Round four of the U.S. National Ultra Endurance (NUE) series visited Colorado this weekend. The Breckenridge 100 is the toughest course on the circuit, not only because it boasts over 16,000’ of climbing, but primarily because the base elevation is 9,600’ above sea level and there are three major mountain passes over 11,500’. The course is a clover shape, consisting of three separate laps of 30/35/35 miles. The winner of all five editions of the race has been local hero Josh Tostado. I consider Josh a friend, so there is nothing personal when I say that I wanted to try and end his streak – there is just something very tempting about being the one to overthrow such a legacy. So, I’ve had this race in my sights all year. I arrived in Colorado two weeks ahead of time to allow for a bit of acclimation, and my fitness seemed to be near peak, and all was ready to go.
The first lap began with a 2800’ climb and I settled into a stiff pace, jumping into the lead with 30sec over Josh at the summit. My legs felt great and I was brimming with confidence. Just a few minutes down the steep descent on the backside of the mountain, I flatted through one of the many jagged rock fields. It took several minutes to put in a tube, and I began the chase, having dropped to fourth place. I slowly took back two positions and was convinced that Josh was around the corner.
But before I could reel in the lead, I flatted again, just a quarter into the race. With six more miles to the end of the lap, I assumed that my day was over since I had only carried one tube and had already used it. So I began to walk, furious at my bad luck and the two weeks that I appeared to have wasted in Colorado. After 15min of walking, I reached the end of the trail where the course begins to roll through the outlying streets above Breckenridge. Near the trailhead, next to the course, I saw a bike and ski shop, and thought: ‘I wonder if that would be against the rules?’ I walked into the shop and had the following conversation with an employee:
Him: “You doing the 100 race today?” / Me: “Yep.” / Him: “Is the race going on now?” / Me: “Yep.” / Him: “So you are currently racing right now?” / Me: “As we speak… It’s not going so well right now… You have a tube I can borrow?”
I aired up, ran back onto the course, jumped back onto the bike and headed to the end of the lap. Rolling through the Start/Finish, the race announcer let me know that I was in tenth place, 20min back of the lead. So began the dilemma that all racers face when a strong case for quitting presents itself. Arguments for dropping out – (1) The possibility of winning was long gone, (2) It would’ve been easier to just abandon and no one would really blame me. Arguments for continuing – (1) It was the professional thing to do, (2) the flight home would’ve felt a lot longer if I were to quit, (3) It was an opportunity to get in some good training and a good dose of character building.
So I chased. And I chased. I absolutely buried myself during that next lap. Every climb was an opportunity to advance and I attacked without regard to the seemingly endless distance remaining. I picked the others off one at a time and I somehow climbed up to third place by the end of the lap. I had cut the deficit to Josh by 10min.
Unfortunately, I had paid a great price to do so, and was on the verge of collapse. Yet, I still had 35miles to go, and fourth was just behind me. I soldiered on as best I could and used everything I had to put fourth out of sight during the next mountain pass. But the chase for the lead was gone. I spent the last several hours in a world of hurt, doing my best to mitigate the suffering. I limped into the finish, just holding onto 3rd place. And it turns out that no one cared that I visited a bike shop during the race (technically legal or not).
