Hundo Fundo? A
Crisis of Confidence and Mountain Bikes.
So it began with a “suggestion” by my wife…”Hey…you should
do this race.” Admittedly, I wasn’t in
the mindset for racing anything this year, but the fact that it was at what is
arguably my favorite trail system (Buffalo Creek in Bailey, CO), and only 40
minutes from our new condo swayed the deal considerably. When the email showed up saying that
registration was opening…I just went ahead and signed my name on the line. That was back in March, the race date was
June 19th…I figured I’d have plenty of time to attempt to whip
myself into some semblance of fitness in the interim. As with other races I’ve done in locales
different from my flat-ass Midwestern home, training for a race at altitude
with a lot of elevation change proved to be difficult…and for some reason, my
motivation just wasn’t there like it was prior to big stage races like Breck
Epic. As I toed the line on that
Saturday morning, all I was thinking was…”OK…the longest ride I’ve done this
year has been 40-some miles and about 4 hours.
This is almost 65 miles and 7600 feet of climbing. That math does not work.” Confidence levels were extremely low with
regard to finishing potential.
FORTUNATELY…I had an ace in the hole. Our new friends Tom and Ginger from Evergreen
had introduced me to their friend Scott and his wife Christine at packet pickup
the previous Sunday. The other three
were doing the Hundito 50k race, but Scott was doing the big one, and he was
basically just looking to have a nice, fun ride and make it to the finish…kinda
like me. Being a CO resident and avid
rider, Scott was and is a WAY more fit person than me, and I was reticent to
accept his offer to ride together for fear of slowing him down and harshing his
overall Hundo experience. He laughed off
my concerns, and said “WE are doing this…and it will be great.” OK.
Confidence levels slightly improved.
After a week of extremely hot temperatures (Michelle and I
rode at Buffalo Creek the prior Tuesday in 100 degrees), it was refreshing to
be standing at the start line with temps in the upper 50s, going to up to a
high of 78…basically perfect weather for a ride…a really long ride. Scott was all smiles, I was all nerves, and I
was pretty concerned about the opening couple miles, which were on two-track,
road, and some fire road. This kind of
riding always gets in my head, as the exhilaration of a speeding downhill is so
rapidly and painfully replaced by a slow grind in your lowest gear…with the top
clearly in sight at all times. I had to
deal with about 9 miles of this, and was completely unsure of how to pace
myself and make sure to ride within my abilities to make up the entire
distance. Confidence…wavering at best.
At the crack of the gun, we started rolling. There was to be a two mile neutral rollout,
which I have experienced with mixed results in other events. At times, “neutral” means everyone is
chatting and slow rolling…and at other times…it has meant head on the bars, ass
on the rivet charging just to stay with the group. Unfortunately for me and my wavering
confidence, this one was the latter. It
was a dusty two track, and Scott disappeared quickly into the cloud. I followed him past a couple riders, but
quickly decided this pace was NOT for me, and I just let him go. When we hit the first climb, I knew it would
be painful, but the added mental weight of how easily Scott rode away from me,
combined with watching helplessly (and breathlessly) as rider after rider
passed me by was not an easy thing to deal with. Legs and lungs were burning, and I seriously
considered just turning around and rolling back to the truck after about 3 or 4
miles. Clearly I was in over my
head. Confidence was at zero.
About 6 miles of misery in, at the top of a hill…stood
Scott. I was amazed, and more than a
little happy to see him, but again, I told him he needed to go on without me,
as I had SERIOUS doubts that I would be finishing all 64.8 miles. He laughed it off and said, “let’s go.” Another three miles of less-than-fun
trail…and we FINALLY hit some beautiful, wonderful SINGLETRACK. Buff Creek is classic cross country
riding. Roots, rocks, ups, downs, tight
turns, awesome berms, drops…it really has everything I love about mountain
biking. I perked up as soon as we hit
it, and flew through the first couple miles, picking off riders that weren’t as
adept at handling offroad terrain. Scott
was right behind me cheering me on and having fun…and my confidence level edged
ever-so-slightly upwards. THIS…was what
I signed up for.
We rolled through the first aid station without stopping, I
had plenty of water and had just started feeling good, Scott was same. The Baldy climb was just over 1000 feet…Scott
said “This one will take about 20 minutes or so.” I’m thinking…the LONGEST sustained climb on
my “home” trail is MAYBE 2 minutes, lol.
But climb we did, and rolling over the top was another confidence
booster, followed by an aid station where I took a couple handfuls of peanut
MnMs and ½ of a banana, plus pocketed a gel for later…then onward we
rolled. I was actually ALMOST enjoying
myself at this point, but knew I still had a LONG way to go, so my confidence
still was not there when it came to finishing.
Onward we rolled.
Aid 3 was at the bottom of a super-fun downhill, and while
grabbing some more fuel, we were told that the next aid station was a mere 5
miles away. The only issue was…it was 5
miles…UP. The Nice Kitty trail was
decidedly NOT nice…especially on the steep ramps on the lower part. Again, we were fortunate with the weather,
because the lack of shade towards the top would have been brain-frying. I found my climbing legs on this one, and was
using a bigger gear per my singlespeed roots…I was feeling pretty good at the
top when we hit the aid station, which we rolled through pretty quickly. Only, it WAS NOT THE TOP. I knew this from looking at the course
profile…starting at the bottom of Nice Kitty, it was basically a 12 mile
constant incline, and the Colorado Trail followed by Little Scraggy was a
recipe for disaster for me. Any
positivity I had experienced at the last aid was dumped in the dirt about ½ way
up Little Scraggy…confidence evaporated…and, finally, after about 40 miles…I
had to stop. Scott still stayed with me
despite me pleading for him to just take off. I told him I really didn’t think there was a
chance for me to finish at this point.
In spite of my dire condition, I knew that I had to keep going…no
Medivac helicopter was going to pick me up and whisk me away to someplace with
rum. I got back on the bike, and topped
out Little Scraggy at about 8500 feet and mile 42…and my confidence was all but
gone. Energy level was severely
compromised, the needle was bouncing off “E.”
Still, there was over 20 miles to go…but it started with a DOWNHILL.
After 12 miles of climbing, we were treated to 8 MILES of
downhill. Talk about putting a smile on
the face and a cramp in the calves…again, the longest “sustained” downhill for
me locally is just about 1 minute, lol.
I struggled a bit when I washed out my front wheel on a turn and on my
recovery, something in my right shoulder popped and suddenly I couldn’t pull up
on the bars. It gradually felt better as
we descended, but for a couple miles, I was hurting. The Shinglemill trail finished off the
descent, and OMG it was impossible not to smile. We were flying, and actually really having
fun at that point. At the bottom, we
were greeted by some volunteers telling us the next aid station was only ½ mile
away…uphill. I knew that there couldn’t
be many miles left, so…amazingly…I started thinking there was the TINIEST
possibility I might pull this off. More
MnMs, more bananas, more water, more electrolytes…anything to fuel myself to
the finish.
Scott said…all we have to do is get up Baldy again (that
previous “20 minute climb”). Oh boy…only
now there were 53 miles on my legs…so 20 minutes was PROBABLY not gonna
happen. We started up a long fireroad
incline, then hit the singletrack and went UP.
Then, maybe 15 or so minutes in…disaster struck. Cramping in my right hamstring. It came on quickly, and I quickly shut down
so as not to pull a muscle. I had to
stop and walk to loosen things up. Scott
read the writing on the wall and left me to my misery, to his great
credit. The remainder of the climb
was…well…let’s just say I’d rather not talk about it. By the time we hit more fire road at the top
and climbed some more to the final aid station at Mile 60…I was STILL not
confident that I’d be able to finish.
This was certainly proving to be one of the tougher days I’ve had on a
bike.
I inquired at the aid station about the status of the
remaining course…with all hope in my voice…I said “It’s all downhill from here,
right? RIGHT?!?!?!!?” The course volunteer said…”I wish I could
tell you yes, but I can’t to that.” Sigh.
We ended how the race started…on a dirt road with screamingly fast
downhills and agonizingly slow and crampy uphills. Scott would ride ahead, and wait for me as I
struggled to maintain forward momentum, weaving crazily all over the road. At this point, finishing was inevitable, but
just how painful it would be was to be determined. I kept drinking and taking in electrolytes in
the hopes that my leg would not totally lock up…and luckily it did not. We took the final turn to the finish line,
Michelle and Christine and Ginger were waiting to cheer us in, and I happily
dismounted after 7 hours 22 minutes and 50 seconds of struggle and…fun? Yeah…I’m pretty sure I had fun. I’m still in disbelief that I managed to
finish, lol.
Post ride was wonderful, as we had free beers, free
burritos, and then a tailgate party with our new CO friends. Next year, I think I’ll skip the riding part
and go right to the party part.
So many thanks are owed to Tom and Ginger, Scott and
Christine, and my loving and supportive wife Michelle. Another stupid ride in the books…I SWEAR I’m
done doing this to myself! I’m retired!
Before the race, I told Scott “I usually finish right in the
mid-pack on these things.” Final
results: 92nd place out of 179 finishers. 7 hours 22 minutes 51 seconds.
