the race that wasn't

Iron Horse: last year, this was a race that really freaked me out big. But I did it - and it really taught me a lot. It taught me that I can do anything if I really want it. It taught me that even the scariest things are not so scary if I'm prepared. It taught me that I can climb.

There's two ways to do Iron Horse: as a race, or as a citizen's tour. This year I signed up too late for the Citizen's tour. I was not happy about this - I like the tour. I like taking my time. I wanted to build on last year's ride, leave earlier than before, and get there earlier - but make the cutoff with more cushion. This is the first year that the race has filled as early as it has. I know a number of people who got caught out and didn't sign up in time - highly unusual for this race, which never filled before last year.

I ended up signing up for the race - and not in my own age group (it's allowed, but weird). I was so eager to go back out that I didn't care - I really wanted to be there this year. I felt like this was a critical race to my cycling - a breakthrough workout in a gorgeous venue.

I really wanted my beloved to come and ride with me - but it wasn't meant to be. The race closed so fast I couldn't even sign him up in an age group he didn't belong in. He talked about coming along just to ride anyway - but articles appeared in the local paper that said that the officials were serious about pulling people off the course who were not registered. I knew three people who were registered for this race who weren't coming - illness, injury, whatever. We looked into buying their slots, and transferring registrations. The race director denied transfers, for whatever reason, and there was no waiting list.

No wait list, no transfers, no matter how cool the race was, it was not worth forgery or being pulled off for not registering. He decided against riding with me.

Worst of all, I found out during the last week that the racers don't get t-shirts. Don't get t-shirts? That's my whole motivation for the race right there! The race director says that because racers are competing for prizes, they don't get t-shirts -- only the tourists get t-shirts, and only if they finish. For someone like me, who has about this much of a chance for winning a prize (awards are up to 5 deep in a field of 50 per age group), taking the t-shirt away just seems cheap.

A word about my t-shirts...it's true that I have a closet shelf stuffed with heavy cotton race t-shirts. I mostly wear them to sleep in - it's the only time many of them ever get worn. Most race t-shirts are men's sizes, though I have a few that are special because they were women's specific shirts. Those are rare, they do get worn out of the house. I also have a few youth large size t-shirts, from races which had kid events (Run for the Zoo, Bay to Breakers, etc), and lot of tech tees- which get worn for training.

There are a few of my t-shirts, however, that are special to me because they were earned. I didn't just pay an entry fee for these, I had to actually finish the race to get them. Because they were earned, they don't get worn very often, unless I'm suffering some sort of crisis of confidence and need to cloak myself in my accomplishments before a hard race. My two La Luz t-shirts, my Iron Horse t-shirt, and my Buffalo Springs finisher shirts are some of my most sacred race t-shirts.

Some people say it's just a t-shirt, but to me, some of those t-shirts were hard-earned. Too bad they never see the light of day.

Early in the week I started to hear the weather report for Iron Horse weekend, and it wasn't good. Winter storms were expected to hit the start and end of the race, snow, rain, and high winds were predicted. Even in town, the normal hot pre-summer weather was replaced with a couple of days of freezing winds, hail and snow. It's May. WTF!!!

I got warnings to pack everything, be prepared for any conditions on the ride. So I did - I dragged out all my winter gear, my tights, my winter coat, my booties, extra gloves, everything. We headed north on Friday in freezing cold conditions, not knowing how it would pan out. As we drove north, I thought about my peeling skin on my sunburned arms, and how odd it was to be heading to Ice Station Zebra having cooked myself the weekend before.

I talked to my spouse on the way up. Did it matter if I got to race? Ultimately, no - I said on the way up that I was looking forward to a vacation without training some day. We were still planning the Narrow Gauge run on Sunday, and running in any conditions is always fun. There are plenty of other things to do in Durango, bike race or no bike race. Plus, you just can't predict spring weather in the mountains. It could be absolutely beautiful or it could be a blizzard on the day, with no warning at all.

Even so, I was nervous. I visualized last year's race as calmly as I could, but knew I wouldn't feel how serious it was until I was actually out there. I knew I was better trained than last year, but I knew it would still hurt, and I'd have to work hard to make the cutoff. I was ready.

Saturday morning I woke up at 6 and looked outside - it was still raining from the night before. I turned on the radio and lay back down in bed, thinking this didn't look good. My heart rate was creeping up, just thinking about having to get up and get ready to go out in that. Just after 6 am, the official announcement came that the race was cancelled.

Well, I guess that's that. I turned off the radio and went back to sleep. I didn't sleep well.

Cancelled. First time in 37 years that it didn't start. Four to five inches of snow at Purgatory (about halfway); two feet of snow in Silverton (the end), not to mention the wet and cold conditions. Later I heard the roads were unfeasibly slushy all the way up. I heard that some cyclists, ready to go when they heard it was cancelled, headed out anyway - only to turn back less than 10 miles in due to horrible conditions. I heard that cars were sliding in snow all around Durango. The race director reported to the newspaper that it was a very easy call to make - I absolutely don't question that.

Sometime around 8 we all got up and had a very lazy breakfast. We followed it up with a cold walk in town.

It's a stretch to imagine what it's like to be in a town that's full of peaking, frustrated cyclists. There were many who were dressed and ready, who made the best of the situation - they were buzzing around town, picking up miles on lowland country roads. It was wet and cold - there was no way I'd bother getting out for that. Irene never left the car.

We followed up our lazy breakfast and chilly walk with a trip to the community center pool - also full of frustrated cyclists and their children. I had toyed with doing a big swim in the lap pool instead of a big ride, but in the end I ditched that idea too and just played with the kiddos, sat on my butt in the pool, and tried to stay warm.

We went out to eat a big dinner, and walked around town some more just enjoying a lazy day. We went to bed really early, and woke up early Sunday to run the Narrow Gauge race.

Since I hadn't done the big bike ride on Saturday, I transferred my 5K race registration to the 10 mile race - no questions asked. Sunday's weather was completely opposite of Saturday - warm, sunny, no wind, totally dry. I bought myself a new Saucony running skirt (my favourite yet), and wore sleeves - which I later took off. 15 minutes into our run we ran along side the Durango Silverton Narrow Gauge Train as it left town, and life was good.

I pulled a pretty good time (for me) for the race, came in at 1:41 50-something, paced by a friend. That's almost better my half marathon pace, and this course is at altitude and had serious terrain -- even though my IT band started giving me trouble at about mile 6. This is just further proof, in my mind, that this article is mostly true: when I'm not doing so much I can actually get faster at one thing!

I'm still conflicted about Iron Horse.

Does not riding my bike all weekend make me a wussy? Maybe, maybe not. I don't like to ride alone, and I really came for a race. I could have ridden on Sunday, but I don't know what it was like at the top or in Silverton. It would have been an unsupported adventure on a windy road with traffic and no shoulder -- not fun.

I had so many signs pointing to an iffy experience - restrictive race director, signing up in a wrong age group, and no t-shirt. That's a lot of signs setting up for a not great race. Why was I so willing to overlook it all? Because I like pain? No - because I love a challenge. I trained hard for that race - I worked my butt off. It's a real bummer to train for months for a race and have it be cancelled due to circumstances beyond anyone' control.

Not unsurprising, there were no refunds or rollovers for entrys to this year's race. It's pure bad luck that this year's race had a freak winter storm that completely grounded the event. They brought the t-shirts back from Silverton and gave them to tourists who were signed up. To me, this was a bit annoying -- those t-shirts are supposed to be earned! Plus, not only was I not getting a t-shirt, but I wouldn't even have a chance to "compete for prizes". Though I asked nicely for one of my own, they reserved them for tourists only. Even the people who weren't planning to come this year will be getting their t-shirt by mail.

Well, f*ckit. I bought myself an Iron Horse jersey instead. At least that will get worn outside the house.