on getting passed. a lot.

This is a long post. You'd better go to the bathroom first...

When I think about it, the Iron Horse Bicycle Classic has been working on my psyche since I was quite young. See, I used to live in the area. I skied every weekend. All the time. Some people were mall rats, I was a ski rat. Back in the day, they told me that sometimes people actually ride their bicycles on the road from the town (Durango) to the Ski area (Purgatory) and beyond. I knew this road to be a steep drive. And they told me the road past the ski area to Silverton was even hairier (I was not as intimate with this part of the road - it is past the ski area, and therefore outside my realm of caring).

I was young, but I was old enough to know that those people were crazy. Certifiable.

Nonetheless, when I started to hear that people I trained with had done it, I started to think that it was possible to do it myself. Never mind that one of those people had told me it was the hardest thing she had ever done.

So I signed up. On the advice of my coach, I decided this would be useful training for Buffalo Springs - a 70.3 that has some notoriously nasty hills. Plus I love Durango. Plus I love that road. Plus, well, I like challenges.

On our way up to Durango just as we passed Dzilth-na-o-dith-hle, I could see the San Juans far away. I know those mountains well. My beloved turns to me and says, "wow - look at Ice Station Zebra up there!" Thanks honey, I wasn't nervous enough without thinking about the possibility of snow.

This year was different from previous years of Iron Horse Bicycle Classics, as they introduced a cutoff time. The cutoff would occur at the highest part of the passes - if you didn't make it to the top of Coal Bank Pass by 12:30, they would ask you to get on a bus and take you down. No t-shirt. No glory. The race groups had to leave at 8:15, since their goal was to "beat the train" (the Durango/Silverton Narrow Gauge) to Silverton. Tourists (like me) could leave any time.

The train takes something like 3hrs 45 minutes, the fastest racers do this in just over 2 hours.

Meanwhile, back in the land of real people...

I had initially planned to leave super early in order to beat the cutoff. Never mind the train, my only goal for the day was to make it to Silverton and get a t-shirt. I wanted to leave at 7, but was talked out of it by a fellow Outlaw who shall remain nameless (but all Outlaws know of whom I speak).

Fellow Outlaw said, "no, you are estrong. You have estrong legs, we no need to leave until 7 turdy."

I had universally heard that the weather was the most unpredictable part of this adventure. Sure it's gorgeous in town, but who knows what you'll get at 10,600 ft. I packed everything. I wore shorts and knee warmers, a long sleeve top, a short sleeve jersey, arm warmers, neck gaiter, head cover, long finger gloves. I brought leg warmers, wind breaker, short finger gloves, extra arm warmers, LOTS of food, perpetuem, clif blocks, gu, cytomax, etc. I was like a rolling version of my LBS.

I took Irene. I haven't built the race wheels for her yet, so I had to take the Mavics. Sigh. Poor Irene was like a pack horse, with me, bottles, bento box and gear.

So I met this fellow Outlaw (who graciously agreed to ride with me) and we left at oh, about 7:45. Hey - when you're estrong, you no need to worry about time!

We started off in the valley at a pretty gentle pace, and soon the race groups started passing us. Huge pelotons of brightly colored bikers on gorgeous bikes. My Outlaw companion said, "let's jump on their wheel!" and I said, uh, no. Not really up to it. I'm soooo saving myself for later. I knew the road, I knew the numbers. I knew what was coming - in about 30 miles.

And I did. I paced myself. Instead I took a ride off a guy in a polka dot jersey. I offered to trade pulls with him (when I acknowledged that I was stealing his draft), and he followed me for awhile.

We rode through the valley, past the railroad tracks, and onto the first hill. What a gorgeous day. Cold but sunny.

The first hill was not insignificant, but not too awful. It's funny how someone can race off in front of you and then BOOM they hit the hill and it just flattens their pace. You think you can catch up to them, but there they are - squeaking past you, out of sight. I lost my polka dot jersey guy. Oh well.

My hip started a twinge at about mile 10, and they offered Advil at the very first aid station (and no more later on). It was like the angels knew what I needed.

We kept climbing, and the butterflies in my stomach settled. Irene had started shifting gears for no obvious reason, and this made me nervous. Once I realized that she didn't do this in the smallest and biggest chain rings, I realized I'd be OK.

We kept climbing. Did you know the whole route was up hill mostly? This climbing thing went on for awhile. I mostly sat back in a moderate gear and ground it out. Mostly. And people passed me. Mostly. A few thousand other race riders passed me, and I watched them go.

My Outlaw companion had left me awhile ago, and agreed to wait for me at the aid stations. I met him at the first one, downed some gel and, some bananas, and tried to quell the butterflies some more. I knew there was more to come, and this had already been kinda tough. My polka dot jersey guy was also there. He tightened the shifter cable, which was apparently all Irene needed. No more misbehaviour!

The next 10 were uh, more climbing and some plateau to the ski area. This was a pretty fast 10 miles relatively speaking. I got passed some more. I was saving myself. Pacing myself, you see. Lots of people said, "pretty bike!" as they passed. Thanks, I made it myself!

Did I mention it was a beautiful day? Oh wow was it ever! It was exactly the day I wanted. Sunny and beautiful. I was overdressed. Clouds of hummingbirds were everywhere. They close the entire road for the tour and race, and it is such a gift to have the San Juans all to yourself (and 2499 of your closest friends) and your bicycle(s).

At the ski area, I hooked up with my Outlaw friend, and Polka Dot Jersey guy - again. Ate more, rested my back, hung out, and then we left. The next 8 miles would be hellish, I knew this and I was nervous. I was guessing it would take about an hour, my Outlaw friend said it would take us maybe 45 minutes. I think it took him about 45 minutes, but it took me about an hour to climb those lousy crappy horrid 6 uphill miles from Cascade to the top of Coal Bank Pass.

6 miles to get acquainted with my lowest gear ever. 6 miles to get comfortable with a low rate of speed, and then be shocked to find that yes, I can go even slower. 6 miles of trying not to look at the bike computer too often, asking myself "how long?" My strategy at this point was to feed myself a sport bean for every mile. And talk myself out of feeling the searing pain in my right hip. And the stiffness in my back. And talk myself out of stopping - oh yes, I can keep going. Yes, that speedo can go even lower. I just have to find a comfy gear and keep grinding.

Trust me when I say there is no comfortable way to climb 1800 ft in 6 miles - I tried, but I could not find one. I think I bottomed out at 4 to 4.5 mph (Garmin says 5, thanks Garmin). Yes, you could walk that pace and probably get there faster. Every time I tried to stand and climb, I would go anaerobic, and I knew it was unsustainable. So I would sit back down. I would stand and climb occasionally just for a CHANGE IN POSITION, but it was temporary.

I passed a few people, but still I was mostly getting passed. I passed polkadot jersey guy early on, but didn't gain a lot of speed.

Near the top someone pointed out that even if we walked the rest of the way (2 more mile left) we had an hour left and would still make the cutoff. Whew!

Finally we got to the very busy aid station at the top of Coal Bank Pass - at some ridiculous altitude. The cramps in my side were letting me know that I was deficient in something, and had better get it sorted out fast. I begged some Succeed tablets off someone - which totally saved me!

I ate more. I stretched. A lot. Man, that was a tough climb and my back hurt! And we headed back downhill for the next pass.

It was during that descent that I found out why I had packed all that gear (that I had not needed yet). Holy crap - the temperature dropped about 20 degrees going down the back of Coal Bank!

On we went up Molas pass - where I passed Polka Dot Jersey guy again. I watched some young things pass me with polka dot socks, and said to the guy next to me, "I need to get me some of those socks!" and he said, "yeah, but you gotta earn them, know what I mean?"

I did.

I watched a lady decide to stop and simply fall over. She'd forgotten to clip out. I nearly did it myself - I was in the saddle for so long I forgot that I had to clip out to stop.

Molas wasn't as bad, and it was only 4 miles. It was pretty grindy near the top, but I knew after Coal Bank I would be able to get through this thing.

At the top of Molas pass I stopped for a costume change. The aid station there said, "you have 7 or 8 minutes, and then you have to stay here." 7 or 8 minutes? I thought I was comfortably within the cutoff range, but I was seriously close to not making it to my t-shirt! I scrambled to put on everything that I brought along on, and headed downhill.

Yeah, after all that climbing it's a real screaming descent down into Silverton - a town that's very sparing with the guardrails, I might add. I totally rode the brakes as people screamed past me at Mach 2. At this point, I was petrified of too much speed. Polka dot jersey guy caught me on the downhill and beat me into town.

I rolled into Silverton with legs of lead after 5 hrs 20 minutes in the saddle. Even with some pretty healthy rest stops, my butt still hurt.

On the plus side, my self control and the very low pace of training left me in good enough shape to run a 5K race the next day in the Narrow Gauge Motorless Transport 5K and 10 mile (beloved was running the 10mi, I thought why not?). No PR there, but not a bad time (26:18) for a 5K post Iron Horse at altitude. And I have good training in the bank for Show Low next weekend, and Buffalo Springs beyond that.

Additionally, it does not matter now what anybody throws at me on a bike, I know it will never be as hard as that.

On the negative side, it's not a time I'm particularly proud of. I held back a lot. I was OK with getting passed until about the 4 hour mark. When guys on the mountainbikes started passing me, I got frustrated. I saved myself a little too much, and I think next time I'd like to work harder, and really get it done. Now that I know the course personally, I know this is possible.

I did not earn polka dot socks on Saturday, but I did get a t-shirt. Next year I think I'll actually train for the thing.