Category Archives: Tour Divide

Training And Change Of Plans

April Training

I trained for the Tour Divide through April logging ~700 miles and ~50,000 feet of elevation gain.  Most rides were gravel grinders in the Boulder/Longmont area.  I feel that I’m a strong climber but struggle far more on longer days without large climbs/descents.

One of the harder rides was a loop from Boulder to Nederland via Flagstaff/Gross Res/Magnolia, then north on the P2P and back via Gold Hill and Sunshine.  I carried 4.5L water and enough food for the entire day to simulate the TD more closely.

The month was capped with two back-to-back 75 mile rides – one with 6,600ft of elevation, the other with 2,900 ft of elevation.  The first ride caused a lot of chafing, but I wasn’t smart enough to apply chamois cream.  I really paid for that oversight the next day, which was a flatter “sit in the saddle and spin” kind of day.  For the high ft/mile of the first day and soreness + butt pain the second day, I think the ride times and average speeds were pretty respectable: 11.4mph and 12.8mph moving average (9.9mph and 10.4mph overall average).

 

May Training

Things fell apart in May.  Today is May 29th, and so far I’ve ridden 117 miles over 5 rides…  I just lost motivation to train.

Change of Plans

Once again I’m not ready to race the Tour Divide.

In May I went through some personal things that were mentally and emotionally draining.  I couldn’t bring myself to get on the bike.  The longer I went without riding, the more guilty I felt, and the more I was worried about losing my fitness.  I didn’t want to ride, because I’d see how far I had slipped in terms of fitness.  It became a feedback loop.

In April I finalized my transportation to Antelope Wells.  Balancing my girlfriend’s and parent’s schedule, I’m able to be dropped off at Antelope Wells on the morning of June 7 (the day before the Grand Depart).  If I were heading southbound from Banff with the Grand Depart, I think the mid-pack camaraderie of “being in it together” would help forward progress and make the race worthwhile.  Riding northbound, and leaving a day before everyone else made it feel not like a race.  Since there are far fewer NoBo racers, I’d likely ride alone – maybe the entire way.  Would I be able to push myself to the limit for 3+ weeks on my own?  Do I want to?

I can imagine arriving at a great camping spot in the late afternoon.  The racer pushes on.  The tour-er can camp and cook a meal.  What about when I arrive in cool towns like Del Norte, Salida, and Frisco?  The racer stops at subway and a gas station or grocery store for resupply and continues riding ASAP.  The tour-er can visit a brewery, enjoy a sit-down meal, and (gasp) even take a rest day.  The racer values forward progress at the expense of almost everything else.  They’re out there to test their physical and mental limits.

That’s not to say that racing is bad – maybe it’s not for me right now.  I respect the dedication and willpower that racing the TD takes (and any other bikepacking race).  I think I cling to the idea of racing the TD because I want to be seen as someone with the willpower to do hard things.  But at the same time I don’t want to sacrifice so much on the “fun” side of it.

So WTF Dave?  I went through this exact same thing 3 years ago.  I decided then that there wasn’t enough balance between pushing myself and enjoyment.  Earlier this year I thought that I was okay with it, but not so much anymore.

If my hesitation to racing the TD is the rigidity of forward motion at all costs, I shouldn’t race.  A week into the race, I might pass through Salida and absolutely hate that I have to be in and out in 1-2 hours.  That’s a recipe for quitting the race.

Why couldn’t I decide to tour all or part of the route?  Is it ego – being a “racer” or being able to say I’m riding all the way to the opposite border?  Maybe I originally wanted to race the TD because being away from work for 4 weeks is easier than 6-8.  Sacrificing a month of billable work is less impactful than two – on top of there being far less travel/lodging/food expenses.

What Now?

I’m still starting in Antelope Wells on June 7, but my plan is to ride ~1,000 miles of the GDMBR to the Silverthorne/Kremmling area, then ride east through Winter Park, over Rollins Pass, through Nederland, then back down to Boulder over 14 or so days.

My new goal is to push myself on the bike every day and close to double my daily mileage compared to my 2010 tour – between 70 and 100 miles per day.  I want to push myself but still have the opportunity to take a rest day when needed, stop early in the day if I reach a nice place to camp, or grab an early hotel in town if the weather is turning for the worse.

It’s very possible that next winter I’m going to think about the Tour Divide again.  Having this trip under my belt is going to help with that.  I’ve built up the TD/GDMBR in my head for the past four years that I’m so far disconnected with the reality of it.  Doing 1,000 miles of the route will remove the uncertainty of what my capabilities are, how difficult the days actually are for 2018 Dave vs 2010 Dave, and maybe solidify future “TD or Not” decisions.

Gear Inches and Granny Gears

On some recent climby training rides, especially when feeling effects of accumulated fatigue, I found myself wishing for a lower granny gear.  I’ve been riding a 28/42 crankset + 11-36 cassette.  With a 2.2×29″ tire, that’s roughly 22.5 gear inch granny gear (and 110.3 gear inches on the high end).  I’ve been riding this for a while now and it’s been fine for normal, unloaded riding.  Throw in back-to-back long/climby days and 20+ lbs of gear, water, food, and trying to ride at a more sustainable “all day” pace – a lower granny gear would be nice.

Back in 2015 when I trained for the TD I was running a 1×11 with a 30-42 granny – 20.6 gear inches.  I never considered that granny gear to be inadequate, but I didn’t like how I spun out almost any gradual descent.  The high-end was a meager 86.7 gear inches.

So I figure I have two options:

  1. Replace the 28/42 chainrings with 26/39.  That would change the gear inch range to 20.9 – 102.5.  A granny gear 7% lower than previously.
  2. Keep the 28/42 chainrings and add a 42T Wolftooth cog to the cassette. Gear inch range:  19.3 – 110.3.  A granny gear 14% lower than previously.

I opted for #2 and installed it last night.  It offers a lower granny gear without sacrificing the upper range.

Because we’re adding a new granny gear, a different cog must be removed – typically the 15T or 17T.  The downside is that it introduces a larger jump between gears: 11-13-17-19-22 or 11-13-15-19-22.  Of course, Wolftooth thought of a solution for this: replace the 15T and 17T with a 16T cog.  So the stack looks like 11-13-16-19-22.  Two 3T jumps jumps instead of a 2T and 4T jump.

And here it is, in red of course.  Very nice looking!

In the work stand everything sounds and works fine.  For the first time ever, I actually had to add links (just one) to a new chain for it to be the proper size.  We’ll see how it works in the field soon enough.  Mental notes to myself: how noticeable the lower granny gear is?  Has shifting crispness has changed at all? Are the jumps between the 13-16-19 cogs more jarring?

 

While on the topic of gear inches, I just had to figure out my granny gear of the commuter bike I rode on the Great Divide in 2010.  28/38/48 crankset + 11-32 cassette with 2.2×26″ tires: 23.1 gear inch granny gear.  So slightly harder than the cutthroat’s 28/36 granny.  Considering I had never ridden in mountains, inefficient bike position, a heavy bike, and a far more/heavier gear I don’t know how my knees didn’t explode.  On the high end, the 48/11 combo gave 115.2 gear inches.  Even with such a tall gear, I remember spinning out on various descents, wishing to be able to pedal to generate some warmth.

Tour Divide: Southbound vs Northbound

I put my name on the start list in early February as a Southbound Grand Depart participant.  After reading reports of above average snowpacks in Canada/Montana, and below average snowpacks in New Mexico/Colorado I’m starting to consider a Southbound start.

Reasons to Ride Southbound

I signed up as a Southbound racer for a few reasons: to be part of the Banff Grand Depart experience, easier travel arrangements (fly to Calgary, have family/girlfriend waiting in Antelope Wells), and more chance of companionship.  Ego, convenience, and safety in numbers.

There’s certainly an appeal to being part of the mass start.  Being mid-pack with other racers, lots of people on the route would know what we’re doing.  I remember riding into Cuba and having drivers wave at us as if they knew we were touring the GDMBR.  It felt good to get that recognition.

Travel arrangements are easier for me ending in AW.  My family lives in the Denver area, so for them to get to AW is just a 11 hour drive.  I imagine being able to arrange something roughly like, “once I’m halfway between Pie Town and Silver City, Drive to Silver City and wait there.  Once I hit Separ, start driving to the border.”

Companionship shouldn’t and can’t be counted on, but early in the race I think it would help to build confidence before settling into a routine.  Knowing that there will be 100 others around +/- a few days is psychologically comforting.

I think I would prefer ending the race in Antelope Wells, having completed the route the other direction.  A tour or TD race is such an experience that I want a chance to reflect on the trip.  The solitude of the desert and boredom of flat pavement would let that happen.

I remember riding up the Spray River Trail rounding a corner and suddenly being at the trailhead, my GDMBR trip finished.  I suddenly became just another tourist in Banff.  Instant culture shock.  Suddenly thrown into a crowded town that doesn’t match the experience of the preceding 2,700 miles.

Reasons to NOT Ride Southbound

  • Colder weather in Canada/Montana
  • Hike-a-bike due to large snowpack
  • Hike-a-bike through snowmelt
  • Hotter weather in New Mexico
  • Less surface water available in New Mexico
  • Greater chance of monsoons + peanut butter mud in New Mexico

Cold is one of my greatest fears. The 2014 race started with a week of snow and rain.  As someone whose feet sweat profusely and constantly has cold hands (poor circulation?), that sounds miserable.  Like quit-the-race miserable.  Walking through snowmelt runoff streams for the first few days – I imagine my feet would get numb and stay that way all day, regardless of clothing choices.

Then there’s the “unknown.”  Most rookies go into the race with no firsthand knowledge of the route.  I have the small advantage of having ridden S=>N once before.  I know roughly what supplies are available at various towns.  I remember some water sources in dry areas, and can remember roughly what much of the route looked/felt like.  If I were to ride southbound, my knowledge of the climbs would be wasted.  I had to hike up Fleece Ridge and suffer up the climb out of Radium, but I got to enjoy massive descents down to Abiquiu and Del Norte.  I don’t know what the experience is like in the opposite direction.

It’s typically stated that the route Southbound climbs gradually and descends steep.  I think my riding style now favors steep climbs and more gradual descents – the Northbound direction.

General Race Outlook

When I was sure I was racing Southbound, I mostly felt worried about prolonged wet/cold and being in bear territory on day one.  Plus, ending day one with a 3 hour hike-a-bike up the quad trail/river to Koko Claim is a bit daunting.

When I consider riding Northbound, it feels like a weight is lifted from me.  I’ve ridden that direction before.  I don’t have to worry nearly as much about weather.  Getting to Silver City and beyond should be a relatively simple first day.  Getting through the Gila to Pie Town and Grants will be challenging, but it can be planned for.  I’m accustomed to riding in mountains, unlike eight years ago.

I think I will gain a lot of confidence on days one and two if starting in AW.  I remember struggling on the “hills” between Hachita and Silver City.  I remember the first climb on gravel heading into the Gila, how I had to walk after a few hundred yards.  And also the climb out of Black Canyon 30-40 miles later.  From my journal:

The climb out of the canyon was absolute hell. It consisted of many miles of steep roads covered in loose gravel. It had me pushing my bike in no time. Even that was difficult.

After checking elevation profiles on Strava, the climb out of Black Canyon is a 2-mile 6-7% climb.  “Absolute hell” for 2010 Dave, but not a big deal at all for 2018 Dave.  I look forward to doing those climbs again and thinking to myself “hey, I can do this thing!”

In Summary

I’m 90% sure that I’m going to ride South to North at this point.  And if I do choose to go Northbound, the question then becomes: leave with the NoBo Grand Depart, or leave a day or two earlier, or leave a few hours earlier (daylight is more of a premium in NM)?

Southbound Pros

  • Group start experience
  • Not likely to ride completely alone
  • Easier pickup from AW

Southbound Cons

  • Cold, rain, snow
  • Snowpack = hike-a-bike
  • Flying with bike: possibility of damage
  • Heat + mud in NM

Northbound Pros

  • Drive to start: no bike reassembly
  • Cooler in NM/CO
  • Warmer in MT + Canada
  • Less chance of NM mud
  • Climb steep, descend gradual

Northbound Cons

  • Likely to ride alone the entire race
  • Sparse resupply immediately

Tour Divide Training: February – March 2018

February
I continued with TrainerRoad’s Sweet Spot Base II Mid Volume plan, which wrapped up on Feb 24.  I only did a total of three outdoor rides this month for a total of 73 miles.  It’s easy to look at that and feel unaccomplished.  I have to focus on the fact that I did 14 hard trainer rides, which are far more effective at building strength than outdoor miles.

March
March started with a recovery week after the Sweet Spot Base phase, then another FTP test.  This time I scored an FTP of 242 – up 4% from my previous test and up 10% from my first test.  W/kg: 3.68.  It felt good to achieve a higher number.

The next few rides I did outside, and I noticed that I felt unbalanced on the bike.  Riding outdoors (and actually moving) didn’t feel natural.  That was a bit disconcerting.  I decided that it was time to start riding outdoors more.

I attached all bags, bottle cages, lights, and gear to my bike in mid-March to start acclimating to the heaver load.  I’ve loaded about 95% of my gear (some kinks need to be worked out), and now always carry extra water for training weight.  I even did a night ride to start getting rid of the “dark trails are scary” feelings.

I ended up logging 402 miles over 12 rides plus another three trainer workouts.  I definitely need to step it up in April.

Tour Divide Training January 2018

What?!  Tour Divide training?  Official Letter of Intent coming in the future, but yes, I am committed to racing the Tour Divide this year.  I even added myself to the official unofficial start list.  I’m going to start recording my training (physical and otherwise) to help organize my thoughts and keep myself accountable to making it to the start line.

Training Plan

When I trained for the TD in 2015 (but didn’t get to the start line) I just rode my bike a lot.  Long days in the mountains, hill repeats, etc all with my bikepacking gear.  I think what I did would have adequately prepared me to complete the race, had I shown up.  It wasn’t very efficient, though, and I have no idea how strong I was at the end of training compared to the beginning.

That is going to change this year.  I like plans, numbers, and measurable results.  I finally bought a power meter and dedicated trainer wheel for my Cutthroat – it was long overdue.  Armed with power data and a TrainerRoad subscription, I have one goal for now: increase my FTP as much as possible until Spring.  I would be very happy to be in the 275 to 300 watt range prior to the Grand Depart.

Here’s the high-level physical training plan:

  • Sweet Spot Base I (complete)
  • Jan 22 – Mar 3: Sweet Spot Base Phase II Mid Volume (in progress)
  • Mar 5 – April 28: Sustained Power Build Phase (doing increasingly many rides outdoors with gear)
  • May: More logistical rides (multi-day rides, set up/break camp in rain, specific elevation/mileage goals, night riding, etc.)

Progress So Far

Last November when I started training I took my first 20 minute FTP test and achieved a result of 220.  At 145 lbs that put me at 3.34 W/kg.  Pretty solid, I think, for having never trained with any structure beyond “I feel like riding today.  I’ll go…there!”

I started with TrainerRoad’ Sweet Spot Base Low Volume I, but found myself wanting a bit more work during the week.  Halfway through I switched to Mid Volume I to add an extra hard workout to weekends and a mid week low intensity endurance ride (this one I often skip, because BORING).

Near the of January I started Sweet Spot Base Phase II and took my second FTP test: 232 and 3.53 W/Kg.  Immediately after I finished I realized I could have gone bit harder.  My 5 minute splits were 237, 245, 245, 254.  I certainly suffered, but not nearly as much as during the first test.  I think upping my cadence from low 80s to mid-90s helped a ton as well – gotta burn fat and save that sugar!

As of the end of January I am in the middle of the second week of Sweet Spot Base Phase II.  It’s certainly type II fun, but I really enjoy being able to feel worked after 1-2 hours.  If I were doing 1-2 hour rides outside I wouldn’t get nearly the same quality of workout.

I really looked forward to my second FTP test and still feel the same way about my upcoming third test.  Being able to measure improvement is so motivating!  I hope to see even more improvement in my next FTP test than my second.  High 240’s would be great.  250+ would be a nice milestone to break, too.

What I’ve Learned

Learning about FTP, power zones, and pacing has been eye-opening.  Same with the instructions that display with TrainerRoad workouts.

I’ve been pedaling incorrectly this whole time!  Prior to TrainerRoad my natural cadence typically fell in the 80-85 range, probably lower on climbs.  What I didn’t know is that puts my fuel consumption further into the sugar side of the spectrum than ideal.  Spinning faster allows the body to burn more fats instead.  Spinning a cadence of 90+ now seems very natural.

In the past I thought there was value to doing long or hard rides with minimal food to train your body to do without it.  I now realize that improper nutrition gets in the way of training effectively.  I still think there is value to pushing through those discomforts on purpose occasionally, I see them as destructive session rather than constructive.  Rides like that might make you mentally tougher and unlock some “I made it through that, so I can get through this” attitude, but might not contribute to physical fitness effectively.

I also now understand the concept of power zones and their physiological tolls.  Most importantly right now: an all-day pace that an endurance rider can sustain is in the range of 60-75% of their FTP.  Obviously a person with a higher FTP can put out more power all day than another rider with a lower FTP.  Additionally, higher FTP means you can stay in your efficient zones for more time.  Take two riders with FTPs of 200 and 250.  Both can sustain 175 watts for a time, but it will be far more taxing on rider one.  175 watts falls on the high end of tempo whereas it is solid endurance zone for the stronger rider.  Short bursts into the 225 watt range would put rider one into anaerobic zones whereas rider two stays aerobic.

When I look back on the Great Divide, I realize how much fitness I lacked.  I was constantly miles behind the other guys and had to work hard to not be too slow.  I was likely riding well above my endurance pace, taxing my body more than if I rode consistently at my all-day pace.  I imagine that my fitness was in a state that so many of the climbs put me far into the red and robbed my of any semblance of sustainability.  Oh how I wish I had a power meter back then, so I could compare myself then and now and “forecast” future results.

Well, that’s it for now.  I gotta hop on the trainer and knock out a 3×16-minute over-under interval workout.

Tour Divide 2015 No-Show

Just like in 2014, I trained for the 2015 Tour Divide but decided not to race before the Grand Depart.

For the 2014 race, I started preparing very late.  I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to get strong enough three months prior to the race.  The notion was to do what I could for training and decide in early May whether I’d race.  I wasn’t ready and so decided not to race.

2015-05-16 16.00.26

In 2015, I started training earlier and smarter.  From the beginning, I rode the bike fully loaded.  I rode wearing the clothes that I’d wear on the race.  I explored new roads up in the mountains so I wouldn’t get too bored with training.  In 2014, I gave myself an opportunity to quit and took it.  This year, I decided that I would race from the very beginning.  I bought a plane ticket to Calgary.

It wasn’t until late in May that I did my first training overnighter.  Until then, I told myself that camping was my strength (it certainly was in 2010 when I toured the Great Divide)…I should focus on my physical strength and gear selection.  It turns out that was just an excuse to cover up the real reason for avoiding overnight rides.

Camping is fun.  Even more fun when bikes are involved.  Why didn’t I use “training” as an excuse to camp out more often?  That should have been the first clue that I had reservations about racing.

When I finally went on that first overnighter, I faced new training issues: I had never packed the bike to carry an overnight’s worth of food!  I had always just carried snacks for ~6 hours and stopped at home or a store for meals/resupply.  I also had to find a place for a map case to hold either cues or the ACA maps.

It was a bit of a scramble, but I got the bike and supplies situated and headed out the door.  I was riding up to a reservoir up in the mountains – 18 miles and 3700 ft of climbing away:

The first thing I noticed as I climbed out of Boulder is how much heavier the bike felt.  Should I have been training with extra weight to simulate fuller loads of food/water?  After 10 miles of climbing was the first descent.  I noticed that the map case was flapping in the wind.  The only place/orientation where it would fit caused it to flap up like an air brake when going fast enough.  Obviously TD bikes are as aerodynamic as dump trucks, but over thousands of miles I think it would wear on my mind if the thing would flap around and block wind on every descent or in headwinds.

After months of feeling strong and prepared, I was losing confidence in my setup.

As I descended the final miles to the reservoir, I had a deep feeling of joy of having transported myself into the mountains by my own power.  This is what bikepacking is all about!  The sun had just set, so I ate the subway sandwich, gathered water for the next day, and set up camp for the night.  I didn’t have a set/break camp routine with this gear, so it took a while to get ready.  I wished it was still light so I could walk around the reservoir and explore a bit.  I wished I didn’t have a five o’clock alarm set for the morning.

I turned off the alarm in the morning and kept sleeping.  I would have liked to relax a bit before riding home, but I needed to break camp and eat with some haste.  The Tour Divide isn’t the time to linger.  An hour later, I had packed, eaten, and was riding home.

The ride home was very introspective.  I enjoyed the ride and the camping, but felt like I could have enjoyed the trip more if I didn’t have to rush.  The idea of riding hours into the night and waking before dawn didn’t appeal to me.  By the time I got home my outlook at racing the Tour Divide changed from excitement to dread.  The TD isn’t the right balance of challenge and enjoyment for me.

A few days later, I pulled the plug and decided not to race in 2015.

Oddly, for the first time in many years, I followed along as the racers traversed the continental divide.  In previous years I avoided following along – it had always made me sad that I wasn’t out there racing or touring.  Maybe this year I was content with the decision.

 

Notes for my future self: mistakes
Small details were left unsolved until too late: food choices/capacity, efficient camp setup and breakdown.
Never figured out the ideal cockpit setup: feed bag access, map case, light orientation, map case, bear spray location.
Training focused too much on strength, rather than the above logistics.
I trained my strength, not my weakness.  I focused on climbing when I should have done more long-distance, slower, “flatter” rides.

Tour Divide 2015: Letter of Intent

June 2015 Update: I decided to back out of the race two weeks prior to the start.  Do I regret it?  Yes and no.  I’ve written about it here: Tour Divide 2015: No-Show.  The LoI will stay up for posterity.

I caught the Great Divide bug back in 2010.  As a college student, I was fortunate enough to have time between semesters to ride the Great Divide that summer.  At the time, I expected my parents to be hesitant to the notion of me riding a bike from one border to the opposite.  I was supposed to be thinking of my future – getting job experience with a crappy internship or something.  Oh yeah, I’ll also be riding mostly through remote backcountry, sometimes days between resupply and water sources.  I imagined them going into “protection mode” (as most parents would) and try to convince me to rethink the trip.  What was I to do?

I wrote my parents a letter with my intentions of riding the GDMBR before I knew LOI’s were a practice.  It was my way of being stubborn and saying, “I’m not giving you a chance to convince me this is a bad idea.”

So here I am 5 years later, writing another Letter of Intent.  This time because I am going to race the Tour Divide.


 

I rode the Great Divide in 2010 starting as a complete rookie.  It was my first time riding on dirt for more than 10 miles…first time riding in the mountains…first time riding above 1,000 ft.  I was on a heavy commuter bike with so much gear…oh so much gear!  And I had only ridden a few hundred miles in the flat midwest as “training.”

But as the weeks went on, I had profound satisfaction knowing that I transported myself hundreds and thousands of miles over difficult terrain and through inclement conditions.

In Rawlins, WY I met Matthew Lee and many of the other Tour Divide racers soon after.  I envied their light loads, but not their long days.  They were the next level of hardcore!  Could I do such an event?

Every year since then, usually in the winter when riding days are short, I’d get nostalgic about the GDMBR and think, “Tour Divide this year?”  Well, now it is happening.

I want to climb the mountains, see the sights, descend the passes, overcome the weather, meet the friendly locals, and wake up in the middle of the night to a sky of stars.  I want to experience the highs and lows of the Divide again.  I want to see what I am capable of.

I expect I’ll suffer the same as before, but much faster this time.

 

Then
antelope_wells

Now
2015-05-16 16.00.26

Tour Divide: Not This Year

I am not racing the Tour Divide this year.

I decided two weeks ago after a few self-test rides.  The plan was to ride at least 350 mountain bike miles over four rides – Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday, and Sunday.  If I could not ride at least that much mileage, I resolved to pull the plug on this year’s race.  If I managed that distance, I would at least have an informed opinion about how I’d react physically and mentally, and make a decision accordingly.

Day 1 – Cold and Windy

I set an alarm for 6am, but lacked the motivation to get out of bed that early.  Not a good start to the day.  I began pedaling after 9am.  Conditions were less than ideal for a century.  Had this not been my training week, I would have postponed it a day.  The temperatures stayed cold and a consistent 30MPH+ wind made it feel worse.

As with most long rides, the first 30 miles went by easily.  I caught myself thinking, “I’m not even tired…I can continue this all day no problem.”  Then came 30 miles of grinding.  Riding was no longer fun, the wind sucked, I was either too cold or sweating depending on the section.  I just wanted to be done with the ride.  I had to remind myself that I have 5+ hours moving time left.  Slowly, the miles ticked away.

I ate my lunch as we often did on the Great Divide – plain food while sitting on the side of a road.  It wasn’t too relaxing with the unrelenting cold wind.  Soon I was off again.  The first pedal strokes reminding me that my legs already have a lot of miles in them.  More grinding.

When the odometer showed above 75 miles, my outlook changed.  I was nearing “impressive distance” territory, so there was a mental boost.  I started thinking, “this really isn’t that bad.  Maybe I can get 125 in today!”  That phase didn’t last too long, though.  The temperature started dropping and my motivation with it.  How many more loops until 100?  How many turns until 100?  By the time the odometer flipped, it was dark and my fingers and toes were numb from cold.  I headed home, ate, and put my feet up for the night.

Day 2

Windy again today, but comfortably warm.  It was pretty much a lot more of the same.  On the plus side, my legs didn’t feel sore at all from the century two days ago.  I had high-carb lunch, macaroni and cheese, which I attribute to helping me a lot later in the day.  So much that I opted to do some extra miles to bring the day’s total to 110.  I forgot to apply sunscreen and got some serious cycling tan/burn lines – halfway up my calf from tall socks, halfway up my forearms from pulled down arm warmers, among standard sleeve/thigh lines.

Day 3

Since I realized one rest day is all I need to (relatively) easily ride a century, I decided to make today’s ride more climby.  Plus, doing loops and loops was boring and weekend trail traffic would get annoying.  I did one loop south of Boulder to give the upper elevations time to warm, then turned toward the mountains.

I chose Magnolia Rd, a beast of an ascent, as my path to higher elevations.  It is known as the steepest paved road in the county – the first mile being 14%; first two being 12%.  It averages only 9% over 4.5 miles due to two minor flat/”down” sections.  With my 34t chainring, I was in the 48t granny gear most of the climb, but the cadence I kept wasn’t uncomfortably low.  Had I ridden Mag later in the day, it would be a different story.  I don’t understand how roadies can get up this climb with their gearing.

I reached the Peak to Peak and headed south to Rollinsville, then west on dirt.  After a gradual climb over 9 miles, I reached the Moffat Tunnel.  Unfortunately, the railroad-grade 4WD road that leads over Rollins Pass was snow covered from the beginning, so it’ll be at least a few weeks before the lakes will be accessible for short overnighters.

I retraced my path backward to the P2P and stopped for food in Nederland.  From there it would be a few short climbs before a long descent back to Boulder.  I got back home just in time to avoid a strong storm cell.

300+ miles with 20,000+ vertical over three days.  Not bad, but I knew the fourth day would be the real test.  How will I recover without a full rest day?

Day 4

Based on the original plan, I only had to ride 40 miles to get to 350.  Stacking long days up front when I can fully recover seems like cheating, so I upped today’s goal to a century.

I started again on the trails south of Boulder to warm up.  Doing magnolia again was in the back of my mind, but soon ruled out after some minor steep inclines.  I knew grinding in the granny gear for an hour was unobtainable.  So I did more and more loops on dirt single and double-track.  It wasn’t fun.  My legs felt dead from the previous day.  I was hot, dehydrated, and losing motivation quickly.

After this ride I needed to make a decision about racing.  I started thinking about it.  Can I see myself finalizing TD arrangements one month from now?  Can I imagine myself not getting ready for the TD?  Will I regret it?  Which will I regret more: starting and not finishing or waiting until another year?

The middle of a difficult ride is probably not the best time to make a decision, but I started leaning more and more toward not racing.  Once I figured that out, I turned around and got home at mile 60.  I knew that by turning around and not pushing on I was almost surely deciding not to race.

Decision Time
I sat a home and wrote down some random thoughts about racing vs not.  Most were rhetorical questions that didn’t help much.  In the end I decided not to race this year.

My motivation gave out after a single difficult day.
I couldn’t manage being this sore (and certainly more) for a whole month.
Averaging 100 miles/day means sometimes riding 75, sometimes 125.  I’d have to increase my training mileage even more!
I impressed myself with being able to consistently ride MTB centuries with one day of rest in between, but I did them without gear, with a shower and comfortable bed every night, proper nutrition, and near perfect weather.  True TD conditions would increase the mental and physical demands.

Final Thoughts
I enjoy competing against myself via setting PRs on Strava segments.  Ride fast and it’ll be over soon.  My 100 milers were long, but even then there is a finish line.  I could count down from 100 to 50 to 25 to 12 and eventually reach 0 and stop.  I am in (somewhat) in control of my pace and therefore can determine how long it will take.

The TD is a different game: I need to ride 16 hours per day.   Regardless of how fast or how far, I need to ride all day every day.  Did I hit 100 miles at 4pm?  Good…now go for another 6 hours before setting up camp.

I realize it’s probably my cognitive makeup.  If 100 miles takes 16 hours, the only difference is perspective.  “Ride 100 miles per day for 27 days” is easier to stomach than “ride all day, every day for 27 days.”  The TD seems to be an exercise of the latter.  A metaphor:  I am a web developer.  I like programming applications, being able to mark them as complete, and move to the next.  These are like century rides.  The Tour Divide seems closer to writing code for 16 hours per day on a project that has no end in sight.  How can I stay motivated if the goal is so far away?

Now I realize that for me a successful TD attempt starts with motivation.  Can I break it down into daily, achievable milestones?  I decided to train for the race out of opportunity.  My job sucked, so I could quit and train for the race.  I need to have Antelope Wells or Banff as a fundamental goal and commit earlier.

Maybe none of this makes sense and is just me trying to justify my decision.  Who knows…

Tour Divide Considerations

Earlier this year, I had the idea of attempting the Tour Divide.  The job wasn’t working out, so I decided to leave at the end of March.  The notion was to to split my time between freelance web development work and preparing for the TD.  As it were, a few friends and past co-workers were also dissatisfied with their employment situations, so we banded together to form a web development business.

So far it has worked out quite well – flexible hours and the ability for work from home have allowed me to ride as much as necessary.  The training bottleneck is motivation and boredom rather than time.

As I left my job and considered the TD, I realized two months is not a lot of time for preparation.  It was a low-mileage winter for me, so my legs needed waking up.  Of course, there are other aspects of preparation beyond physical – mental, logistic, and equipment.

Physical prep is my first priority.  Having toured the Great Divide and bikepacked half of the Colorado Trail, I’m relatively familiar with the logistic and equipment needs (and at least half-informed with the mental stress).  I set a deadline of early May to see how strong I could become – to see whether averaging 100 dirt miles per day is possible.  That deadline is a week away now and I’m still on the fence.

Am I strong enough?
The human brain can rationalize anything.  That’s where I’m at and it’s making my final decision, to race or not, very difficult.

One on hand, I completed the Great Divide in 2010 over 50-some days having trained at 500 ft., never on dirt or with any climbing, on a hybrid/commuter bike without a proper granny gear, with an exorbitant amount of equipment.  I’m much more prepared now.

On the other hand, I struggled day after day until my en-route training kicked in.  I averaged half the daily distance I want to achieve during the TD and had the luxury of a rest/half day every five or so days.  Not having rest days or long evenings to recover will deplete the body.

Then again, now I live at 5,400 ft.  My normal, for-fun rides are on mixed single and double track up to 7,000 ft. with 2,000-4,000 ft of climbing.  I have access to 3,000 ft. unrelenting climbs a few miles from my front door.  By mid-May, I’ll be able to grind gravel at 10,000+ ft.  Training in tougher road/elevation conditions than the average mile of TD must count for something, right?

Having ridden the route before (NoBo, unfortunately), I generally know what to expect.  I have a notion of what services are available in certain towns and a very good memory of turns, landmarks, and road conditions.  All of this reduce the anxiety that a rookie rider will have before leaving Atlantic City, Cuba, or Pie Town into the subsequent remote stretches.  How much is this worth if my legs aren’t conditioned properly?

Training To-Date
This month I’ve ridden 25-50 miles daily.  My biggest rides were consecutive 75-mile days with 5,500 ft vertical each, on a mix of single/double track, gravel, and a splash of asphalt.  It took 6.5 hours of riding over 8.5 elapsed hours.  The soreness from the first day didn’t affect my performance on the second day, so that was comforting.  Those days were ridden without bikepacking gear and after a full night’s sleep in a proper bed.  Not too bad considering I was dormant most winter and walked to work rather than commuting by bike.

It’s still a long shot from consecutive centuries with gear in inclement weather while sleep deprived.  Is it enough to be sure I can get that strong in the next five weeks?  I have to answer that soon.