Tomorrow, the lottery opens for the 2016 Leadville 100. At my house, that’s kind of a big deal. I’ll be signing The Hammer and me up for it pretty much the moment it’s possible to sign up.
2016 will be my twentieth LT100 (although it will hopefully be my nineteenth finish). And as you might guess, I’m already thinking about it.
Thinking about how I’ll be fifty years old when I race this year.
Thinking about how I want to do my fastest LT100 at age 50.
Thinking about what I will need to do in order to make that happen, and the kind of help I’m going to need to ask for.
And thinking beyond this year, to…well, to something new.
Doing Something New
While doing this race is anything but new to me, it is new — and intimidating — to most of the people who try it. And that’s awesome. People should do new, scary stuff. Whether it’s racing, or trying mountain biking, or getting in shape when you haven’t been in shape in years, or writing, or drawing, or singing, or…or…anything.
I think it’s awesome to stretch yourself. To do something new.
As Exhibit A in the “Do Something New” sweepstakes, I’d like to present this very cool print by Cole Chlouber, an artist and a friend:
I first became acquainted with this artwork when I saw a photo of it on Facebook, at which point I reached out to Cole and told him I needed a copy (I got #16 of 50) and also said, “Hey, I didn’t even know you’re an artist; I feel stupid for not having known that.”
Cole replied along the lines of, “Until recently, nobody knew.” But now we do. Cole’s putting himself out there. And that’s awesome.
Something New For You
Maybe you’re thinking of putting yourself out there, too. Like, maybe trying to race the LT100. But maybe you’ve got some concerns. Like, is it even possible to get in to this race? And how can you get ready for it, once you’re in?
Well, I can probably help with both of these questions.
First, getting in to this race can be very difficult, if you just try your luck at the lottery. To be honest (but completely unscientific), it seems that about 15% of the people I hear about entering the lottery actually get in. That’s not terrible odds, but not great.
But there are a few surefire ways to get into the Leadville 100. Most people just don’t know about them.
Camp of Champions: This is perhaps the simplest way to guarantee yourself a slot in the race, and is a pretty good value. For $2000, you get an entry in the race as well as four days of race course recon, with access to LT100 legends Dave Wiens and Rebecca Rusch. David Houston and Dave Thomas have each gotten into the race this way, and they’ve each told me that they were glad they went.
World Bicycle Relief: I have it on good authority that World Bicycle Relief is going to have charity slots available this year…and that there are some pretty famous people who are going to be a part of it. (And I’m not just talking about me, either.) If you take one of the coveted Team WBR LT100 slots, you’re going to have to do some serious fundraising, but it’ll be worth it.
Charity Slot: If you want to make this race be about something larger than yourself, you can get a guaranteed slot in the race by raising money (at least $2000) for one of the race’s charities, or for one of your choice.
CEO Challenge: If you’re a C-level honcho at a company that makes at least $5million a year, you can fork over $2K to get into the race, hobnob with other executives, get VIP treatment, network, get an un-earned spot in the blue corral, and otherwise make me gag.
There are also several qualifier races you can use to get in, which are definitely not surefire, but are a good backup plan if you don’t get into the lottery.
And if all that fails, you can boost your probability of getting into the race the following year by volunteering this year.
Let me know in the comments if you’re planning to try to get into the LT100 this year…and if so, whether you’re going with the lottery or some other strategy for getting in.
Sharing What We Know
In the past nineteen years of racing the LT100, I’ve picked up a few things. Last year, Rebecca Rusch and I did a little webinar series (episode 1, episode 2, episode 3) to help folks get prepared for the race.
They seemed to do a lot of people a lot of good; while in Leadville, dozens of people came up to us, thanking us for putting these on.
So, this year, we’re going to do more of these webinars. But this year, we’re going to start much earlier in the year, while you still have time to train and practice fueling smart. And we’re going to bring on guests. Like, seriously smart and knowledgeable guests who can help you hit your goal, whether it’s to finish in under thirteen hours, twelve hours, or even nine hours.
Stay tuned for more on this.
Something New For Me Too
This year, I plan to be fast at Leadville. Really fast. Sub-8 fast. And that’s a little bit new.
But my truly new thing for 2016 isn’t even about 2016. It’s about 2017. And it’s already started.
For my twentieth finish of the LT100, I’d like to also have it be my first Leadman finish. Which means, yes, that I will need to do the LT100 run the week after I ride the LT100.
I’m going to need to do some training if I want that to happen. And…I’ve already started. Specifically, I’m doing four-mile trail runs.
Yeah, I’ve got a lot of work to do if I’m going to make that happen. But hey…I kinda want to stretch myself a little bit.
One of the quieter traditions I have with this blog is that before Thanksgiving each year, I like to write a “thankful” post (2007, 2008, 2009 plus bonus 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, 2013, 2014). This year, I think I have more things than ever to be thankful for.
I’d like to tell you about a few.
Strength: I’ve talked (but not much) before about my son and the extraordinary depression he lives with with. This year has seen extraordinary progress for him. He’s gotten a job, and he’s excelled at it. He’s started pharmacy tech school, and he comes home after the weekly test each Friday saying he’s aced another one. He’s told stories about confronting the teacher (politely) with errors she’s made — unthinkable even a year ago.
I have two people I’m thankful for in this case. First, I’m thankful for my son’s strength. This progress hasn’t been easy for him, and I’m proud of each step he takes.
Second, I’m thankful for The Hammer’s strength. Her strength and toughness was key in my son making making these remarkable strides.
When I think about 2015, I think I will always remember it as the “turning a corner year” for my son. And I’m so thankful for the work both my son and wife have done to make this happen.
People I Love: When The Hammer and I tell people about our family — my four kids, her three kids — folks are generally astonished. They would be even more astonished if they understood how great all seven of these kids are doing. The Hammer’s eldest has a great job, a great wife, a great son, and a new house. Her second son is valedictorian at the school he attends and is already getting amazing opportunities. Her youngest is doing great in college and has big plans to do something important in the world. My eldest is working and going to school and has an amazing moral center; he has changed my own thinking on a few things. My twin girls are the kindest, most artistic fourteen-year-olds you could ever meet. My wife is genuinely my best friend. I’m as lucky a person as there could be. I love all these people.
Generosity: I don’t even keep track anymore of how much money Friends of Fatty have donated to causes I care about. I don’t keep track of how much product and prizes good companies have donated to help me with my efforts. It’s just too much. You see so much happen in the news that is so bad that it’s easy to overlook the fact that we are surrounded by good people who want to make the world a good place.
Bikes: I love the incredible improvements we’ve seen in bike hardware during the life of this blog. I love the feeling when I ride, and how I feel after a ride. I love the stories my rides tell me (so I can tell them to you). And I love the different kinds of amazing experiences I still haven’t experienced on bikes; there’s still so much for me to try. I haven’t tried cyclocross. Or bikepacking. Or track racing. Or recumbents. I’ve been in love with bikes for more than twenty years now, and I still am in many ways an absolute beginner.
I’m thankful for all the new experiences still ahead of me, and I’m thankful to you for taking the time to read my stories.
Happy Thanksgiving,
PS: I’d love to hear what you’re thankful for.
PPS: I’ll be taking the rest of this week off to be with my family and to work on my current secret project (which I hope to tell you about sometime soon).
We were on the second day of The Core Team Fall Moab (Fiscal 2016), Twentieth Anniversary Edition, and I was splitting my time between complaining about the trail and suffering in silence, which is even worse than complaining.
Yeah. I was that guy.
How had this happened?
Well, that’s easy. We were on a trail that was way too technical for me (which I had known before we had embarked on this ride), so I was walking about 70% of this ride-in-sarcasm-quotes.
Sure, I had tried to solve the problem before it began. Indeed, I had, in the spirit of proactiveness, proposed a variation on the ride that is more suited to me. One with more climbing and conversational riding, and with fewer twenty-foot drops down the Cliff Walls of Death.
I had been summarily overruled: “Sure, ride whatever you want, but this is what we’re doing.”
I capitulated. And as a result, I had endo’d four times during the day, along with two other crashes.
But hey, at least I was with my friends — many of whom I’ve now been riding with for twenty years, more or less. And I had to admit (except when I was being grumpily petulant) that’s pretty awesome.
And since there was no possible way I was going to be doing these Monster Drops of Doom, I could at least be the guy who took pictures and the occasional video.
Which I did. Sometimes with good results (and sometimes with no results at all, which I’ll explain later).
I shall now show you some of those pictures and videos, along with appropriate commentary.
How It Started
If there’s a center to the core team, it’s Bobby G Bringhurst.
The day before the drive to Moab, I picked him up at the airport (he lives in Seattle), and we went to Racer’s, where he picked up his Gary Fisher Rig, a fully-rigid steel singlespeed.
“You should know,” I told him, “that in the past year or so, we’ve pretty much all independently flipped the switch: we’re riding SRAM one-by-eleven drivetrains. All of us have moved to front suspension, and many of us have moved to full suspension.”
If there’s ever been a certain sign of aging, that was definitely it.
Luckily for Bob, I have a couple bikes and am, more or less, the exact same height as he is. Which meant Bob would have the option of riding a fair number of geared bikes, all of which had front suspension, and one of which had full suspension.
We loaded several bikes onto the Bikemobile, picked Dug up, and headed to Moab.
Yes, the Bikemobile (now eight years old), as currently outfitted, can easily carry six bikes (without destroying any of them if I accidentally pull into a garage).
Dug brought a giant batch of chocolate chip cookies he had just made. True fact: Everyone who has ever tried them acknowledges that Dug makes the best chocolate chip cookies in the world.
I ate most of the cookies before we even got to Moab. It’s the off-season, after all, and I still have a ways to go before I’m forced to start wearing XXL jerseys.
Photos and Videos of Middle-Aged Men on Bikes
Here’s a question for you: when you have a largish group of people meeting up at a place several hours away for a ride, what are the odds that everyone will get there at more or less the same time, ready to ride?
Furthermore, what are the odds, during a three-day weekend of riding, that everyone will continue to show up on-time and be ready to roll when it’s time to roll?
Whatever the odds are, that’s what we did. Maybe it has to do with the fact that we’ve all been riding a long time and know what it’s like to have to wait at a trailhead…and to be the guy who is waited for at the trailhead.
In other words, we showed up, got our bikes out, and rode. For all three rides of the weekend. No drama, no fiddling.
Maybe that’s a small part of why everyone in the Core Team is still in the Core Team.
Bob, seeing which way the wind was blowing, borrowed a Cannondale Scalpel, which I have not yet returned to Cannondale (I’m currently working from the premise that if I don’t say anything to them for a while they’ll forget about me).
We headed out to ride near Amasa Back, going up the new Hymasa trail and down Cap’n Ahab. Wonderful trail, all around.
Bob put everything into popping a wheelie. This photo is at the apogee of said wheelie.
Brad observed, with scorn in his voice, “Never have I seen so much effort put into such a miserable little wheelie.”
This is Brad, looking scornful. And also: infuriatingly thin.
Brad, it should be noted, did not get the memo about carbon and gear shifts. He did, however, get the memo about front suspension, and that’s something.
Cori
Cori is the newest of the members of the Core Team. Here he is, drinking a beer in the middle of a ride…while reinforcing the point by wearing a jersey with a beer logo on it.
Cori is — I’m just being completely honest here and hope my fellow Core Team members will not be angry at me for saying so — the most entertaining person in the world to be around during a ride. He is fearless on a bike, and he whoops and hollers in unfeigned joy as he rides.
Here are a few videos of Cori during the weekend. First, here’s Cori about to kill Ricky as Ricky takes a video of Cori (in other words, I did not take this video; Ricky did):
And here’s Cori hitting a big ol’ three foot drop at speed (again, video credit goes to Ricky):
Of course, Cori is not completely immune to sensible decisions. Here, he gets to the precipice and changes his mind.
Catching that in slow motion is probably the best thing I have ever done.
After that fall, however, Cori started reconsidering, and decided he would try again. Which forced Brad to be the voice of reason; Brad planted himself at the base of the rollout and refused to move, making it impossible for Cori to kill himself. Only when Cori gave up and came down another way did Brad stand up and move out of the way.
Cori owes you his life, Brad.
Kenny Jones 2: This Time It’s Personal
When you last heard from my friend Kenny, he was busted. But he’s not anymore. He’s riding again. But something’s different: he’s suddenly riding a big ol’ full-suspension bike (a Pivot Mach Something) with gears and 27.5” ENVE M60 Forty wheels.
And how is he riding? Just fine:
To show his confidence in Kenny’s recovery and squishy new bikehood, Ricky volunteered to lay at the base of this drop, for Kenny to (hopefully) shoot over:
To my disappointment, Ricky did not volunteer to continue lying there as I attempted the same trick.
Which just goes to show: Ricky’s not stupid.
Here’s more Kenny, this time in slow motion and going down something that’s freakishly technical in actuality but which doesn’t look all that impressive thanks to poor camera work:
Oh, here’s another (completely candid and not-posed) picture of Kenny, as he acts as guide to our group, pointing out important trail features on a convenient map:
The Bifurcation of the Core Team
I’m very very very sad to reveal to you at this point that apart from the videos I showed you already, I don’t have a lot of other cool trick move photos of Brad or Cori. And I have no cool trick move photos at all of Rick, Ryan, or Brad.
No, wait, that’s not perfectly true. I do have this cool video of Ryan, riding a wheelie on Kenny’s bike:
But most of the pictures of Rick, Ryan, and Brad that look like this:
And this one of Ryan:
And this one of Dug and Brad socially media-ing, while Bob does windsprints up the slickrock, for some reason:
Why is this the case? Bifurcation.
Yes, bifurcation.
See, pretty much the whole weekend, The Core Team would repeat the following process:
Start together.
Kenny, Brad, Rick, Ryan and Cori take off like there’s an emergency or they like going fast or something.
Bob, Dug and I ride at the back.
Kenny, Brad, Rick, Ryan and Cori get to some place where they imagine it might be interesting to try a couple of moves. They then do these moves, taking no photos.
Bob, Dug and I arrive about the time the other five have finished up, have eaten, rested, and are ready to go.
Dug quickly executes a move or two while Bob and I look on.
We continue.
Thus, I have numerous photos of Dug and Bob trying lots of moves, like this:
And this:
And this:
The photos I have of the others, on the other hand, mostly look like this:
Oh, and here’s me:
I may be slower and less capable than my friends, but I am still very heroic-looking.
I’m already excited for Fall Moab (Fiscal) 2017. I think I’ll bring my recumbent.
And my walker.
PS: Bob has posted his recollections from several conversations held during Fall Moab in his blog. Many but not all of these conversations are safe for work.
When the twins and I went to Michigan for the Camp Kesem Leadership Summit, it was for more than riding the 100 Miles of Nowhere. We were also invited in order to talk during the summit itself, the day after the 100 Miles of Nowhere.
First, the twins and I — along with several other kids who’ve been to camp and their parents — were in a panel where we were asked questions about camps and counselors. I mostly got to sit back and enjoy this part; I wish I’d have thought to have someone video it. The kids’ responses were fantastic, and it really underscored how much value kids get from these camps.
A little later in the afternoon, Doug from Movember and I took turns presenting on fundraising tips and techniques. This time, I did think to give my phone to one of the twins and ask her to video me. She did a good job and I even sorta kinda made sense through most of it (stuttered a lot at the beginning but finally settled down and got rolling).
And so, I hereby present my…presentation. On fundraising.
And since I manage to stand in front of my slides for the entirety of the presentation, here are copies of my slides.
You didn’t know my last name ’til now, did you?
Please, let’s not get political. PLEASE.
Learned this point really recently. I can be taught!
Based on this, I should really do an eating contest for a fundraiser.
Hey, sorry about that Obama slide earlier.
But why does the “why” matter?
Captain Obvious would like to remind you that people like things that are easy and fun more than they like things that are difficult and miserable.
By this reasoning, I should be infinitely awesome by now.
Before we get started with today’s 100 Miles of Nowhere Race Report, there are a few things I want to make note of.
1. Ride the 100 Miles of Nowhere With TrainerRoad
TrainerRoad is a top sponsor for the 100 Miles of Nowhere, providing a free month to all registered racers (look for the card in your packet!).
But they’ve gone above and beyond their sponsorship responsibilities and have created a 100 Miles of Nowhere workout!
Yep, it’s a five-hour-long trainer workout, designed to replicate riding a tough century, but not so tough that you can’t do it.
The Hammer and I are definitely gonna do this one when I get back, and you should too.
This is an awesome thing for TrainerRoad to have done, and a terrific reason for you racers to open up that free month you get with the program and get started. Check out TrainerRoad’s blog about the workout, and then go do the 100MoN workout!
2. Get Inspired to Ride
If you’re registered for the 100 Miles of Nowhere, you should be getting an email today from Inspired to Ride, with everything you need for you to start watching this incredible documentary — one that I think suits “100 Miles to Nowhere” to a T. Inspired to Ride follows a handful of cyclists from around the world as they race unsupported in the inaugural year of The Trans Am Bike Race. It’s the antithesis to events like Tour de France and Race Across America. There are no teams, no support vehicles, no special jerseys and not a dime in prize money.
Just a thought: It would be pretty awesome to do the 100 Miles of Nowhere workout while watching Inspired to Ride.
3. Team Fatty and Camp Kesem: Meeting in Michigan
First, the twins and I now are in Michigan for the Camp Kesem Leadership summit. I’ll go into the details of the trip in another post. For now, just a couple of pictures:
I fly often enough that I have forgotten how amazing it is. The twins reminded me, laughing at the amazing feeling / sound / visual of taking off, and then staring out the window for about an hour. I am going to start requesting a window seat again.
When we got to Michigan, we went to the lodge where Camp Kesem leaders and counselors will be meeting this weekend, and were treated to this poster:
And this one, on the stage where we’ll actually be riding:
Yep, they’re putting us on a stage to ride the 100 Miles of Nowhere, as hundreds of camp leaders and counselors arrive today to register for the big summit tomorrow.
We kick off the ride at 12:30ET, and it would probably be a good day to follow me on Twitter, since I’ll be posting pictures and stuff as we prepare for and do this thing.
Okay, that’s a lot of pre-story stuff, but all pretty relevant to the topic-at-hand. Now…on to this week’s 100 Miles of Nowhere race report!
OK, it’s not exactly a race report. It’s more of a recovery report. But it’s awesome
Corrine’s Video Race Report
This year marks Corrine’s fourth 100 Miles of Nowhere. Or it should. Her knee, sadly, had other plans for her.
But that didn’t stop her from making an awesome video telling her story and encouraging the rest of you to get out there and get it done:
Pretty fantastic, eh? A little bit more about Corrine, in her own words:
I’m 56 and I love to ride my bike. I met you and Lisa at the 2013 Leadville which I managed to finish in under 13 hours but not 12!
This summer, prior to my bilateral knee surgery, I did the Tour of Fairbanks (a 4 day,5 race series), my best 200 mile time trial race yet in the Fireweed making my stretch goal of under 12 hours, and I finished the Smoke ’N’ Fire, a 440 mile bikepacking mountain bike race in Idaho in 4 days and 8 hours, just 3 weeks before my surgery — and I didn’t come in last!!
I may not be fast but I’m persistent and I wanted to really wear out my knees before I replaced them!
Be sure to wish Corrine speedy continued recovery, so we can hold her to her commitment of winning the “57yo, recently recovered from bilateral knee surgery” division next year.
