Leadville 100 MTB + SBT GRVL 2022
aka #LeadBoat
Road is dead, this is now stage racing.
Whoever thought of combining two 100+ mile and 10,000+ ft days back to back (at altitude) is one sadistic piece of work. On dirt, nonetheless.
That being said, the Stages Cycling Leadville Trail 100 MTB has become one of the largest destination cycling events over the past two decades—and even more so these past few years as there’s now a qualifying system and a lottery in place.
SBT GRVL was started in 2019 and rode the wave of gravel popularity to become one of the largest gravel events in recent years. So much so that like the Leadville 100, they have a lottery system in place since they had to limit the numbers of riders. Didn’t stop them from being almost as equally stingy with vowels though.
Getting to the start line
Qualifying for the Leadville Trail 100 is no easy task…you’d have to place somewhere within the top 5 to 10 riders in your age group at a qualifying event to receive a “coin” which grants you the opportunity to register for the race.
Before you go and attempt a qualifying race, you can also enter the lottery late in the preceding year. I managed to get into SBT GRVL via the lottery and did not make it into Leadville. Fear not, for the Tahoe Trail 100 was in the cards, and I managed to qualify via that race.
This year, we had planned to go out to this event as a whole team — around 10 riders from both East and West coasts had gotten in via the lottery, with a few even slated to LeadBoat! A few unfortunate accidents involving collarbones, influencers, and too many masters riders taking up all the Leadville coins put a damper on this plan, and almost everyone elected to defer.
I, however, decided that my schedule was too uncertain to take the risk of deferring and not making it out this year, so the moment my program released its summer schedule, I planned to spend mid-August dedicated to these bike races.
I started working one-on-one with the UCLA team coach, John Wessling who is a 3-time cat 1 XC national champion—learn from the best, right? He also happened to be racing Leadville this year (in the pro field) so I figured it would be a great opportunity to really work on race strategy and equipment setup (more on that later). Starting in June, the workouts were focused on MTB—a mixture of low cadence work with your usual threshold and VO2. I still had some crit racing to do so a lot of the work was also done on a road bike (my MTB doesn’t have a power meter). Suffice to say, the training worked wonders and I picked up a few wins and a road cat 1 upgrade along the way.
The training was done, the bike was ready, and all that was left to do was ride.
From the Westside of Los Angeles to Leadville, CO is about 15 hours and 1000 miles of driving. There was no way I was going to do that, so I chose to split the drive up over 3 days, arriving in Leadville the day before the race.
The first leg was 6 hours (well, 8 due to traffic) from LA to St. George, Utah, crossing California, Nevada (via Las Vegas!) and kissing Arizona before settling in the bottom left corner of the Beehive state. We left around 8PM after Isabella’s flight arrived at 5PM and we built her bike and packed all things mtb/gravel into the back of the car. The drive was slated to take a little less than 6 hours and a single tank of gas, but as always, there was an accident on I-15 right outside of Victorville and those 6 hours quickly turned into 8, and we rolled into St. George around 3:30AM.
A little less than six hours later we found ourselves back on the road for the second leg of our trip, from St. George to Moab. This was another 350 mile and 5 hour drive, and we were blessed with little to no traffic and a high speed limit (80 mph!) and quickly made our way to Moab, stopping in the Arches National Park for a mid-day hike. We drove away from the main attractions, down a few miles of dirt road, to the Tower Arch Trailhead. It’s a 3 mile, 1500 ft out and back hike to the Tower Arch, and not a single soul was in sight that day—we had the entire western half of the park to ourselves. So isolated, in fact, that we could hear our blood pumping in our ears as we made our way across the Klondike Buffs. We really would recommend anyone who desires to get away from the hustle and bustle of one of the most drive-able national parks to venture off the paved road to hit this hike.
We arrived at Moab, eager to go ride a quick lap before sunset, but our excitement was hampered by a late afternoon thunderstorm that led to a power outage at our hotel (thankfully they switched to generator power). A bit dejected, we went to sleep—we would be leaving for Leadville early in the morning the next day.
A quick four hour drive the next day and we were at the second highest town in the US—10,151 ft is the official survey figure for Leadville—the first place crown belongs to the nearby Alma at 10,361 ft. Thin air!
The bike(s)
The MTB
Frame: 2022 Santa Cruz Blur 4 C
Suspension: Fox 34 SC Factory, Fox DPS Factory w/lockouts
Wheels: Reserve 28, Fillmore Valves
Tires: Continental Race King ProTection 29 x 2.2
Drivetrain: SRAM GX/X01 AXS, 32T w/ 10-52
Chain: SRAM X01 w/ Silca Secret Chain Blend Wax.
Brakes: Shimano XT, 180mm/160mm
Finishing Kit: RaceFace NEXT R Handlebar and NEXT seatpost, Turbine 90mm stem, ESI Chunky Grips, Shimano XT Pedals
Saddle: Specialized Power Arc Pro
The GRoad Shred Sled
Frame: 2021 Specialized Crux, Fact 11r (yes, the “S-Works”)
Wheels: ENVE 45
Tires: Panaracer GravelKing Slick 38c
Drivetrain/Brakes: SRAM Rival AXS XPLR. 44T w/ 10-44
Chain: SRAM Force w/ Silca Secret Chain Blend Wax
PM: Quarq DFour91, D1 Dub Cranks (the now-discontinued SRAM Red equivalent)
Finishing Kit: Zipp Service Course SL 130mm stem and 42cm handlebar, Service Course CX bar tape, Shimano Ultegra SPD-SL pedals.
Saddle: Specialized Power Arc Pro
Quite a bit of deliberation went into each bike setup—after all, I was spending close to $2000 for the weekend (including reg fees, gas, lodging, food, bike stuff, basically everything). I figured that this weekend would be a one-and-done—I personally don’t think it’s worth doing every year, or even every few years. As such, I decided to make a few changes to each bike to make them a little more suited for the events.
The MTB received new tires, a waxed chain, and grips. The existing suspension setup was fairly close to ideal, I would have preferred a 100mm fork to get the front end lower, but that would mean that I had to perform a fork service and replace the air spring—I decided my time would be better spent thinking about bikes or browsing Reddit than messing with the suspension before a big race. After all, I was coming up on a service interval, my money would be better spent servicing the fork and shock after the season. Another upgrade I decided to forgo was a larger chainring. Reading the online forums gave the impression that anywhere from 30 to 36T was the norm. I already was running a 32T—and after much back and forth, decided to skip a chainring swap and save $100. This actually proved to be fruitful as the 34T only adds a tiny bit of top end, and in retrospect, the 32 was the right size for going up Powerline and Columbine. For riding around LA, I usually run Ergon GA2 grips since I tend to get numb hands with regular grips, but those came off for some ESI Chunky silicone grips—an XC classic. The Continental RaceKings were the tires I ended up running after I mulled over several options including the Maxxis Rekon Race and Aspen. I texted John asking for recommendations and he simply said that these were the fastest tire with decent protection (and BicycleRollingResistance.com agreed). I took his word for gospel, and after a few rides, I was completely sold.
The waxed chain (for both bikes) was also John’s recommendation Riding six plus hours in loose over hard generally will run a dry lubed chain completely dry, and a wet lube chain would be a dirt magnet. A waxed chain would essentially repel all of the elements (it’s also waterproof to an extent— afternoon thunderstorms are quite common). John runs IceFriction chains on his bikes, which run about $100-150 retail. I decided to go the DIY route with Silca’s Secret Chain Blend and made several trips to ACE hardware to procure a proper solvent for stripping the chain. California has strict VOC laws so mineral spirits and other common solvents are hard to come by, if not impossible to obtain. In any case, after multiple baths and a late-night waxing session, I was ready with 2 waxed chains for each bike and a spare gold KMC chain that could work on either bike (because it’s blingy and SRAM did some weird stuff with road and mtb 12-speed chains being different).
The Crux was already close to being dialed for SBT. I swapped to a 44T chainring from 42 to get a 1-1 ratio for climbing with enough top end to not be going backward on the descents,. The GravelKing Slick in 38’s were ideal for what was basically a road fondo on the dirt. I ordered a pair of GravelKing SS+ in 35c but decided against running them (and save $100 by returning) just because they felt a little loose on the rim and the casing a little too stiff for my liking. Isabella ran the standard SS tire also in a 35c, those felt much more supple without the heavy casing. I felt that Stan’s Race Sealant would suffice for puncture protection duties in this case. As for the cockpit, I just added some fresh bar tape and kept everything else the same—I have the fit on the Crux almost identical to my road fit, and it works!
Race Strategy
Mentally, I was mainly targeting the Leadville MTB 100, so we’ll talk about that. SBT GRVL seemed like an afterthought—there wasn’t any prize for going under a certain time, nor was there much hope for being in the mix of things given the recent influx of world tour talent into gravel cycling.
In essence, my goal was to get a big belt buckle. Sub 9 hours for the 100 miles/10k ft was the cut-off time to receive that big belt buckle—that’s roughly an 11 mph pace. In previous races this year, I held about a 14 mph pace for an 8-hour race at sea level, and 13 mph for 5 hours at 6000 feet of altitude. Sub-9 was definitely in the cards, possibly even sub-8 with a half-decent day.
There are 4 main aid stations on the out-and-back course: Carter (mile 10), Pipeline (mile 30), Twin Lakes (mile 40), and Columbine (mile 50). Most racers that didn’t have an abundance of friends eager to stand around for 6 hours ran a small hydration pack and stop at the Twin Lakes rest stop. This would be right before the Columbine climb: 10 miles out and back, straight up the mountain. I decided to run two bottles of Skratch Superfuel, to begin with, and planned to consume both of them by the time I got to Twin Lakes to consume 800 kCal before Columbine. I also carried 1.5 L of water in a hydration pack, which I dropped off at Twin Lakes, swapping for one bottle of Superfuel and one bottle of Gatorade. The hydration pack would be extra weight on a short 20 mile leg that was purely up and down—I didn’t plan on consuming anything on the downhill, so for 10 miles of climbing, 2 bottles were enough. I would pick up a full hydration pack at the Twin Lakes, along with two bottles of the Superfuel again for the last 40 miles, consuming both before the end ideally.
Racing at any sort of high intensity for long periods (well, relatively long for me) brings with it the difficulty of consuming solid food. Although I carried gels and shot blocks, the main source of my caloric intake would be the Superfuel. This worked wonders on a trial 7 hour ride I did a few weeks before the race, so why change what worked?
Other than nutrition, there were bike racing tactics to explore. I was starting in the red corral—two minutes behind the pros. I figured that many riders in my corral would go out too fast, and I could just ride their waves and pick people off as they blew up. Even though most people know me as a rider who prefers reduced bunch sprints on the road, I do like chasing down people ahead of me too. Each rider I pass would be a little more motivation to keep up the pace and not get dragged down. Strategically speaking, since I’m a slower descender by experienced MTBer standards, it would advantage me to move up on the climb and slowly drift back through the riders as they descended past me. There’s only so much speed you can carry before you risk flatting/taco’ing a wheel or crashing yourself/someone else out. And finally, a little bit of toxic thinking…if I can hold up those who aren’t too confident in their fitness/altitude coping abilities and perhaps may be hoping to pass people descending to make up places and time, it means that they’ll be at less of an advantage come the uphills. I’ve definitely been in their shoes depending on the field—especially in CX and gravel, so I can understand how frustrating it is, but it is what it is.
An unexpected call…
The night before the race, my former boss and Landry’s Boston store manager extraordinaire, Mark, gave me a call just as I was about to wind down for the night. What followed was a 20 minute discussion and pep talk on how to race Leadville…I’ll spare you the details of the entire conversation, but there were a few takeaways that I got from this 3-time finisher. I also cannot go without mentioning that he has a Leadville belt buckle that he wears around the shop from time to time—a great flex.
Anyways, here are a a few of his thoughts…
Don’t talk about the altitude. Everyone’s racing at 10,000 ft. What they can do is what they can do. What you can do on race day is what you can do on race day. Nothing you can do about the altitude, stop thinking about it. (Mark had a rule that from touchdown in Denver to the finish line of the race, nobody was to mention the altitude).
Nutrition, nutrition, nutrition. Always carry more gels than you think you need. Better to finish the race with a few extra gels than bonk a few miles from the finish line because you saved a few grams by not taking enough with you.
Have a competent crew. If you need to go use the port-a-potty at a stop, have someone that can swap your bottles and your camelback while you’re out so that when you’re back, you’re ready to start pedaling right away again. Those precious seconds can and will matter if you’re trying to fight for a sub-9 or even a sub-12 finish.
How the race was raced.
Definitely not by Cosmo Catalano.
And this part is just for Leadville. SBT is much further below. It’s also a fondo in my honest opinion, so keep scrolling if you want that part….this one’s about the race.
There’s a lot to be talked about here, so let’s start with the beginning. I was in the red corral as you probably remember. Two minutes behind the pros and influencers, and with a bunch of other amateurs. I arrived 20 minutes before the start, running on 4 hours of sleep. Not my best job preparing but it is what it is and I was too wired last night to go to sleep early. Even 20 minutes early, I was towards the back of my corral. In the end, it didn’t matter much since when the first few miles were all downhill and I was under-geared so I would be tucked in the draft anyway. As we made our way through the fire roads that led to the first climb, I began making up positions and eventually found myself near the leaders of the red corral—I happened to have a friend of mine, Kelly Hoffman, lined up at the start so my goal was to just be at his position by the time the actual racing started. Although the pros had set off two minutes earlier, we began to catch the last riders in their corral, and soon I started to pass riders up the first climb. The race for the podium was long gone, but people in my shoes are racing for time, and this was a great way to make it up. By the time we hit the top of the second climb (the backside of Powerline), I found myself in a solid group (with a few road acquaintances) that was motoring along at a decent pace.
Powerline descent was quite a scary experience. Although it is not too technical by nature, the amount of traffic around and about made it quite difficult. I had a rider in front of me taco their wheel and flip over their bars, another racer (probably one of those masters-types that is riding away from something) got their front wheel caught in a drainage roller and flipped over the bars right next to me. I went off course once as I underestimated the braking required for a steep off-camber turn—which to be honest, was entirely my lack of skill since people were flying past me at speeds I could only dream of while I was waiting for a gap in the traffic. Fortunately, I made it through to the bottom without losing too many places, and a lot of fire road and road segments were coming up.
We were only about 20 miles and 3000 ft in at this point, so I was eager to keep the pressure on the pedals. I quickly hopped across a few groups and found myself at the back of a paceline including a few NorCal road hitters. Since they were going quite close to my pace, I decided to soft pedal for a few miles in their draft and hitch a free ride to Twin Lakes. Soon enough, however, the group splintered as those who went out too fast completely blew up, I decided to keep bridging between solo riders and groups to give myself a head start on Columbine.
A few side notes that I have to mention before I forget—tandem riders absolutely haul a** on the flats and descents. Twice the power and the same frontal area made them ferocious engines that just drag you along for miles on end. Would highly recommend hitching a ride if possible—you will save a LOT of energy. On the descents, you probably should get out of their way. We all learned that mgh=1/2 mv^2 in high school, so one would initially think that mass should cancel out…but real life doesn’t work that way. Again, when aerodynamic and rolling resistance, suspension losses, etc are all considered, they absolutely do go faster, at least from my slowpoke perspective. Just make sure you don’t get caught behind them on a steep climb (Columbine or Powerline) unless you want to be walking too.
I had planned to meet Isabella at Twin Peaks to drop off my pack and swap bottles, and I was glad I did because I had gone through about 2/3 of my hydration pack and drank both of my Superfuel bottles. I consciously was over-consuming and I was paying for the price, as I had a significant urge to pee. I laid down my bike at the port-a-john as Isabella came running towards me, and I slipped inside while she swapped the bottles and took my pack, vest, and arm warmers. I picked up a few uncrustables as well, just in case. In terms of time, I lost about 3-4 minutes from this stop, but I was confident that I had prepared myself fairly well in terms of nutrition and hydration, and was eager to get Columbine over with.
Columbine starts with a long fire road lead-in and I figured I’d try and get some extra nutrition in me before we hit the 3000ft climb properly. I took a grape PB&J uncrustable out of my pocket, took a few bites, and promptly threw up in my mouth. Stopping on the side of the road, I quickly spat out the nastiness in my mouth and rinsed it with the Gatorade on hand (I know it’s not proper oral hygiene practice, put your pitchforks away). Mounting my bike, I heard a familiar voice—my buddy Kelly had caught up to me and we spun up Columbine at a fairly leisurely pace whilst exchanging banter and most likely annoying everyone within earshot. As the last section of Columbine approached, the fire road quickly turned into double track (which only really had one line due to the rockiness) and we were caught behind riders who had most definitely gone out too fast. This was when our choice of granny gear (both of us had a 32x52) made it very easy for us to make it up what felt like a vertical wall that went forever. Each passing attempt was quite dangerous, as we would have to leave the smoother dirt shoulder for the rocky center line and power past the struggling riders. Every so often, a rider would slip and unclip, put a foot down and cause the 5-10 riders following them to lose their pace as well. Unfortunately, I got caught behind three of these instances and soon, Kelly was a solid 30 seconds ahead of me as I had to run my bike up the climb and try to recuperate my losses. (Side note: there was an annoying masters racer who was yelling at me to let him through when the rider in front of me unclipped and we both had to stop. I let him through, but then I ran up the rocks, passed him back, and flying remounted. #CrossIsComing). In hindsight, I would really have pushed the first half of the race, past Twin Lakes, and went hard up the climb—you lose so much time if you can’t pass like you want to, and so much energy putting down extra bursts of torque for those passes. I bet if I were 10-15 minutes faster to Twin Lakes, I wouldn’t have had to put my foot down.
Since the climb was a pure out and back, I knew what was coming—a rocky descent with oncoming riders. I let a few riders that were immediately behind me pass as we rounded the top of the climb—they were definitely going to go faster than me and I didn’t want one reckless pass to take me and possibly a few others out. Admittedly, I wasn’t too slow as I never got passed until I hit halfway down fire road—there were too many riders coming up for me to completely let my hands off of the brakes, and I got stung by a hornet on my left collarbone to boot. I’d wager I lost 3-4 minutes and around 10 positions down the descent. No biggie. I’d get them all back anyway.
Back at Twin Lakes, I put my bike down a second time so I could pee (again), while Isabella changed out my bottles and got my pack ready. Leading up to this stop I did a little bit of math in my mind and found that sub-9 hours was guaranteed bar any mechanical, and sub-8 was easily within the realm of possibility. So I took a few minutes to relay my thoughts to Isabella (she was very worried about me crashing, breaking something, having a heart attack, etc.), and reassured her that I was well within target and I’ve been riding fairly conservatively—which in fact, I was.
Taking off from Twin Lakes, we hit the road and fireroad section back to Powerline again. Again, riders who had gone out too fast were going backwards and I found it relatively easy and again, picked off too many people to count. I felt a sense of smugness as passed everyone who had gotten me on the descents and the fear of being caught again kept me from easing up on the pedals. I’d imagine I gained around 5-6 minutes on this segment alone, as by the time I had reached the bottom of Powerline, I was in touch with riders who started the Columbine descent ahead of me.
The first half of the Powerline climb is straight up the face of the mountain, and the 32-52 came in handy again as I kept a constant pace and spun up the climb. The skinnier riders who couldn’t produce as much torque definitely suffered as the thicc boys kept powering up. Many were pushing their bikes up the climb, and I again was motivated to not let them catch me once I had gotten past. I was making up time and positions quickly and kept the pace moderately high on the second half of Powerline towards the peak. The backside was initially rocky, which then lead to the fireroad and road sections that I had come across 5 hours earlier. I only had one rider pass me down the rocky section, then again made up about 5 positions as I crested the top of the final climb. The descent that followed was mostly flowly fire road, and I was able to keep my fingers off of the brakes enough to actually close a few gaps, finding myself in a 3-rider rotation as we headed towards the finish.
There isn’t that much to write home about the last few miles, they seem like filler sections just to get back into downtown Leadville. The good news was I finally felt the bonk about 400m from the finish line, and I then and there knew I had paced this correctly and had my nutrition strategy almost dialed. I rolled in at 7 hours and 48 minutes after crossing the start line, of which 7 hours and 36 minutes were spent riding. An ecstatic Isabella greeted me at the line, and I got to have a few words with John, who reminded me to start eating almost immediately! Part of me wonders if I had gone out more aggressively and didn’t stop for a few minutes at each stop—ie if I had a crew at every location and didn’t need to run a pack—I could have shaved those 10 minutes of stoppage time and another 10-15 minutes by riding in groups that would have suited my fitness more. But those are things I can mull over if I ever choose to do this again—I’m at a maybe right now. Maybe if the registration fee wasn’t 500 dollars?
SBT GRVL
“champagne gravel”
I wanted to write this entire recap without vowels, in true SBT GRVL fashion, but I figured I’d lose the interest of the one reader we have. Please enjoy my horrible writing in its full, vowel-included capacity.
The transfer from Leadville to Steamboat Springs takes around 2.5 hours, 3.5 if you count the Wendy’s and gas stop that we made. I wasn’t completely exhausted from the race so after a quick wipe-down with baby wipes, we set off on our way. Up in Copper Mountain, I downed a Baconator, large fries, and some pink lemonade—we had an excess of Uncrustables but I have to admit I was facing a bit of flavor fatigue over the past few days. I drove the two hours of Rte 40 in awe at the sheer beauty of the landscape whilst downing a large bag of Cape Cod Potato Chips. Lamenting the fact that I never got to enjoy the scenery and “Colorado vibes,” I decided that rather than race the second day, I’d bring the party and enjoy the time on the bike and the company of my fellow riders.
Since Isabella never got a chance to pick her packet up in person, we were at the race course at 5:15 AM the next day, over an hour before the start of our wave. That earliness did allow us to snag a prime parking spot quite literally next to the finish line, where I spent the rest of the time until the start line overhearing other racers’ conversations—and Tom Danielson’s characteristic nasally voice as the Cinch van was one spot over. I only was ready about two minutes before the start, and even then, I sauntered over to the port-a-potty before I rolled over. At the back of the staging area, I ran into a few of my Boston collegiate friends and had a quick chat—Dmitro if you’re reading this, it was awesome to see you! (and anyone from B2C2, I forget who was there but it was nice to see y’all as well) Well, we missed the start and were stuck behind quite a few blue course riders. Oh well.
Isabella and I combed our way through the hordes of middle-aged men and set off—I wore my national champion kit this time and it turns out I can basically unapologetically push people aside and people would let you through if you’re wearing the stars and stripes. I tried to load the route onto my Wahoo beforehand but every time it would fail to transfer, so I rode the first few miles blind, only to find out that I had missed the very first turn (I swear they didn’t put a sign at the turn). If I ever was intending to race, my chances were ruined already. Fear not, for I quickly turned around and began chasing. Isabella had actually made that turn so I was in full-on pursuit mode, and after 10-15 minutes I finally saw the back of what was the black crew, and about half an hour into the chase I caught up with her. I was so used to riding at the front of the race that as I was rolling past slower riders, it reminded me of the first time I rode in a fondo and got my doors absolutely blown off.
Anyways, Isabella and I were making quick work of the riders in front of us, and we soon were rolling around and enjoying the scenery without too many pesky other riders in sight. I finally had a chance to look around and take deep breaths of the high alpine air—it seemed to me that Colorado’s scenery is quite similar to the slightly inland areas of coastal California, but with a little bit more shrubbery (at a glance, at least), bringing me back to the Pescadero loop I would do on weekends from my parents place in the Bay Area.
As always, we were passing riders who had set out too fast and we started to see the good old “surge-y pacelines” forming. We’d be rolling around on the flats, and groups would pass us and we’d immediately pass them back as they blew up on a little hill—and we just kept our same effort level! I have to say this is one thing that road racing has taught even the most novice of riders…to pace oneself well. It was quite honestly, hilarious. And after a while, annoying…to the point where I decided to pull a group along when there were 20 or so riders just leapfrogging each other. Show em how the natty champ does it. (yes, I intentionally rode them all off of my wheel in the end, then pulled over at a water stop to drink coffee and chat with the people there—there were a few complaints from the people in the group who weren’t expecting me to stop but tough luck, people, it’s a fondo).
Summertime in Colorado means grasshoppers. So many of them, in fact, that we basically were riding through seas of flying grasshoppers from time to time. There was no point in trying to dodge them, there were so many. I’m fairly sure I ate one. Every few miles I’d take off my helmet and I’d find the remains of one that didn’t quite make it out in time. However, these little fellas all went silent the moment the thunderstorms hit.
Have you ever been hailed on during a ride? I’ve lived in Boston for several years and have faced sleet, snow, and sub-0 temperatures on a ride—basically almost any winter weather you could imagine, but I had yet to be hailed on, in the summer nonetheless. As we headed on the final loop and climb that starts around mile 100, the heavens opened up and absolutely drenched us. Then that heavy rain turned into hail that pelted our skin—I was glad I wore a vest for the entire race, but my arms felt like they were getting blasted by bb pellets by a 6-year-old who just discovered full auto mode. I also started to worry about flash flooding in the valley that we were riding in—there was a river next to the gravel road, hopefully, the rain wouldn’t be too much for it to handle.
The rain and hail subsided, but we were left with the aftermath—our kit was absolutely drenched, and every pedal stroke flung a string of mud right back up at us. Even our waxed chains were starting to complain a little, and we did stop in the rain to get a dropped chain back on my bike. The faster we went, the colder we felt, and we were blessed with the fact that we were still climbing when the rain stopped, but our kit was not even close to drying off by the time we started descending—it brought me back to my college days when I sometimes would get drenched out in Concord, MA and have to ride either gingerly or full-tilt-boogie back into Boston. Well, we were blessed that the rain and hail were moving north at a fairly quick pace since by the time we reached the southernmost tip of the course, the weather was already on its way up towards the finish. We spent quite a while waiting at the mile 120 rest stop, checking the radar to see where the rain would be in an hour, and left only when we were absolutely positive that the rest of our ride would be dry. After all, we weren’t there to race our bikes anyway, why suffer?
As we crested the final climb before the descent into the finish, a few Chamois Butt’r guys were waiting, with bourbon! Of course, I stopped for a couple minutes and they were generous enough to provide me with quite a few refreshments. So much so, in fact, that I underestimated my ability to ride a bike and quite embarrassingly asked Isabella to tow me to the finish. Chamois Butt’r guys—you rock, your products that protect my gooch rock, and I would love to crew with you guys if I ever make it out to Steamboat Springs again. (Orange Seal also had fireball hand-ups much earlier in the course, but they were a tad stingier with the rations)
A few short miles later, we were at the finishing straight, and I had planned on crossing the line together as a couple, but Isabella had other plans. I know she won’t admit it but I do swear that she threw her bike over the line. What caught me even more off guard was that at the end of the corral there were several people with microphones and cameras waving me over for an interview—I tried to hide my excitement the best as I could while they asked me about how my day went, and I told them I loved the Chamois Butt’r guys. So look out for a Yumeto on Castelli’s social media platforms trying his best to jumble a few coherent sentences together about his eventful day. We then rendezvous-ed with my good friends Truong and Liz, who both came out to Ride for Racial Justice at this event, it was great to see them at the finish line, greeting us with massive smiles which we couldn’t only help but reciprocate. Love you guys.
Finally, Shoutout to the Muc-Off guys for hosing our bikes and us down after the ride—you guys made us feel much better about changing out of our kit and right into street clothes as we drove the 15 hours back to Los Angeles overnight. ‘Twas a doozy of a drive, and we made it back after driving in shifts and pulling over right outside Las Vegas for a quick catnap. Thanks to Isabella switching off with me driving, I had enough time to get started on this blog post and catch a few hours of sleep before I went right back to class. No joke, we unloaded the car, I took the quickest of showers and rode (nay, sprinted) to class. #justGradSchoolThings
Would I come back to Steamboat Springs for this? Again, like Leadville, I’m not sure. The value proposition of these events is at best mediocre for a person like me. I had a blast enjoying meeting so many people and hearing a thousand “Go Bruins,” I truly enjoyed the community that was out riding, but I don’t know if I’d pay $250 to ride open roads again. More on that later.
BUT OOH…CONTROVERSY
It was only after we were well on our way to LA that we started hearing the buzz on social media about some riders way up the road fighting for the win complaining about the group not stopping at aid stations. People were divided on the issue (they usually sided with their favorite gravel influencer/former world tour pro), but it was clear that some unwritten rule of gravel cycling was not clear and the spirit of gravel had been violated. A grave situation indeed.
I honestly couldn’t care about the whole situation, but it did make me think about how these athletes were championed as ambassadors of the sport but weren’t behaving ambassador-like. I know that before social media took off, one would scrape together a living as a professional athlete by being at the top of their game and winning races. Nowadays, its more of a social media following with being fast taking a backseat to your capability to convince your following audience that you need a certain product or service. They’d hang out at their sponsors tent after races and chat with people that stopped by for free stickers or swag, and hope that they did enough to convince the weary (and wary) rider that if they buy this certain thing, they’d be faster, more pro, stronger, etc. Maybe they were selling a lifestyle too (albeit likely shadow-funded by trust funds/well-off significant others. And no, I’m not salty, this is reality).
The way I rode SBT GRVL gave me a different perspective. Perhaps it was the kit I was wearing or the company I was riding with, but I had so many positive interactions with the community over the 10 hours I was out on course. I’d imagine I had some form of conversation with at least 100 people, and had at least an equal number of some form of “Go Bruins” or “Go UCLA.” I’d imagine that I had made a positive impact on the image that people had of this school’s kit I was wearing, or even informed them that we had a cycling team! I know that being fast and riding fast is cool, but maybe there’s a different side to being cool—someone you could ride with at these destination events. In fact, I found out after the event that Vermont local Ian Boswell was sagging the entire event as neutral support on a Specialized Creo—I’m sure he was much more accessible and interactive with his fans and the community in general by quite literally riding with them. It might be just in my own expereince, but these personal interactions out riding are what people remember much more from an event than meeting a gravel influencer at a corporate tent—it feels much more intimate and personal than being in a line to shake a hand and get a sticker signed. I also have to say that this might be more in line with the so-called spirit of gravel, and certainly will sell bikes more than racing for multi-hundred dollar prize purses and swag bags would.
Another point I can’t go without touching is the cost of these events. After tallying up the damage, this weekend cost me around $2000. I’m privileged to be able to afford this out of pocket and not worry about long-term financial implications, but I have to say, cost is a significant factor in me likely not racing/riding this again next year. Even before I qualified or had made concrete logistical plans, I knew that this was a one and done experience for me due to the cost. Paying so much money to ride open roads/trails is quite silly if you think about it critically—even marathons close down the roads, but that’s only tangential to the point I’m trying to make here. So you pay $500 to ride 100 miles or $250 to ride 145 miles with other people of the same financial caliber as you, and everyone preaches about diversity and inclusivity. Where are the collegiate kids on their clapped out craigslist specials? Where are the WTFNB and BIPOC athletes? I don’t really know where I’m going with this but I need to point out that as it sits, the spirit of gravel is pretty darn close to whatever road racing is.