crowd on Whistler was great. As previously mentioned, they had been partying up there for some time. Riding through a group of 20 or so screaming lunatics (I mean that as a term of endearment) at the top of a tough climb gave us a taste of what it's like on Alpe d'Huez during the Tour de France. Two guys were out there the entire race, cracking us up as we'd slog up the hill. "This is nothing but a pile of dirt! You are getting your ass kicked by a pile of dirt!", was one of my favorites. They'd always follow up a good-natured jab with a water hand-up. Definitely gave us all a much-needed boost.

I had the last rotation on the night shift, heading out just before sunrise. My legs were pretty heavy at this point and motivation was pretty low. Once I got to about Shady Lane, the sun was out enough to see without lights, and my mood improved. Now that I could see again, I was able to attack the course a bit more. I was able to enjoy the sunrise over the St. Croix valley for a few seconds on the switchbacks out of "The Plunge", then it was time to put my head down and push upward.

One lap to go for all of us, and we were in pretty firm control of second place. All we had to do was finish our laps without incident and we were good to go. I rolled out for my 8th and final lap at 9:00. I was really tired, but gave it full-gas since this was it. I passed quite a few people before Bridge Loop and felt pretty good until halfway up Shady, when I starting getting the telltale twinges of impending cramps in my quads. I ate some gel, forced down some more HEED and switched from power mode to spin mode. I did not want to risk having my legs seize up on me, and just made sure I got through the tough climbs before I opened it up to the finish.

I got to the transition area, tagged Bryan and sent him out for our last team lap. My appetite suddenly made it's first appearance in about 12 hours and I began eating everything in sight: pancakes, tuna pasta salad, Pringles, spaghetti, cookies and who knows what else. After 24 hours of Gu, HEED, and ShotBlocks, real food tasted fantastic. A quick look at the standings showed the one team we were worried about had fallen way back overnight. We were up 4 laps on the closest team behind us in the 4-Man Open and were 2 laps up on the closest team behind us in the Overall. Bryan came through the finish (yes, it was no longer the transition area, it was now the finish line) at about 9:30 and our 2010 Salsa 24 was over. Well, not quite...

We still had a trip to the podium at the awards ceremony. We rode steady, consistent laps, survived a potentially disastrous mechanical/crash, and finished 2nd in the 4-Man Open and 2nd Overall. Definitely felt as good as 1st place, considering the only team we lost to was the former National Champions, who finished 4 laps up on us. Not bad for a bunch of old guys. We would have won the Masters category as well (all racers on team older than 35), but Bryan doesn't turn 35 until November.

After a long, painful and often times demoralizing rookie season racing as a Cat 1/Expert, this race made my entire season. 24-hour mountain bike races are every bit as difficult as you might imagine. Most mtb races are individual efforts, so the team dynamic of a 24 adds a lot of pressure. Especially when you have the expectations of a high-finish. You don't want to let your teammates down. We handled the pressure well, kept things fun and kicked a little ass along the way. I've done a lot of racing in the past 10-15 years, and this one will definitely earn a top-ranking.

Thanks to Alan, Joe and Bryan for asking me to climb aboard the pain train. You guys rocked! Props to all the other PCR crew out there on teams or doing the solo thing. We had 14 guys representing, which was way cool. And props to everyone else who raced or came out to cheer us on. Once I stop feeling like I got hit by a truck, I'll start thinking about the next epic adventure. Switching to CX mode for the next few months, and heading to Austin, TX in October for the LIVESTRONG Challenge 90-mile.

Thanks for reading.
Later


Salsa 24, by the numbers.

Lap Distance: ~7 miles
Lap Elevation: ~1,150 feet
Total Team Laps: 32 (8 laps each)
Total Team Mileage: ~224 (56 miles each)
Total Team Elevation: ~36,800 feet (9,200 feet each)
Average Team Lap Time: 46 minutes
Average Team Day Lap Time: 43:42
Average Team Night Lap Time: 49:25 (including Joe's little "adventure")
Total Time on Course: 24:32:03
Total Team Calories Burned: ~32,000 (8,000 each)
Saturday Hi Temp: 87°, Dew Point 60°, Overnight Temp 66
Sunday Hi Temp: 91°, Dew Point 62°
2nd out of 17 4-Man Open Teams
2nd out of 89 Overall Teams/Solo Racers

Livestrong Challenge, Austin, TX

Most of you who know me know that I lost my mother to metastatic breast cancer in 1999. I also lost both of my grandfathers, aunts and uncles on my wife's side of the family, and a few friends to this disease in its various, insidious forms. I have other friends and family who are either cancer survivors or who are currently fighting battles of their own. To say the least, cancer sucks.

The more cancer kicked my mom, the harder she kicked back. She never gave up and never hesitated to offer whatever encouragement she could to others facing a similar struggle.

It is with that same fighting spirit and desire to help others that I will be taking part in the 90-mile LIVESTRONG Challenge ride in Austin, TX on October 24, as part of Team Cancer Sucks. My goal is not just to participate, but to raise $800 to help further the Lance Armstrong Foundation’s mission of inspiring and empowering people affected by cancer. To reach this goal, I need your help.

If you have been affected by cancer, or you care about this cause, please consider donating toward my fundraising goal. You can donate online at http://austin2010.livestrong.org/vert2223. Thank you in advance for your support. Together, we can make a difference in the fight against cancer.

Thanks!

Chris

Spring Training

Training for the 2010 race season is in full-swing — well half-swing, anyway. Racing in the Expert class this year is going to be interesting, to say the least. I haven't increased my hours on the bike at all over last year, which probably doesn't bode well considering I'll be racing an extra lap this year at an even higher pace. But, after two years of racing Comp and doing well, it's time to avoid the sandbagger label and go suffer with the big boys. Lots of guys I've raced with the past few years are moving up this year too, so it will be just like old times in some ways.

Did an impromptu threshold wattage time trial test the other day, and my numbers were about where I expected them to be. Got a 50-mile mtb race in a couple of weeks which should either whip me into shape or destroy me. Possibly the Cable Off-Road Classic the week after, then the MMBS season starts the following Saturday. Pretty sure I want to do 24 Hours of Moab again this year, so I'm looking at the race season as training for that. We'll see. No matter what, this year will be a learning process and an adventure. Looking forward to it. I think...

New 100-mile Mountain Bike Race!!!

Press release: February 11, 2010
Exciting new ultra-marathon mountain bike race to take place at super-awesome trail.
The "WTF 100" promises excitement, suffering and a test of endurance, and that's just the registration process. We will promote the hell out of the WTF 100 and then cap the number of racers at a generous .001% of entrants. The lucky .001% of racers who get in will be determined by a lottery system. By lottery, we mean you will have a better chance of winning the Powerball than ever lining up on race day. Registration opened one hour ago (to the general public), and will be closed before you finish reading this press release. Be sure to tell your friends, as they will not want to miss out! All racers accepted for this year get automatic entry next year, meaning you will never get in, but we do have a waiting list to make you feel better about trying. See you there, and be sure to tell all your friends, "WTF!!"

Why you should brew your coffee at home.

I waited for you to park your car (3 attempts). I waited for you to order, after you asked about EVERY drink on the menu. I waited for you as you ordered, changed your order, then changed it again. I waited as the 8 cars in the drive-thru that prompted me to go inside to place my order in the first place all got served. Then you just had to go and do it, didn't you? You said, "I'll have an expresso". It's called espresso. The key to getting it right is to look at the letter s that's right there between the e and the p. I know it's difficult — just like parking, apparently. If you're going to make me use a year's worth of patience all at once, don't top it off by going nuclear stupid on me. Sorry, nuke-u-ler. You took so long to order that representatives from Fox approached you with an offer to do a spin-off of "24", where viewers can tune in for 24 episodes and watch you make up your mind in real-time.

All this time gave me a chance to answer the trivia question. Upon giving my answer, you tried arguing with me, telling me I was wrong. Question: "Outside of Alaska, what is the northernmost state in the US?" Easy. "The answer", I said, [SPOILER ALERT] "is Minnesota". You were all, "No, it's Maine". At first I was impressed that you knew that Maine was a state and that it might be a northern state at that. Then, I went all Nat Geo on your ass and said, "Northwest Angle". To which you of course said, "What?". I wanted to say, "Oh sorry, you probably pronounce it, Northwext Angle", but it would have been wasted on you. Anyway, I proceeded to explain how Maine is below the 49th parallel, while the Northwest Angle of Minnesota sits above it. "What?", you said again. "Look it up", I said.

You can Google it. I'm guessing you're still in line, and they've got free wi-fi.