Leadville Race Report
It’s been a quest of mine to merge fatherhood, husbandry, and my competitive spirit into something that resembles success. And by success I mean that you have things in the correct order and do things to the best of your ability with what you have, when you have it. Sometimes that meant that our family had an awesome time on a vacation but my race tanked. Other times it meant driving to a race early and returning home quickly after crossing the finish line. There’s lots of early, early morning bike rides for training and while the legs might complain there’s a whole days’ worth of activity that lies ahead with what the boys do. I spend time coaching kids at a local high school and some days I chase faster and younger athletes and other days I simply encourage from the sideline or by sprinting across fields. To keep things rolling it’s often a matter of giving the most important areas the best part of myself and give the other areas what’s left. Every day is a different recipe!
So our family plotted out a western road trip with a ton of adventure planned and a little race called the Leadville 100 near the tail end of our travels. This had been a trip that perkulated around the dinner table for a few years and things seemed to align this summer for an epic trip. I had qualified for the race, we had the time, and we saved enough to make the trek out west for a total of 12 days.
I had done as much training on a bike as I could fit in and I spent the two days before leaving packing and preparing our truck for the trip. You would think that a serious athlete would have their feet propped up but the thought of a 4500 mile trip made me go through a ton of maintenance items on the truck to get ready. When it was all ready I had new brakes, fluids, and found a way to stuff 4 bikes, 4 suitcases, countless bags, all of my race gear, fishing supplies, scooters, and two coolers into and onto our truck. We were ready and left at 3am on a Thursday.
Our destination for the first half of our trip was near Ouray, Colorado. The plan was to get there in two and a half days. Eight hours into the trip we found ourselves sliding into the rear of a tractor trailer that changed lanes and stopped in front of us. As I prepared for impact I remember pushing our new brakes to the limit and trying to steer us clear of the giant steel bumper on the trailer. We almost made it but not quite and I heard the sound of metal shearing off the truck and the thud of our bumper taking the direct hit.
No glass shattered and no airbags popped out, although our boys eyes nearly did at the sight and sound of their favorite truck getting demolished by a big rig. My fender blocked my door and I gingerly push it away as I got out to see the damage. This was not the right way to start a vacation!
After surveying the damage and rolling over in my mind how to get the 4 of us and all of our belongings back to Pennsylvania I mulled over Uhauls, trailers, and the sheer disdain of driving 8 hours east to turn around and drive another 8 hours back to this point. The boys were quiet and Jan was watching me watching our truck. With a few pushes on the fender and some moments of reflection my mind started to change. Rather than bail on the trip or go home and switch vehicles I started to think of how to pull things back into place so we could perhaps go a little further. If we could go down the road another 20 miles maybe it would hold together for, oh, say another 4000 miles!
The zipties and duct tape came out. Things were strapped and taped into place. The biggest issue was the bumper that was pushed back to the tire, only allowing left hand turns. I used the winch on my bumper and tried to pull and pry the bumper somewhat straight but that was not helpful. With the police officer standing by, entertained by my ingenuity and perhaps grit I kept buttoning up my truck to make its return trip to the Interstate. We found a Home Depot two miles down the road and we set our “left turn only” navigation to that parking lot.
Once there we walked the aisles and bought more duct tape and an angle grinder. I had some battery powered tools along for other potential mishaps but I neglected my angle grinder…because who thinks they need to cut off pieces of their truck while on vacation?! So with a light rain failing my sweet, sweet, wife and my two boys watched as I started cutting off our trucks bumper in an Indianapolis Home Depot parking lot.
The cutting wheel made quick work of the steel and we headed out on the road yet again, this time with some battle scars but also a nervous laughter that somehow, someway, we were going to get to our promised land! Our laughter grew even more nervous when our hood flipped open when we started down the highway on ramp. At that point I could have gone full “Clark Griswald” but I just chuckled and peered under the hood and guided the truck to the shoulder…and then proceeded to pound the hood down so it would stay latched for the next 400 miles if not forever! We were pointed west and not stopping until the Rockies!
The next two days the race was about the furthest thing on my mind and we drove across the prairie and into the mountains. We ended up in Ouray and settled in for 4 days. The bikes came out of the truck and we started exploring and well, doing all of the things the Becks do on vacation, which is see as much as possible in the least amount of time!
We headed up to a Jeep road called Ophir Pass on our first full day. I had read about this road and it seemed like it was a great way to get into the backcountry and over to Telluride. The road was described as “easy” and while we would need four wheel drive I wasn’t overly concerned. It wasn’t like it could hurt my truck any more than it already was!
Ophir Pass turned into a very narrow shelf road. The kind where the rocks were loose and our mirrors hung out over a cliff. There wasn’t a whole lot of room for error, much less to pass another vehicle. It was exciting and exhilarating and the kind of road that most would never, ever, venture onto. But some do, and did on this day and when we came across them we knew it. The one man was white as a ghost and asked how much further he had to go. He was convinced that he should back down the mountain, which sounded like an absolutely terrible idea unless his goal was to make his truck look like ours. We encouraged him to keep going and take a break if needed. Another guy had two very agitated women with him. When we approached they were pretty snarky with their comments but I think it was because they didn’t want to be there spotting their man-friend in their dress sandals and purses. I don’t know where they thought they were going but there wasn’t a boardwalk or mall anywhere close to Ophir Pass! I think it was Sam that called them “Karens” after we passed and I snorted in laughter but also had to remind him how some people just don’t like the same things as our adventurous family!
Once over Ophir Pass we descended to Telluride and stuck out like a sore thumb with our truck. I didn’t help matters by taping a number 3 to the door since the boys thought we should have a race number so it looked like we got damaged in a race. Laughter can be the best medicine in a lot of cases.
I would spin my legs out for relatively short rides on the following days, just getting used to the altitude and checking out the area we were staying in. I’d wrap up as my family was getting started with their day. Those rides and runs helped me scope out the area so we could find adventure together later on.
The last day in Ouray we tackled Corkscrew Gulch, Hurricane Pass, California Pass, and Cinnamon Pass in our truck. If that sounds like an adventure it was…most of these peaks were close to 13,000 feet and we could see for miles. It has always been a goal of mine to drive these roads and more and it was glorious!
From there we went over to Leadville and I started to wrap my head around this 105-mile race of attrition and elevation. I wasn’t nervous in my ability to do it but as we poked around others that were doing the race and entered the whole race scene you can’t help but notice that most folks are extremely nervous and anxious. When the moment that goal setting meets the time to achieve the goal you always get a tangible tension!
I rode a 10 mile section of the course to see what I thought would be the most difficult climb and descent of race day. I’m glad I saw it but I was also happy to see this on a Wednesday. I could effectively escape all other racers and all of the craziness leading up to the race on Saturday.
Once at our house we went back to doing the Beck-family adventures and visited skate parks, ate ice cream, and tried to hook any kind of Colorado fish in the lake. It’s good to normal things before tackling things most think are crazy!
I woke up at 3 am on race day. We had everything packed and ready to go and we were in Leadville proper by 5am. The bike was ready, Jan and the boys had a pile of food and water for the aid station they were going to hang in and I had a spot in the 3rd wave of riders heading out on the course.
I lined up at the front but my plan was to ride very conservatively for the first 45 miles. I had warmer clothes on but they were all pretty easy to shed when the sun really started blazing. I had everything I needed to start but there was going to be a loooooong time before I would roll back up this street and hopefully cross the finish line. My first goal was to finish under 9 hours so I would get a sweet, big belt buckle. My second goal was to not crash. My third goal was to feel like I pushed myself as fast as I could go on my first attempt at this race. I hate feeling like I had more to give at the end of a race…I’d rather know that I left it all out on the road or trail.
The race began and I think I made it a quarter of a mile until I felt like I had to go to the bathroom. Maybe it was too much hydration and too much 4am coffee but I had to roll to a stop 4 times in the first 40 miles. I would get to the front of the group and then relinquish that position when I had to duck behind a pine tree to take care of business. It got to the point where my friend just shook his head as I yo-yo-ed back and forth ahead of him after my nature breaks.
At mile 40 I wheeled through the main aid station where Jan and the boys waited with their bags of goodies. Many racers take these stops very serious because the clock is running. It’s like mini pit crews servicing riders with specific bottles and methods of keeping riders rolling. I subscribe a bit more to the “Just open the bag and let me root around and find what I want” approach. It was glorious to see Jan and the boys and I left with two bottles full of Coke, a few gels, and a clif bar.
The next 10 miles we wound our way up towards the big climb of the day, Columbine mountain. This brute was a 3300-foot climb over 7 miles and would take the longest to ascend of any of the climbs on the course. I settled into a rhythm and before long I had a 21 year old perched on my wheel and we started picking off other riders.
Along the way we struck up a conversation and while the air was thin it was nice to ramble on about life. I found out he was formally an intern to be a train conductor. He was going to try the 100-mile running race the following weekend. And he felt a little behind in life because his friends were all graduating college this year and he was reinventing himself after his train conductor experiment didn’t pan out. We had a lot to talk about and more similarities than pedaling up Columbine mountain at the same speed on an August day. It was really nice to have a conversation and give each other encouragement about life while spinning along.
Once at the top we were above treeline and made the u-turn to scream back down the mountain. Every boulder that I previously balanced myself over at 4 miles per hour was now under my tires at 30 miles per hour. The descent was minutes of high speed, high vibration, skidding, and quick flicks of the bike to get to anything remotely flat. I enjoyed it but that is something impossible to duplicate back in Pennsylvania. You simply would never have that long of a downhill where you had to be on your game to avoid catastrophe! I did feel prepared with our family trip on Ophir Pass and our exit ramp debacle in Indianapolis…a rocky downhill seemed like a breeze compared do that!
Once at the bottom I found myself in my favorite spot…flat, wide open roads, with riders ahead of me. I started picking off riders and motoring through groups in pursuit of a faster time. This was a part of the course where many riders subscribe to the theory that it’s best to sit in a group and minimize the work load. Common sense would say to work together and save energy since it’s a race that last many hours and use others to cover ground so that you don’t use energy you’ll need on the remaining climbs. Once again, I kinda tossed that out the window and went with my head down towards the finish line, even though it was 40 miles away. I’ve done this long enough to trust myself; if I had felt like I needed a helping hand I would have taken it but the legs felt good enough to keep on pounding away!
I went into the fabled “Powerline” climb at mile 80 with a large group just a few seconds behind me. I had ridden through several large groups and no one had jumped on my wheel so I imagined riding at home in Pennsylvania. I would have to just get comfortable in that solo zone of doing something I love and keeping tabs on my nutrition and energy levels. This particular climb is a doosy, it’s several miles but the early part is very steep. I rode it once a few days prior to race day and “cleaned” it, meaning I didn’t have to unclip from my bike and walk but I could feel the 6 hours of pedal pushing now. I also had a fantastic borrowed bike that I was on but it didn’t quite have the gearing range that might have been ideal. So there was a point that it was literally faster to walk than to ride so I did. I even passed a few folks doing this. After a few minutes I remounted and grinded out the rest of the climb and continued on my merry way.
The next few miles had a rocky descent and then finally a nice road section with a few miles of uphill. My tank started to run empty here and my spinning started to slow down to a grind. I had nothing left in my pockets and my bottles were empty but I paced myself down a bit so that I could somehow get to the next food zone. There was a period of about 15 minutes where I was a little loopy and had to conserve; it seemed as though the altitude was bonk multiplier! The feed zone finally appeared and I happily stopped and wolfed down 2 cokes, 6 oreos, and filled my two bottles with whatever they had.
The magic of really cheap food is that it spikes your blood sugar quickly and within minutes I was back rolling again. The last sections went by really fast; I thought for a little bit I could actually get under 7 hours and 40 minutes but it wasn’t meant to be; I was riding hard, my energy was getting low again and there were just a few too many hills to snag that time.
Once over the last little rise I could see the finish line and the last half a mile or so was all on pavement. It was pretty fun to cross the finish line and be with Jan and the boys in just a few seconds. Once I dismounted I grabbed a water, a towel, and was handed the prized large belt buckle. It may be time to get some cowboys boots and a hat so I complete the outfit! My official time was 7 hours and 42 minutes; good enough for 10th in my age group and 28th overall out of the 1300 or so people that started earlier that morning.
One that I am keenly aware of is the sacrifice that my family makes to spectate these events. They do enjoy the scene and the adventure of making new friends. In fact, Levi, our oldest, came to the rescue of a retired NFL player on the course. His wife asked in the feed zone if anyone had a pocket knife and leave it to Levi…he was ready and willing to help! So he played a small role in helping a football player ride Leadville.
After I changed we rolled down the mountain to our condo. Within that 30 minutes we decided that we needed to visit the Frisco Adventure Park! So within an hour of finishing a crazy hard mountain bike race I was standing at a skate park/pump track/obstacle course where the boys rode their bikes over jumps and berms for quite a long time. If they waited for me earlier I could watch them…it’s how it works!
The next morning I was up at 5am and repacked our truck for the journey home. All the bikes were disassembled and placed in the truck first and then came the mountain of suitcases and bags. It all fit though and we headed down the road to visit Pikes Peak before turning East. We did everything we dreamt of doing and more on this trip, even with an accident thrown in for good measure! Twenty-four hours of driving later we pulled back into the driveway of our beloved home and we were reunited with our pup Kobe. It was good to be back but good to make memories of a life on the road. I wouldn’t want to revisit the accident but it was a key part of our journey. It will be a few months until the truck gets patched up but between the smashed sheet metal and my shiny belt buckle we will have reminders of the amazing trip that almost didn’t happen!
