What a difference a year makes! Last year I showed up to the Laramie Enduro well trained, fit, and hungry for a win, this year I had nothing but 7 exhausting days of riding/training under my belt. When I woke up on Saturday morning I felt horrible. My body was still wrecked from the hut trip, I had no energy and I was sweating a cold sweat. I chalked it up to a poor night's sleep and got ready for the race.
At Happy Jack's Recreation Area (the race start) there was a chill in the air and everything was drenched from rain all night. I tried to warm up, but couldn't get my heart rate up. Since I was racing in the Pro / Open Class this year Jo and I were together at the start. As the pack rolled across the line I slowly accelerated to a full sprint to get close to the front for the first section of singletrack. This strategy worked well last year, but did nothing for me this year. I made it to the first 3rd of the pack, but after the 2 miles of singletrack I was done. I slowed down to recover. My teeth hurt and my lungs burned from going anaerobic, but my heart rate was still only 120. This was odd because my threshold is about 182, I should have at least been in the mid 170's. As I slowed down it fell to 90, a classic sign of fatigue.
With only 2 miles down all I could think about is how much pain I was in. My legs had nothing, my pulse wouldn't come up, and I couldn't shake the chill out of my bones. The next 68 miles would be 7 and half hours of suffering. All I wanted to do was quit, but I stubbornly slogged on. "I don't quite races" I kept telling myself, but I should have. The fire road sections were the worst. A light, but steady wind forced me into my granny gear and the masses rode by. On the singletrack every once in a while I could muster a short burst of energy to ride like I was racing, but it would never last long. The lowest point of the race was at the 4th aid station, mile 50. There was a soda-filled water bottle sitting in someone's private support cache. I was sure the caffeine would give me a lift, but I couldn't have it. Torture!
No Smiles this Year
The last 20 miles of the race are the hardest as the course is mostly singletrack. I was so happy to be on some trail and out of the wind that my misery faded slightly. The end was in sight! All I cared about was finishing, I had come too far to quit. At one point I rallied another racer to try to beat 7 hours, but I was deliriously reading my computer wrong. 7 hours had already come and gone. I limped in across the line at 7:31.
I knew immediately my body wasn't right, I was cold and faint. Things were starting to shut down. I lumbered up the hill, changed, and waited for Jo to finish. She rolled across the line shortly behind me and at first sight immediately took me to the paramedic trailer. They laid me down and took my pulse. The doc diagnosed me with severe exhaustion and forced me to stay laying down for about an hour. She was worried about swelling around my heart from something called pericarditis, but that was just a worry. After lots of electrolytes and a strong tongue lashing for not quitting she released me. My original plan was to head to the airport to catch a red eye flight to London, but I couldn't even drive, much less travel internationally.
I finished 38 out of 51 in the Pro / Open Class - Ouch! Alas, still waters have finally arrived (see previous post)...
At Happy Jack's Recreation Area (the race start) there was a chill in the air and everything was drenched from rain all night. I tried to warm up, but couldn't get my heart rate up. Since I was racing in the Pro / Open Class this year Jo and I were together at the start. As the pack rolled across the line I slowly accelerated to a full sprint to get close to the front for the first section of singletrack. This strategy worked well last year, but did nothing for me this year. I made it to the first 3rd of the pack, but after the 2 miles of singletrack I was done. I slowed down to recover. My teeth hurt and my lungs burned from going anaerobic, but my heart rate was still only 120. This was odd because my threshold is about 182, I should have at least been in the mid 170's. As I slowed down it fell to 90, a classic sign of fatigue.
With only 2 miles down all I could think about is how much pain I was in. My legs had nothing, my pulse wouldn't come up, and I couldn't shake the chill out of my bones. The next 68 miles would be 7 and half hours of suffering. All I wanted to do was quit, but I stubbornly slogged on. "I don't quite races" I kept telling myself, but I should have. The fire road sections were the worst. A light, but steady wind forced me into my granny gear and the masses rode by. On the singletrack every once in a while I could muster a short burst of energy to ride like I was racing, but it would never last long. The lowest point of the race was at the 4th aid station, mile 50. There was a soda-filled water bottle sitting in someone's private support cache. I was sure the caffeine would give me a lift, but I couldn't have it. Torture!
No Smiles this Year
The last 20 miles of the race are the hardest as the course is mostly singletrack. I was so happy to be on some trail and out of the wind that my misery faded slightly. The end was in sight! All I cared about was finishing, I had come too far to quit. At one point I rallied another racer to try to beat 7 hours, but I was deliriously reading my computer wrong. 7 hours had already come and gone. I limped in across the line at 7:31.
I knew immediately my body wasn't right, I was cold and faint. Things were starting to shut down. I lumbered up the hill, changed, and waited for Jo to finish. She rolled across the line shortly behind me and at first sight immediately took me to the paramedic trailer. They laid me down and took my pulse. The doc diagnosed me with severe exhaustion and forced me to stay laying down for about an hour. She was worried about swelling around my heart from something called pericarditis, but that was just a worry. After lots of electrolytes and a strong tongue lashing for not quitting she released me. My original plan was to head to the airport to catch a red eye flight to London, but I couldn't even drive, much less travel internationally.
I finished 38 out of 51 in the Pro / Open Class - Ouch! Alas, still waters have finally arrived (see previous post)...
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