Like Hell On Lightning

Its weird how your brain works in the wee early hours of the morning while you're still in bed trying to get the motivation to get up. 5:00am. Time to get up. After a small wresting match with the down comforter (which never felt so comforting), I coaxed myself out from under its loving grasp. As soon as my feet hit the floor the adrenaline hit. Race day! And not just any race day, IMCCC Championships (Inter-Mountain Collegiate Cycling Conference).
The IMCCC Championship is a 3 stage race over 2 days. Criterium on Friday followed by a TTT (Team Time Trial) and Road Race on Saturday.
As I ran out the door I crammed a PB n' J down my throat. Hardly appetizing this early in the morn, but I had to get something in my system. That sandwich never really settled well.
Arriving at the start/finish line, it was like an ant hill. A whole mess of teams scrambling to get everything ready to go for the TTT. Luckily we had Joe (a team member who opted out of racing to be the race EMT, thus allowing everyone to race. A gentleman and a scholar- thanks). All we had to do was worry about our warm-up, Joe took care of the rest. 
Since this post will be mainly about the TTT, allow me to explain the basics of our little race. A TTT is a sprint race over a relatively short distance, in our case a 14 mile course (7 out and 7 back). We had 4 man teams, but the time stopped when the back wheel of the third man came across the finish. The forth mans purpose (me) was to "burn out" with about 2 miles left, sling-shoting the remaining three ahead with maximum speed, like hell on lightning.
The four of us rolled up to the start line. The feeling right before a race is indescribable. I tried just to focus on my breathing while a million thoughts rushed through my head head. Joe stood next to us giving some last minute coaching, reminding us all of our duties at each mile marker. "Go hard, don't look back and give 'em hell!" Seems simple enough. 
"Riders, 10 seconds", the official announced. Where a racers mind goes in those never ending seconds is beyond me, but I was there. There was complete silence as I starred at the open road ahead of us. It was about to be the longest 14 miles of my life. "5... 4... 3... 2... 1... GO!" The cheers of the crowds rushed back into my head. And so it began.
The cheers quickly faded as we made our way out of the park and onto the country roads. Nothing but the sound of wind rushing by us as we averaged almost 30mph. I still felt good at mile 7, the turn around point. "Don't fall over", was the advice shouted as we entered the hair pin turn to start back for the finish line. This was our only opportunity to get a look at the position of our competition. Teams whizzed by us. We gave shout outs to the other two UVU teams as we passed ways.
Then came my burn out point. 3 miles left, time to bring it home. I got to the front, put my head down, tucked my arms in and pushed myself as hard as I could go. I pedaled until it felt like my veins pumped battery acid and my heart was going to explode out of my chest... then I pedaled some more. Then came the black-out point, when after a scream of pain, I knew I was done. I dropped of the group as they sprinted the last 2 miles to the finish.
The sound of cheers came back as I coasted through the finish. Incoherent to most of the congratulatory words, I rolled over to the team and joined them in attempts to stand on shaking legs. Some were dry heaving. For the most part everyone was smiling, because we knew how fast we had just rode.
As the other teams sprinted to the finish, the results rolled in. We had taken 1st place in our category. Gold medal. Somehow, that made all the pain worth it.
Later that day we raced in a road race, where UVU had someone in the top 3 finishers of every category.

Early morning preparations

Luke, Matt, Danny and myself on the start line, waiting for the countdown while Joe gives some last words of advice

High fives for the other UVU Team as they dry-heave after finishing

3 of the 4 TTT Gold medalists (USU grabbed second)

Preparing for the afternoon road race

Waiting for our turn to start

Listening as the race official talks about something

And we're off 

The first of two 25 mile laps around West Mountain

Me and a converted UVU fan from Weber State

Part of the group after an amazing race weekend

Signing My Life Away

Its that time of year when all the big races in the fall open up for registration. Why they make you sign up months in advance is beyond me. Probably so you'll have anxiety attacks about it all summer, which combined with nervous training can result in some great conditioning- or an emotional break down the week before "D-Day". So, yesterday I signed up for the brutal race that caps off my cycling season, the LOTOJA.

LOTOJA- short for LOgan TO JAckson, is a USA Cycling sanctioned road cycling race held annually in September. The race is the longest single-day road cycling race in North America, if not the world. It is also the longest one-day race sanctioned by USA Cycling or the United States Cycling Federation.
Total distance: 206 miles (or 332 km)
Total elevation gain: nearly 10,000 ft (3,000 m)
*Courtesy of wikipedia- I was way too lazy to write up all the stats on my own.
It's the most physically draining and most mentally challenging thing I have ever done. Some of my most intense moments of pain are from this race. Each year I have vowed never to EVER race it again... but look who just keeps crawling back for more... Yeah, stupid.


1st year (2007)- I didn't even own a bike at the time I had signed up for the race. Two friends of mine had convinced me that my quest for manhood would somehow be thwarted if I omitted myself from racing (which didn't make sense, but I totally fell for it). I trained with the two of them, both seasoned cyclists, for the whole summer. The longest I had ever ridden was 98 miles... once... and it almost killed me. But somehow I found myself at 6:30am standing under the Red Bull starting line arch with a crafted piece of metal between my legs about to ride 206 miles... Yeah, stupid.

Descent from Strawberry Pass (first climb)

After crossing the finish line I collapsed and sat right here for 20 minutes

Finally able to stand for a picture. 

Soon after I single handedly ate an entire large pepperoni pizza and 2 liters of root-beer, then passed out in the back seat of my own truck. It took a few days to fully recover. 

2nd year (2008)- My original crew had diminished, but I had two more friends to race with, both of which were first timers. I quickly went from the greenie to the veteran. The race was considerably easier for me this time around (not easy, but easier). It probably had something to do with the year of training now under my belt. I hung back for the first half of the race to ride with the "grandfather" of our cycling group (gotta respect the elders, right?) He must of had some stroke of sanity cause he decided after already finishing LOTOJA 5 times, he had nothing more to prove to himself and dropped out. Couldn't afford anymore gray hairs I suppose. This left me all by my lonesome. I asked the girlfriends (now wives) of my fellow riders how far ahead they were. "15 maybe 20 minutes..." 

I pumped my legs as fast as I could, determined to catch them. About 30 miles down the road I had caught up, only to get a flat tire. This put me back about 7 minutes, but I managed to catch them again with about 45 miles remaining. I was able to cross the finish line with my best friend, a moment to remember. 

Lesson learned: get a girl to watch you race the LOTOJA and you'll have a wife 6 months later.

Jayson and I somewhere in the first 30 miles 

Daniel, me and the "grandfather" Dave at the finish line

3rd year (2009)- This one's the heart breaker. In July 2009, while on a training ride on the the Alpine Loop in Utah I almost died (whether or not thats true is debatable, but it was one of my many near death experiences. The short version- on our descent down the east side, at about 40 mph, I went head to head with a car, then a tree, then the asphalt. The result was a broken hand, separated shoulder, bruised ribs and stitches on my hip and knee. After a trip to the hospital (I have now been a patient in all the Utah Valley hospitals) I was told not to do anything active for 4 months. That wasn't exactly on my agenda. So, with a still very separated shoulder and sore hand, I decided to puff up my chest, be a man and race LOTOJA... Yeah, stupid.

Preston taping my shoulder for the race

Mounting up at the starting line

And we're off

Unfortunately, the all the pain killers I took didn't last long enough. My pride and desire to be a man were overtaken by horribly agonizing pain. Not being able to hold the handlebars with my left hand made me a danger to other racers, and after 80 miles, I was disqualified. 

4th year (2010)- Coming back with a vengeance- like Bruce Willis in the Die Hard Trilogy, and nothing is going to stop me... unless its a car, or a tree... then I'll probably tap out.

Rekindling An Old Flame

Before I begin this particular documentary, I would like to get one thing straight- I LOVE WINTER! It’s a splendiferous time of year that brings with it so many unique opportunities, which include, but are not by any means limited to:

Snowboarding 

Skiing 

Snowmobiling 

Sledding

Slick Roads (fun to drive one) 

Sipping hot apple cider (affectionately known as “Christmas in a Cup”) 

Sitting by the fire

Snuggling next to mentioned fire

Sleeping in

Snow Bunnies (the girlies just look so GOOD all bundled up!)

*Beginning all activities with the letter us was not intentional, but it worked out quite nicely, wouldn’t you say?

With that minuscule disclaimer as a prelude to this post, I feel we can commence this weeks 2KX Documentary. 

This past weekend an old flame was rekindled with a long lost love of mine… My bike! Unfortunately, she has yet to be named. Because of our past relationship, I have had troubles being satisfied with any one name. Depending on the day, beautiful and exotic names might come to mind, and other days might have four letter words at the tip of my tongue. So, in order to suppress these vibrant words of frustration, I just call it, “GIANT”.

Back to the story… The UVU Cycling Team took advantage of MLK weekend and migrated south to warmer climates more suitable for outdoor activity carried out in spandex. We couldn’t have asked for better weather (in January) from our host city, St. George, UT. 

Ride #1: A nice warm up lap from Hurricane, to Laverkin, to Toquerville, to Leeds, to Anderson Junction, around Quail Lake and back again (I really have no idea where these places are, I just remember glancing up and seeing those names).

Total Miles: 40-ish

Waiting for triple bypass surgery to be performed on a bike tube.

It was unsuccessful. We lost the tube- R.I.P.

On the road again. My mouth is open in attempts to catch some tasty flying insects for some mid-ride nutrition.

Me, talking to a man about a horse. It was a rather long conversation.... What?

The group at Quail Lake.

Ride #2 (Saturday): Night ride to a nearby bike shop. I was the only voice of reason in the bunch, saying it was going to get dark, and cold, and miserable, and we were all going to regret our decisions… We all went anyways. Oh, and guess what? I was right! Turns out that in January, when the sun goes down, temperature drops like 20 degrees or so. Who could have known that though, right?...

Total Miles: 20-ish

Starting to suffer the consequences of our poor choices.

Ride #3 (Sunday): The longest ride of the trip. We started in Coral Canyon and took a huge loop up Snow Canyon, down “the wall”, out around through Gunlock… (and that’s about where I lost tract of where the heck we were).

Total Miles: 70-ish

Cyclists do all they can for that extra "power" on the bike- Even if it means getting glittery, sparkly, girl tattoos at Walmart and applying them just before the ride... They worked.
                  

Not quite sure what Matt is looking for back there... But Mason's happy to be here!

Oh, hey coach!

Special thanks to the support car crew

Blown out tire. Sounded like a shotgun went off right behind me!

Hey Joe, go ahead and give us a summary of the ride in one hand motion.

The remaining Sunday hours were carried out predominantly on a bed/couch/floor and involved hot tub relaxation, turkey dinner feasts, and LOTS of Tiger Balm*.

*Don't rub your eyes after application. It burns like the fires of a thousand suns!