Done!

Stage 6 is in the books. The weather was incredible and it was fun to have "one last ride" in the town of Breckenridge. (Notably this was also my one last ride before going back to work next week. I wanted to slow it down a bit but Dave really wanted to get it done. I wonder why? He has to go back to work too.)

The race director gave us a gift today with 32 miles of some super fun twisty tight singletrack descents and some "mellow" (for this race) climbs up to 11,500 (twice). Both of us felt great and we were able to tick this one off in under four hours. Here we are crossing the finish line after over 30 hours of racing this week. (I know, it looks like the "Start" but the other side says "Finish").

Here I am watching Dave wrestle a badger that got loose in the venue. I'm too tired to help him.



Here we are with the mastermind of the race, Mike McCormack.

More importantly we got our buckles. Prominently displayed here on our model, Dave.

Not too PC on the back.

Stage 5: Happy Birthday Dave

Mountain bike stage racing is a lot like the movie Groundhog Day. In Groundhog Day, Bill Murray wakes up to find every day the exact same. Every day it's the same routine and same chores: Wake up, eat some cereal at the condo, drive to "second" breakfast at the venue, sit in an outdoor tent and eat hot oatmeal in 39 degreee temps, return home and enjoy heated seats en route, get some espresso, take vitamins/glucosamine/oyptgen (yeah, I don't even know what's in those little red pills but I take them anyway)/coconut water, put chamois cream on bike shorts, neosporin on some f'ing rash I have in my armpit, put deodorant on "good" armpit, suit up, head out the door to warm up and get to the start line. (Oh, and take about 3 shits somewhere between all those activities). That's a normal day.

But today was different. Today was Dave's birthday. Today Dave's wife, son and Dad were in attendance. Today Dave was 49.

I got Dave this card. I signed it "love me." He was confused if it came from me or his wife.

Just like the scene on this card, today was magical. The race started right outside our condo and immediately climbed 1000 feet up a ski slope. Then we descended 1000 feet through some sweet single track--to end up right where we started. Then the day really began. We climbed from 9500 feet to an altitude at which "use of portable electronic devices is now permissible": 12,500 feet. At 12,500 you could see forever. It was beautiful. And just like the dreamcatcher held by Pocahontas above, you could almost reach out and touch your dreams. The descent off the 12,500 ft saddle was insane. Thousands of feet of rock, roots and fun. Once safely down, we got some serious speed on a local paved bike path and made some headway to the last 9 miles of singletrack. About an hour later we rolled through the finish line and into the waiting arms of Dave's family.

The Miller Men: Wayne, Dave and Tristan.

This picture says it all: I love being a year older.

Hello Granny

Let's be brief - we finished stage 4. Another 5:40 of saddle time. The one thing that kept going through my mind today is that I haven't spent this much quality time with Granny since holiday breaks during college. But even then - it isn't always enough gear. I don't think a 5x50 would have done the trick on some of these climbs. As always, the pain was interspersed with super fun descents.

Gotta go pass out now.

Stage 3: Holy Sh#t

Today had it all, but mostly it had climbs or at least that what we spent the bulk of our ride time doing. The race director apparently was concerned that crossing the Continental Divide (a bit above 12,000 feet) once was not enough. So we did it twice. On the first ascent we rode until we walked and then we walked until we crawled. Then we put on our rain coats. It was just like walking up a flight of stairs (in leather dress shoes) in a huge freezer with a dishrag crammed in your mouth while little street urchins threw cold water in your face. The higher we walked, the colder it got. Then we hit the clouds. Grey cold clouds. It could have gotten much worse but the heavy rain remained at bay. When we topped out above 12k we started on a 900 ft descent back down to where we started. The ride was fast, rocky and wet. (Incidentally it was fast because my hands were so cold I couldn't uncurl them to work the brakes. Dave said it was the fastest he'd ever seen me go down a mountain). Once down, we realized that my back tire was slowly going flat. We decided to nurse it along by filling it up with air every mile or so until we got to one of the aid stations. We climbed again to the Continental Divide and it was more of the same--except this time we could ride (instead of walk) to the divide. We decided to press our luck and we pumped up my tire and started down. This descent was even sweeter than the first one and we soon found ourselves (again) back down where we had started. Finally we determined that I needed to fix my flat and we cruised into the last aid station where the mechanic there quickly fixed the flat and we were on our way. (Yes, the sad truth is that neither one of us knows how to change a flat tire). Then the sun came out. It got hot. And the climbs kept coming. It got steep. Then it got steeper. When we thought the road couldn't climb any higher, it did. Finally, the path turned down and we rode to the finish after almost 6hrs in the saddle. We had seen it all since 8AM: cold, wet, rain, divides, sun, rocks. It was nice to sit down on the couch and watch bad tv. Tomorrow is supposed to be worse than today. Good times.

What's with all this climbing?

Too tired to say much today. 40 more miles and a ton more climbs in the bag. (5500ft, topping out at 11,200). The good news is that the descents were way more fun than yesterday - super fast and flowy - some of the best I've ever been on. [Tom: it's funny how much the word Ewok sounds like "Oh Fuck" when you're descending at 25mph through the aspens. I was concerned that Dave was in trouble but he later explained that he was merely yelling "Ewok" as we descended. Ewoks? Yes, those Ewoks. The lovable cuddly creatures from the forest moon of Endor. Dave must have been hallucinating from the altitude and/or thought he was Luke Skywalker weaving through the aspens].

The bad news is that just when we thought we were done, they threw in one more diabolical rooty climb that made Tom want to punch someone. [Tom: That someone was Dave since he had been attacking all day from the gun. Old man strength was in full-effect. I can't wait until I'm 48]. At least they ended the stage with a fast berm filled descent.

Our time was better than yesterday and we did one place better in our class, but we're just in it for the buckle.

Tomorrow - over the continental divide...........twice.

Stage 1 (39 miles, 5,500 ft climbing)

Well the day finally arrived. Stage 1. Bam!

Dave and I both awoke around 6AM to prepare for the day's adventure. The temperature outside was a balmy 40 degrees when we started the car and headed over to the race venue for breakfast. Mmmm. Nothing like eating bagels and oatmeal (which was actually quite good) in a giant (think rich person's wedding) tent in 40 degree temps.

After quickly inhaling our breakfasts we retreated to the warmth of the car and heated leather seats. Soon, the seats warmed not only our bodies but our souls as well. Before we knew it we were lost in conversation: Dave talking about fishing when he was a boy in Wisconsin and me recounting my love of antique radios. We chatted this way for the next hour and half until the race started at 8:10. Our warm up was complete. We toed the start line just as the sun crept over the peaks looming far and away.

Five hours and eight minutes later we rode through the finish line: Day One under our belts. The altitude didn't prove as formidable as we had expected (since we only climbed to 11,200ft today) but the climbing up steep, loose gravel roads really took its toll on our legs. Overall, it was a pretty "rough" day by Colorado riding standards, but we stuck to our plan to go slow and steady and have enough energy for the remainder of the week. Of course, it wouldn't be a stage race if we didn't "suffer" in an ice bath following the ride. Luckily our condo has a creek running right through it (literally).

Rest Day

Saturday was a rest day. Dave and I walked around town. There was a construction site by our condo. Heavy machinery was parked at said site. Always wanting to see what it looked like from the cockpit of an ore car, I got in. The off duty policeman was not amused. We went back to the condo.

I went to a health food store in town. The altitude was wrecking my joints. The woman at the store (whom I'm sure lived in a commune) told me that I was clearly dehydrated. The solution: coconut water. (No, not coconut milk, coconut water). She (let's call her Starlight the Unicorn Whisperer) explained that the water in young coconuts is filled with powerful antioxidants that will not only hydrate me but rejuvenate me to no end. Starlight said that the best coconut water comes from young coconuts. i.e., kind of like coconut veal for vegans. Not wanting to pass up rejuvenation, I bought a case. I can't believe I've been wasting the last 37 years drinking regular old water. From now on I will only drink water that has been nurtured inside a young warm coconut. PETA be damned.

Toto - We're not in....

Hello folks - Dave here - Friday afternoon.

Tom picked me up Wednesday and, after a humorous lunch in some kitschy mountain deli (we were the only ones in the place and I swear I could have made six sandwiches in the time this guy made two), we arrived in Breckenridge.

I had been fretting the arrival at high altitude for some time and now was the time to give it a test. We went for a short one hour ride and at first I was feeling surprisingly good - then I realized we had been ever so slightly descending. As the trail pitched up for a small climb, my lungs immediately said "what the hell are you doing?" Tom had sent me a text a few weeks ago (just a reminder - Tom decided to embrace his inner dirt-bag and took a summer sabbatical) saying "Wait until you ride at altitude. Time actually slows down." I remember thinking - wtf? - but quickly dismissed it. Now as I struggled to move I felt my brain slow down and my thought process was definitely off. Yeah.....OK smart ass........more off than normal. Anyway, I was longing for the thick air of sea level, so I clicked my ruby red heels together.......

and this is what happened:

Amazing*, but not exactly what I had in mind.

Yesterday, we went for a longer and more ambitious ride. Today we rode 27 miles with 2,700 feet of climbing, including one long 3 mile climb that was rocky and rooty and rose 1,300 feet, topping out at 11,300 feet. The descending was nothing short of too much fun.

So........just like I did back in the day after shooting a beer on the first chair lift ride of a ski outing......I declare myself ready.

*for those not "in the know" I grew up in Kenosha.

The Best and Worst Part of Our Breck Condo

Who's this guy?

This stuffed bear/ottoman is the best part of our condo in Breckenridge. I have found it soothing to sit quietly and put my feet up on her while I read one of my science fiction novels or watch one of the 5 HBO channels that we have at our disposal. I don't let Dave touch her. At night she likes to come into my bedroom and guard the door. Despite being quite soft and otherwise cuddly and cute, having my feet on this bear reminds me that humans are superior to animals and it gives my ego the added boost to make me feel better about myself.

This hanging cat tapestry is the worst part about the condo. Everything that the bear ottoman stands for (cuteness, unselfishly serving its master, black fur) is eviscerated by the cold stare of the tapestry feline. The white pussy cat puts out an air of superiority and quiet judging (not unlike the look the owners of the condo would likely give us if they saw Dave and I sitting at their breakfast bar in our bib shorts). In fact, even though the heat has been on at night in the condo, when standing next to the cat tapestry I could see my breath in the air. It's that evil. When I tried to remove the tapestry it felt like someone put a red hot fire poker in my pants (however, that could be the reaction I've been having since I've switched chamois creams--witch hazel burns like a mother!). In any event, me and the bear ottoman have made it abundantly clear that we do not like the tapestry cat. I have even gone so far as to take the bear ottoman to my car during the days when we're out riding so that she is not left alone with the Evil.

Killing Time In Breck

Earlier this week, I picked up Dave at the Denver airport and we made the two hour drive back to Breckenridge. Our meeting in Denver was bittersweet because I was simultaneously dropping off my wife, Amy, for her return flight to Seattle after a summer of traveling and various on-the-road hi jinx. Without any spousal support, unlike prior bike races, Dave and I would be on our own to support ourselves during the bulk of the race. After a long day in the saddle, it sure is nice to have someone there to bring you a refreshing drink or fill the bathtub with ice for a good soaking. (Lori & Tristan take note here). But I digress. Driving from Denver to Breckenridge was like a trip down memory lane for Dave--who once called Denver his home. It seemed that for every twist and turn on I-70 Dave's memory spewed forth some fabulous tale to recount from his time in Denver: an elk hunt gone dangerously wrong; the time a hippie/drifter (more hippie than drifter) hitched a ride in the canopy of his jeep; his apparent invention of snowboarding; and the time he drove a snowmobile through the Eisenhower Tunnel. After this trip down memory lane, we arrived in Breckenridge without incident. Unpacking, Dave pulled out his KPMG-issued computer and booted up Outlook. Seeing the once familiar screen (you see I haven't been at work for the last two months) my body pulsed with a sense of panic and anxiety upon realizing that I likely had over 2000 emails patiently waiting for me to sort through upon my return. I chided Dave for attempting to work on his vacation. He reminded me I was due back in 10 days. Touche. I retreated to my happy place for a few minutes and emerged a bit anxious in light of the recent brush with Outlook. I suggested we go for a quick hour bike ride to get the legs loosened up rather than sit around the condo and watch the Real Housewives of Miami. I will speak for Dave here by saying that even the slightest uphills caused much discomfort (For him, of course. For me, I just tell my body to deal with the lack of oxygen and it does it. Yes, I'm that disciplined). Despite the altitude, we got in a nice spin and returned to the condo refreshed from the exercise. Day 1 of Dave's acclimatization at 9,600 feet was complete.

We're Back!

When last we posted some thoughts, Dave and I were busy completing a successful BC Bike Race in the summer of 2008. (http://daveandtomarebcbuddies.blogspot.com/) Since that race, Dave and I returned to our day jobs and spent the rest of that summer reminiscing about the fun we had riding and racing for a week in British Columbia. At some point during the year, Dave stumbled across a website that caused both of us pause. Here was a website for another mountain bike stage race that promised to be every bit as challenging as BCBR. The race was called the Breck Epic and it involved riding and racing to and from the little Colorado mountain town of Breckenridge. (www.breckepic.com) The daily mileage of the race was not much (40miles or so) compared to most stage races. However, the setting is what makes the Breck Epic so daunting. You see, Breckenridge (the town) sits at 9,600 feet. The trails only go up from there. Immediately both of us wrote the race off as "impossible" for two low landers from Seattle. However, Dave kept a link of the race website on his desktop and inquisitively spent the summer of 2009 watching the 2009 Breck Epic unfold, followed the results and further resolved (and reaffirmed) that people from sea level could never complete such an "epic" event. When the cold and wet winter of 2009/2010 set it, our sights again looked forward to the summer when the trails would dry and the riding would be spectacular. The prospect of giving the Breck Epic a go came up again during one of our long soggy winter rides. It certainly couldn't hurt to give the race director a call and see if anyone else from sea level had attempted (or even completed) the race. Speaking with Mike McCormick was a riot and he did an incredible job of selling us on what we knew we already wanted to buy. And so, as it happened, we gave him our race deposit on a dreary February day. Team Old Man and the T was born.