Logan, Utah to Preston, Idaho – 31 miles
We drove to the start area
and I stayed in the car for as long as possible. The car showed temperatures in the mid
30’s. I eventually made my way around to
the start and Brenda walked to meet me there.
She showed me a text that Ryan sent me and we both got a bit emotional
about it. The five minutes before I
start any event that I’ve been really training for is an emotional time for
me. I believe it is just as much an accomplishment
to make it to the starting line as it is to cross the finish. I knew I had struggled with my training and
had to fight through mental tiredness, so it felt good to recognize what I had
already done and feel the power at the start.
I never know if each start will be my last, which gives it a different
perspective for me on race morning.
Brenda knew I needed a minute
alone so she made her way to the other side of the start banner and waited to
send me on my way. It truly is amazing
that hundreds of us start pedaling in Logan, Utah, and don’t stop until over
two hundred miles later, in Jackson Hole, Wyoming. Even though I’ve now finished six times, that
idea is something I cannot wrap my mind around, and I’m one of the
athletes. It must seem amazing for those
there to send us on our way, with only our bikes and some nutrition.
This year I registered with
the racers in the Women’s Masters 45+ group, so my route into Preston was
different. There were probably 70-80
women in our start group and I stayed mostly in the middle, so there was some
yo-yo effect, but not bad enough to break off.
I rode next to Brianne (Bray-ann) who was riding it for her fifth time,
all with the racing group. We talked off
and on (she was from Idaho Falls) which was good.
Temperatures were in the low
30’s for the first two hours – COLD on my fingers, face and toes; but once it
warmed up, it was a beautiful day to be out on my bike. I was surprised to see Jolynn and JaLene
along the road in Cove cheering for us.
I recognized them soon enough to wave and get their attention. I hoped they would text Brenda and tell her
they saw me, sure enough that’s what they did.
It never gets old to have family/friends cheering at any point of the
course. Thanks for making the effort to
be out in the early morning cold temps!
Brenda and I had driven the
course into Preston the night before so I knew what to expect, rolling hills
with quite a few stop lights. Thankfully
there was an officer at each intersection, waving us through. It is such a pain to stop and start when
riding in a paceline; those in the middle to back risk losing contact because
of the yo-yo effect. Thankfully that
never happened, as I was towards the middle-back until we turned off the main
road. I decided to move more towards the
front as we got on the backroads, which was a smart move for me.
We connected with the
cyclosportive cyclists (non-racers) at about 28 miles and the merge went
smoothly. We easily turned onto the main
road which signified we had finished the first section. I lapped my bike computer and reminded myself
that the actual strategic racing would probably be starting soon. I wondered how long I would be able to stay
with the main pack.
Preston to Strawberry Summit – 26 miles
The first part of this
section is full of rolling hills. There
is one steady climb, followed by a tremendously steep, fast downhill. I wondered if this climb would be able to break
some of the group; I think it did, but I managed to hold on. We continued as a group, but we spread across
the entire lane, riding four abreast sometimes.
This was new to me during any race.
I kept towards the yellow line, knowing that we were not to cross
it. This road was closed to eastbound
traffic, but local westbound traffic would appear from time to time, so caution
was required.
Shortly after we turned, one
of the cyclists crashed right in front of me.
I carefully maneuvered my bike around her and she appeared to be
alright. We cyclists talked and wondered
what had happened. I had been watching
her and noticed that she did not touch another bike or run over anything. She seemed to shift her weight and her front
tire turned and down she went. We all slowed
down, but kept riding; I did notice her get into a support vehicle about 8-10
miles later, which probably meant the end of her day. This reminded me of the year I crashed at
mile 42 and some way made it across the finish, over 160 miles later. All we can do is make it to the start and
then take each mile as it comes on race day.
The weather had warmed when we
were in the sun, but the shade was again quite cool as we climbed Strawberry
Pass. There was one point in the shade
when I considered putting my arm warmers back on, but I knew the sun would be
around a few bends and, sure enough, that’s what happened.
This was the time of the ride
when I learned just how strong others in my group were. I pushed and pushed to stay with a group of
about 10 as we climbed some short rollers.
I was in my easiest gear and struggling to keep up my pace as I watched
the wheel of the girl in front of me slowly ride away. I desperately wanted to stay with them, but
my legs did not have any more push to give, so I had no choice but to hang my
head and be alright with what I was able to give right then. I honestly don’t know if having easier gears
would have allowed me to shift and stay with them. I was seeing what it took to race Lotoja with
the top women cyclists and I didn’t have what it took to stay with them on
those rollers. At least I was not the
only one who had to let them go, as I noticed others slowing down with me. Within the next five miles or so, I watched
the motorcycle official assigned to our start group go ahead of me, designating
that I was officially dropped from the group and was now “on my own”, with other,
single riders. I figured this meant that
I could join other pacelines as they passed, as I was not going to be in
contention for any podium spot this year. There were some strong women cyclists and I
was happy to have been able to ride with them for that relatively short time.
I saw what I knew was the
false summit, which meant three more miles to the feed zone, followed by one
mile to the actual summit. I again was
surprised, yet happy, that this landmark of the ride came quicker than I
expected. I had hoped to see volunteers
filling up water bottles for us at the feed zone, but no luck at this one. I had to lay my bike down and top off my own
bottle, then head off for that last mile to the summit.
I was happy to zip up my vest
and check off another checkpoint of my ride, making it to Strawberry
Summit. I lapped my bike computer and
focused on my new mph goal and I gained speed descending the backside of the
summit I had just climbed.
Strawberry Summit to Montpelier, Idaho ~18 miles
I don’t remember feeling cold
at all while descending. It is a quick
downhill for about eight miles and then the remaining ten miles are rolling
hills into Montpelier. It is so important
to catch a good paceline during those last ten miles. This year I was able to stay with a paceline
the entire way in, but I wish is was going just a bit faster. I averaged 24 mph during this section, which
was my goal, but I remember thinking I could have been moving just a bit
faster. I believe there were two other
girls from my start group in our paceline, which apparently makes it “legal”
for us to work together within the paceline.
I don’t really understand the details of racing rules within pacelines,
but until I am a contender within a racing category I don’t think I need to
worry about it.
There are two stoplights in
Montpelier that I always pray I don’t have to stop for. I made it through the first one, which is a
smaller intersection and crossed my fingers for the second one. I approached it and knew I would be cutting
it close if it stayed green. I have had
to wait there before and it can be a long light, during which lots of cyclists
can gather which makes the left turn more challenging. Luckily I pushed myself and made it through
the light, but had to avoid another almost crash between two cyclists in front
of me. The relay riders join the course
right after that light and can be going much slower than those of us rushing to
make the light. Thankfully the riders
avoided a fall, although one had to skid for a couple of feet. He obviously had great bike handling skills.
I made my way to the feed
zone and saw Brenda right where we had planned.
I had a quick transition, shedding one full layer plus my vest, arm
warmers and gloves. I replaced my drinks
with cold ones and knew I would eat a rice bar as I started the next
section. Everything went perfectly
smooth.
Montpelier, Idaho to Salt River Summit ~30 miles
I had one of the three
summits under my belt and headed off to conquer the other two. There is a gradual wander for less than ten
miles before Geneva summit comes into view.
The climb is just under three miles and climbs around 500 feet, which
reminds me of the last couple of miles of Emigration Canyon, a manageable
“bump” in the ride; a warm-up for the harder climb up Salt River Pass (the
third summit).
I seem to always pass riders
as I climb Geneva and I don’t know why.
It has never been a hard climb for me, but one that I am always happy to
have behind me. I made it to the summit,
ate a Stinger wafer as I watched for someone to pass who I could draft behind
for the moderate descent. I caught the
wheels of a couple of bigger guys, which always provides for a fast, restful
way for me to get down a mountain. I
stayed with them and we caught a bigger paceline and moved over to ride with
them.
As the terrain flattened, our
paceline seemed to break up and my desired speed was somewhere in the
middle. I didn’t have a wheel to follow
and, as I glanced behind me there was a stream of riders drafting off me. I was in a section when this has happened to
me before and I learned to not use too much energy pulling riders for longer
than my turn. I remembered this and
slowed and moved over so someone else could take the lead; thankfully this
worked. I was able to draft for quite a
few miles, until we approached the start of the King/Queen of the Mountain
climb up Salt River Pass.
The temperatures were nice as
I started my last summit of the ride.
There was a slight tail-breeze, but not enough to create a feeling of no
air movement. I was happy about
that. I was already in my easiest gear
and knew there would be no relief for my muscles until I made it over the
summit and could descend. I got into my
grinding mode and just kept spinning.
The climb seemed longer this year, like every time I looked up I had not
made any progress. I hate climbing steep
sections when I can see the road for a while.
I’d rather have lots of turns and switchbacks with short views of what
lay ahead. I persisted with my grind and
eventually made it to the summit.
Yeah! I had ridden 106 miles and
had the significant climbs out of the way!
Only 96 miles remained!
Salt River Summit to Afton, Wyoming ~16 miles
I was happy to take a big
breath and enjoy the descent into Smoot, knowing it would take me to Afton and
my next supported stop. I seem to
usually find a decent paceline for the eight mile push into Afton and it
happened again for me this year. I never
had to think about being on front because the group was full of guys who wanted
to set the pace. I hung on for the ride
and happily turned off the main road and followed the signs to the next feed
zone. I met my goal for that section and
found Brenda waiting for me at our designated spot. Nice job again!
I was happy to drink my Dr.
Pepper, switch out my water bottles, replenish a gel and take a snickers bar
for the “road”. I was stopped for less
than two minutes and then on my way to the next stop in Alpine. I had been riding for seven hours and hoped
to be finished in another four.
Afton to Alpine, Wyoming ~33 miles
This section is notoriously
windy, usually a side/head wind, and this year was true to tradition. I rode alone, eating my snickers bar while
hoping to catch a passing paceline. I
occasion ally looked behind so I could be prepared with a burst of speed to
catch a wheel. I rode alone for only a
couple of miles until a group of three passed and told me to catch their
wheel. It is always good to acquire more
riders in a line, so there are more people to take a turn pulling. This was a good line, riding a speed I could
maintain. Unfortunately two of the
riders slowed, which left me and one other cyclist to fight the wind together. I took my turn at the front and then motioned
for my buddy wearing a University of Utah jersey to take his turn at the
front. I dropped back and he sped up to
a point that I could not stay on his wheel.
He rode off, leaving me alone and he didn’t have a clue I had dropped
off. I watched him ride away for some
time and saw him move to the side, expecting me to pull ahead of him for my
turn, only to look back and see nobody.
I held my arms out and shook my head, in a gesture that I had tried but
his pace was too fast. He saw me, but
was too far ahead to give up his pace, so we continued along as two separate
riders working hard, instead of a team able to give each other an occasional
break.
The breakup of our paceline
is something that happens quite often with riders who are unfamiliar with each
other, trying to pace together. The
rider who has been drafting is using at least 10% less energy, regardless of
weather conditions (wind, temperatures, precipitation, etc.). When it is their turn to pull ahead, they are
more rested and the rider who had been at the front has usually worked just a
minute or two too long and will not be able to speed up with any increase of
speed. Successful pacelines always know
the speed they have been maintaining and the lead rider should maintain that
speed, especially when they first take the front, regardless of how good they
may feel. My experience has been that
riders break the paceline, as they feel a need to show their individual
strength, rather be aware of the group’s strength and importance to keep it
together. It would be nice to ride Lotoja
with a team of riders who have been able to train together and are willing to
work together over the entire 200 mile course.
Maybe one year…
I heard the ding of a bike
bell behind me and I looked to see the two riders who had pulled off our paceline
quickly approaching me. They were riding
with another group and told me to catch on as they passed. I let about five or six riders pass and then
made my way onto a wheel. Whew, I would
do all I could to stay with this group.
Before long we caught my buddy
and he joined our group. We stayed
together, a group of maybe five, and fought through the winds as a team. It was the perfect time to be in that
paceline and we stayed together for quite some time. As would be expected, a faster paceline passed
us and our group broke up with some able to catch the faster group and others,
including me, knowing they were moving just a bit faster than we could
maintain. I had to let them go and found
myself again alone with my Utah jersey buddy.
We worked together for a few
miles and started to gain on a group ahead of us. We agreed that is was worth it to work in
small bursts to try to catch this group.
We took turns pulling and made sure the other was able to maintain the
speed. My heart rate was high and
becoming uncomfortable, but I knew if we caught the group ahead it meant a
lessened effort to move forward at the same speed. We pushed hard and caught the group and then
congratulated each other for our effort.
We rode with this group until the Alpine feed zone, another section in
the books.
Brenda was again easy to find
and ready to help me. I had arrived
faster than my estimate, which surprised her, but we made the needed exchanges
and I drank another Dr. Pepper and then went on my way; another quick exchange,
which was part of my plan. The next time
I would see Brenda would be at the finish, another 45 miles away.
Alpine to Hoback Junction ~22 miles
It was time for me to make
the ride up Snake River Canyon. I had
hoped to make this one of my training rides earlier this year, but the weekend
we planned to do it was horribly rainy and cold, so it didn’t happen. This canyon has been my nemesis for all but
one Lotoja ride; and that one more enjoyable ride happened the year I crashed, which
required me to change my approach and take things one feed zone at a time.
I felt alright and started
pedaling up that canyon one more time.
There wasn’t another rider in sight, but I knew that would change. I finished drinking my small Dr. Pepper,
hoping the caffeine and sugar would give me a boost and tossed the can at the
end of the “drop zone”. I had my salted
potatoes to eat, along with a couple of gels and a grape fizz in one of my
water bottles. I was as ready as I could
be for my last three sections (Alpine to Hoback, Hoback to Wilson and then
Wilson to Teton Village-the finish) and so off I went.
I rode alone for quite some
time, pushing my pace while remembering to enjoy my beautiful view of the river
below. I was able to power through the
frequent messages from my muscles to slow down and give them a break. My goal was to give this section all I had,
so I redirected those messages towards working on my goal and made sure I was
eating and drinking like I should. This routine
of redirecting negative thoughts and checking in on my nutrition happened
frequently along this section, but I expected it because of my last five years
of riding Lotoja. The last 45 miles are
challenging in their own, special way.
I glanced back and saw a
group of riders approaching from behind so I prepared to catch on as they
passed. I was thrilled to see a group of
four women pass me and they were from my starting group, probably Category 4
women. They were riding a nice pace,
faster than I had been able to maintain alone and I remembered from experience
that it was to my benefit to stay with them for as long as I could. I had no problem staying with them on the
flat or downhill sections, but it was hard to maintain their pace going up any
incline. I pushed it harder than I would
have if I had been riding alone, which helped me stay with them for a while,
but I eventually had to let them go and watch them ride out of my view. I did not drop off drastically, but I was
alright with my decision to let them go because I had stayed with them for
longer than I may have in years earlier.
At that moment I wished I was strong enough to stay with them. They ended up finishing about 10 minutes
faster than I did, which shows the difference of working with other cyclists.
I rode the majority of the 22
miles into Hoback alone, but I did it at a pace that I felt was pushing my
limits. I had signed up to race this
year and I was still giving it the best I could. I was happy to see the sign for the Hoback
feed zone one kilometer ahead and even happier to reach it. There was a volunteer handing off water
bottles, which meant I could toss my empty one and get one from him while still
riding. My Ironman races taught me how
to get handoffs and I use that to my advantage during Lotoja.
This is a photo of me about
halfway up the canyon. It really is a
beautiful ride that I am thankful to be able to enjoy on my bike. The two cyclists ahead of me in the photo are
women out on a ride, not Lotoja participants; this is the first year I have
encountered non-Lotoja cyclists riding up the canyon. They were out enjoying a nice ride on a
beautiful day.
Hoback to Wilson ~18 miles
The eighteen miles from
Hoback Junction to the turnoff in Wilson always seem longer than I think they
should. These were miles 178 through 195
for me this year and my legs, neck and seat felt like they had that many miles
on them. I was happy to ride safely through the round-about and over the bridge
that haunts those of us who rode Lotoja in 2012. A cyclist was killed at that bridge in a
tragic accident that year; the first time someone was killed in the race’s 30+
year history. I paused pedaling for a
moment as I crossed that bridge and felt a solemn feeling about what happened.
As I reached the top of a
hill that peaks into what I consider the Jackson valley, I was met with a
moderate headwind and there was nobody near who I could tuck behind. I again needed to muscle through the messages
from my tired legs, neck and seat. It
was not time to slow down, as I wanted to achieve my goal of pushing my limit
every time parts of me wanted to give in and rest. There would be plenty of time for rest, just
a few miles down the road and around a few corners.
I took in the beautiful sight
of the Teton peaks I could see. They would
become less visible as I got closer to the finish. Many riders would finish in their shadow from
the setting sun. I am always happy to
make it to the finish before the sun dips below the Tetons, four of my five
finishes were in the waning sunlight and it appeared this year would be the
same.
I was happy to turn off the
main road and onto the less traveled back roads. I could feel the cooling
temperatures as I pedaled into the shade of trees lining both sides of the
road. The five miles before getting on
the bike path are probably so easy to ride when they are part of a shorter
ride, but they always kick my butt on Lotoja.
It seems that riders do pass me, but I can seldom hold on to their wheel. This year was the same with riders passing while
I struggle to keep pushing forward on the pedals. I approached the intersection near the high
school where an officer was controlling traffic, motioning me through. I thanked her and rode close to her, holding
out my hand to give her five. She
slapped my hand and I was happy to have a moment of distraction, but then it
was back to the same pedaling. At least
I could see where I would turn onto the bike path.
There was a water station as
we entered the bike path and I slowed to exchange for a new bottle of
water. The cold, fresh water felt good
in my mouth. I knew there was a new bike
path we would follow and I looked forward to the different route for a couple
of miles. Entering the bike path meant I
was nearing the last ten miles of my ride.
The new path took us along
the main road for longer and then crossed under it and led us to our own
bike/walking bridge to cross the river.
The bridge we rode across the previous years was always in such poor
condition and the fast moving cars passed so closely sometime. I never felt safe crossing that bridge on my
bike after having been on my bike for so many miles. I am thrilled there is a separate crossing
point for both pedestrians and cyclists. We had to ride on an unfinished gravel section
towards the end of the bike path, but I would ride on that any day if it helped
me avoid the traffic and road condition of that bridge.
Wilson to Teton Village Finish ~7 miles
I made that last right turn
onto the road leading to Teton Village.
A relay team passed me soon thereafter and I pushed myself to stay on
their wheel. It worked for a couple of
miles and we were maintaining a really nice speed, faster than 20 miles per
hour. A new rider went to the front and
picked up the pace which dropped me.
Damn! I had high hopes to be able
to ride with them longer, oh well…
I focused on my goal of
wanting to give all I had and reminded myself that I was at the edge of
achieving that goal. I saw the 4 km to
go sign and wished I was closer. I kept
pushing my pedals and ignoring the screams of pain coming from my body. I had been fighting a headwind for more than
ten miles and I was happy to notice it was lessening. I could see the turnoff for the cars in the
distance, which meant the finish line was just around the corner after
that. There are always lots of cars
along that road, so I am happy to get beyond where they turn off into Teton
Village and can ride on a closed road for the approach to the finish
chute.
I must have missed the 3 km
to go sign because the next one I saw was 2 km to go, which made me very
happy. I glanced behind me and was
pleased there were no riders close by.
There were a couple of guys ahead of me, but I could control my distance
behind them. I crossed into the oncoming
traffic side, to be lined up to enter the finishers chute. I could feel my body’s relief to know the end
was literally in sight. I was about to
finish my sixth Lotoja and my first one riding with the women racer group. I moved into the narrowing chute and slowed
my pace to a safe distance behind those in front of me. I made it to where some spectators were
lining the left side along the approach to the finish and sat up tall on my
bike, let go of my handlebars and prepared to cross Lotoja’s finish line once
again. I heard my name announced as a
finisher just before I finished Lotoja for the fifth consecutive year, my sixth
finish overall. I did it and I could not
wait to stop and let the volunteer take my timing chip. My finish photos say it all… another
challenging day in the books. Yeah!
Brenda was there to give me a
big hug and help me with whatever I needed.
We worked great as a team and she was there for me every place we
planned. It was an awesome day for a
challenging ride.
