The Hammer’s LT100, Part I: End of a Long Week, Beginning of a Long Day

09.1.2015 | 8:28 am

A Note from Fatty: I’m excited to be running The Hammer’s race report, starting today. Start to end, single-spaced in a Word document (without any images), it’s eighteen pages long. 

It’s also definitely worth reading; The Hammer’s reports are really from the heart, and she’s clearly a lot more interested in the people and places around her when racing than I am.

All while, I should note, she’s tearing everyone’s legs off.

Enjoy!  

Looking for Other Installments in this Story? Here are links to all the parts published in this multi-part story:

• Part 1: End of a Long Week, Beginning of a Long Day
• Part 2: Bad News Bento Box
• Part 3: Ups and Downs
• Part 4: The Quest for a Cold Coke
• Part 5: A Good Fight

Finally the alarm went off. It felt like I had been laying in bed for hours. I’m pretty sure I had, in fact.

We had gone to bed early—around nine. The Ambien probably gave me four hours of sleep, so that meant I had been laying there for about three hours. My mind was alert. I had been playing out the “what ifs” in my brain all night.

I don’t know why I was so anxious. I have done this race so many times, I know it like an old friend. I honestly think Elden’s anxiety hadn’t just worn him down; it had taken a toll on me.

This past week was not a week of rest and relaxation like I had wanted it to be. I had ridden hard the first part of the week, then continued to ride later into my rest week, decreasing the intensity, but not the amount of riding.

The week had been fun for me: lots of group rides with old friends and new.

I’m kind of a shy person, but when I start talking about biking, someone else entirely takes over.

Elden, meanwhile, had been busy…and stressed. Preparing and participating in the webinar, daily rides and clinics, WBR fundraising dinner, book readings and book signings was overwhelming—for not only Elden, but for me too.

By Thursday I was not only physically exhausted, but mentally drained as well. I tried to relax and lay down, but it never seemed like it was for long enough.

But now it was race morning. And I was so anxious I could hardly stand it. I ate and dressed and headed for the start line around 0545. I said goodbye to Elden, then parked myself in the red corral.

It wasn’t full, not yet. I would guess there were fewer than fifty of us in the corral so far, and I was only about three rows from the front. I had left the house before I had even Lindsey or Ben (Elden’s niece and new nephew-in-law). They like to sleep in to the very last minute.

Lindsey and I had participated in the Cedar City 100K back in June. Thanks to  our fast times we had bumped ourselves into the red corral. I hoped Lindsey would show up soon and start alongside me. “It will probably be the only time I would see Lindsey the whole day,” I thought. She has proven to be quite the mountain bike racer this year.

She has consistently been faster than I have been in every race that we have done this year (Oh, to be twenty years younger!). I am proud of her amazing fitness and hoped I could maybe stick to her back wheel on the paved descent at the start of the race.

Lindsey didn’t materialize, so I found a nice man to watch my bike while I used the restroom. When I return to the corral, I was amazed to find that the temperature was nice—not cold at all. I removed my two thrift store sweatshirts and disposed of them on the outside of the corral.

I left my super big gloves on, though, worn over my bike gloves. I had bought these big gloves in Boston in a Chinatown thrift store and wore them during the marathon while it dumped rain. It was the best $2.50 I have ever spent. I planned on disgarding the gloves along the way when my hands were warm. I thought for a second about who might have these gloves next, and how that person probably wouldn’t know these gloves had been worn at both the most famous marathon and mountain bike race, the same year!

Then I waited.

The sun was rising; the sky was beautiful. There wasn’t a cloud in it. Dave Wein’s son sang the national anthem. And he sang it perfectly. Chills went up my spine and I fought back the tears. It was a truly beautiful morning in a beautiful place! I was lucky to be here and lucky to be alive.

The Start

The gun went off and we were rolling. The wave of bikers rolled smoothly forward. I looked for my brother at the roadside as we rolled out of town. I didn’t see him, but I was still grateful that I have such a great brother who’s willing to stop his life and come out to Leadville and support me. Thanks Scott!

My thoughts were disrupted, when a biker rolled along side of me and yelled, “Catch my wheel and lets get moving!” It was my longtime friend, Dave Green. I tried to grab his wheel, but he was gone in a flash. I had thought I was moving fast, but Dave was in a different world. He would keep up his fast pace and finish in 8:40.

As we raced down the paved road, I was surprised at how little bike congestion was around me. There really was no jockeying for position; we were all moving nicely along, with ample space between riders. It wasn’t scary at all. I took a few deep breaths and tried to relax.

My race had finally begun.

As we came off the mountain and into the valley, the site was amazing. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, but there was a cloud in the valley over the stream. We were descending into a moist, cool cloud. The temperature dropped, and it instantly got foggy.

Moisture was collecting on my sunglasses. I was having a hard time seeing as I left the pavement and started down the dirt road. It was hard to see ruts and rocks, but I kept up the pace and powered over them. Occasionally I would tip my head down and see over my glasses—I was surprised how much better I could see. There was no way I would be able to take my glasses off tho, I was too busy holding on and pedaling my heart out. [Note from Fatty: I had this problem, too. Once I figured out the mist was collecting on the outside lens, this stopped being a problem]

As we pedaled through the cloud and headed for the start of the St Kevin’s climb, one rider—who evidently thought  the race would be decided at this place and time—came shooting up the right side of the road. His front wheel hit a rock and ricocheted him up and back into the middle of the road…taking everyone in his path out in domino-like action.

I was on the far left at the moment and barely missed the carnage. For a while, there was no one behind me.

I had barely escaped the first wreck of the day.