Well, I'm sure I can speak for the rest of my team (Team Crank Brothers) when I say that I truly couldn't have done this ride without them. I've been on my bike alot this year, but not nearly enough to put an epic ride like the Gut Check behind me solo. Our team definitely had it's share of ups and downs which was one of the best experiences on a bike that I've ever had. To follow, cheer, sit in a car for 30+ hours without sleeping, talk, eat, laugh ect with people that I have actually never spent that amount of time with was truly and amazing experience. I would definitely say that the leapfrog way was the way for me this year.
It started out with Jeff leading off riding into Belle. Right away it was a physically demanding ride as the wind pushed so hard from the East. We had to encourage each other not to give up from the get-go. Blake then took over at Belle and pushed hard into the wind. As a rider that hasn't ridden yet, I could tell how physically demanding this ride was going to be. I'm pretty sure Weston was shaking as this was only his second time on a road bike. Oddly enough, his first was in high school when he rode from ND to NE.
Well, it was finally my turn. I felt like a million bucks and I could tell that I had put some miles in the saddle this year. The wind was still strong but I think it may have died down a bit. We decided that if we each rode in 1 hour increments that we would each be able to stay fresh and push along hard knowing once we were finished, we would have a 4 hour break before our next ride. Once I finished, Weston started his first leg. He went very strong out of the start and caught up with a couple of riders. He chatted with them for most of his ride. About half way through, the rain started, the wind started and of course... the beginning of the rest of the ride was finally there.
We continued on putting in our 1 hour increments until about 11pm when I finally said enough is enough. The rain was hitting my face so hard that it hurt. I told Blake that I could ride through it but then about 10 seconds later I gave in. We stopped and waited along side of the road about 34 miles from Faith. We sat for about 20 minutes hoping for the storm to blow by but it never did. We decided to drive to Faith and get some gas then return to our spot until the rain quit. I think it was probably about 2am when we finally got back to peddling. It was still my turn, but I was shaking uncontrollably from all of my clothes being soaked. Jeff said that he would go and allow me to get my clothes dry. (I never realized how well the defroster worked as a clothes dryer)
The wind was dying down and we were on a roll. We passed through Faith at about 4am and continued East. Everyone was feeling good and riding very well. I'm sure it must have been the blueberry bagels and turkey sandwiches we brought along for fuel. Once the sun came up on Saturday it seemed like the day flew by. It really seems like a blur and most of it never happened. I remember riding into Gettysburg and stopping at the Gas 'n' Goodies for some gas and... well goodies then I remember Monnie crossing the river, but I think the lack of sleep wiped out my memory for the greater part of the day.
I will fast forward a bit to the detour. What a bummer that was. We were adding up the miles we had left and knowing how many legs each of us had when it hit... Our spirits dropped a bit knowing that what we thought was going to be an early finish and getting a good nights rest turned into an all night ride in what was turning crappy all over again. We rode through it and pushed on.
Just outside of Clark a ways we went by the two guys who came in first place for the solo riders. We encouraged them on and were all pushing for them to make it. I paused in Clark at a gas station where they stopped for a small break. I asked them if they had ridden all night and through the rain. They said they did and I was in complete shock that they had that amount of "guts" to ride through everything. I congratulated them and wished them luck. Hats off to anyone who rode in this thing solo.
Well, we finally made it to Watertown and beyond. We sort of unanimously decided that we all wanted a piece of the end so we could get some closure on this ride. What started out being 2 mile legs individually turned into all 5 of us on our bicycles spreading out across the road speeding towards the finish line. It kind of felt like a relaxed sprint finish in the tour de France. It was the most amazing part of the ride with our whole team smiling and feeling absolutely no pain for the first time. We crossed the finish line at 2:41am with rain pouring down took some pictures and returned to Watertown for some well deserved rest.
Congratulations to all who rode regardless of finishing. It was a tough ride but I wouldn't change any of the ride we had.
Dan
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
Thank You Everyone
I enjoy reading of everyones journey across SD via 212. The reason I started this event was to 1) raise funds and awareness for the CCFA and
2) give people an oportunity to challenge themselves and maybe learn a little something about themselves along the way.
For myself the journey wasn't to be....again. Like Snakebite said, "Excuses are like assholes." and I know mine stinks. The weather was bad, but I really don't mind riding in the rain, it's the wind that'll piss you off. I know to finish this thing solo I'm going to have to up my dedication to training. It was exciting this year with so many participants, especially when the calls started coming in as to riders whereabouts. It was always a little sad to get the "I'm dropping calls" because I know the disappointment and soul searching that comes with making that decision. I felt great coming into Newell although I knew I was one of the weak links in our group of about 7 riders (the same group that Kevin Brady was a soul survivor of). Just past Newell as the rollers and head wind intensified I got dropped, caught up again (because the group slowed down). When I rejoined I felt bad because I didn't have anything to contribute to pulling the group along. Both of my quads felt like they had been ripped in two. I took a turn at the front where I was pushing it as hard as I could but could only muster about 10mph out of my rigamortis like legs. I looked back to see the rest of the group chatting, and looking EXTREMELY relaxed, so I decided to not to suck on their wheels anymore and quietly dropped off the back to wallow in my own self pity. I stopped and refueled, something I had neglected while concentrating in the group, joined up with another rider and with new life in my legs headed for Mud Butte with the intention of making Faith. The rains began and I stupidly quoted Lt. Dan in Forrest Gump, calling out the Big Guy and asking if this was all he had. A few minutes later the stingy, drenching rain began, and my riding partner, Jay, looked at me and said, "Nice going." We made it to Mud Butte and saw the parking lot of participants and loaded up to spend the night in Faith. Enroute Jay and myself decided that a solo bid was not going to happen and decided to form the "Mud Butte Leap Frog Team" AKA the Mud Butte Merger. We leap froged to about mile marker 300 before calling it quits with no hope of making the border in time. I enjoyed leapfrogging and have come to the conclusion that until I increase my dedication level I am going to be a leapfrogger. I'm a little disappointed in my performance, but that is overshadowed by how good I feel about the success of this event. I hope to see you all next year. Spread the word about this event and challenge others to challenge themselves.
Thank you everyone,
Josh
2) give people an oportunity to challenge themselves and maybe learn a little something about themselves along the way.
For myself the journey wasn't to be....again. Like Snakebite said, "Excuses are like assholes." and I know mine stinks. The weather was bad, but I really don't mind riding in the rain, it's the wind that'll piss you off. I know to finish this thing solo I'm going to have to up my dedication to training. It was exciting this year with so many participants, especially when the calls started coming in as to riders whereabouts. It was always a little sad to get the "I'm dropping calls" because I know the disappointment and soul searching that comes with making that decision. I felt great coming into Newell although I knew I was one of the weak links in our group of about 7 riders (the same group that Kevin Brady was a soul survivor of). Just past Newell as the rollers and head wind intensified I got dropped, caught up again (because the group slowed down). When I rejoined I felt bad because I didn't have anything to contribute to pulling the group along. Both of my quads felt like they had been ripped in two. I took a turn at the front where I was pushing it as hard as I could but could only muster about 10mph out of my rigamortis like legs. I looked back to see the rest of the group chatting, and looking EXTREMELY relaxed, so I decided to not to suck on their wheels anymore and quietly dropped off the back to wallow in my own self pity. I stopped and refueled, something I had neglected while concentrating in the group, joined up with another rider and with new life in my legs headed for Mud Butte with the intention of making Faith. The rains began and I stupidly quoted Lt. Dan in Forrest Gump, calling out the Big Guy and asking if this was all he had. A few minutes later the stingy, drenching rain began, and my riding partner, Jay, looked at me and said, "Nice going." We made it to Mud Butte and saw the parking lot of participants and loaded up to spend the night in Faith. Enroute Jay and myself decided that a solo bid was not going to happen and decided to form the "Mud Butte Leap Frog Team" AKA the Mud Butte Merger. We leap froged to about mile marker 300 before calling it quits with no hope of making the border in time. I enjoyed leapfrogging and have come to the conclusion that until I increase my dedication level I am going to be a leapfrogger. I'm a little disappointed in my performance, but that is overshadowed by how good I feel about the success of this event. I hope to see you all next year. Spread the word about this event and challenge others to challenge themselves.
Thank you everyone,
Josh
Bikingbrady's Hwy 212 Adventure
This is reposted here from my blog: Gut Check
Ominous beginnings foretold of what was to come. On the way to Spearfish on I90, I couldn't help but notice the big flags at various truck stops standing straight out pointing northwest. Laura told me to stop looking at them, but I couldn't help it; they taunted me like a big old tongue sticking out of a face. If they could speak, I am positive that they would have said, "This is for you and your silly bike race. Let's see what you got old man!"
We hit Spearfish and Laura's cousin Chuck's house close to dinner time. I called Mr. Bite and he and his family met us at the Bayleaf cafe in Spearfish. It was nervous anticipation that we shared as we discussed our plans for the ride the next day. How far should we go between stops? What to eat? When to eat? How much to drink? I say that it was nervous discussion, because I don't think our discussion changed any of our plans, just confirmed that we were as ready as we were going to be.
A good night of sleep, thanks in part to a cyclobenzaprine (flexoril) I took for a tight back, was greatly appreciated. I slept in until almost 9:00 mountain time. From then on it was a blur until the race started as we ate breakfast with Chuck, went to Lead, SD to see our new niece, hurried to Walmart in Spearfish for last minute supplies for the trip, and boogied to the Wyoming border for the start of the race.
At the border, I met up with fellow Vermillion riders Craig D. and Joe P., my friend Royce W. from Rapid City, along with the aforementioned Mr. Bite. I also hunted down fellow Tour de Kota friend "Spiderman" and we talked briefly but would only end up riding the first 14 miles together as he went on with a slightly faster group and we decided to let them go and regroup with our smaller entourage at Belle Fourche.
The race went off at 3:00 Mountain Time (MST) as planned and after we regrouped in Belle Fourche we headed towards Newell still into a headwind. So I don't have to repeat myself over and over in this post, there was NEVER a "W" in the wind forecast all weekend. It was either "E", "SE", or "NE". Overall about 410 miles of headwinds and about 25 miles of tailwinds when we were going south a couple times. The other side of the weather story was that between Belle Fourche and Newell was the last time we would see the sun for the rest of the weekend. I know, you think I'm kidding, but I'm not. It either was overcast, a heavy mist/fog, or it was raining. Those were the weather choices for the remainder of the weekend.
By the time we hit Newell, the weather was already looking a little grim. We heard that there was a storm coming and that it was moving real slow so we might have a shot at missing it. From Newell on, the weather was getting more and more ominous. Lightening was sharp in the distance and the front was closing in along with darkness. Into the wind, up and down the hills in that area and now the threat of rain. About three miles from Mud Butte, the light mist/light rain became a torrential downpour. We had SAG vehicles ahead and behind us. I was in the front of the pace line and I could barely see the car in front of me. We seen the lights in the distance of the rest of our vehicles and when we got there the lady in the house basically demanded that we get in the house. Even though the rain literally hurt us it was raining so hard, we were lucky. Flooding in Hermosa totally ruined houses, even knocking them off their foundation. Between Sturgis and Piedmont the interstate closed due to water/mud going across it (I heard they actually had to blade the mud off with a maintainer). The picture in the Rapid City Journal the next day was of hail that was 2-3" across. It was hard to feel lucky with what was dealt to us on the bike, but I did.
We ended up with ten people who stayed in the house that night. I had to get her address so that we could send her a thank you for her hospitality and I joked when I got it. "PO Box 2, Mud Butte, SD...is that 2 out of 3"? "Nope, it's 2 out of 4!". Everybody got a good laugh out of that one. To top it all off, her house is attached to the post office and she's the postmaster. Gotta love small town South Dakota!
Having to wait out the storm and the nasty winds that came with it left very little chance of us finishing the race. Here we are, 72 miles into a 435 mile race and we are breaking from basically 10pm to 5am without being on the bike. Royce was already nursing a sore calf, so he told me that he was just going to go back to Rapid and take it easy with the calf since he too didn't think we had a prayer of finishing. Without Royce, we soldiered on towards Faith in the morning. We arrived there at 7:59 am (thank you bank clock) only to find out that no restaurants were open. We saddled up and headed to Dupree where we had a great breakfast, but it cut into our time as they had one cook and it took a long time to get our food.
Our next goal was Ridgeview. Mr. Bite promised that it was downhill from there to the river (he drove it on the way out). I'm not sure what he was mixing with his drinks on the way out, but it was most definitely NOT all downhill as there were "rollers" all the way to the river. It wasn't bad, but we ribbed him about it relentlessly.
Once we hit the river there was a decent climb on the other side before last few miles into Gettysburg. We hit Gettysburg around 7:45 and ate at the
local steakhouse. It was there that Craig informed us that he was going to let us go, sleep for a bit, and make a decision. He was having trouble feeling various parts of his anatomy, mainly his left arm. It was also there that Snakebite and I came to the conclusion that if we were to have a prayer of finishing this that we would have to make Redfield before sleeping.
It was now 9:00pm CST and we had 80 miles to Redfield. I had an internal giggle as I changed a line from "The Blues Brothers" in my mind: "It's 80 miles to Redfield, I have two full water bottles, 8 packs of Gu, it's dark, and we have two SAG vehicles....HIT IT!". It was dark and foggy, a wonderful combination that I normally would NEVER ride in except in a race like this. About 40 miles and we hit Faulkton at Midnight. Nothing was open at all. No gas stations or anything.
Even the bar downtown was just closing up. After a brief stop and discussions on when and where to stop, on we went for Redfield. A few short miles out of Faulkton, we got our first taste of tail winds heading south and we took full advantage of them average between 20 and 25 mph the whole 15 miles. That might have been stupid on our part to waste that energy,but it sure felt great to not be hammering into the wind for a change. When the road went back East towards Redfield, the road also became horrible. As you are following the blinking lights of SAG vehicles you simply do not have the perception to know if it's a small or large crack on the road. More than a few profanities were uttered between me and Mr. Bite on that stretch of road.
We were getting so tired that we decided to break the last 15 miles into two stops. I remember thinking that I bet that even Nick and Melissa (friends who got married that day) were already in bed and us stupid idiots were still out here BIKING of all things. In the midst of the first stretch the county deputy slowly went by us giving us a REALLY weird look (after all, it was around 2:30 am). Shortly thereafter, we took our final break before going into Redfield and the deputy stopped by and talked to us. I think more to find out what in the heck we were up to than anything. After being satisfied with our answer he was on his way. We finished off our miles and pulled into Redfield at about 3:05am. After getting totally confused looking for the "other" hotel in town (Super 8 was full because of a rodeo) and getting a few too many bonus miles on the bike, we stopped in the middle of the road and threw our bikes in the van to search for the hotel, 232.50 miles from where we started at 5am the previous morning. OF COURSE somebody would have to drive by at that time in a huff and shout a few obscenities our way. That was partially Laura's fault for yelling at them to "chill out" as they went by. Not always a wise move with people who are up at 3:00 and probably drunk. We finally found the motel which looked like "MAYBE" one person was staying at. Snakebite tried the doorbell repeatedly on the office door and knocked a couple more to no avail. I surmised that they probably thought "Great...drunks at 3:15 am...NO THANKS" and didn't bother to answer. I told Laura to call Craig and Liz and see if Craig would be interested in helping SAG if he was indeed finished. They agreed to be there by 5:30 in an INCREDIBLE show of friendship and camaraderie which will not soon be forgotten. It was now 3:30 and I had two hours before my alarm was due to go off.
5:30 am the aforementioned alarm on my cell phone went off. I shut it off and literally stared at my phone stupefied trying to comprehend ANYTHING that was going on. Within seconds it went off again, but this time it was Craig letting me know that he was in Redfield and needed to know where we were. I woke up Mr. Bite and we got ready to go. I felt bad as I hoped to meet up with a good friend from my college days but I didn't think he'd appreciate a call at 3:00am, or 5:30am for that matter. The very SECOND I pulled the bikes out of our van, it started raining. It was becoming so typical that it didn't even phase us. The first 15 miles leaving Redfield were by far the most painful of the whole journey for me. Everything was tight, I had a heck of a headache which I had already popped a 600mg ibuprofen (thank you VA!) but there was no relief. When we stopped at our first scheduled stop (now on the "bonus miles detour"), I could tell by looking at Craig's face that he was worried about both of us. We sucked it up and rode another 15 miles where Craig offered me one of his "Amp" sports drinks. I accepted, ate a little and got back on the bike. Within very few pedal strokes I realized my headache was completely gone. My legs were slowly coming back to me and life was looking up! Then we got to turn south for our last ten miles of a "somewhat" tailwind which we ran consistently over 20mph with to Doland.
We took a longer break there than we probably should have before we headed out towards Clark. A few of the locals struck up conversations with us including one younger man who came up and asked if we are in that "insane race across the state". Once that was confirmed he shook our hands like he just found new heroes. We had decided to split the mileage between Doland and Clark in half and we met up with Laura at a roadside part about seven miles from Clark. Laura was also fragged from all the driving, so having Craig and Liz onboard allowed her to go ahead and get a couple more hours of sleep. It was there we got some bad news from Craig and Liz. I miscalculated what we would have to average to finish. I had it in my head we had until 5:00 when in reality it was 4:00. Suddenly we had to average about 14mph WITHOUT getting off the bike to finish within the 48 hours. New added stress as Mr. Bite and I left the rest area. I decided to try for 15.5-16.5 mph and keep Mr. Bite on my wheel. It was comfortable for me and then he could take over when I needed a quick blow here and there. It wasn't to be. I had to back down a couple times and the third time I dropped him real bad in a short time. I slowed down briefly and looked back only to see Mr. Bite's head hanging low. I felt a horrible turmoil as I had to decide to either stay with my friend who I have already ridden 370 miles with or try to finish within the time limits. I pulled up next to Craig and Liz and told them to stay with him until he caught up with his SAG and catch me wherever they could. I left my buddy on the field of battle and it still bothers me looking back.
I was alone...solo...for the first time in this race. I decided that now was the time to lay it ALL on the line and just hammer away and hope for the best. The wind was getting stronger, but I had to see what I could do. Amazingly I had quite a bit left in the tank. I was able to hold 20-22 mph for quite awhile. Then a really weird feeling started setting in. The best I could describe was a feeling of vertigo. While riding comfortable it was fine, when hammering with basically all I had left in me, I was almost getting sick to my stomach. I took turns hammering and backing off and was still keeping an average speed around 20mph. Now, everything was hurting. Seeing the "Watertown - 5 Miles" sign was a great confidence booster but it came at a price...HILLS. It was a pretty good climb towards Watertown at a time I needed it least. It was about that time that the Snakebite SAG went by honking and waving. My friend was done. More motivation to finish what we all started. I had to do this for all of us, not just me. Craig and Liz were following me to see me finish, not to see me quit now.
We got into Watertown and amazingly hit most lights green. The two red lights I hit did not cause me to unclip which was wonderful, because I'm not sure I could have if I wanted to. At the one light I yelled at Laura who was ahead of me to hit Starbucks on the edge of town for a break. She gave me a thumbs up. As I seen her turn at the light and I didn't even consider going around corner to connect to the road to Starbucks. I unclipped, and walked my bike down the ditch instead. After getting my Venti, skinny, no-whip, three shot, white mocha, amazingly Mr. Bite pulled in with his bikes in his truck. A very brief discussion ensued as I had to get back on the road. He told me to finish strong, which I had every intetion of doing.
Onward to Goodwin, SD where I was told it was all downhill to the border (about 20 miles). Amazingly, and VERY lucky for me, it was. I was really starting to pain now. The fog outside of Watertown was as thick as soup and I was completely out of it mentally at this point. We had already decided to cut the last 32 to the border in two so we stopped at about 16 miles to "refuel" my body. Craig served up his last Amp to me and when I checked the time left I realized that we had plenty of time to make the border. I also decided I was hurting bad enough that we should break the last 16 in half as well. However, when I got to the point where we were about to break, the downhill was enough to convince me that a stop my hurt more than it would help so I waved for Laura to continue on. I stared doing a raised countdown with my hands to Craig and Liz following behind as I seen mile marker 407 (5 to go), 408 (4), 409 (3), 410 (2), 411 (1). When mile marker 412 was in site, I pumped my fist in the air doing my best Lance Armstrong imitation and Craig honked the horn over and over behind me.
47:15 minutes. :45 minutes ahead of the 48 hour cutoff. I was numb. Numb that I made it. Numb because I hurt. Numb because I had to leave a friend behind when I really didn't want to. Numb because I have such an awesome wife to follow me across the state on such a journey. Numb because I have such awesome friends that they would follow me for the last 140 miles even though their race was over. Amazed that out of the 17 solo riders to start, I was only the third, and last to finish this epic race. It was an incredible feeling that I know I will never forget. Will I do it again? Probably. Next year? Probably not. I would rather have fun with a leap frog team next year and let them experience a little bit of the excitement.
Ominous beginnings foretold of what was to come. On the way to Spearfish on I90, I couldn't help but notice the big flags at various truck stops standing straight out pointing northwest. Laura told me to stop looking at them, but I couldn't help it; they taunted me like a big old tongue sticking out of a face. If they could speak, I am positive that they would have said, "This is for you and your silly bike race. Let's see what you got old man!"
We hit Spearfish and Laura's cousin Chuck's house close to dinner time. I called Mr. Bite and he and his family met us at the Bayleaf cafe in Spearfish. It was nervous anticipation that we shared as we discussed our plans for the ride the next day. How far should we go between stops? What to eat? When to eat? How much to drink? I say that it was nervous discussion, because I don't think our discussion changed any of our plans, just confirmed that we were as ready as we were going to be.
A good night of sleep, thanks in part to a cyclobenzaprine (flexoril) I took for a tight back, was greatly appreciated. I slept in until almost 9:00 mountain time. From then on it was a blur until the race started as we ate breakfast with Chuck, went to Lead, SD to see our new niece, hurried to Walmart in Spearfish for last minute supplies for the trip, and boogied to the Wyoming border for the start of the race.
At the border, I met up with fellow Vermillion riders Craig D. and Joe P., my friend Royce W. from Rapid City, along with the aforementioned Mr. Bite. I also hunted down fellow Tour de Kota friend "Spiderman" and we talked briefly but would only end up riding the first 14 miles together as he went on with a slightly faster group and we decided to let them go and regroup with our smaller entourage at Belle Fourche.
The race went off at 3:00 Mountain Time (MST) as planned and after we regrouped in Belle Fourche we headed towards Newell still into a headwind. So I don't have to repeat myself over and over in this post, there was NEVER a "W" in the wind forecast all weekend. It was either "E", "SE", or "NE". Overall about 410 miles of headwinds and about 25 miles of tailwinds when we were going south a couple times. The other side of the weather story was that between Belle Fourche and Newell was the last time we would see the sun for the rest of the weekend. I know, you think I'm kidding, but I'm not. It either was overcast, a heavy mist/fog, or it was raining. Those were the weather choices for the remainder of the weekend.
By the time we hit Newell, the weather was already looking a little grim. We heard that there was a storm coming and that it was moving real slow so we might have a shot at missing it. From Newell on, the weather was getting more and more ominous. Lightening was sharp in the distance and the front was closing in along with darkness. Into the wind, up and down the hills in that area and now the threat of rain. About three miles from Mud Butte, the light mist/light rain became a torrential downpour. We had SAG vehicles ahead and behind us. I was in the front of the pace line and I could barely see the car in front of me. We seen the lights in the distance of the rest of our vehicles and when we got there the lady in the house basically demanded that we get in the house. Even though the rain literally hurt us it was raining so hard, we were lucky. Flooding in Hermosa totally ruined houses, even knocking them off their foundation. Between Sturgis and Piedmont the interstate closed due to water/mud going across it (I heard they actually had to blade the mud off with a maintainer). The picture in the Rapid City Journal the next day was of hail that was 2-3" across. It was hard to feel lucky with what was dealt to us on the bike, but I did.
We ended up with ten people who stayed in the house that night. I had to get her address so that we could send her a thank you for her hospitality and I joked when I got it. "PO Box 2, Mud Butte, SD...is that 2 out of 3"? "Nope, it's 2 out of 4!". Everybody got a good laugh out of that one. To top it all off, her house is attached to the post office and she's the postmaster. Gotta love small town South Dakota!
Having to wait out the storm and the nasty winds that came with it left very little chance of us finishing the race. Here we are, 72 miles into a 435 mile race and we are breaking from basically 10pm to 5am without being on the bike. Royce was already nursing a sore calf, so he told me that he was just going to go back to Rapid and take it easy with the calf since he too didn't think we had a prayer of finishing. Without Royce, we soldiered on towards Faith in the morning. We arrived there at 7:59 am (thank you bank clock) only to find out that no restaurants were open. We saddled up and headed to Dupree where we had a great breakfast, but it cut into our time as they had one cook and it took a long time to get our food.
Our next goal was Ridgeview. Mr. Bite promised that it was downhill from there to the river (he drove it on the way out). I'm not sure what he was mixing with his drinks on the way out, but it was most definitely NOT all downhill as there were "rollers" all the way to the river. It wasn't bad, but we ribbed him about it relentlessly.
Once we hit the river there was a decent climb on the other side before last few miles into Gettysburg. We hit Gettysburg around 7:45 and ate at thelocal steakhouse. It was there that Craig informed us that he was going to let us go, sleep for a bit, and make a decision. He was having trouble feeling various parts of his anatomy, mainly his left arm. It was also there that Snakebite and I came to the conclusion that if we were to have a prayer of finishing this that we would have to make Redfield before sleeping.
It was now 9:00pm CST and we had 80 miles to Redfield. I had an internal giggle as I changed a line from "The Blues Brothers" in my mind: "It's 80 miles to Redfield, I have two full water bottles, 8 packs of Gu, it's dark, and we have two SAG vehicles....HIT IT!". It was dark and foggy, a wonderful combination that I normally would NEVER ride in except in a race like this. About 40 miles and we hit Faulkton at Midnight. Nothing was open at all. No gas stations or anything.
Even the bar downtown was just closing up. After a brief stop and discussions on when and where to stop, on we went for Redfield. A few short miles out of Faulkton, we got our first taste of tail winds heading south and we took full advantage of them average between 20 and 25 mph the whole 15 miles. That might have been stupid on our part to waste that energy,but it sure felt great to not be hammering into the wind for a change. When the road went back East towards Redfield, the road also became horrible. As you are following the blinking lights of SAG vehicles you simply do not have the perception to know if it's a small or large crack on the road. More than a few profanities were uttered between me and Mr. Bite on that stretch of road.
We were getting so tired that we decided to break the last 15 miles into two stops. I remember thinking that I bet that even Nick and Melissa (friends who got married that day) were already in bed and us stupid idiots were still out here BIKING of all things. In the midst of the first stretch the county deputy slowly went by us giving us a REALLY weird look (after all, it was around 2:30 am). Shortly thereafter, we took our final break before going into Redfield and the deputy stopped by and talked to us. I think more to find out what in the heck we were up to than anything. After being satisfied with our answer he was on his way. We finished off our miles and pulled into Redfield at about 3:05am. After getting totally confused looking for the "other" hotel in town (Super 8 was full because of a rodeo) and getting a few too many bonus miles on the bike, we stopped in the middle of the road and threw our bikes in the van to search for the hotel, 232.50 miles from where we started at 5am the previous morning. OF COURSE somebody would have to drive by at that time in a huff and shout a few obscenities our way. That was partially Laura's fault for yelling at them to "chill out" as they went by. Not always a wise move with people who are up at 3:00 and probably drunk. We finally found the motel which looked like "MAYBE" one person was staying at. Snakebite tried the doorbell repeatedly on the office door and knocked a couple more to no avail. I surmised that they probably thought "Great...drunks at 3:15 am...NO THANKS" and didn't bother to answer. I told Laura to call Craig and Liz and see if Craig would be interested in helping SAG if he was indeed finished. They agreed to be there by 5:30 in an INCREDIBLE show of friendship and camaraderie which will not soon be forgotten. It was now 3:30 and I had two hours before my alarm was due to go off.
5:30 am the aforementioned alarm on my cell phone went off. I shut it off and literally stared at my phone stupefied trying to comprehend ANYTHING that was going on. Within seconds it went off again, but this time it was Craig letting me know that he was in Redfield and needed to know where we were. I woke up Mr. Bite and we got ready to go. I felt bad as I hoped to meet up with a good friend from my college days but I didn't think he'd appreciate a call at 3:00am, or 5:30am for that matter. The very SECOND I pulled the bikes out of our van, it started raining. It was becoming so typical that it didn't even phase us. The first 15 miles leaving Redfield were by far the most painful of the whole journey for me. Everything was tight, I had a heck of a headache which I had already popped a 600mg ibuprofen (thank you VA!) but there was no relief. When we stopped at our first scheduled stop (now on the "bonus miles detour"), I could tell by looking at Craig's face that he was worried about both of us. We sucked it up and rode another 15 miles where Craig offered me one of his "Amp" sports drinks. I accepted, ate a little and got back on the bike. Within very few pedal strokes I realized my headache was completely gone. My legs were slowly coming back to me and life was looking up! Then we got to turn south for our last ten miles of a "somewhat" tailwind which we ran consistently over 20mph with to Doland.
We took a longer break there than we probably should have before we headed out towards Clark. A few of the locals struck up conversations with us including one younger man who came up and asked if we are in that "insane race across the state". Once that was confirmed he shook our hands like he just found new heroes. We had decided to split the mileage between Doland and Clark in half and we met up with Laura at a roadside part about seven miles from Clark. Laura was also fragged from all the driving, so having Craig and Liz onboard allowed her to go ahead and get a couple more hours of sleep. It was there we got some bad news from Craig and Liz. I miscalculated what we would have to average to finish. I had it in my head we had until 5:00 when in reality it was 4:00. Suddenly we had to average about 14mph WITHOUT getting off the bike to finish within the 48 hours. New added stress as Mr. Bite and I left the rest area. I decided to try for 15.5-16.5 mph and keep Mr. Bite on my wheel. It was comfortable for me and then he could take over when I needed a quick blow here and there. It wasn't to be. I had to back down a couple times and the third time I dropped him real bad in a short time. I slowed down briefly and looked back only to see Mr. Bite's head hanging low. I felt a horrible turmoil as I had to decide to either stay with my friend who I have already ridden 370 miles with or try to finish within the time limits. I pulled up next to Craig and Liz and told them to stay with him until he caught up with his SAG and catch me wherever they could. I left my buddy on the field of battle and it still bothers me looking back.
I was alone...solo...for the first time in this race. I decided that now was the time to lay it ALL on the line and just hammer away and hope for the best. The wind was getting stronger, but I had to see what I could do. Amazingly I had quite a bit left in the tank. I was able to hold 20-22 mph for quite awhile. Then a really weird feeling started setting in. The best I could describe was a feeling of vertigo. While riding comfortable it was fine, when hammering with basically all I had left in me, I was almost getting sick to my stomach. I took turns hammering and backing off and was still keeping an average speed around 20mph. Now, everything was hurting. Seeing the "Watertown - 5 Miles" sign was a great confidence booster but it came at a price...HILLS. It was a pretty good climb towards Watertown at a time I needed it least. It was about that time that the Snakebite SAG went by honking and waving. My friend was done. More motivation to finish what we all started. I had to do this for all of us, not just me. Craig and Liz were following me to see me finish, not to see me quit now.
We got into Watertown and amazingly hit most lights green. The two red lights I hit did not cause me to unclip which was wonderful, because I'm not sure I could have if I wanted to. At the one light I yelled at Laura who was ahead of me to hit Starbucks on the edge of town for a break. She gave me a thumbs up. As I seen her turn at the light and I didn't even consider going around corner to connect to the road to Starbucks. I unclipped, and walked my bike down the ditch instead. After getting my Venti, skinny, no-whip, three shot, white mocha, amazingly Mr. Bite pulled in with his bikes in his truck. A very brief discussion ensued as I had to get back on the road. He told me to finish strong, which I had every intetion of doing.
Onward to Goodwin, SD where I was told it was all downhill to the border (about 20 miles). Amazingly, and VERY lucky for me, it was. I was really starting to pain now. The fog outside of Watertown was as thick as soup and I was completely out of it mentally at this point. We had already decided to cut the last 32 to the border in two so we stopped at about 16 miles to "refuel" my body. Craig served up his last Amp to me and when I checked the time left I realized that we had plenty of time to make the border. I also decided I was hurting bad enough that we should break the last 16 in half as well. However, when I got to the point where we were about to break, the downhill was enough to convince me that a stop my hurt more than it would help so I waved for Laura to continue on. I stared doing a raised countdown with my hands to Craig and Liz following behind as I seen mile marker 407 (5 to go), 408 (4), 409 (3), 410 (2), 411 (1). When mile marker 412 was in site, I pumped my fist in the air doing my best Lance Armstrong imitation and Craig honked the horn over and over behind me.
47:15 minutes. :45 minutes ahead of the 48 hour cutoff. I was numb. Numb that I made it. Numb because I hurt. Numb because I had to leave a friend behind when I really didn't want to. Numb because I have such an awesome wife to follow me across the state on such a journey. Numb because I have such awesome friends that they would follow me for the last 140 miles even though their race was over. Amazed that out of the 17 solo riders to start, I was only the third, and last to finish this epic race. It was an incredible feeling that I know I will never forget. Will I do it again? Probably. Next year? Probably not. I would rather have fun with a leap frog team next year and let them experience a little bit of the excitement.
Do it again?
When I pulled into Gettysburg finishing my leg of our two man relay I said to myself "never again". I could hardly sit in the saddle anymore, my neck, feet and legs were sore. At certain points on the route after riding in the rain and wind, I shivered uncontrollably. Having said that, I think I've changed my mind. I can't stop thinking about the adventure I had on the roads of South Dakota. With more training I might even consider doing it solo. What am I saying? Am I crazy? No, I don't think so. Life is only lived once and I'm glad I'm out there experiencing it. I look forward to reading the comments of others who participated in this adventure.
DaveO
DaveO
Snakebite's Adventure 2007
I spent Monday in a semi coma state tired from the Gut Check. I was sore, exhausted, and still thinking about the weekend.
My support crew (my parents) and I took off for Belle Fourche on Thursday morning. On the way we dropped my vehicle off in Watertown and drove the route backwards so I could take mental notes. These mental notes somehow got scrambled between my ears, which I’ll elaborate on later.
After reaching the hotel and checking in we made our way to Spearfish for dinner with Biking Brady, his wife, and relative (who is from Spearfish and with whom he was staying). After eating it was back to Belle Fourche and trying to sleep as long as I could.
I woke around eight (8) AM and was excited for the race to start. After doing our best to burn the day until race it was time to get to the start on the Wyoming border. We received final instruction, our dog-tag identification (in case we became road kill, I guess), our jerseys, and then the race start.
It was going to be a tough day. The winds were mostly out of the east, we were traveling east, and the group was coked up on adrenaline and starting pretty hard. At Belle Fourche (fourteen (14) miles away) some of us pulled off and regrouped. We took off east in a more moderately paced pace line each pulling for about a mile.
Into the night we went. The storm started to roll in about dark. The area near Rapid City and Sturgis got hammered with big hail. We were treated to drenching rain and higher winds. At Mud Butte we stopped and that is where a very nice lady essentially ordered us into her house for shelter. With the weather being bad we took this opportunity to sleep. We arrived at about ten (10) PM. The hard winds persisted most of the night and we rolled again at five (5) AM.
We rode long and hard. We stopped roughly every fifteen (15) to twenty (20) miles for a quick break and to eat. Our support vehicles carried the food. Every once in a while we’d get off the bikes for a sit down meal. We tried for breakfast in Faith but nothing was there. We sent some support ahead to Dupree in search of a laundry mat to dry some clothes and to scope for food. We had a good breakfast at Dupree, though it took quite a while.
The day had our main group riding together. Biking Brady, Craig DeVelder, and I formed a pace line that carried us quite far down the road (more on these guys later as well). The only flat of our group occurred on Saturday. We switched it out (including the tire), pinch-flatted, and change the tube again, and were on our way. All the while the collie on the other side of the highway either barked at us or sat a watched three (3) morons trying to change tire and tube.
Back to my scrambled memory – I had remembered an uphill drive almost all the way from the Missouri river to Ridgeview. I confidently told the group it was downhill almost all the way from Ridgeview to the river. My mistake. There were some definite up hills. Not terribly steep, just somewhat, but plenty long. Those, and the climb-out after crossing the river, are what I think did one of our group in.
Craig was plenty fatigued when we reached Gettysburg (as the sign outside town said, “where the battle was not.”) and he elected to drop out of the race at that point. We all ate a big meal and the two (2) of us hit the road again.
It had been headwinds all the way. We finally reached Faulkton and then just west of Faulkton and the one (1) of two (2) southward jogs in the whole route. We were doing upwards of twenty-five (25) miles per hour on that nice ten (10) mile stretch and it felt quite good.
We hit Redfield about 3:15 AM and two-hundred-twenty-five (225) miles since we started at five (5) AM in Mud Butte. Bad news in Redfield. The Super-8 was full (rodeo) and the other hotel, though had vacancy, didn’t seem to want any business. The innkeeper didn’t answer pounds on the door nor my phone call. So, van sleeping from four (4) AM to almost six (6) AM. Two (2) hours of somewhat sleep and then the hardest thing up to that point – getting back on the bike.
It took about twenty (20) miles to get going. Talk about the definition of sluggish. We enjoyed the second (2nd) of two (2) southward, wind-at-our-backs run and rolled into Doland and stopped for some food. This is where my meltdown started.
I had a very hard time keeping up at sixteen (16) MPH even though I was not pulling at all at this point. At about half way between Doland and Clark my legs started to fail me. Biking Brady went ahead trying hard to make the forty-eight (48) hour cut-off and I fending for myself.
Each small roller hill was harder and harder to get up. I could only manage twelve (12) to fourteen (14) MPH on downhills. My legs were fading fast. Craig, and his wife, escorted me (by car) into Clark and then my parents took over as my lone support vehicle.
I paused in Clark knowing I could not make the forty-eight (48) cut-off at this point. I wanted so bad to make the border, regardless. I took off out of Clark and managed about five (5) more miles before I started to get very cold and also shaking uncontrollably. Three-hundred-seventy-seven miles from the Wyoming border my body refused to let me continue. I called into the race director and loaded my bike into my parent’s mini van.
Parts of my body were quite sore at that point. However, my legs were sore, but not that bad. They simply did not have the strength to turn the cranks anymore. If any of you are hard-core weight lifters out there you’ll understand this analogy – when going for (perceived) maximum reps at a certain weight on a certain lift, does failure to do another rep come from your brain saying it hurts too much to do another or from your body blocking out any pain and the muscle not able to physically move the weight? In my case, it was the latter. My legs were fatigued to the point that I could not make it up the fairly gentle, but very long climbs.
Now, excuses are like assholes – everyone’s got one and everyone’s stinks. I could say the storm and the constant headwinds are what got me. I could say the seven (7) hour layover in Mud Butte is what doomed me. They certainly didn’t help. I do know I gave it everything I had. I don’t feel the least bit ashamed. After all, of nineteen (19) solo riders only three (3) made it and I was tied for the longest distance rode of the ones that dropped. But I feel intense disappointment. I hate giving so much effort only to come up about sixty (60) miles short in a four-hundred-thirty-five (435) mile race.
I’m sure you have, or have seen, the yellow Live Strong wristband thingies. At the start of this race we received one that is blue and says “Got Guts.” I’ve already decided I’m entering this again next year. I’m wearing my wristband until I finish the race, within the forty-eight (48) hour time limit – solo – next year.
Even though I am very, very disappointed, I have learned a lot about this race and myself. I’ll use this knowledge as I prepare for next year’s race.
I only took a few pictures. I’ll probably post the better ones tomorrow. And, I highly recommend this race. It is quite a challenge doing it solo or as part of a team. The participation went from four (4) in the first (1st) year to twenty-two (22) this year. I hope to see that big of a jump in 2008.
Lastly, a VERY big thanks to Biking Brady and Craig DeVelder. I would have not made it as far as I did if we had not worked together to tackle those headwinds. Equal big thanks to my parents (my support crew) and to the wives of Biking Brady and Craig. The support crews also worked together. It made a very tough task seem much more bearable. And, a big congrats to Biking Brady. He was the third (3rd) one to finish the race and had roughly forty-five (45) minutes to spare.
So, Highway 212 Gut Check 2008 – who’s in?
Ride On.
My support crew (my parents) and I took off for Belle Fourche on Thursday morning. On the way we dropped my vehicle off in Watertown and drove the route backwards so I could take mental notes. These mental notes somehow got scrambled between my ears, which I’ll elaborate on later.
After reaching the hotel and checking in we made our way to Spearfish for dinner with Biking Brady, his wife, and relative (who is from Spearfish and with whom he was staying). After eating it was back to Belle Fourche and trying to sleep as long as I could.
I woke around eight (8) AM and was excited for the race to start. After doing our best to burn the day until race it was time to get to the start on the Wyoming border. We received final instruction, our dog-tag identification (in case we became road kill, I guess), our jerseys, and then the race start.
It was going to be a tough day. The winds were mostly out of the east, we were traveling east, and the group was coked up on adrenaline and starting pretty hard. At Belle Fourche (fourteen (14) miles away) some of us pulled off and regrouped. We took off east in a more moderately paced pace line each pulling for about a mile.
Into the night we went. The storm started to roll in about dark. The area near Rapid City and Sturgis got hammered with big hail. We were treated to drenching rain and higher winds. At Mud Butte we stopped and that is where a very nice lady essentially ordered us into her house for shelter. With the weather being bad we took this opportunity to sleep. We arrived at about ten (10) PM. The hard winds persisted most of the night and we rolled again at five (5) AM.
We rode long and hard. We stopped roughly every fifteen (15) to twenty (20) miles for a quick break and to eat. Our support vehicles carried the food. Every once in a while we’d get off the bikes for a sit down meal. We tried for breakfast in Faith but nothing was there. We sent some support ahead to Dupree in search of a laundry mat to dry some clothes and to scope for food. We had a good breakfast at Dupree, though it took quite a while.
The day had our main group riding together. Biking Brady, Craig DeVelder, and I formed a pace line that carried us quite far down the road (more on these guys later as well). The only flat of our group occurred on Saturday. We switched it out (including the tire), pinch-flatted, and change the tube again, and were on our way. All the while the collie on the other side of the highway either barked at us or sat a watched three (3) morons trying to change tire and tube.
Back to my scrambled memory – I had remembered an uphill drive almost all the way from the Missouri river to Ridgeview. I confidently told the group it was downhill almost all the way from Ridgeview to the river. My mistake. There were some definite up hills. Not terribly steep, just somewhat, but plenty long. Those, and the climb-out after crossing the river, are what I think did one of our group in.
Craig was plenty fatigued when we reached Gettysburg (as the sign outside town said, “where the battle was not.”) and he elected to drop out of the race at that point. We all ate a big meal and the two (2) of us hit the road again.
It had been headwinds all the way. We finally reached Faulkton and then just west of Faulkton and the one (1) of two (2) southward jogs in the whole route. We were doing upwards of twenty-five (25) miles per hour on that nice ten (10) mile stretch and it felt quite good.
We hit Redfield about 3:15 AM and two-hundred-twenty-five (225) miles since we started at five (5) AM in Mud Butte. Bad news in Redfield. The Super-8 was full (rodeo) and the other hotel, though had vacancy, didn’t seem to want any business. The innkeeper didn’t answer pounds on the door nor my phone call. So, van sleeping from four (4) AM to almost six (6) AM. Two (2) hours of somewhat sleep and then the hardest thing up to that point – getting back on the bike.
It took about twenty (20) miles to get going. Talk about the definition of sluggish. We enjoyed the second (2nd) of two (2) southward, wind-at-our-backs run and rolled into Doland and stopped for some food. This is where my meltdown started.
I had a very hard time keeping up at sixteen (16) MPH even though I was not pulling at all at this point. At about half way between Doland and Clark my legs started to fail me. Biking Brady went ahead trying hard to make the forty-eight (48) hour cut-off and I fending for myself.
Each small roller hill was harder and harder to get up. I could only manage twelve (12) to fourteen (14) MPH on downhills. My legs were fading fast. Craig, and his wife, escorted me (by car) into Clark and then my parents took over as my lone support vehicle.
I paused in Clark knowing I could not make the forty-eight (48) cut-off at this point. I wanted so bad to make the border, regardless. I took off out of Clark and managed about five (5) more miles before I started to get very cold and also shaking uncontrollably. Three-hundred-seventy-seven miles from the Wyoming border my body refused to let me continue. I called into the race director and loaded my bike into my parent’s mini van.
Parts of my body were quite sore at that point. However, my legs were sore, but not that bad. They simply did not have the strength to turn the cranks anymore. If any of you are hard-core weight lifters out there you’ll understand this analogy – when going for (perceived) maximum reps at a certain weight on a certain lift, does failure to do another rep come from your brain saying it hurts too much to do another or from your body blocking out any pain and the muscle not able to physically move the weight? In my case, it was the latter. My legs were fatigued to the point that I could not make it up the fairly gentle, but very long climbs.
Now, excuses are like assholes – everyone’s got one and everyone’s stinks. I could say the storm and the constant headwinds are what got me. I could say the seven (7) hour layover in Mud Butte is what doomed me. They certainly didn’t help. I do know I gave it everything I had. I don’t feel the least bit ashamed. After all, of nineteen (19) solo riders only three (3) made it and I was tied for the longest distance rode of the ones that dropped. But I feel intense disappointment. I hate giving so much effort only to come up about sixty (60) miles short in a four-hundred-thirty-five (435) mile race.
I’m sure you have, or have seen, the yellow Live Strong wristband thingies. At the start of this race we received one that is blue and says “Got Guts.” I’ve already decided I’m entering this again next year. I’m wearing my wristband until I finish the race, within the forty-eight (48) hour time limit – solo – next year.
Even though I am very, very disappointed, I have learned a lot about this race and myself. I’ll use this knowledge as I prepare for next year’s race.
I only took a few pictures. I’ll probably post the better ones tomorrow. And, I highly recommend this race. It is quite a challenge doing it solo or as part of a team. The participation went from four (4) in the first (1st) year to twenty-two (22) this year. I hope to see that big of a jump in 2008.
Lastly, a VERY big thanks to Biking Brady and Craig DeVelder. I would have not made it as far as I did if we had not worked together to tackle those headwinds. Equal big thanks to my parents (my support crew) and to the wives of Biking Brady and Craig. The support crews also worked together. It made a very tough task seem much more bearable. And, a big congrats to Biking Brady. He was the third (3rd) one to finish the race and had roughly forty-five (45) minutes to spare.
So, Highway 212 Gut Check 2008 – who’s in?
Ride On.
First post
Hello all who rode the gut check and those who haven't but may have an interest. There was an email which mentioned a blog for everyone to post to and share experiences. I decided to start it... So, feel free to post away and share pictures or experiences about your ride.
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