November 28, 2006

Team R.A.C.E. at the Trans Rockies Challenge 2006

After four years of road racing, I decided 2006 was the year to return to my mountain biking roots by entering the Trans Rockies Challenge 7-day mountain bike stage race. But first I needed a partner; somebody who could put up with me for 7 days and nights and somebody who would be a compatible rider for up to 6 hours a day on the rocky trails and never-ending climbs.

Given that I had not mountain biked in 4 years on any trails except the annual Paris to Ancaster spring cyclo-cross race, I didn't know any hard core riders.

So, I turned to the internet's www.TransRockies.com "forum" to find myself a partner. Sure enough there were umpteen "stranded" riders who had signed up with team mates and had been abandoned by their partner "because life got in the way."

Well, if Trans Rockies is on your To Do list, getting to the start line fit and ready for 7 days of punishment is already an accomplishment.

My team mate turned out to be 40 year-old boy from Kansas now living in Portland, Oregon with his pro-racer mountain bike wife. Tim and Sue Butler had been team mates at the TR 2004 and said to each other then, “I love you honey, but never again.” So Tim chose me to be his “wife” for 7 days last August instead.

I met Tim for the first time ever, in a bar in Fernie B.C. – two days before the race. He had shaved his head for the epic week ahead. Sue, recognized me first from my website and introduced her husband. “Meet my meat head husband Tim,” she said. He was indeed, full of back slapping, enthusiasm and irreverence. I liked him – carefully. And Sue introduced her pint-sized partner Anna who was obviously rock solid muscle - definitely a petite mountain momma from the Northern California coastal mountains & not to be messed with. It was going to be an interesting week sharing an RV with this gang. They also brought their message therapist and Sue’s parents “to help out.” Well at least I could retreat to my tent alone to recover from the abuse the mountains and the clash of personalities in the RV would hurl at me.

Day 1 was 61 kms start to finish on August 6th. It was hot and sunny. Tim was determined to show off his climbing prowess on the trails and climbs immediately. We decided we should “get to the front” early and stay there. In the first hour the 550 racers kicked up a dust cloud on the logging roads that could be seen for miles. We were all “racing” to be the first teams to the 30 kms of single track that lay ahead called the “Root Trail.” My heart rate was at 90% for the first hour and I thought “this is insane, I will never keep this up!”

Finally on the Root Trail, we were forced to ease up the pace due to bottlenecks on the most technical sections, but the damage had already been done. We were dangerously low on ammunition in our veins.

After 3.5 hours on the trail under the blazing sun, we both ran out of water in our camel backs. I started cramping first, but they were minor, and managed to fight through the cramps by hyperventilating. With about 4 kms to go Tim had a melt down – literally. With 500 meters to go I ended up waiting for 3 agonizing minutes for Tim to show up. Team mates are not allowed to be separated for more than two minutes – or face huge time penalties. But I was afraid that if I stopped too long my legs would never start moving again – so we got separated in the last 4 kms.

We crossed the line in 8th place out of 56 teams.

By the morning of Day 2, I had made a complete recovery and felt on fire. Unbeknownst to me, Tim was not so hot. But he looked fine. Day 2 was 80 kms long and the weather was the same. Except the first 20 kms was all climbing – 1200 meters of it along switch backs and double track fire trails. It was truly spectacular. This day I would ride at my own steady pace – which meant that every 5 kms up the first climb I would wait a few minutes for Tim. He loaded his camel back with extra water this day which he now had to lug up the mountain.

After 60 kms Tim said, “Don’t leave me. Keep me in sight.” It was at this point I realized that I was no longer racing. And 10 kms beyond I was in full rescue mode. Both of Tim’s massive “sprinting” thighs completely seized up so that he could no longer turn over the cranks on any climb. In fact, he would dismount the bike and ask me to push both our bikes to the top of the short steep climbs. I would then return down the climbs to fetch Tim. He could no longer even walk properly.

Tim’s howling in pain from the cramps kept the wild life away for miles around. And then again, 4 kms from the finish, we both ran out of water, but mercifully it was mostly downhill to the finish line. But in those last 4 kms Tim’s bike got a flat and we were stopped by a freight train that took another 7 minutes to pass 300 meters before the finish line. But by this point I had come to the realization that I was now a tourist and no-longer a contender.

Tim needed two bags of saline IV solution to replenish him and about two hours of massage that evening. And I was spent from the extra rescue effort. We finished 20th.

But on Day 3, we were determined to salvage the race and Tim promised me he would not bonk again. Day 3 was a 109 km test of endurance . We Did it and came home a respectable 12th while several other teams melted down.

On Day 4 we convinced each other that we were back in the race. And indeed we were. After 6 hours of measured effort up some massive climbs and wicked descents, we managed to place 6th in the Men’s 80 plus category, not bad given our accumulated age was 89 years. We crossed the finish line in a sprint against two other teams and won the sprint. Tim and I were back and we were now both on FIRE. Now we both looking to climb up the leader board and fight back for a respectable top 10 finish “overall” in the men’s 80+ category.

Day 5 At about 5 am I woke up in my tent after a night of rain and thunder, but it was my stomach that was seriously depressed. I had caught a bug. I was nauseous and queasy, but I was also thinking, “I must eat” a big breakfast before the 500 other racers get to the Big dinning tent. “We are back in contention, this isn’t happening to me,” I thought as I trudged like an elephant across the alpine meadow to the marquis tent.

At 6 am I was first in line for food, but I was shivering and not enthusiastic. I passed on the scrambled eggs, the greasy bacon and sausages. I passed on the pancakes and syrup and hash browns until I got to the muesli and fruit. By now my queasiness was peaking. “But I gotta eat, we are in contention, I’m gonna be fine,” I tried to convince myself. I filled a bowl with milk and muesli, sat down, and shoved down two spoonfuls. By this time the line up of weary racers outside the tent was stretched out for 200 feet. I jumped up and ran out of the tent and proceeded to the empty the contents of my stomach all over that alpine meadow in front of 200 people. How appetizing.

After retching for five minutes, I went back to my tent and my sleeping bag to pass the next hour and half before the start of another 105 km day of climbing and single track. Okay, now I am going to find out what it truly means to RACE AGAINST CANCER EVERYWHERE. “I am going to survive this day one kilometer at a time but I am going to survive,” I convinced myself.

I was competitive for the first two hours. Tim and I managed to draft the lead pack along 40 kms of logging road. And then the punishment began. The roads kicked up to 10 and 12% in some places and the climb lasted for about 20 kms. Tim was strong, but of little help to me. We crossed a 200 meter wide ice cold river up to our belly buttons, And then we navigated 30 kms of bone jarring single track high along the river bank. The scenery was heavenly but I was in hell with each pedal stroke. I felt lucky that at 48 years old, I had never know such suffering until now. How people with cancer cope everyday with such suffering - I simply couldn’t imagine it. All I had was a bug on the bike. But I desperately wanted to get off that bike and call it quits.

I was now being passed by teams and riders who I had never met before. Seeing the back of the pack was demoralizing. Some how we managed to cross the finish line in 5.45 minutes in 20th place.

I collapsed for about 10 minutes on the wet grass. Trans Rockies medics came to check me out. They said I was “positively grey” with no colour. I could hardly move but some how managed to get inside the medical trailer where they immediately hooked me up to an IV. And after 45 minutes I begged for a 2nd bag of iv solution. I lay there for an hour half, replenishing all the fluids I had lost. I felt queasy all day, so I didn’t drink our eat hardly anything.

That night, I could go back into the Marquis tent for dinner. I just slept in my tent from 4pm till 9pm. Then I decided I had to find something to eat or I would not have the strength to compete the next day. It took an hour of driving around town but I found a hearty bowl of chicken and vegetable soup and went back to bed.

Day 6 was my recovery day. It consisted of a 64 km-mudfest, with a 7 km hike a bike straight up a freshly cut trail that crossed back and forth over a rushing mountain stream as it cut through the dense forest. We felt we were being watched all day long by Grizzlies in the Mist. My bowels were a war zone and the enemy this day was constant diarrhea. We hung on for 9th place that day after 4 hours and 45 mins of racing.

I managed to eat the night before Day 7, but my stomach was still very sensitive, but I was feeling stronger knowing it was the last 51 kms – but it turned out to be the most punishing of all (except for day 5, my day in hell).

The first 10 kms started at about 2-3% grade up, the next 10kms creeped up to 5% and the last 10km to the top of Paradise Ridge were a grueling 10-13% . We soared up to 2500 meters from 900 meters. But my altimeter read 1800 meters of ascent without any relief until we got to the top. But that relief only last about 3 km as we coasted down the other side of the mountain into ski town of Panorama. The descent last 20 km and it was like riding a jack hammer. Due to the altitude our sweat chilled us to the bone and fingers, then our hands became completely numb. I crossed the finish line and cried I was so happy to be done.

That was my ecstacy – being finished, and being alive to tell about it all. Tim and I hugged each other, then we hugged all our competitors with whom we had battled all week. The whole week and the race, and the experience were a huge success for both Tim and I. We parted as friends.

Would I do it all over again? Well I just signed up for the 2007 Trans Rockies Challenge, except this year Team RACE is taking two teams. Myself and Dave Campbell of www.mountainbikeadventures.com and Team RACEr Ron Ross from Ottawa is hunting for a team mate. Except this year, we also hope to establish fund raising goals for each team and get everybody involved in our bid to conquer the Rockies in 2007.

- Hamish