The photos tell the story:  Part 1 and Part 2.  And here are some great shots from pro photog Mark Graff.  There are thousands of great stories to be told, and I’ve touched on only a few.  Enjoy.

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That’s what the old mapmakers would say when they reached the end of the known world, and could not describe what lay beyond. (I’m borrowing heavily from Karen Blixen, but it’s a good metaphor!)
Any new adventure is like that . . . throwing caution to the wind and facing the dragons.  If you survive, will you be a hero?  The very nature of adventure is that neither survival or heroism is certain, and often not even likely.

I really had no idea what the Leadville Trail 100 would be like, other than listening to Jay recount his 2nd effort to conquer the 12-hour time limit after dropping out after 90 miles the first time he tried it.  Endurance racing is like that:  you know how extraordinary the effort will be, but you cannot remember the pain or the exertion in a tangible way.  I’ve raced ultra-marathon bike and running races, epic multi-sport events, and embarked on epic mountain journeys.  Leadville is one of the hardest events I’ve done, even if the comparison is difficult to make.  Put simply, I don’t think I’ve ever felt so awful after finishing a race, yet been so happy to be done.

There’s a saying in the mountains:  “How’s the weather?  Variable.”  Yep.  If you don’t like it, just stick around for a few minutes, and it will change.  We awoke at 4:00 a.m. Saturday to a bitter, damp chill in the air, 35 degrees outside.  Coffee and a quick breakfast of oatmeal and fruit, and we were underway to Leadville for a 6:30 start.

Let’s rewind a bit.  Jen, Stef, and I wound up our nice stay in Manitou Springs on Wednesday with another fine trail run at sunrise in the Garden of the Gods.  It’s an amazing, inspiring place to play.  That morning we met Crazy Carl Brattin, who photographed us with his friend Wiley.  After a terrific breakfast at the Avenue Hotel, we ventured up the Pike’s Peak Highway to the summit.  We did some hiking, climbing down from the 14,110 foot crest for a mile or so.  The views are astounding, and the drive up and down was crazy.

We ventured west through the San Isabel National Forest, into the Collegiate Range.  Mt. Princeton, Mt. Harvard, and dozens of other 14,000 foot peaks tower above this vast, lush valley.  We followed the Arkansas river north to the tiny town of Twin Lakes, one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever seen, and checked into A Wolf Den.  Our hosts Liz and James have created a gorgeous home on a hill overlooking the lakes, with a view deep into the valley and out to Independence Pass.

A Wolf Den was a terrific place to use as a home base, as it was also on the Leadville Trail 100 route, about 40 miles into the out-and-back 52-mile course.  Liz and James had a great inside scoop on the race, and fellow guests Jim and Lori had both ridden Leadville before, and had spent the last 8 days previewing the course by bike.  We spent two gorgeous days relaxing around Twin Lakes;  the girls went for some sweet long runs, and I took some easy rides on the course to keep my legs loose and get a taste for the terrain.  I met up with Mike Stultz, my fellow NJ rider, and his Brit buddy Sam, and the three of us had a nice ride together on the new single track around mile 35/69 of the course.  Liz made a fantastic pre-race dinner, and we headed to bed early.

After prepping the bike in downtown Leadville, I checked in and worked my way up to the starting chute.  I found myself next to Mike Sinyard, president of Specialized Bicycle Components.  We greeted each other enthusiastically, both of us psyched to have company for the ride ahead.  We both were shooting for a sub-12-hour ride, and we wished each other luck.  As it turned out, we would rarely be more than a short distance away from each other for the rest of the day.

The chilly mist cleared as we readied for the gun, and above us we could see fresh snowfall on the mountains.  Ken Chlouber, Leadville’s colorful race director, fired the shotgun and we were off.  Down 6th Street, and onto the dirt roads on the edge of town.  The valley below was filled with clouds, and a thick rainbow ended deep in the mist ahead of us.  We descended into the mist, and the chaos began.

The climbs were slow and tricky at first, with 1450 riders trying to claw their way up the narrow doubletrack together.  Far ahead of me, Lance Armstrong and Dave Wiens and the other elite riders soared.  The rest of us hammered together, drenched in cold rain, gasping in the thin air, trying to stay upright.  The first few miles are a blur - tough, but fueled by adrenaline.  I felt great, in spite of the cold, and kept a fast and steady pace over the first few hard climbs.  The rain helped tame the dusty trails a bit, and the resulting mud actually improved traction a bit.  After miles of climbing, I hit the descent of Powerline, and entered freefall.  I don’t think I’ve ever gone faster on a mountain bike.  The trail was steeper than anything I’ve ever tried to descend, and longer than I could have imagined.  Picking my line as carefully as I could, half blinded from mud splatter and driving rain, I lightly feathered the brakes and shot down into the valley below.  The rider in front of me did a high-speed endo into the rocky brook as we hit the bottom of the mountain, and I slammed through the icy ford, narrowly missing him and managing to keep it upright.

The wind began to pick up, and as we crossed the maze of dirt roads in the Arkansas Valley, we formed echelons to block it.  One by one, riders began to crack as the speed crept up.  After a few miles we returned to rocky dirt track, with a series of long climbs and descents.  A sweet section of singletrack appeared, and I hammered through it, loving the Epic as it carved the turns.  Then a long, gravel road ascent, and I found myself at A Wolf Den at mile 40, nearly half an hour earlier than I expected.  Jen and Stef greeted me with fresh water and Cytomax, dry clothes and gloves, and salty potato chips to keep my electrolytes topped off.  In just a few moments I was off again, heading for the ascent to Columbine Mine.

I jammed up the first slopes of the climb and crested into a wide valley.  The sound of helicopters and dirt bikes greeted me there, and Lance Armstrong blasted past in the opposite direction, glued to the rear wheel of a dirtbike at 25 mph. As I entered the double-track that climbs to the Columbine summit, the other elite riders began to blast past.  Columbine is a miserable slog, steep and steady for 10 miles before becoming virtually unrideable above treeline at 11,000 feet.  I rode as much as I could, but found myself stuck behind a long row of hypoxic riders pushing their bikes ever higher.  My aching back needed a break, and walking was easier than riding, so I did my best to keep moving forward.  I found myself walking with a girl named Julee, and we kept each other going with words of encouragement.  The last vertical 1,600 feet seemed endless, and my whole body began to hurt.  6 hours into the day, I arrived at the Columbine aid station at 12,600 feet, a windswept saddle high above the world.  As I arrived, the hail began to fall.
Soup.  Good salty ramen noodle soup.  Two cups, and I was rejuvenated.  I hit the descent with good energy, carefully picking my way past the multitude of riders still coming up, many of whom would not make the time cut-off.  Once clear of traffic, I let the brakes go and flew.  I landed back at A Wolf Den at mile 62 feeling decent, but definitely beaten up by the rugged terrain.  More fuel and fluids, a moment to stretch my spasming back, and I was back on the bike moving forward.  Back up through the sweet singletrack, and I caught up with Mike Sinyard and Julee, who had passed me while I was stopped.  We cheered each other on, and kept pushing the pedals.

Back through the long miles of rocky double-track, across the windy dirt roads, a wet splash through the brook, and the nasty climb up Powerline began.  I did my best to stay on the bike, and I managed to clear the first mile of the climb without walking.  But eventually the altitude began to hurt me, as well as the cramps in my back.  Eventually all of us were reduced to pushing for what seemed like an hour.  Powerline was agony, made worse by the sudden heat of the late afternoon sun.  After an eternity, we crested out onto a smooth road, descended for a mile, then began another 7-mile grunt up a 8-9% paved road climb.  Mike and I paced each other, throwing out encouragement, keeping each other going.  We crested out onto another trail, and made a brief stop at the final aid station.  Eleven miles to go, and little more than an hour left before the 12-hour mark.  Our average speed up to that point had been 8.6 mph, and the remaining terrain was far from easy.  Undeterred, I powered my aching body over a couple of short and gnarly climbs, and then dropped into the final descent of the day.  We passed Julee, who had flatted, and was getting help from another rider.  I gave her a very tired shout and dropped over the ridge.  The way down was rocky and loose, but I managed to keep hammering all the way down.  I pushed the speed through the turns, bunny-hopped the deep ruts, and got big air over the bumps.  Somehow  I didn’t crash, and I made it to the bottom with only numb fingers and some wind chill.  The temperature was dropping again, and my energy levels were dropping.  Mike was just behind me as we powered across the loose and rutted dirt roads, battling crosswinds and fatigue, trying to keep the bikes rolling at 15-16 mph.  We began the last long climb toward Leadville, and a group of spectators yelled “Just 4 miles to go!”  Energized, we picked up the pace, determined to finish strongly.  After a couple of endless, painful miles, a photographer along the trail yelled out “Keep going, you’re just 4 miles from the end!”  Jeez, would someone get it right please!?  Minutes ticked off my stopwatch . . . 11:35, 11:42, 11:48.  Finally, we rounded a turn onto pavement again, only .8 miles remaining.  Mike and I let out a shout, then stood up to hammer home.  Mike roared away like a cannonball, and I bonked harder than I ever have, crawling across the line a few seconds later, barely conscious, but happy as hell with an 11:52 finish.

The photos are coming soon.  Somewhere in our travels I lost the mini-USB cable for the camera, so I can’t download anything just yet.  Check in Tuesday night for an update.

Thanks to everyone who cheered me on.  I appreciate the encouragement, the voicemails and text messages, and the amazing support.  Congratulations to Mike Sinyard for an amazing ride.  I have a ton of respect for a guy who walks the walk - not too many bike industry CEOs would even contemplate such a challenge, let alone meet their goal.  I didn’t see Julee finish, but was thrilled to find her listed in the results at 11:55.  Mike Stultz had a great day, finishing in a strong 11:00.  Rebecca Rusch pulled off a fantastic ride, posting the best women’s time with style - great job Rebecca, and it was good to hang out with you after the race.

Everyone wants to know if I’m going to race again next year.  Please, pretty please, don’t ask me that!  Right now, my answer would be HELL NO.  But tomorrow, or the next day….  Hmmm, I’ll have to think about it.

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The weather couldn’t be more perfect than this:  79 degrees, sunny, just the occasional puffy white cloud tumbling across the vast blue sky, no humidity, and a nice cool breeze.  After a delicious breakfast served on the front porch of the Avenue Hotel, we slathered on the sunscreen and headed out to Garden of the Gods.  We were all jonesing for some real exercise, although we planned to keep the pace easy and not overdo it.

While thousands of people flock to Garden of the Gods during the summer and drive the auto road through the park, very few ever stray away from their cars.  We had the trails mostly to ourselves all morning.  The park has a dozen or so interconnected trails that create a long loop around the giant red rock formations.  Palmer Trail, our favorite, traversed a ridgeline that looked down on the most dramatic monuments and across Colorado Springs in the distance.  Pikes Peak in all its massive beauty hovers above the place, dominating the Western sky.  It’s a perfect place for a trail run.  Jen, Stef and I cruised the trails for almost two hours, pushing the pace a little when we felt good, and walking a bit when we needed to slow it down.  We had a great time, and we all felt terrific.  We finished with a fine lunch at Spice of Life Deli in Manitou Springs.

We’re off to downtown Colorado Springs for some provisions, then dinner at Nosh.  Yum!  Tomorrow, another early trail run, visiting the summit of Pikes Peak for some hiking, and then off to Leadville!

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Welcome to Colorado!  After a brutally early departure from Newark which included an OJ-style sprint through the terminal to reach our plane on time, we were on our way.  Jen and Stef had never been to Colorado, so I’ve been looking forward to showing them some of my favorite places.  We drove down from Denver to Manitou Springs, at the base of Pike’s Peak, and spent the afternoon exploring the town and taking a quick drive through Garden of the Gods.  In the morning we’ll get moving on bike and running shoes, and really see the sights.  Today was just an adjustment day.  We all felt pretty lousy from the combination of no sleep, no regular morning routine, lousy breakfast, cramped quarters on an airplane, stiff legs, and the HAIF.  High Altitude Induced Flatulence.  Brownian motion at it’s worst.  Basically, as you travel from your home altitude to a higher altitude, the air pressure of the gases inside your body is suddenly greater than the gases outside, and the resulting imbalance can be quite rude.  If you can fart to alleviate the pressure, you’re lucky.  Since I’m a talented old fart, I feel fine, but Jen and Stef both have been feeling pretty awful, bloated, and gassy.  Plus, Jen was feeling a bit of altitude sickness, but after a nap and a couple bottles of water, seems to be feeling much better.  After a good night of sleep tonight we’ll all be feeling great and ready to play.  I can’t wait to get the Epic out on the Severy Creek Trail, one of my favorite stretches of singletrack in the world.  More on that later, but now it’s time to make some more red blood cells.

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Almost four weeks have slipped by without yielding me a few minutes to write, but only a lack of time, not material, has stopped me.  July was packed with good rides, travel, adventures, time with friends old and new.

Jay and I spent a week at Snowbird Ski Resort in Utah for the annual Specialized dealer meeting.  It was a great chance to see all the new 2010 bikes and equipment, and do some great riding.  Snowbird is about 7800 feet above sea level, so it took a couple of days for our lungs to adjust.  But the air is spectacularly clear, and the weather was amazingly pleasant.  Among the product highlights we saw:

• The new 13.2 lb Tarmac SL3 Superlight
• The new S-Works Tarmac SL2 equipped with Dura-Ace Di2 electronic shifting
• The stunning new Stumpjumper 140
• The Amira, the women’s performance road bike, parallel to the Tarmac
• The Live and the Haul, two of the new Globe utility bikes
• Roval’s new aero wheels
• The Dura-Ace carbon UST road wheels, with Specialized Turbo tubeless tires
• The new Romin and Toupe SL saddles
• Fabian Cancellara’s Shiv TT bike

What was most impressive was that in a year when most companies are tightening their belts, cutting back on R&D, and playing it safe, Specialized has invested hugely in innovation.  They’ll seize some serious market share this year.

I was happy for the opportunity to get on a mountain bike - well, three different ones, actually - and test my skills riding above the treeline.  The dirt demo was a great chance to pick out what type of bike I would be using for Leadville.  I rode an Epic Marathon 29er, a Stumpjumper 140 Carbon, and an Epic Carbon.  The clear winner was the Epic Carbon with 26″ wheels, not the 29 that I had wanted to test so badly.  On the steep climbs, the 29″ wheels made the lowest gear ratio too high to spin a fast, smooth cadence, which wouldn’t work so well for 100 miles.  But the 26″ Epic was flawless.

While most riders were taking the chair lift up to the singletrack trailhead, I opted to ride the 2-mile climb up the steep fire road every time, just to get in the training.  After cleaning the climb on my 2nd trip up, I had stopped at the top to make some adjustments to the suspension.  None other than Ned Overend got off the chair lift, grabbed his bike, and came over to me.  “You smoked that climb.  You were the only person I’ve seen all day to get up here faster than the lift.”  “Thanks, Ned.”  Pretty cool.  Then I followed him down the mountain, through the sweet and twisty singletrack zig-zagging all over the slopes.  It was amazing to follow the line of one of the greatest mtb racers in history, and happily I was able to stay on his wheel.

It was great to spend time with some of the Specialized crew, too.  Eron Chorney, Kyle Chubbuck, Luc Callahan, Rachel Lambert, Dan Sluzas, Brandon Sloan, Becca van Dyke, Mike Abrams, and more.  All great people who love the lives they have designing and marketing great bikes and the cool 2-wheeled lifestyle.  And we had fun hanging out with our fellow NJ bike dealers, too, including Mark Cianfrone from Efinger’s, Marty and Jesse Epstein from Marty’s Reliable, Rone Lewis from High Gear, Lee from Bicycle Therapy (whose great photos are on Flickr), and Patty Woodworth from Action Wheels.

I left Utah with a renewed love for mountain biking.  It’s been such a long time since I spent real time on dirt (aside from some 700c love on my cross bike in Green Brook park), and I was thrilled that my skills haven’t dissipated completely.  Of course, having the nicest XC full-suspension bike in the world under you certainly helps.  So I decided to get one for Leadville.  (See photo above).  And it is sublime.

The first test was a long ride at Chimney Rock on Saturday with Tim Coventry-Cox, who is training for the 24 Hours of Allamuchy race.  He was planning a solid 12-hour day, so I joined him for part of it.  The Epic was flawless, helping me cruise the long loop with ease, a big grin plastered all over my face.  Leadville is less than 2 weeks away, and finally I’m feeling confident.

Next Saturday is another chance to join me for a Basic Road Cycling Skills Clinic.  E-mail me if you would like me to reserve a spot. Until then, happy trails.

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