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I thought it would be a good mental break from the training by mixing in some dirt and altitude while getting away with the family to the mountains on the long Memorial Day weekend. No aero-bars, smooth roads or fast running track. Just lots of dirt and lots of mud! This came at the end of a tough three week block of training. As I write this I am fried, my legs don’t want to move and I want to eat everything I see.

Sage Burner 25K Trail Run, Saturday

I woke up early Saturday morning to gray, overcast skies and cool temps and drove down to Hartman Rocks for the start of the Sage Burner 25K Trail Run. I have never done a long trail run before and never gave much thought to entering a race. A week ago I went out and bought my first pair of trail running shoes. Now I do a fair bit of running, 6 marathons to date and have put in 70 mile running weeks but I had no idea what I would encounter on this day.

My first observation gathering at the start with the other 174 entrants was that trail-runners are a unique, hardy bunch of people. Most of them look like they have done at least three dozen or so of these. Shaggy beards, definitely no shaved legs and lots of talk of 50-milers(!) and all sorts of devices for appending vast amounts of fluid and calories to their bodies. The first lesson I learned from one of them is the race number does not go on your shirt, it goes on a leg of your shorts.

The second lesson occurred soon after the gun went off. I can usually run 7:40 miles at a comfortable, talkative, warm-up pace. Here, all thoughts of running by pace were out the window. The first half mile of the course sent us straight up a gnarly hill where I was moving at a pace only slightly faster than a trot with a near red-lined heart rate. My Garmin beeped at mile 1 with a whopping 10:45 split.

At the top I settled in to a comfortable pace. No need here for me to push it when I am in unfamiliar territory, at 7,800″ in elevation and very conscientious of tourquing my ankle. There I had a chance to catch my breath and really notice what a beautiful course I was on: snow capped peaks in the distance, a well marked trail cutting up and over rock formations and through the wild Sage. I could certainly learn to like this trail running thing. Best not to admire it too much or risk falling straight onto my arse from a well placed boulder.

I was keeping pace with the guy in front of me for a few miles and when I got close I saw he was running in a pair of Crocs! A short while later the trail split in two directions: my right turn for the 25K and left for the whole 50K enchilada. He went left. Damn. Not sure about you, but I think if I ran 30+ miles of hard trail in rubber shoes that don’t fit tight I would have 2 bloody stumps instead of feet.

Shortly after I learned that trail running is not nearly the same as road running on your legs. The little stabilizer muscles that keep you standing tall over rolling and uneven terrain that you never knew you had? they hurt. Learning to run downhill and not brake while also not carrying so much momentum that you can’t adjust any footfall for a rock, divot or other potential ankle breaker: not so easy.

After finishing the 16.2 miles I felt like I do after finishing a road marathon: not good. But definitely a good time; I will do this again. 17th pace overall. Full results.
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Growler Mountain Bike Race, Sunday
I used to mountain bike a lot. Years ago it is what I did 5-6 days per week. Before I moved to Colorado I lived directly across the street from the best MTBing in the Boston area for two years. After a couple years of racing and exploring all the trails around Colorado I got inspired to ride all the beautiful roads in Boulder County and my road bike took over. When we had kids I learned if I had two hours available spending one of them in a car driving to the trailhead was not a good use of that time. On top of that, I have literally ridden the Hall Ranch loop - the closest real MTB trail to my current house - over 100 times. Just got plain-old tired of it and bought myself a TT-bike, some running shoes, and some swim goggles and took up the current triathlon game.

I really haven’t done much mountain biking to speak of over the last few years. Christy reminded me that I hadn’t entered a MTB race since she was pregnant with our now 6 year-old (I did enter an XTerra triathlon 2 years ago). In total I have ridden my Merlin Echo MTBike once in the last 15 months and that was 10 days ago - at, you guessed it, Hall Ranch. When I signed up for the 64 mile Original Growler in March I really wasn’t sure my 9 year old V-braked SID fork would hold air all day. Last week I had to replace the tires on it since the old ones were visibly dry-rotted. I replaced them with still-in-their-original-box tires I won at a race 8 years ago. I wasn’t exactly setting myself up for a good day here.

Sunday morning looked much the same as Saturday morning: gray, overcast, cool and threatening rain. I drove into town and quickly started getting my crap together. It took me about 45 minutes of fumbling through all my bags to get what I would need in order to be out on the trail for 7+ hours: water, spare tubes, pocket fulls of Power Gel, more water, Infinit, Camelback & chain tool (2 things I never carry on my road bike). The race started with a very loud canon blast and 200 of us were off hooting and hollering on a leisurely neutral start 2-mile trek from town back to Hartman Rocks escorted by police cars. As we approached the trail-head the pace went manic to get a spot on the single-track leading to a steep hill that was mixed with mud and heavy sand (see pic, then add mud-bog). Most people tried to ride it. 3/4 of the way up I dismounted and walked at a faster pace than those next to me rode. They got the style points, I got to the top.

I was happy to let 3/4 of the pack go by so that I could ride the single-track at my own pace, not worrying about pushing myself into an accident with someone breathing down my back. Not too worried about placing well here, just interested in finishing out the ride and having a good time. If I could pass later on great, if not, no big deal.

Within 10 minutes I was reminded just how great mountain biking can be! We were carving down a foot wide trail at high speed, the ground just wet enough to provide good traction. I think I laughed out loud a few times and was thinking to myself, damn who needs that Cervelo P2! When I passed race director Dave Wiens standing out on the course I shouted out, “THAT was awesome trail!", he replied, “Just WAIT! you haven’t seen ANYthing yet!". He was right, it was some of the best riding I have done. I remembered part of the course from the old “Rage in the Sage” course I participated in 10 years ago.

A few hours into the race I looked behind me at the hilly switchback to see fellow Blue Sky rider and my personal physician C. Madden catching up to me. It wasn’t too difficult to summon up the motivation to ride hard and away from the man who literally took a surgical knife to my testicles 11 months ago (thanks for the Vasectomy, Doc, now let’s ride!). He had a great ride as did Kevin VP and a few others from town.

About 4 miles from the conclusion of the first of the two laps I had signed up for, the rain came down, the wind picked up and it got downright sketchy on the wet rocks. I had to stash my glasses into my helmet since they were completely covered in mud. Everyone’s number plates had deteriorated from the rain and fallen off, as did my left handlebar grip (and I had only recently taken off the clamp-on grips that hurt my hands the week before!). I crashed and landed on my thumb - I seem to do that a lot, even broke it once - and I started wondering whether it was such a good idea to go on another 3.5-4 hours.

When I got to the aid station at the end of the first lap and back at the trail-head the sky opened up into a full-on downpour. I stood under a tent fueling up and contemplated going out for my second lap and quickly decided it wasn’t worth it. My legs were trashed from the day before and there was nothing to be gained by going back out. I have worked too hard to ruin it by crashing on a rain soaked and rocky trail. The only result that really matters to me this year comes August 30th. So I checked the ego, took off what was left of my rain-shredded number, handed it to Mr. Wiens and was done. I pedaled the 2 road miles back to town miserably wet and cold and happy with my decision.

I ended up finishing 17th overall in the 1-lap group and will for sure sign up again next year. I’ll need to find a new date for the annual Trail Ridge Road ascent. Who’s in this year?
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Next up, Longmont Kids Triathlon for the oldest on Saturday and volunteering at the adult version Sunday, then off to New England for vacation and Mooseman Half-Iron Triathlon…