- 100 Miles (depends on whether you choose to believe Strava or Garmin Connect)
- 10,800' of elevation gain
- 10:05:13 to the finish
- 1st-Place Singlespeed, 7th Overall
This one was a real adventure. The Bailey Hundo and last year's Tatanka 100 were both fast, straightforward races for me with perfect trails and bluebird skies. This year's Tatanka 100 couldn't have been more different.
Hamilton and I drove through an endless series of rainstorms on our way across Wyoming on Thursday, spasmodically checking the weather forecast over and over. Sure, they were getting a ton of rain in Sturgis, but if it just cleared up overnight maybe we'd have tacky hero dirt on Saturday? Spinning around the parking lot at Woodle Field at 4:45am, trying to "warm up" in the pouring rain, it was clear that this was going to be a wet, tough race.
There was no way I could have anticipated just how hard it ended up being.
It took about 1/4-mile for the chamois in my bibs to get saturated and turn into a primo case of soggy diapers. And with all of the spray coming up off of everybody's wheels my glasses were quickly coated in brown water. I found that it was better to skip drafting and just ride in the breeze, with fresh rainfall washing my glasses and teeth clean. Thankfully at the last minute I had chosen to keep wearing a vest and armwarmers rather than stripping down.
I entered the Centennial Trail singletrack a bit behind Gerry Pflug and Daniel Rapp and ended up riding with those guys for a few miles of fun, albeit slippery, Black Hills gold. One of the high points of the day was rollicking along through those early miles, but eventually I felt the need to ramp up the pace, as much to stay warm as anything, and passed on a short climb.
I went back and forth with Tinker Juarez a couple of times during his unfortunate mechanical issues, and then somewhere after the Dalton Lake Aide my own drama started. Just before entering the day's rockiest two-track descent my rear tire blew, and when I went to try airing it up again the valve stem was gone! It must have gotten tagged by a branch and sheared off? Gerry passed me just as I was finishing putting a tube in and gave me the encouragement to hurry the hell up with my repair because Daniel was only a few minutes back.
Once I was back on the bike I was pretty motivated to rally the descent to see if I could reel Gerry back in (what was I thinking trying to catch up to a fast guy on a geared full suspension bike on a wet, rocky descent?!) so I got rolling downhill pretty good and then steered myself into a bad line and
Blamo!
Over the handlebars and face-first in the mud.
Once I crested the top of the Mickelson climb and descended to the Englewood Aide, I hit the day's lowest point. The rain started coming down hard again, with a breeze that made it just that much chillier, and my body temp dropped considerably. I hadn't seen anybody for a long while when all of a sudden Jim and Gerry were riding back down towards me from a wrong turn that we had all managed to take.
So I spun around and rode with them back to the wrong-turn junction where we re-found Matt and Drew Edsall, and then spent a few minutes figuring out where we were and where we needed to go. (I suspect course tampering; these guys do a great job of marking the course, but we hadn't seen any Tatanka skull markings for an uncharacteristically long time before coming upon a left-turn arrow. Turns out that it was supposed to be a right-turn arrow.) Once we figured things out, Jim spun the arrow to face the correct direction and we took the righthand option instead.
I was pretty stoked to be in 3rd-place overall up to that point, but had gotten so cold that my jaw was cramped shut and I was shivering uncontrollably--there was no way I would be able to maintain any kind of speed in that condition with only one brake. (I had boldly dropped the vest and armwarmers at the sunny Silver City aide station.) Right around here was when I felt the first doubts about whether I would be able to finish.
But as JayP likes to say, "No negative thoughts!" So I gritted my teeth and tried to ride smart, focusing on staying upright and hoping to maintain my position in the Singlespeed division.
I went back and forth with Tinker Juarez a couple of times during his unfortunate mechanical issues, and then somewhere after the Dalton Lake Aide my own drama started. Just before entering the day's rockiest two-track descent my rear tire blew, and when I went to try airing it up again the valve stem was gone! It must have gotten tagged by a branch and sheared off? Gerry passed me just as I was finishing putting a tube in and gave me the encouragement to hurry the hell up with my repair because Daniel was only a few minutes back.
Once I was back on the bike I was pretty motivated to rally the descent to see if I could reel Gerry back in (what was I thinking trying to catch up to a fast guy on a geared full suspension bike on a wet, rocky descent?!) so I got rolling downhill pretty good and then steered myself into a bad line and
Blamo!
Over the handlebars and face-first in the mud.
I leapt to my feet in shock, did a quick check for bike or body damage, and took off in pursuit again. Once again I was rallying after Gerry and got rolling along pretty good and then steered myself into another bad line about a quarter-mile later and
Blamo!
Over the handlebars and face-first in the mud, again.
Blamo!
Over the handlebars and face-first in the mud, again.
Again I got up, checked for damage, and took off down the hill at a slightly more reasonable clip until I got onto smoother dirt and let off the brakes and was rolling along pretty good and steered to avoid a particularly deep, mud puddle-filled rut a mile later and
Fwip!
My front tire washed out and I went down hard. That one hurt. I had to take a few deep breaths after standing up out of the puddle, with blood freshly flowing from both knees and a bruise coming on my hip.
That made me decide to back it off a bit and catch my breath, which was good, because soon after that I lost my rear brake and had to ride the remaining 60 miles with only the front. Squeeze, squeeze, squeeze all the way to the handlebars and that righthand brake lever did nothing. Nada. Zilch.
Fwip!
My front tire washed out and I went down hard. That one hurt. I had to take a few deep breaths after standing up out of the puddle, with blood freshly flowing from both knees and a bruise coming on my hip.
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| It was wet out there! Through it all, the LES singlespeed, Lauf fork; and American Classic wheels were a killer combo--sick performance and total reliability. Way better than some of the geared bikes... Photo: John Bush |
That made me decide to back it off a bit and catch my breath, which was good, because soon after that I lost my rear brake and had to ride the remaining 60 miles with only the front. Squeeze, squeeze, squeeze all the way to the handlebars and that righthand brake lever did nothing. Nada. Zilch.
Now, before this starts to sound like a heinous, why-didn't-you-quit, soggy-diapers-and-big-tears-rolling-down-my-muddy-cheeks story I have to say that there were some really great times, too. Romping those early miles with Gerry and Daniel. The singletrack descent through the forest to Silver City when the sun came out. (Even with just the front brake--my chamois dried out!) Spinning up the canyon-bottom singletrack in the sun to the gnarly hike-a-bike. I even enjoyed shouldering my bike for the gnarly climb to the canyon rim. And though the Mickelson Rail-Trail was as long as I remembered it being, it felt really good to crank some miles from the saddle, just spinning away.
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| Done with the Mickelson, ready for some downhill! Photo: Ryan O'dell |
Once I crested the top of the Mickelson climb and descended to the Englewood Aide, I hit the day's lowest point. The rain started coming down hard again, with a breeze that made it just that much chillier, and my body temp dropped considerably. I hadn't seen anybody for a long while when all of a sudden Jim and Gerry were riding back down towards me from a wrong turn that we had all managed to take.
So I spun around and rode with them back to the wrong-turn junction where we re-found Matt and Drew Edsall, and then spent a few minutes figuring out where we were and where we needed to go. (I suspect course tampering; these guys do a great job of marking the course, but we hadn't seen any Tatanka skull markings for an uncharacteristically long time before coming upon a left-turn arrow. Turns out that it was supposed to be a right-turn arrow.) Once we figured things out, Jim spun the arrow to face the correct direction and we took the righthand option instead.
I was pretty stoked to be in 3rd-place overall up to that point, but had gotten so cold that my jaw was cramped shut and I was shivering uncontrollably--there was no way I would be able to maintain any kind of speed in that condition with only one brake. (I had boldly dropped the vest and armwarmers at the sunny Silver City aide station.) Right around here was when I felt the first doubts about whether I would be able to finish.
But as JayP likes to say, "No negative thoughts!" So I gritted my teeth and tried to ride smart, focusing on staying upright and hoping to maintain my position in the Singlespeed division.
Salvation came at the Galena Aide Station. Through clenched teeth I asked the volunteers there if they had a plastic trash bag and the dude pulled the one out of their trash can, dumped out a bit of refuse, and ripped a head hole and arm holes in it for me. Then the other volunteer pulled a plastic emergency poncho out of her first-aid kit and put that on me too!
Ahhhh.
Where I had been questioning whether I would be able to finish, now I was raucously flapping in the breeze and warming back up delightfully. I got passed by a couple more geared guys during the final dirt-road descents and then blissfully rolled into Sturgis under blue skies and full sun, ecstatic to be wearing two layers of plastic and no longer shivering.
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| 10 hours of muddy racing completed. Awesome. Photo: AJ Linnell |
My goals of finishing under 8 hours to win The Ring and placing in the top 3 overall weren't even close to being realized, but there was no disappointment in my day's outcome. Instead, I was happy to have finished at all, and really happy to have kept my hold on the Singlespeed win. Two hours slower than last year, but dammit I felt strong throughout and was able to overcome my own share of adversity to get it done.
Will I be back? Hell yes! The Black Hills riding is too good to turn down, and I still want that Ring...
Tatanka 100 Gearlist on AXLPATH
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| The Tatanka 100 Singlespeed podium, with Daniel Rapp, and Trevor Rockwell. (Hamilton joined us up there after kindly taking this photo.) Photo: Hamilton Smith |
Will I be back? Hell yes! The Black Hills riding is too good to turn down, and I still want that Ring...
Tatanka 100 Gearlist on AXLPATH
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