A Dark Place

My alarm arrived too soon. I scheduled just 30 minutes to go from sleeping to driving. The lack of natural light was sending strong signals to my mind and body that 3:15 was an unnatural time to be awake. The eight a.m. start of the 2022 Leavenworth Gran Fondo dictated a rough start to a tough day of riding.

A few minutes after five a.m. I arrived in Snohomish to meet up with my Fell Swoop teammate Thomas. We quickly transfered my bike and gear to his Volkswagen and pointed it towards Leavenworth.

Rain, logging, and mud conspired to make the dreaded Swakane Canyon unready for cycling. The promoter had changed the course to an out and back. This change didn't have much affect on the climbing or mileage statistics. It did change the feel of the race. Thomas and I shared our thoughts and came to the conclusion that this version would tilt more towards the strongest climbers. While that was good news for Thomas is was less good for me.

There were no surprises as we kitted up for the start. The staging area, Peshastin Elementary School, was familiar. We shared some words with friends and teammates. The weather was friendly with forecast temperatures for the Leavenworth area in the range of 50 to 60 degrees. Clouds were in the forecast but just a single digit chance of precipitation.

Unlike previous iterations we were not dreading the weather nor the torturous Swakane Canyon climb. With no aspirations of taking a win I was in good spirits and looking forward to a challenging race that fell well within my capabilities.

At one point it looked like Fell Swoop might field as many as nine racers. As the day of the event approached the complications of life stepped in. Three Swoopers were forced to drop out. Adam was on that short list that was unable to attend. In the days leading up to the event we did discuss the course and some tactical plans. But it wasn't until the eve of the event that I realized how much I would miss his camaraderie on race day.

Jake, a member of the Vicious Cycles Promotions team, lead the traditional neutral roll out. He chose his vintage Yamaha BW200 for the task. Of course, speed was not the goal. But it was an agonizingly slow neutral out. At least we had time to chat.

The goal of the neutral roll out was to get us safely to Eagle Creek Road. I slipped up the peleton as we approached the typical 'let loose' point of the course. I wanted to be near the front but not on the front. I heard the meek honk of the BW200 horn and then Jake hit the throttle. We were racing.

The out and back version of the Leavenworth event was pretty easy to characterize. The outbound leg was about ten miles of gradual paved climbing followed by about seven miles of gravel climbing followed by about eight miles of gravel descending followed by about twelve miles of gradual paved descending into the Entiat aid station. Then turn around and back track to Peshastin.

The pace was manageable until the gravel climbing started in earnest. I was able to keep the leaders in sight a little longer this year before choosing to dial down to my own best pace. Once at my pace it was a simple matter of turning the cranks near threshold for as many minutes as necessary. 

Fell Swoop teammate Thomas rides with the leaders during the first climb. Photo courtesy Mark Alan.

I completed the climb almost as fast as last year and was feeling good about my pacing as I neared the top. I was also slowly bringing back a group of about six riders. This was good news as it improved my chances of sharing the work when we reached the pavement on the other side.

The descent was smooth and fast in places. It was also filled with braking bumps in others. I had seen this descent in previous years and knew what to expect. I was bringing riders back one by one. When I reached the pavement I was already on a strong looking rider's wheel. A quick shoulder check showed another racer eager to bridge up and make it three as we started the slightly downhill paved run into Entiat.

I had hoped for a larger group but two friend was certainly better than none.  After just two rotations one of the friends suffered a mechanical failure and was forced to pull off. My new best friend and I soldiered on. We chatted little. But we couldn't help notice we were both riding Ibis Hakka MX frames in the same color and size. I said we were meant to be 'teammates' and we both got to work alternately pulling our short train towards the aid station.

As we approached the turn around I affirmed to my Hakka friend that we were well matched and that I wished for us to ride together on the way back. I needed water and we agreed to make a quick stop. And I did. But not quick enough.

In the time it took to fill two water bottles a group of about ten riders coalesced and departed. I hit the road 30 seconds back. And I knew it might as well have been an hour. I didn't have the legs to win a ten versus one battle if I was the 'one'. Good fortune struck and I was not the 'one'. A second rider was also caught out. He was strong and we both knew what to do. After a few minutes of trading hard pulls we were able to reconnect with the larger group. I thanked him as he was stronger and did the larger share of the work.

Getting into the large group turned out to be both a blessing and a curse. There was no organization. A number of riders were initiating a rotating paceline but it repeatedly broke apart. I was on my toes as there were some unpredictable moves that threatened my front wheel. Eventually the group did reach a concensus that we would rotate. Just one rider was having trouble which created havoc. Not efficient. Not safe.

Few words were spoken. I could read the frustration in the riders around me. I chose to open my mouth and encouraged the hold out to stick on a wheel. One broken rotation later I made it more clear by saying "I need you to hold that wheel". My next words were also clear: "If you can't maintain rotation you need to stay at the back." I meant no disrespect. And I'm not sure how the remainder of the group felt about me giving one rider permission to sit on. But I achieved my goal. The rotation smoothed out.

Unfortunately for me a smooth rotation didn't mean an easy rotation. We were still working against the gentle gradient. My legs were still stinging from bridging to the group. I was having a hard time eating while in the paceline.

Wheels on

Up to this point in the day I had made good decisions. I had put myself in great position. I had put down a solid effort. I had done my share of work.

I projected forward a few miles and could read the writing on the wall. I would not be able to climb with this group. I didn't feel safe eating while in rotation. Lack of nutrition before the climb would be disaster. After two hours and forty-five minutes of racing I elected to drop out of the group. I said "thank you" to the group, let the rider ahead of me know I was dropping, and waved goodbye.

The next twenty minutes was spent getting myself ready for the final climb. I had about three miles of pavement to get some food in. Another group of riders caught me just before the gravel started and I surfed those wheels for a bit. When the pitch started to steepen I chose my own pace and prepared myself for a long slog.

Wheels off

At three hours and fifteen minutes off came the wheels. I felt the beginnings of leg cramps. Taking a nature break only postponed the inevitable. I stayed in my lowest gear and learned to manage the pain. The suffer was just beginning.

The pedals continued to turn as I rumaged through my mental cycling skills toolkit. Hydration and nutrition double checked and appeared to be on schedule. A caffeine shot was ingested. My position on the bike was altered as I looking for the tiniest relief. Racers were coming past regularly. Despair continued to crush my mental state.

Fifteen minutes later I reached the lowest of lows. I muttered the word 'hate' under my breath with every turn of the crank. I actively searched for positive mental imagery and found none. I wanted nothing to do with a bike. I wanted nothing to do with Leavenworth. I wanted only to be home and have this day behind me.

At three hours and forty five minutes I reached the steepest pitch and walked. This was good for my cramps but did nothing to lift my spirits nor speed. Riders were now coming past more frequently. I could not see my facial expression. But the reactions I caused made it clear. They were witnessing, in real time, a broken soul. They offered the kindest words and encouragements.

When I reached four hours into the event I forced myself to eat again. It was a mini wrap from the Pita Pit. One of my favorite Vicious Cycles traditions. Following this one positive emotion was an unstoppable wave of negative emotions. I gave myself permission to cry. I was most of the way up Forest Service road 5800, hiding from no one, still turning the cranks, and freely sobbing.

As I neared the end of the climb I contemplated the future. Would I ever again race gravel? Would I still be a cyclist? Would I share this story? I discovered few answers in the moment except the title of this blog post. At that same moment I rounded a corner which revealed the camera of Mark Alan. I was looking shattered and gave not a damn. As I passed I witnessed him inspect the image and imagined the grimace he must have captured.

Dark day for the author. I was crushed. I felt dead inside. Photo courtesy Mark Alan.

The remaining hour passed without drama. The gravel descent was taken below race pace. Once back to the pavement I worked at an endurance pace. My race was not against the other riders. My only goal was to get off my bike and back to my home as quick and efficiently as possible.

On the drive out of Leavenworth I learned that my teammate Thomas finished in an impressive seventh. I shared little of my day other than it was not positive. When I returned home my wife asked my how it went. My answer was short. "It was the worst day on the bike of my life."

It was the worst day. But it was not my worst performance. I've tried to keep the experience in perspective by remembering that I was performing well right up until I wasn't. I had made all the right moves to maximize my finish potential. If the race had finished in Entiat it would have been a good day.

I haven't discovered why this experience turned so dark. I do know that at the point in the race when I chose to drop from the rotating pace line was the turning point. There is something within me that drives my training, my preparation, and the motivation to push the pedals. It is the magic that makes me a gravel racer. It disappeared in a blink. At exactly 2h:45m into Gran Fondo Leavenworth.