Quick post post

Date: Feb. 18
Mileage: 104
February mileage: 354.0
Temperature upon departure: 32

Hello. I don't really have the time or coherence of mind to do a full race report by now, but I thought I could drop in a note for those who might be watching the Susitna 100 race results and are feeling a bit concerned that I checked in 13 miles from the finish at 5:45 a.m. and haven't finished yet (for the record, I came in at 9:54 a.m. I'm sure the Web site will update soon.)

I'm back and elated that I finished. I did manage to make most of my goals for the race - that is: survive, survive with all my digits intact, and finish the race. I was on pace to make it to the finish in 24 hours, but I wasen't paying attention and took an accidental 2-mile detour toward the end of the race that I had to backtrack - earning me an extra four miles but costing the 24-hour cutoff.

So I accomplished my goals. But in the fully-sunlit hindsight of my race, I'm feeling a little disappointment with my performance. This stems from something I've been saying all along - that, for me, the Susitna 100 was a psychological race. A real test of mind over body. And now I realize that my body did great. My mind, however, really dropped the ball.

I'll try to post in more depth tomorrow. But, basically, the race started out with ideal trail conditions. I was pushing easy, enjoying the sunshine reflecting across the frozen boreal bogs. I was halfway through the race in eight hours, feeling strong, certain I was on pace for an 18-hour race. I was stoked. And that's where I let my guard down.

Right after sunset, just as I was checking out of the 53-mile checkpoint, a heavy rain started coming down. The warm, wet downpour, compounded by temps in the 34-37 degree range and daylong sun quickly reduced the trail to soft sugar. Within an hour I was soaked to the core, fighting the pounding headwind out on the exposed surface of the Yetna River and plunging through a trail that had the consistency of wet sugar. I could have just dealt with the fact that movement was going to be slower. I could have stopped and put on a change to dry clothing. But I dwelt on the sudden misfortune and I let it get to me. I pushed through most of Dismal Swamp because it was truly unrideable for someone with my type of bike. But the time I returned to the 25-mile checkpoint, there was two or three new inches of wet snow accumulated on the ground, and it was coming down quick. I think that was the point I gave into my suffering. I was having such a hard time pedaling that I decided I was going to walk the rest of it. All said, I probably walked 25 of the last 40 miles. Of course, now I'm asking myself a lot of questions about that decision - was it really necessary? Did I really need to take it at that level? Couldn't I have pushed a little harder, despite my lack of perfect equipment or experience?

The psychology of racing is interesting. Now, looking back on it, I see that my body wasen't hurting. My body felt strong. But everything about my last 40 miles was so frustrating, frustrating - all because conditions started out so well, and deteriorated so suddenly. Still, I am really happy to have finished - and even the really tough stuff about the experience just make me want to go out next year and try again as a season veteran. I didn't mean to be such a downer in this post. But, these are my first post-race, pre-sleep thoughts. More tomorrow. Pictures too.

Last pre-post

Date: Feb. 17
Mileage: 11.2
February mileage: 250.0
Temperature on departure: 19

I just thought I'd do a quick post because I forgot to mention yesterday that the Susitna 100 race officials will be posting racers' progress live on their Web site. I'm not sure exactly where on the site this info will appear, or how up-to-date it will be, but there's a pretty good chance the World Wide Web know how well I'm doing before I do. How great is technology?

I wanted to put in a good, I mean really good, veg-out day today. But instead I spent most of the day doing last-minute TLC on the bike - gluing the tires to the rim, packing and repacking my gear, practicing tube changes on those awful-tight studded tires, adjusting the brakes and gearing, etc. I got out for a short ride early this morning to stay loose. I've been lulled into light dressing by the recent warm snap, and today's ride was a good reminder in one of life's important lessons - "just because it's not -20, does not mean it's warm." So, despite the call for sustained close-to-freezing temps tomorrow, I packed on the heavy side with extra clothing (after all, there's a better-than-not chance that I'll be rained on during the race, so I'm packing two complete changes of my bottom layers as well as every neoprene piece of gear I own.)

I've probably said this before, but I feel like I'm as ready as I'll ever be. That is, I'm as ready as I'll ever be in the universe where I don't have an extra two months to train or the money to buy a bomber winter bike. My current state of mind has tipped backed toward creeping anxiety. That's OK though. How crazy would I be if I wasn't nervous? Thanks to all for the well wishes and good energy. Hopefully everyhting will go well and I'll be back here in the next 48 hours to post a race report. That is, I'll post a race report after I've called my mom, caught a few winks and eaten the biggest Pepsi and goldfish breakfast this side of IHOP.

T minus 0 days, 12 hours, 48 minutes and counting.

Down to the wire

We drove up to Anchorage today for the Susitna 100 mandatory pre-race meeting. Despite no real weight planning, my required gear barely made the minimum. The scale fluctuated back and forth between 14.9 and 15.1 pounds, before finally resting on 15.1. The girl let me go despite the fact that I had closer to 5,000 calories (I had forgotten that I had Geoff's race food in with my required calories.) Keep in mind, the 15 pounds doesn't include extra clothing, water or any food that I plan to eat along the trail. Still, I'm pretty stoked I came in that light.

I didn't learn too much at the meeting that I didn't already know. The race officials traveled the trail on Sunday to set up markers, and supposedly rain dumped down the entire time. There's still a threat of rain on Saturday, but if what some of the checkpoint volunteers have been saying about recent nighttime temps is true, the trail could be deliciously solid. Bad for the skiers - but good for me, if it stays cold (if not, bad for everyone.)

Right now I'm feeling a surge of optimism. Watching my gear pass the test, listening to race officials describe the trail, looking at their slides and comparing the images to my memories of the portion of the trail I've traveled - all this has worked my spirits up and right now I feel more excitement and less anxiety. My comfort level was also boosted by their description of the sheer number of markers they put up and the volunteers' heavy patrolling of the race course - basically nullifying my chances of getting hopelessly lost out there (even beyond cold, fatigue and injury, this has actually been my biggest fear all along.)

Now I guess all I can do is go out and Git'R'Done, as my friend Jessica suggested. (Jess actually worded it "As we like to say in Canada, just gid'er'done." That's pretty much the funniest thing I've ever heard. ) But to everyone who has supported me along the way, and who has been sending me good energy this week, I just wanted to say thank you. It means more to me than you know. That's the kind of energy that really makes or breaks life's hardest battles, and I just want you guys to know I'm feelin' the love. Now, it's just about time to go out and represent.

T minus one day, 10 hours, seven minutes and counting.