DAMn Checkpoint 1 and Beyond
After all the excitement of riding out into the night, it boiled down to me and Wade riding together, watching one last group of tail lights get farther away from us. We stuck together, discussed pace, stopped occasionally to check the route and eat. Wade wasn’t feeling great when we pulled in to the first checkpoint. I was, so we agreed to separate.
Predawn checkpoint run by Banjo Brothers around 4:30am, blurted my number and got next set of cue sheets.
The beauty and excitement of racing into the night in a large group coalesced into reality. I was a little too cold. Ellie & Cedar—my support team—had everything laid out for me. I knew we’d all be sleep-deprived so I had a checklist for each checkpoint to reduce decision making to a minimum. I put on a wool jersey, refilled my water & food, dumped a handful of wrappers off, ate a PB & J, chips and a pickle and was on my way.
The early morning temperature was somewhere in the low 50s. I set out on what was probably one of the most scenic parts of the course. The sky in front me started to open up. Eventually off to my right I could see fog below as I rode along a ridge above the Minnesota River.
It was really stunning to watch the landscape reveal itself as the sun rose. I felt good, awake and alive. I’d ridden the first stage a little too fast. Now it was time to settle back into the plan.
Shed the wool jersey and cap. Here I made a bad combination of choices: I took a salt tablet and left my Camelbak behind. I should have only done one of those things. The salt tablet made me thirsty so I went through my water faster. I ran out of water about 20 miles before the next checkpoint. Another bad choice: I skipped a convenience store in Henderson, MN where I could have refilled water. I had to stop in Veseli, MN and get off my bike. I was about 5 miles away from the next checkpoint, but feeling weak and shaky. I sat down by the side of the road, exhausted and thirsty. I knew I just needed food and water, but I wasn’t thinking clearly. I got back on the bike without eating anything and suffered through another 5 miles. I was about a 1/4 mile from the third checkpoint, but I had to sit down again right here:
I was on the corner on 60th St just before the left turn on to Elmore ave. That little dog leg at the top is the checkpoint. I just couldn’t go any further. I finally decided water or no water, I needed food. I ate a waffle and an energy gel. I felt better within minutes and made it into the checkpoint where there was cold press coffee and chicken wings waiting.
Chicken wings and cold press were not part of my race plan. Even now this sounds like a terrible idea. Ellie’s instincts were spot on with this. It was exactly what I needed. Salt, fat, protein and caffeine. Within 15 minutes I was ready to go back out on the course.
At this point I knew I could finish. I was hours ahead of the cut-off time. Even if I had to grind out the last part at a sub 10mph pace, I could still do it. Discomfort had given way to numbness. I had no feeling in most of the parts there were hurting before. I embraced that and kept going.
I was good on the flats and descents, but I didn’t have a lot left in the legs for climbing. Which is unfortunate because the last leg was characterized by rollers. Here’s the elevation for the latter part of the last leg:
Net downhill? Maybe, but a lot of climbing to get there. A lot of riders passed me on these hills. I didn’t mind. There was plenty of daylight. I wasn’t fast, but I wasn’t suffering either. I was just doing my thing. Which is my favorite way to race.
By the time I got to the bottom of the last Minimum Maintenance Road, I was hallucinating. I kept thinking I saw deer or eagles out of the corner of my eye. There were none. I’d been up for around 30 hours, over 18 of those racing. My mind was playing tricks on me.
I missed a turn in Red Wing, got back on course and took a breath while going over the bridge into Wisconsin. “Well, I did it,” I said out loud.