Tour Divide: A Review Part 3 of 3

Race Tactics....

Racing an ultra endurance event is a mixed bag of delightful treats. There are epic climbs, long days in the saddle, days upon days of suffering, and unending loneliness. There is no one single best way to approach a task that is myriad in nature. So, I will give you my approach and let you take what you will.

My coach often says, "Train your weakness, race your strength." This is a pretty good philosophy for the tour. For an illustration, in my training I focused on hard short intervals and climbing (neither of which are my forte). And, in the race I let myself go slow and stead for unending hours on the bike each day which ultimately led to my strength, "metal fortitude".

In contrast, other racers (like the Eurotrain) focused on short hard sets with longer rest breaks and they opted for a hotel every night. In the first few days of the race I would stop at the same place the Eurotrain did but I would be there for roughly five minutes while they would stop for a good half hour. I would see them later in the day as they passed me on a long climb but then I would pass them again as they stopped at the top to recover from their hard effort. They also stopped early in the night and tended to avoid the foul weather.

Their preference for creature comforts let me grab a huge lead on day four or five, as an unbelievable hail/rain/lightning storm blew in. They ran for cover near warm river campground and I pushed on for many hours into the night giving me a sizable 40 mile lead the next morning. This 40 mile lead was enough to hold them off until the heat started to get to me in southern Colorado.

Really what I'm trying to say here is; long steady hours in the saddle will beat short bursts of speed. (Rule #1)

Another big advantage that I had over other racers was my course knowledge. I scoured every blog, book, and online forum I could find for intel about the course, the cities that it passed through, and where resupply/shelter points were. I strongly feel that I had the most course knowledge of any 'rookie' in the field.

My course knowledge helped me push further many days with the warm allure of food and shelter in front of me. It also helped me out think the competition....

On day three I was one of the last riders into the small town where I slept. Everything was closed down except the bar and the front desk of the motel. I saw about eight bikes at the bar when I rolled in. I checked the times at the convenience store and saw that it didn't open until 7 am. I checked in at the motel and bought enough resupply from the front desk to make it to the next city knowing that my resupply would let me leave very early while the other racers (who were likely on beer three) would be waiting around for the store to open.

This brings us to rule #2, know thy course.

The final piece of the divide tactics puzzle is.... suffering. Be ready for it. It will be there.

I often think back longingly about being in the open wilderness, riding my bike and feeling like I'm at peace with nature... then suddenly I start to get panicked thinking about how much it hurt and how scared I was. I often will reminisce about the tour to my wife saying, "Man, I really want to do the tour again". This phrase is often quickly followed up with and exasperated, "Nevermindithurttoomuch." after I remember the reality of the struggles on the divide.

Really:

It still gives me nightmares.

I still don't have all my toe nails grown back.

I still don't have hair on my @ss in two huge circular spots where my saddle sores were.

It was brutal.

You can let the suffering be your enemy, or you can let it be your confidant, your refuge, your meditative place, and your ally in the war. I relied upon the suffering to whittle down my competition in ways that my fitness could not. I only averaged something like 6 mph over the course of the divide but I beat much stronger riders by doing things like setting out in the rain at Brush Mountain Lodge and hiking 17 miles through mud and snow instead of staying in the lodge waiting for friendlier weather.

This brings us to rule number three, "Left foot, right foot". Let nothing stop you from putting your left foot out front and then your right foot out front. It's really that simple, just keep moving no matter how slow or difficult.

Let's review the rules then shall we?

1) Long and steady beats short and fast.

2) Know thy course.

3) Left foot, right foot.

Well, that is my run down on race tactics. I know it sounds pretty simple. That's because, racing the Divide is really simple when it comes down to it. After all the gear selection, training, and anticipation... it really just comes down to making consistent, informed, and unrelenting forward progress.

Tour Divide: A Review Part 2 of 3

Oh dear readers, before you embark on reading this (the second part of a three part series) please be aware that the writer is a serious gear-nerd. You may experience signs of PTSD after being exposed to the often whimsical fair tale love story that is the writer's obsession with gram counting. 


You have been warned.


(Also, I would like to apologize for the organization of this post. It is pretty hodgepodge. Really it could be made into several separate posts, which is kinda what I did by separating it out. You know, what with all the fancy shift +hyphen key separation lines....)

This was taken by a Tour Divide hopeful that I happened upon in Del Norte after a rough day out on the Divide. I was thirsty and they had the best deal on Gatorade EVER. Thanks for the photo Steve!

Gear, yet another subject that I harp on with people that come to me for advice. When I went to Banff I talked to lots of racers that were still deciding on their "final gear selection" at 8pm the night before the start. I on the other hand had basically the same gear on my bike that I had been using since DECEMBER. I can not describe to you the amount of mental stress that this put on the riders who were frantically discussing gear choices.


My first piece of advice about gear revolves around each rider's suffering threshold (a term coined by Matthew Lee). One guy that I met from Texas brought two down sweaters with him. TWO! When we left the start of the race, it was about 45 degrees and he was wearing one of his sweaters. I on the other hand was only wearing a summer kit with arm and leg warmers. Get the difference? My kit weighted much less that his but that wasn't because I'm more awesome (although that case could be argued), it was because I was experienced in cold weather, acclimated to it, and I possessed the ability to deal with it when it became incredibly uncomfortable.


On the other hand, I'm sure that guy smoked me in the desert heat.


I guess what I'm trying to say with all this rambling is: You need to train in inclement weather to force your body to adjust, to figure out what you need to survive, and to learn what comfort level you can handle.


I think the real key in gear choice is a really contained in that word I just used, comfort.

• Are you comfortable riding in the rain for three days straight without rain pants?
• Are you comfortable getting little sleep for a few nights because you freeze your booty off in a summer sleeping bag?
• Are you comfortable with the risk factors of getting stuck out 60 miles from a city because you don't have an extra chain?

These comfort levels are what you need to establish a base line. From there, experience and experimenting will guide you to the most acceptable ratio of weight and risk. Personally I was able to dial my kit and bike down to 31 pounds (excluding the summer kit and helmet that I would always be wearing during the race).

This kit weight included things that I consider to be mandatory for mere mortals on the Divide; two spare tubes, two gps units (an extra incase the first one broke), a kit for body care, a kit for bike care, a sleeping system, 6.5 liters of water capacity, and extra clothing. 

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Below I will list a few things that I think are the best options of gear choices that are ubiquitously discussed in bikepacking circles. You cannot argue with my stance. I am right. Don't even try it. 

1. Tubless is king.
2. Nanoraptors are great but they aren't what they once were. One set used to make it through the divide, that no longer happens. If you use them, be prepared to change them at least once.
3. GPS is the shizz. 
4. You need a back up navigation method, why not a second GPS?!?!?
5. Your sleep system including stuff sack, insulation, pad and bivy doesn't need to weigh more than three pounds. Mine weighed 1 lb 14 oz.
6. Rain pants are BS. Grow a pair. Unless of course you are the wicked witch of the west and you can't get wet. 
7. Wear real bike shoes, none of this hiking/biking shoe business. 
8. Bring an extra pair of cleats for you clipless pedals. (See what I did there? I assumed you would have clipless pedals because well, I'm telling you you will.)
9. Use Revelate Designs for all your bikepacking gear needs. If you use a rack system you are not only a dolt, you are adding several extra pound of metal to your bike that WILL break on The Divide.
10. Cooking systems are useless.
11. If you have built a fitness base that leaves you capable and you are ready to suffer through some discomfort, you need not fear hypothermia. (This of course assumes you have adequate clothing.)
12. The Neoair sleeping pad is more comfortable than your five grand thermarest space age foam adjustable california king mattress. And, it weighs less. (Your only other option is a Klymit X-frame but that doesn't have nearly the insulative value.)
13. I have a love affair with Western Mountaineering sleeping bags. My only grip is that they don't make a quilt. So, I taught myself to sew and I made my own out of my fav WM sleeping bag. 
14. Your bivy doesn't need to be waterproof if you are 1) willing to ride until you find something to sleep under and 2) you are creative. 
15. Wool is awesome.
16. I wish I would have brought extra socks, wearing two pairs of uber thin socks would have helped with the blisters from endless snow hiking. I would not bring extra socks just to have a dry pair to change into.
17. Baby wipes. Use them to keep your feet and @ss clean!
18. Anbesol is a great numbing agent for giant saddle sores.
19. Cream for chaffing is a must. A and D ointment, the stuff Matthew Lee recommends, is available along the divide and works well. But, be careful. It's ability to resist water is a double edge sword: it's good because it won't wash off in the rain, it's bad because it holds sweat against your skin if you use too much.
20. Don't skimp on the tire pump.
21. If you want to ride a lot at night, you need a good light system to keep your eyes from getting really tired. If not, one light is adequate. (If you use an EOS, take it off the mount and stow it unless you are using it. That would have saved me a ton of trouble by preventing me from loosing it just before Platoro.)
22. Cuben fiber is the best lightweight fabric out there. (FYI, it is easy to wear out though!)
23. That is all I can think of in the non-debatable category. However, I reserve the right to tell you that I'm right and you are wrong about anything in the future.

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So Justin, how did you go about choosing all your gear and whittling it down to a svelte 11 pounds?

Well, I started with an excel spread sheet and it was all down hill from there.....

But really;

I perused bikepacking.net and backpackinglight.com for ideas on light weight gear lists. Then I synthesized my own list of what I thought I needed. (This original list was modified several times. I ended up adding a few things and removing several things, based on experience and training of course.)

From there, I took the items that I already owned and weighed them (being sure to log the weights on my excel spread sheet). Then I got online again and looked for the lightest weight version of the items that I didn't have. I also found some items to replace gear that I already had. (For example, my old down jacket weighed 1 lb 2 oz or so. I sprung for a 900 fill mont bell jacket that weighed 5.5 oz and was almost as warm.)  I compared cost to weight ratio and came up with the best version of a kit that I could muster for the money.

Don't get me wrong here, my kit cost a pretty penny. But, there were some things that I just wasn't ready to spend money on. For example, I could have save quite a bit of weight on my sleeping bag (a tremendous 1.5 oz!) by having my own custom cuben fiber sleeping quilt made for ~$600. That works out to $400 per ounce of reduced weight. Ummmm, yeah... No thanks!

I did come up with some other creative ways to save weight with my sleep system though. I cut down and resealed my neoair so that it was only torso length. I rented a sewing machine, taught my self to sew, and made my sleeping bag into a quilt. I found a great deal on an uber light bivy. I custom made a super light tarp to get me through any horrendous down pours. The nonsense just went on and on.

It was a lot of work but I am relatively certain I had the lightest kit at the start line. The bike shop owner in Banff said that The Matthew Lee was the only person he had ever seen with less gear. That was probably the best compliment I've ever recieved!

Another photo of the stallion. I mean really, it looks like there isn't hardly anything on there!

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Ok well, that is about all I can think of as far as gear goes. There are a few things I could add (ok there are TONS of things I could add) but this post is just too long as it is.

Peace out and good luck with the training!

Happy Hanukkah!!!!

Tour Divide: A Review Part 1 of 3

So, I have been asked to review my Divide training, gear and race tactics. It sounds like a good idea. I am going to break it down into three installments. Training is first up!

Melted ergon grips from the Southern New Mexico sun. 

Tour Divide Training:

I started training for the tour about a year out. I was still recovering from a brutal injury that I incurred as a police officer and had just recently started riding again (my first ride post injury was 35 seconds). At the point about a year before the race, I had worked my way up to riding for ~2 hours and I was feeling ok about my progress.

From this point I continued to push my long rides further and further. Slowly and consistently I pushed out to one ~6 hour ride a week. I then started riding with my bike loaded in preparation for a 100 mile snow bike race on the Iditarod trail in late winter. In my opinion, one of the best things that I did for my training was riding with a loaded bike. It really helped strengthen my tendons and my mind to the load (literally) that I would be bearing during the Divide.

The 100 mile snow bike race that I did too me exactly 24 hours and I did it with only an accidental 30 minute nap at the last check point. (I fell asleep sitting upright in a chair while I was eating soup.) This was about four months out from the tour. My goal for this race was to be able to ride ~16 hours at a continuous pace that I felt I could hold for the entire divide, about a 5 out of 10 on the ol' effort scale.

After this race, I took a few easy weeks because I was mentally burned out. After some mental recovery I eased back into training. I took this opportunity to really refine my gear and load on the bike.

I then set a goal for my first multi day ride, which was actually a road ride since the trails are far too muddy in spring to be of any use. In order to maintain my tour divide positioning and such, I switched my mountain bike saddle and pedals to my road bike. I also wore mountain biking gear (to include shoes) and loaded my full gear load on my bike.

For the training ride I rode from my house for two full days and ended up in a city where there was a 130+ mile race that covered lots of elevation on the third day. I rode this race after camping in a friends yard on the second night. During this training ride I was completely self supported and I only wore my biking clothes just like I was planning to do on the divide. This ride was done ~2 months before the divide. It gave me the confidence to know that I could go the distance.

Finally, I rode a 140 mile race that was all on dirt road about three weeks before the divide. For the race I rode completely loaded even though the other racers were on tricked out cross country rigs. I camped out in my divide sleeping kit, woke up at the crack of dawn, and did the course as an ITT (I left about four hours before the race started). The winner and I finished within a few minutes of each other. It's not bad considering the fact I was carrying camping gear, food, and 7 liters of water the whole time!

After that, I just chilled for about 3 weeks and slowly cranked down the miles. The week of the divide start I only rode one time. It was a good mental break from the bike and all the hard work I had put in.

So, that about covers what I did. I have three other pointers that were crucial to my training:

1) For the love of all that is holy, ride with a loaded bike! I know I harp on this like a mofo. But really, you MUST condition your tendons and mind to handle the load. It is so important! I firmly believe that anybody can condition their bodies for the miles of the divide during the race so long as they have put in the work to make their body hardy enough for the work load.

2) Peak for the finish, not for the start. It is important to remember that this race is 20-30 days long for most riders. That is the longer than an entire training cycle for most elite athletes (By that I mean, most athletes build for three weeks and then take a recovery week each cycle of training.) You need to work hard in training but you also need to show up ready to put in a full mental effort from the get go. It seemed to me that too many riders were taxed to the max on the morning of day 1.

3) Bike commute. The entire year before the divide, I commuted by bike most days. I even rode to training sessions. I became infamous for riding across town to a group training session, crushing the interval work and then cruising home. This not only helped me build fitness but it taught my body to keep riding even after I was whooped from hard riding. Nothing teaches you body to survive a bonkfest like forcing your body into a bonk on a regular basis.

Things I wish I would have done:

1) I wish I would have done more heat training. I suffered in the souther parts of the race. I failed to anticipate how hot it was going to be. Some of this was due to the fact that they had an incredibly hot and dry snap right as I hit New Mexico, it was literally record setting. (See above picture of my MELTED handlebar grips)

2) I wish I would have concentrated on loosing more weight. I was too heavy when I started. Part of this was due to my heavy training load (all I could do was eat after a three day ride) and part of it was due to my lack of discipline in the diet department.

3) I should have trained more climbing. If it was possible, I would only ride uphill for the entire year before my next attempt at the divide. That's right, I would do my best to never coast, never roll on flat terrain, and never take it easy.... I would just climb. (Yes, there was THAT much climbing on the divide)


Well, that about does it for the training section. Good luck to all you racers and be sure to post any questions in the comments section!!!!

I love what I'm doing day #66

I love that moment on a group night ride where everybody meets up at the next trail junction, all the riding lights get turned off to save battery power, everybody is quietly catching their breath, and all you can hear are the sounds of the trees swaying in the wind.

I love what I'm doing day #64

It has been a long time since I wrote a daily post!!

Since my last post I have finished finals (On one test I only missed one question!!) and taken a much needed vacation with the ol' ball and chain. I also finished my tour divide blogging!!!!

I guess what I'm saying is, I love that I get so lost in the awesomeness of my life that I forget to blog sometimes.

Tour Divide 20 days, 14 hours, 10 minutes, 12 seconds

The last day- North of Silver City to Antelope Wells, ~150 miles


What a morning; I woke up to a beautiful sunrise over the southern desert wilderness, I had a big smile on my face, and I knew hot food wasn't too far away. I packed up my stuff and started hiking. After about half a mile the trail smoothed out a bit and became rideable.

I realized as I was riding that the trail wasn't that bad in the day light. I also realized that the edge of the trail that had seemed like a vast abyss in the dark was actually a pretty freaking steep drop off. I still can't believe I didn't kill myself out there....

I hit up the roadway at the campground where the CDT dumps out. The road climbs for a bit but since it was still cool out I was able to cook right up the few miles of climbing. After that, the roadway drops right down into Silvercity.

I stopped a local couple in a car and asked where some good eats were. The pointed out a nice cafe that was on route. Bingo! I stopped in, called my wife, and ate three helping of breakfast. My wife told me that DJ and Ben weren't too far behind me. 

Time to go!

The meal and the thrill of actually having somebody to race really got me pumped. I rocketed right out of town. As I was riding along the highway I was waved down by a guy in a truck. He asked me if I needed a ride in from the border.

To be honest I hadn't really planned what I was going to do. My wife had originally been planning to pick me up but I was going to beat her to the border by several days because I had drastically overestimated how long it was going to take me.

I told him that I did need a ride. He called a friend of his that ran a border shuttle. He said that he would track my spot and get the shuttle to me about the time that I hit the border.(There's an illegal immigration joke there somewhere.)  I wish I could remember his name...

Thanks dude!!!

Taking a walking break during the heat of the day.

More progress towards the border....

I got a flat about half a mile from the little gas station at Separ. It was so hot I couldn't stand changing it out under the open sun. I walked the last bit to the gas station and changed the flat in the shade.

A guy walked up and started asking me about my bike. I explained where I had been and where I was going.

He said, "You know that's like 70 miles from here right?"

I responded, "Yup."

He then looked at the thermometer on the building and said, "You know that thing says it's 115 degrees out here right?"

I responded, "Yup."

He asked, "You know you're crazy right?"

I smirked, "You have no idea..."

I finished up the flat repair and headed into the gas station. I drank six helpings of lemonade from the soda machine (that's like 180 ounces of lemonade!), ate a ton of ice cream, and some candy. Then, I left the store, hit up the last pavement section towards the border, and let my body go.

The last video before my phone died.

I was pretty much on autopilot by this point. So, I fully enjoyed the sunset, the smells, and waving at the same border agent that passed me about 40 times. It was wonderful.

I looked back often hoping to see Ben or DJ and at the same time hoping that they didn't catch me. The later wish came true.

About ten miles from the border a van pulled up next to me. There were a few people in the van and they were hooting and hollering. I was confused but I waved back, said thanks, and kept riding.

I rolled up to the border and the same white van was there. It was DJ's girlfriend, Aidan Harding, and Sarai (the chick who was covering the race from pushpedalcrank.com). I rolled up to the last gate at the border, got off my bike, and just stared into the darkness beyond.

I really wanted to just keep riding. I wanted to know what was out there. I wanted to feel the rhythm of the land, the cycle of the days, and the oneness of nature that I had become so used to.

A voice came from behind me, it was Sarai the reporter, "How do you feel?"

I thought for a few moments and responded simply, "Cathartic."

Then I smiled.

Aidan gave me a beer and we shot the breeze while I waited for my ride. It was a great ending to a hard race. I mean, I finished the worlds toughest bike race and totally had a beer with one of my heroes!

My chariot showed up, a 1995 lincoln town car. A 70 year old dude step out and helped me pack my bike into the trunk. I said good bye to my new found friends and I was off to a little town on the interstate near Separ. ( I can't remember the name of the town but Fixie Dave stayed there during his ITT bike loss fiasco.)

The shuttle driver mentioned that he had talked to some guy who was hoping to catch me a ways back on the course. Just about then we saw a bike light off in the distance. He pulled over and it was non other that THE Ben Oney. I jumped out and congratulated him on such a great race. It was really cool to finish within a few hours of somebody that I had been racing for 20 days.

When we got to the town, the driver stopped at a gas station for me. I got food and some clothing. I looked ridiculous but it was better than my hole laden bike shorts.

I look happy to be in comfy clothing.

The next several days were spent stuffing my face and traveling by bus to Las Vegas to meet my wife. I stopped off in Phoenix to ship my bike. I ended up at this swank little bike place, Sunday Cycles. They were super cool and I recommend checking them out if you are ever in the area! 

Stay tuned for one more Divide blog post where I plan to do a 'look back' at what I did to get ready, what gear I used, and what I would do differently.

Tour Divide Day 20

Tour Divide Day 20- Beaver Head Work Center to Pre-Silver City, ~70 miles

It was really fitting that day 20 was the worst of the race. I mean really, I had been riding for 2500 miles. Why not make it extra tough now?

I woke up to the sound of a truck screeching to a halt in the middle of the road way. I sat up and looked at the guys in the truck. They looked pissed. Through my bleary sleep deprived eyes I peered around at my surroundings. I realized that I was on somebody's private property.

In the late night hours I had passed through a gate that I thought signaled park land (which started right before Beaver Head). It turns out the gate started the private ranch property that was on the road just BEFORE the park. Ooops.

I apologized to the nice gentlemen and explained that I thought the gate was the park gate. They didn't seem too upset after my apology. I guess it's not like I irreparably harmed their ditch or anything.

After I packed up, I rode out towards Beaver Head. I knew there was a vending machine there from reading several blogs and I had been carrying quarters just for the occasion. (Mental note: The lemonade and fanta buttons are backwards on the machine.) At the work center I ran into the fire crew that was just packing up breakfast. I couldn't help but think had I been there over night, they might have let me eat with them.

Oh well.

After refilling all of my water (7 liters) and getting an accidental can of fanta (yuck) I headed out towards Silver City. I was fairly confident that I could make it to the border in the next 24 hours.

Boy was I ever wrong.

I had put in a significant effort the day before and my body was really feeling fatigued. To top it off, it was hot as hell. (115 degrees to be exact.) I was so tired I was walking my bike up even the shallowest of climbs by 9am.

A video from early on in the day.

As I remember it, the road to Mimbres was rolly and the rollers were steep. I walked every single one. I started to get over heated and really worried that I was in trouble because I was running out of water. It was just searing hot. I was having tons of trouble focusing on the task at hand due to what I'm guessing was heat exhaustion.

Then......

Well, I'm not really sure what happened but I must have passed out at some point. I woke up in the middle of the road to the feeling of white hot burning dust on my face. I didn't remember anything before passing out. I didn't remember riding up part of the climb that I was in the middle of, I didn't know where I was on the route, I didn't know what time it was.

I'm not sure when this video was taken exactly and frankly I don't even remember doing it. It looks like I have sand on my nose so I'm guessing it was after the first time I passed out. 

I got pretty worried because I was far from civilization. I started to walk my bike after I was able to get myself up off the ground. Eventually I was able to cool down enough to start riding again. I upped my fluid consumption even though I knew I was about out of water. I guessed that dying now was worse than dying later should I totally run out of water.

A short time later, I again woke up in the white hot sand of the road. I must have been really out of it because the sensation that I remember waking me up was the burning hot sand on my face, not the impact of the fall (AGAIN). I gathered my heap of an exhausted body, got up, and started walking.

I reached down to grab my camel back hose so I could take a swig of water. Alas, no matter how hard I sucked on that damn nozzle no water came out. I realized that I was pretty hosed (Ha, get it?!?!). I was nearly 40 miles from Silvercity with no water and little food.

The next dozen or so miles to the Mimbres cutoff were the most painful of my life. I walked nearly all of it. Even then I was walking from shade spot to shade spot. I did everything I could to keep myself moving. I remember thinking to myself, "Ok, just take twenty steps and you can stop for a few seconds." I repeated this mantra over and over for hours. By time I made it to the paved section that led to Mimbres I was only taking five steps between rest stops.

It was awful.

Lucky for me the paved section to Mimbres was all down hill. Unlucky for me, all the stores were closed.  I decided to stop and beg for some hose water at an outcropping of homes when I saw a lady watering her chickens. (I did not realize that one watered chickens but she was definitely doing such.)

As I explained why I needed water, "You see I'm riding my bike... Canada... Mexico.... Mountains.... I passed out...", I just totally lost my self control and started bawling. (Well, I was sobbing like I was crying but no tears were coming out. Yay severe dehydration!!) She wanted me to come in and get cold tap water. I tried to mumble through my 'tears' that the hose would be fine but she was having non of it.

In the entry way of her home was a mud room with a sink. She told me I was welcome to all I could drink. I downed five liters while I stood there. It was incredible. As I was topping off my bottle she came back to the entry way with her sister and their mother (who was about 85 years old). They had brought me some cookies and cheese.

I tried to explain the rules of the race and that I couldn't accept assistance, but again they were having non or it... ESPECIALLY Granny! I finally relented and said that I would pay for the food. They agreed and I was off. (I seriously think these young ladies saved my life. I send them flowers and salmon after I got back home to Alaska.)

I rode back up hill, filled with life and smiling. Then I hit up the campground/recreation area where the CTD trail section started. I had heard it was tough but I had no freaking idea how tough it was.

We are talking, I've-never-hiked-a-trail-with-a-bike-like-that-before-let-alone-with-camping-crap-strapped-to-it-seriously-it-was-the-hardest-hike-a-bike-on-the-tour-by-far-.

No wonder it took Kurt and company by surprise.

The worst part about the trail was how hard it was to find. I kept trying to follow bike tracks in the dirt only to keep following them as they back tracked. (I later found out from Aiden Harding that he had done the same thing.)

For those that aren't 'in the know', the CDT (Continental Divide Trail) is a hiking trail that traverses the country actually right along the continental divide itself. It is the trail that the Adventure Cycling Association mirrored the Great Divide Bike Route after. So when you are racing the Tour Divide you are mirroring but not actually ON the continental divide the entire time. The CDT is a hiking trail that is marked by either markers(mostly nailed to trees) or cairn(rock piles). Often times the trail isn't incredibly evident and one basically hikes from one marker to the next. Thus, this section of trail is not only steep but it's a pain in the bootie to navigate in the dark when one has lets say 'a pen light from a gas station' to navigate in the dark with.

A typical CDT trail marker.

Despite my trail light deficiencies, I hiked for hours in the dark. I really enjoyed the night air. It was so relieving to be out of the heat of the day. I also relished the fact that I wasn't much more that 130 miles from the finish. No matter what, I would be done in less than twenty four hours.

I started to get so tired I was falling asleep while I was hiking. (Pretty much standard fair for me by this point in the race...) I finally gave in to my need for sleep. (Stupid sleep, I swear I would have finished the tour like two days faster if I didn't need to sleep!)

The terrain around the trail was really rocky. The only relatively smooth spot was the trail itself. So, I just layed down right in the middle of the trail, shot one last diary entry for the day, and passed out.

Recanting the heroism of the Mimbres residents.

Tour Divide Day 19

Tour Divide Day 19- Pre-Pie Town to ~8 miles before Beaver Head Work Center (~155 miles)

This day was one of the best days of the race. My 6'04'' 230 pound frame had been absolutely roasting for the last week. Sure this day got hot but it was only like 95, I mean c'mon that's child's play compared to what I had been riding in.

I started out on smooth pavement after downing a breakfast of chicken Mcnuggets (I fell asleep the night before with a mouthful of food and only halfway through a 20 piece chicken nugget box.) The road out towards Pie town was pretty rough but my body was properly beat into submission at this point and I just cruised it.

It's funny looking back. I remember the morning being an easy cruise but on the map, it was like 60 miles to Pie Town. 

In Pie town I stopped at the Pie Town Cafe', or was it the Pie-o-neer Cafe. Which ever one is on the right as riding up the paved hill. I still can't believe that a town with like 20 people had two cafe's across the street from each other.

This sign is on the dirt road leading to Pie Town. It cracked me up so much I was in tears. 

I downed a burger, fries, some other snacks, four bottles of gatorade, and two pieces of pie with four scoops of ice cream. I struck up a conversation with several people in the restaurant, to include the owner. He was a former navy guy that waited tables with a gun on. Because you know, if you aren't exercising your rights... The Terrorists Are Winning.

I bolted from Pie Town with one thing on my mind. Getting going while the going was cool. About midday, it started to heat up a bit but not enough to kill me. As I was headed out of the high ground, towards the highway crossing I noticed that my rear tire was pretty low. I decide I would wait until the roadway to fill it up. MISTAKE.

Coming down a big descent I flatted, as in I pinch flatted my TUBELESS tires. Not really that big of a deal. I had made it ~2400 miles without an actually tire failure. I changed in no time and I was going again. (Looking back, this was actually a bit detrimental. Had I not stopped for a bit, I might have actually made Beaver Head Work Center. But hey, whatevs.)

I stopped at the same church Matthew Lee stopped at in the Divide movie. It was cool to see it for myself. And, I got some water from the same fountain that Matthew Lee drank out of... Yeah, I freaked a little knowing The Man had consumed water from the same hose nozzle.

It was Über pretty out there....

I hit the road up towards the work center. There was a huge electrical storm rolling in and the rain started to come down pretty good. It is amazing just how comfortable one can become with the outdoors. I only brought a rain jacket for the race. I donned it for the rain but I might as well not have. I had the sleeves pulled up to my biceps, the jacket unzipped, and the hood off. I just let the water wash over me and the mud get all over my body. I soon realized that I wasn't cold, or hot, or wet, or uncomfortable. I was....

Well, I just WAS.

I guess I'm trying to say that I realized it had been weeks since I thought about the weather as inclement. I wasn't uncomfortable. I just was. The pain just was.

In my current life I use the phrase, "It just is", to conjure up the same meditative focus. For example: Histology doesn't suck, it just is.

(Ok, ok. This example really breaks down because I mean, histology DOES suck. But, if I use that mantra, I can make it through the suckness with much more vehemence.)

Oh yeah, this is a blog post about the Tour. Let's get back to it shall we?

The road out to Beaver Head was awesome. The cooler weather, rain, and general beauty really made life good. As it started to cool off in the evening I really let the hammer go. I was pretty set on hitting up Beaver Head for an awning to sleep under.

As I continued on, the road started to get pretty wet and the going got slower but I continued on into the night. As the sun continued to go down I realized that I might not make Beaver Head. The road degrades from a nice graded roadway to a rutty washed out hick truck wonderland. Normally I would be ok with that but my pen-light-from-a-gas-station-head-lamp-replacement didn't really give off much light.

I ended up going over the bars several times. After my fourth Superman impression I decided that discretion was the better part of valor. I laid down in the roadside grass when the rain let up a bit and hoped that: 1) it would stop raining and 2) that I wasn't on somebody's farm. I obviously wasn't too concerned about the situation because I woke up only laying halfway in my bivy, half in the dirt, and next to my sleeping bag.

How I fell asleep without even putting my sleeping bag IN my bivy is beyond me.

I love what I'm doing day #53

I passed histology!!!! I have no idea what my grade was and I just don't care. Come to think of it, I haven't even looked at my grades in that class at all this semester (Well, ok I looked at the one exam we reviewed in class.)

It's interesting to go into an exam working as absolutely as hard as I could on the material for an entire semester and still not knowing ~10% of the answers off the bat. I guess I just don't care about my grades because I know that I have worked for every last little kilobyte of information that I have put in my brain. To be frank, I've never worked harder at anything (physically, mentally, or spiritually). I guess when it comes down to it... I put everything on the line.

That matter's more than result.

Love it.

Hopefully this is the last histology slide that I post on this blog. You know, EVER.

I love what I'm doing day #52

I just snagged a spot at Xterra Worlds. Training is going to be really tough with my disability but I'm going to give it everything I have. We already know I'm going to be last, the goal is to see how small I can make the gap behind second to last!

It's been too long.

I love what I'm doing day #51

I killed the longest run I've done since 'The Accident'. That is, the longest run I've done in more than 2 years.

I really miss these days... Someday I'll make it back.

I love what I'm doing day #50

I went to a Radiation Oncology clinic today. It really confirmed my interest in the specialty.

Love that!

Tour Divide Day 18

Tour Divide Day 18- Post Cuba to Post Grants/Pre Pie Town, 160 miles

This day started out well enough. The early morning traffic had me up a bit before sunrise. I wanted to sleep in a bit but I knew that I would avoid some of the sun by starting out early.

The riding between Cuba and Grants is pretty unremarkable. Just lots of rolling hills, lots of pavement, and lots of heat (It was over 110 during the day). I stopped at the little indian reserve mercantile about 50 miles before Grants. In the bathroom I sewed up the huge hole in my shorts, not that it really mattered because it just ripped again the next day. (At least I made it through Grants without mooning anyone.)

Have I mentioned that I'm from Alaska? Have I mentioned that I suck in the heat? Have I mentioned that I don't even wear something on my face when I ride my fat tire snow bike at ten below?

One hundred and ten degrees Fahrenheit my @$$!!!!!!!

The only other animal dumb enough to be out in the desert.

The heat just completely decimated me this day. About 20 miles before Grants I was falling asleep in the aerobars. I decided to take a nap under the shade of a tree. It was a magical twenty minutes of sleep except for some rude jerk's snoring kept waking me up. (I never figured out who's snoring it was though, when I woke up I was the only person I could see for miles.)

Shortly thereafter, I passed a mining facility that had these absolutely gigantic (and awesome) earth haulers. I was mostly impressed by how nice the drivers were to me, a raggedy looking bikepacker. They slowed down and passed me with tons of caution on the road. (Thanks for not killing me!)

Just outside of Grants I ran into a photographer that was covering the race. He told me that the little English bugger that I passed at Brush Mountain Lodge had passed me some time in the night. Then he took my photo....

I look like such a hobo!

I made it into Grants, restocked, and stopped at McDonalds. I was in Grants for "way, way, way too long." (A quote from me in a diary video.) I stopped to call Liz, my wife, about five times in Grants. The feeling of being on the tour at this point is pretty hard to explain. Everyday metaphors just don't do justice to the amount of metal fortitude that is requisite for making it 2500 miles on a mountain bike. Suffice it to say.... I was pretty lonely and tired. 

A photo I sent to my wife to show her what a hobo I was. 

A video from just after Grants. Apparently I was there for way too long....

After Grants the riding is more pavement. I wanted to ride into the night and maybe make Pie Town. I noticed that my phone had signal about 20 miles outside of Grants (Yes, I called my wife again) and then I lost it after a few more miles. By this time it was dark. I decided to turn around until I got cell signal, set up my bivy, and I talked to my wife until my phone died. 

It was a really good day with lots of miles covered. I could tell I was getting pretty wiped out though; I took my first nap of the race and I called my wife about eight times.

Tour Divide Day 17

Tour Divide Day 17- Post Abiquiu to Post Cuba, 80 ish miles (I think I did a substantially more miles this day but those darn gps files are still MIA)

This day was rough. I was seriously getting worn down and the loneliness was killing me. This was compounded by the fact that I choose a HORRIBLE bivy spot. The night was wrought with drunken hillbillies driving their trucks at break neck speeds down the road I was sleeping next to.

These factors were all exponentially compounded by the increasing heat. This day the temperature would reach upwards of 105 degrees. I was roasting, and not the good kind like on Comedy Central.

As I got packed up I realized that it was going to be a lovely start. My saddle sores were officially the size of large hamburger patties. The numbness in my hands was getting pretty bad. My bike felt like it weight 50 pounds. (It likely did with all the water I was carrying).

The morning sun and I slowly rose up the side of the climb leaving my bivy spot. It seemed like my saddle sores and hands would never start feeling better. I settled into the most comfortable position that I could find, standing with my arms in the aero bars. This postition wouldn't be all that bad but 1) I had to keep my knees really bent in order to keep strain off my back, and 2) The riding was REALLY rough.

Matthew Lee also opines about how rough the road is in the Divide movie.

The riding on this road just went on and on. I really felt like I was moving in slow motion all day. I had to walk, A LOT. The climbs, the weary body, and the heat had left me such a wreck. I really tried to enjoy the beauty and the smells but man, I was just rocked.

After a nearly day long adventure of climbing up, up, and up (and up), I finally topped out and started the long rolling descent downward. About ten miles into the descending I came across a forest ranger in a truck that was driving in quite a hurry right at me. He skidded to a stop in the middle of the road and waved at me.

I rolled up to the truck and said howdy. He looked really concerned and asked me where I was headed. I said I was headed to Cuba. He wanted to know my route. I took my GPS off my bike and showed him.

He said, "If you hurry, you should be OK."

I replied, "Oh man, is this gonna end up like in Die Hard and I'm going to be over taken by terrorists that are on the loose and I have to fend them off with my ingenuity and good looks?"

He looked at me blankly, "No."

(Insert awkward pause...)

I said, "Ummmm...." and trailed off.

He said, "There is a huge fire over the next ridge. You need to get off the mountain."

I replied, "Well, the terrorist scenario is more my cup of tea but I can deal with out running a forest fire."

With that I was off like only a scared and weary bike packer can be. I literally had thousands of mile in my legs. I was a living breathing diesel engine in that moment... It is amazing what fear of death can do for you. I actually caught up to and passed a Toyota Tacoma that was driving down off the mountain.

I hit the pavement into Cuba and kept on making trail into town. This was a really nice rolling ride and I really enjoyed the fact that I would be able to hit up smooth pavement for the next hundred plus miles.

I stopped at subway and fuled up. I hit up the gas station and found a pen light that I rigged to my handle bars. It was a pretty crappy light but I was better than nothing. I then stopped at a dollar store and bought a mini sewing kit.

(I can't remember if I wrote about my infamous shorts yet.... [Imagine montage music playing as we flash back to my ride out of Platoro CO.] The breeze that kicked up every now and again felt really strong on my right hiney cheek during the day. At some point I realized there was a huge hole in the back of my shorts. It must have been there for a few days, I even had a TAN LINE in the shape of a circle on my bootie!)

So anyways, the sewing kit was to fix the frisbie sized hole in my shorts. I stopped again at McDonalds for four helpings of ice cream on my way out of town. I must have been starving.

As I pedled out of town I looed back up the mountains the way I had come. They were engulfed in smoke. I was pretty thankful to have made it out...

I continued riding into the night for as long as I could. The pen light really wasn't much help, I had trouble telling if I was riding up or down hill. I rode off the shoulder a few times and I realized that I just wasn't making much time. I decided to bed down in the ditch. Another night of highway side exhaustion induced sleeping.... It was magical.

I love what I'm doing day #46

Ah day 46, you lucky dog. You get my first entry in a week. Yes, number 46, you mark the longest break I have taken away from my daily blog post series since I started. 

Since I last spoke to you, my loyal readers (Hi Mom!), I have under gone some testing to resolve some 'issues'. My care providers and I had some concern that I might have cancer. Really, it was one of only two explanations for my symptoms. Lucky for me, the other explanation prevailed.

Also lucky for me, the procedure that I underwent found some polyps that otherwise would have not been found for another 20-25 years (when I had my first routine screening). So really, I stopped some nasty little pre-cancer in it's tracks.

How's that for some love?

I love what I'm doing day #40

No school for a week. LOVE it.

I love what I'm doing day #36

Infectious disease is the sh!t.

I can't believe I just said that.

I love what I'm doing day #34

Jogging in six inches of snow is way harder than I remember it being. Two years has a way of romanticizing memories.  

Love it. 

Photo snagged from here: http://media.photobucket.com/image/anchorage%20alaska%20snow%20storm/weatherbum09/Moon/th_2010-11-2602SnowstormAftermathAnchorageAK.jpg

I love what I'm doing day #33

Happiness is the first time during the preseason that you put your pants on and you realize your belt went on one notch smaller.

I'm gonna kill it this year!

I love what I'm doing day #32

The snow has been coming down like crazy here, about 8" in the last few days. And, today it is going like crazy again.

I can't believe I'm about to say this....

I'm actually going to miss this crazy place next year when I move to Seattle.

I love what I'm doing day #30

I love pain meds on my bad days....

Call me Dr. House

I love what I'm doing day #26

I love that I'm back to doing intervals during my runs.

I love what I'm doing day #24

I am pretty tired today and class seems disinteresting (I call it post exam/I have another exam in a few days blues). I just want to lay on my couch with my wife and snuggle in front of the fire.

Sometimes longing to be with your spouse is a really good place to be.

I love what I'm doing day #23

I got my snowbike all set up and ready to go. I don't care if there is only 1" of snow, I'm rocking the fatties!

I love what I'm doing day #21

This is awesome. You NEED to try it. NEED I say!

This website is also one of my favorite quick pic me ups during the day. (They up date it several times a day)

http://iwastesomuchtime.com/on/?i=4976

I love what I'm doing day #20

A medical student algorithm-

Getting out of anatomy lab early + Forgetting my workout clothes this morning = Killing a nap at lunch time

Love it.

I love what I'm doing day #19

Last week our instructors for our Wednesday class made comments about how whooped and discouraged we all looked. This week they brought in coffee and bagels to help us feel better because they "remember how hard it was".

That would NEVER happen to trainees in my old career field.

Love it.

I love what I'm doing day #18

Today on my lunch time training session I bonked for the first time since The Tour.

Love it.

I love what I'm doing day #15

I love working on the interior design for my house.

No, this isn't actually my house.

I love what I'm doing day #14 part deux

I know I already posted today but.....


Wanna know what is better than going to school all day, then studying all afternoon, then fighting rush hour traffic for forty five minutes to see my wife for dinner, then driving thirty minutes back to a study spot, then studying until 11pm, then waiting by the fire in the custom fireplace that I built for my super-smoking-hot-sexy-fine-ass wife to come home?

NOTHING.

I love what I'm doing day #14

I do not love Histology.

However, I do love half days!!!!!

I love what I'm doing day #13

Even though I'm totally burnt out with school and the twenty seven 600 level credits I'm taking are killing me, I'm still enjoying it.

Gotta love that.

I love what I'm doing day #12

I love that I get to celebrate the birthday of the most wonderful woman on the planet today.

Happy Birthday Love!!!!

I love what I'm doing day #10

Day 10......

I love schoooooooolllll!!!!!!!

Tour Divide Day 16

Day 16- Brazos to post Abiquiu- 105 miles

I woke up still sitting half way up against a tree, clutching a burger and chocolate milk in my hands. I even still had partially chewed burger in my mouth. Not wanting to waste even a gram of food, I finished my burger and chocolate milk while still sitting my my bivy.

I felt surprisingly good as I got up and packed my gear. The morning was absolutely gorgeous and my riding was feeling good. After a few hours I crested the infamous Brazos Ridge. It was everything it is made out to be.

It really was beautiful out there.

As the sun kept rising I realized that the heat was really going to play a role in my riding for the rest of the race. A heat response pattern was emerging... By nine am I was already about red lined. By noon I was crushed. By two I was barely conscious. By four I was ready to quit the race. This continued on but it got worse every day. Until day 19 where I actually passed out on the bike twice.

I eventually passed Hopewell lake (I think that's what it is called) and I saw the DAY USE ONLY shelter from from Jill Homer's blog. (Mental note, there is a pretty big paved climb for the four miles before this little spot.) I tried to get water from the spigot there but it wasn't working. I almost went to the camp host for some water but it wasn't that far to Cannon Plaza and the Snack Shack that was featured in the movie. Little did I know....

I continued on through the heat of the day. My progress got slower and slower and sssslllooowwwwer and sllllloooooo.... Ok you get the idea. The heat really had me out of sorts and I eventually started walking even the smallest of hills.

I came upon a road that looked a bit more civilized and I realized I was near the Snack Shack!!! Visions of cold drinks and fresh food danced through my head. I saw a sign that pointed up a driveway and up the driveway were a few bikes outfitted for bikepacking. I rode up and was greeted by three riders who were touring their way Northbound.

Unfortunately the Snack Shack was closed but they were letting people get cold water from their hose. I gratefully accepted and downed a few liters on the spot. I didn't have much food left, a few snack packs of crackers I think, but it was only a few more miles to the next town (about 40) and I reasoned that I would be able to make it just fine.

This really illustrates what the tour does to your sense of perspective. I litterally thought to myself, "Well it's about 100 degrees out here. I have been riding for 12 hours without stopping. I have two liters of water and about 200 calories of crackers. Yeah that should get me FORTY more miles. No Problem."

That is just asinine.

I loved every minute of it.

I rode through the next small town, El Rito, with quite some caution. I have read that there are tons of rabid dogs there that have a taste for skinny bikepackers. Fortunately for me I've never been accused of being skinny so I didn't have any problems with the mutts.

The cruise into Abiquiu was actually really nice. The sun had started to go down so I was feeling much better. After a bit I was in the aero bars hammering away down the pavement. I can't remember exactly what the elevation change was but it seemed like quite a bit of descending.

At the edge of town I stopped at a convenience store and reupped some food and such for the stretch to Grants. I chatted it up with a ten year old kid who really wanted to know if I was going to win. Just about that time Kurt and crew were about to the finish. Maybe next time dude, maybe next time.

I cruised on into Abiquiu proper and found the one place that was open, The Abiquiu Inn. The food smelled great but it looked like it was going to take a long time to get food. I decided that I would take the time penalty and sit down for good food. Sometimes warm food does so much to make one feel human.

As I walked into The Inn there was a guy playing banjo on the front porch. PODUNK. 

After a good meal, to include a salad and fruit(!), I begrudgingly pushed myself out the door and started up the long climb out of Abiquiu. I went through a scary little town just about five miles outside of Abiquiu. The scariness was only compounded by the increasing darkness and all the barking dogs.

The road got rough and I was still without a light. I was going to keep riding into the dark as much as possible but it was just incredibly hard to stay upright. (These were the roads that Matthew Lee lamented about in the movie when he recanted the story about the rider that was found passed out on the roadway.) I decided to bivy it up near a small stream. You know, discretion is the better part and all that.

Until next time.

I love what I'm doing day #9

I love that last night my mind was completely numb from a long day at school and I got to reward myself by watching lame TV shows for about four hours before I passed out in bed and got EIGHT HOURS of sleep.

I love what I'm doing day #8

Day 8

I love killing it on an anatomy exam.

Which just happens to be why I missed yesterday's requisite entry....

I love what I'm doing

Day #6

I was so engrossed in studying anatomy that I forgot to post days 3, 4, and 5.

I love what I'm doing day #2

I love what I'm doing day #2

I'm listening to a professor lecture about special sense, specifically the operation of the eye. It is an AWESOME organ.

First medical school class is OVER

My first medical school class is OVER.

We covered four credits of six hundred level biomedical material in SIX weeks, not to mention all our other classes.... 23 credits in all.

These first few weeks have been tough but doable. I feel like I am learning more about myself than I am about medical science. Which has really caused me to look deep inside myself and ponder.

I felt this pondering nature reflected through the death of Steve Jobs. I heard a recording of the speech he gave at Stanford's graduation commencement ceremony in 2005. In the story he reflected upon his life, dropping out of college, the way that the events of his life had come together, and how he had remained driven despite several dramatically hard events in his life.

The course of his life looked strikingly like mine; dropped out of college at 20, pursued his dream job, was fired at the age of 30, and had to restart his life. In fact, that is the exact course that my life has taken. Steve said these rough times forced him to make the hard decisions in life and he couldn't have been more grateful.

You see I, like Steve-o, choose to pursue my dreams each time I had to restart. When I decided on medicine I did so because it was the only thing I could see myself being happy doing. Sure, it was a gamble. Sure, I was VERY likely to fall on my face. Sure, few people thought that the big stupid ogre could actually do. But, I still went for it boldly, fearlessly, and passionately.

Steve said he measured his life by looking in the mirror each morning and asking himself, "If I knew I was going to die today, would I do anything differently than what I am going to do right now?" He said if the answer was no too many days in a row then he knew it was time to make a change.

I articulate this same sentiment by saying, "If I don't love it, I refuse to do it."

Sure, this is a hard line to tow but it has taken me into two dream careers, across the rockies on a bike, and into the best medical school in the country.

With that being said, I have decided to post one thing that I am doing that I love every day for one year. These posts might not be long but they will be heartfelt and I hope they will encourage others to get out there, roll the dice, and head boldly in the direction they want to go.


DAY #1- Sneaking home to cuddle with my wife at lunch.

Tour Divide Day 15

Tour Divide Day 15- Del Norte to the Brazos, 85ish miles

Man, I have not been keeping up on the blogging. I apologize. This med school thing is getting to me. It's only been five weeks and I've already lost the ability to hold a normal conversation, which is mostly do to my inability to remember everyday words. 


This day started out early.  I was up and at 'em as soon as I could get moving. With a quick thanks to Gary I was out the door.

It was hard to get the bike going. I could really feel the day before, bot mentally and physically. I decided to just work it out the best I could. All the other days had started out pretty rough but had usually gotten better after a bit. This day would not be the same. The long 18-22 hour days of riding were really taking their toll on my body and even worse, they were wreaking havoc on my poor mind.

The climb out of Del Norte (I still don't know how to say that!) starts out pretty easy. Then it gets rough. The challenge of this climb is only compounded by the elevation, I believe the highest on the divide. I got really tired while riding, the kind of tired that makes you cry. (Not that I'm admitting to it.)

I started walking some of the steeper sections when I heard a familiar voice speaking a not so familiar language. It was the Eurotrain! They were down a rider and they looked good but I could tell they were feeling tired. After a short conversation about melting handlebar grips and some hand shakes, they were off. I figured I was now dropped back out of the top ten but I was still very proud of where I sat. I was determined to try and keep the Eurotrain in range and hope that I could get my body to come around.

The climbing continued, and so did the walking. I finally reached the top. I thought it was the highest point and I would get to do some descending to Platoro. I was soooooo wrong.

The rolling hills and rough road continued FOREVER until I reached Platoro. I don't really think that the road was rough and steep so much as I was just blitzed out of my mind from the day before, and frankly the whole race. I was sunburned, 25 pounds lighter, over heated, and under motivated. 

I finally rolled into Platoro. I loaded up water, ate till I almost puked, and resupplied. It was here that I picked up a long sleeve denim shirt to keep the sun off my arms. and torso. This shirt ended up working pretty well for the rest of the race. Although, I must admit I looked like a wondering hobo (very fitting indeed!). 

Little children were scared just at the sight of me... I now see why.

Getting to Platoro had take most of the day(I think I got there just about 2pm?) and I was just plain whooped. I mounted up all my energy and thrust my self out into the heat of the day. It was in the mid 90's and this Alaska boy was melting. 

The onslaught of dirt road-age seemed to be never ending and I granny geared my way up even the slightest inclines. Looking back, I am embarrassed at how slow I must have been moving. Also, I'm incredibly proud I suffered through and kept going. 

After the dirt road ended, I turned onto some pavement... A welcomed relief! The relief was short lived though as I looked up to see and ENORMOUS five mile climb. It didn't help that I was loaded down with 6.5 liters of water and tons of food. 

The pavement slowly passed as I road on and on and on. It seemed like this hill would never end. (And for quite some time it didn't!) I finally saw the crest of the hill after about 45 minutes of granny gear grunting. I decided to let it ride and actually puts some power into the pedals. I was surprised to find that I actually still had energy after the suffering of the day. 

I actually still felt good after cruising up the hill so I kept riding hard. I looked west to see an incredible view of rolling/mountainous terrain that was bathed in this surreal golden light. Sometimes the wilderness just has a way of masking even the most brutal misery. I then realized that I was feeling better because the temperature was dropping. 

I resolved to ride into the night very late. This would allow me to start a cycle of sleeping during the day and riding at night to avoid the brutal divide heat. I continued to give myself a pep talk about how smart I was to come up with this plan all evening until the sun started to go down. 

I turned a corner off the pavement and hit the dirt road that would take me into the Brazos and thus put me in the final state of the Divide. I reached down to turn on my EOS light and realized it was missing. WHAT?!?!?!?! I foolishly only had one light and it had somehow worked it's way off during the rough roads of the day. 

I decided I would ride as late as I could and hope for the best. I even rigged up my rear blinking light to face forward but that really didn't help matters. I went down a few times in the dark, passed the state line (WOOOHOOO!), and went down a few more times.

That last fall left me on my back, in the middle of a dirt road, in the middle of nowhere, staring up at an incredible view of the clear starry sky. I would have slept just like that had I not been in the middle of a dirt road. I pushed on until I found a perfect out cropping of pines, I cleaned up with baby wipes, and crawled into my bivy. 

I started eating a burger and drinking chocolate milk while I was propped half way up against a tree. Then I remember nothing. I woke up in this same position the next morning: a burger in my left hand, half consumed chocolate milk in my right hand, and a mouthful of half chewed bacon-cheese-beef-goodness. I didn't even spill my milk! Even though this was one of the shortest days on the Divide, I apparently had earned every last inch of ground that I covered.