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 2nd
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.
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