2012 Syllamo 125k

The Syllamo NUE 125k started the same way that most other mountain bike races seem to start. Wake up in a crummy motel and frantically get everything together for the day’s journey. No matter how much time you give yourself to get things ready, it always seems to be a little less than necessary.

We got to Blanchard with just enough time to throw on my race kit and get a short warm up while Sarah dropped my aid station bags for me. I only got about 10-15 minutes of warm-up before getting to the start line just in time to snag a spot near the front.

Little did I know that I was about to embark on what would be the most grueling, painful ride I have ever completed.

The race starts with a steep 1100 foot climb that immediately turns to technical single-track. Being in a good position at the top of the climb is critical for having a good run through the first 20 something miles of single-track.

I entered the single-track near the end of the lead group, roughly 10 riders. I was exactly where I wanted to be. I didn’t kill myself on the climb, but got in a good enough position that I wouldn’t have to worry about getting clogged when someone eventually bobbled some of the technical sections near the beginning of the trail.

Everything was going well until we hit the 2^nd aid station; we flew through aid station 1 without stopping. When we arrived at aid 2, I expected to have 2 bottles of fuel waiting for me. Instead, after waiting for 2-3 minutes as the aid station crew dug through a mountain of 1 gallon Ziploc bags with race numbers scrawled on them, I was told that I did not have an aid bag at this stop. Crap.

I’ll take a second here to interject a small factoid into this story. I have the stomach of a sickly child. I have to be very careful about what I put in my stomach as I race or I will quickly end up with a twisty, gassy, bloated belly. It ain’t fun.

After 4-5 minutes had passed, I decided to fill my existing bottle from the coolers that contained HEED. This way, I was hoping to at least have some calories in my system as I rode. I knew that it was going to be a struggle to ride strong on fewer calories than I need, but I didn’t have any other choice. It turned out that the cooler didn’t really have HEED in it. It was so watered down that calling it HEED is just wrong. It was more like water with a scant amount of HEED mixture added in to it. Each bottle may have had 50 calories and I require just short of 300 calories per hour.

Around the 3.5 hour mark I started to slow down. I could tell that I was starting to bonk and I needed to take in some calories. I knew I would be coming up on an aid station soon and they should have some of my fuel. Plus, I was finishing the most technical part of the trail; the rest of the race was comprised of primarily smooth rolling single-track.

By the time I got to the aid station, I was pretty wiped out. I wasn’t just in calorie deficit, but I was also super low on electrolytes. I grabbed my aid bag, put my fuel on the bike, and popped some caffeine and ibuprofen. I started to feel a lot better. A LOT better. I went from Granny gear to big ring in about 15 minutes. I was really far back from the leaders at this time, but I thought I might still be able to pull off a good race. After hammering around the fastest section of trail and catching several folks, I pulled back into the aid station to grab my last bottle of fuel. Only 25 miles left. This would require 2 bottles, but I am okay finishing a race on a bottle of something other than my mix as long as it isn’t anything too funky. HEED is generally okay. I took off still feeling tired and rundown, but I was able to push gears. Then, the wall hit me. I think my last bottle of fuel went sour as it sat in direct sunlight for several hours at the aid station. My stomach shut down and nothing would process. Back to granny ring, whole body cramps, nauseous, foggy headed, tired, painful breathing, locked up back, barely able to hold my body off the handlebars. I crashed several times, not sure where or how many, but I have the bruises and scrapes to prove it. I’ve never wanted to NOT be riding a bike so badly. I proceeded to ride the slowest 25 miles I have ever ridden on a bike occasionally having to get off and just sit to lower my body temperature. I didn’t have my HR monitor. I seemed to have left it on because it was dead before the start of the race. My HR had to be through the roof because my core temp felt like it was 100 degrees. I felt so hot, like I was in an oven. I honestly don’t know how I finished. I almost passed out a couple times while riding. I was in bad shape. When I finally made it to the finish, I was over 2 hours behind my time from last year, I had lost 13 pounds of body weight (that’s almost 10% of me), and I was told I looked a bit like a skeleton. I was still light headed, still nauseous, back still tweaked, and it still hurt to breath. We left soon after and I think I made it roughly 30-45 minutes in the car before losing what little was in my stomach. After getting rid of the spoiled drink mix, I felt about 50% better. Today, the day after, I feel okay. I hurt, I’m sore, but I’m not wishing for a bullet like I was 24 hours ago.

Lessons to be learned.

Always be prepared, in every aspect. I carry enough tools to be completely self sufficient in just about any mechanical situation, but somehow I have always just trusted that my drop bag will be there and I will have the nutrition I need to continue the race. I won’t make that mistake again. Also, give yourself more time than you would ever think you need to prepare for a big race. You’ll use it all, I promise.