Standing at the Start Line, I’m not nervous at all; I’m stoked! I love racing. I seriously couldn’t wait to ride my bike and suffer. For me, racing has very little to do with competing with the person to the right or left of me. It is all about the bike, the challenge and the adrenaline. I love it. And because the Grizzly 100k was going to be long, steep and involve a whole of lot of ‘unknowns,’ the high challenge of this race just amped me up more than ever.
When the guy screamed out, “Go,” that was it. Everyone around me clipped and tore off the front. I, on the other hand, took my time, found my ‘all day’ race pace, and slowly made my way through the field and through the climb out of town. And, Boy, was it a long vertical ride out of town! About 10mins into the first climb, I was seriously feeling the elevation…and probably the backpack. I wasn’t hurting, but my mind was saying ‘screw it.’ This wasn’t anything new for me, as it happens at almost every simple tri-race about 5-10mins into the swim. I thinking about dropping the pace, convincing myself that ‘today just isn’t my day,’ and/or wrestle with the deep question of “Why am I doing this?” So, when this ‘Battle of the Will’ began during the first big climb of the race, I wasn’t too worried and it immediately vanished when we finally cleared the hill, hit the first section of wooded single-track and began to truly ‘mountain bike,’ IMO.
On the flowy single-track, I quickly found my rhythm and was able to keep the pace with the guys in front of me and even drop the guys behind me. It was at this point that all doubt was replaced with delusions of grandeur. “I’m awesome.” “I’m actually pretty good at this.” “I can do this all day.” “There is no way I’m coming in last today!” Yeah, the emotional roller coaster of racing is real, sudden and completely extreme. But, on this course it was easy to shut down these inner-voices and be overcome by the beauty of the venue. The high Sierra forests are just incredible, and the smell is intoxicating. We were rolling through pines and I didn’t want it to end…but it quickly did.
Coming out of the pines, there was a small rocky step-up, and on the other side was pure insanity. Gone was all vegetation, dirt and camber. The trail immediately turned into ground pumice/sand (whatever they have in the Sierras) and radical descent. I tried to play it cool and remember my training: “Speed is your friend. Just ride the line.” But then my eyes would take over and I would focus entirely on the scariness of the terrain and the views in front of me of guys riding with their feet off their pedals looking like they are riding balance bikes. Fear sucks, and if your let it, it will completely undo/negate all the training and wisdom you otherwise possess. I let it screw me all the way down the mountain.
Rather than ride my bike and ride the mountain, I sat on my bike and imitated everything I saw the guy in front of me do. If he took his foot off, then so did I. If he braked, then I braked. If he fell, then I would fall too. I fell or stalled out about 5 times going down the mountain. It sucked. To make matters worse, every time I fell or stalled, I got passed by a train of other riders. It didn’t matter if I told myself that this wasn’t a ‘race’ for me that I had to win; getting passed sucks, and you always want to immediately get back ahead of whoever passes you. Well, starting without momentum to catch a rider who has momentum is extremely difficult. Additionally, falling, no matter how slow, deeply cuts into your energy stores (emotionally and physically), and being tired and frustrated only makes you ride stupider and slower. I got down to the bottom of the mountain tore up, bloody and a little pissed, but the day was still so young!
After the descent, we hit another fire road and climb. I grabbed a gel, hit the hydro-pack and got back into my ‘all day’ race pace. BAM! I was passing people again with little effort. But, then the British guy started talking to me. He was an older guy in his late 40s or 50s. I could tell from his kit and bike that he was not a newbie to mountain biking, but from his body shape I also concluded that he wasn’t the fittest rider. However when I passed him, he quickly came back at me and tried to start up a conversation by questioning my gear.
Before hitting the single-track, however, I came across the first feed zone…and skipped it. I had already used a gel and had been hitting my hydro regularly, so I felt like I was on track with my nutrition. Plus, how dumb would I look hitting the feed zone while carrying a backpack? (Looking back, the effects of that British dude were real. I should’ve stopped, but I didn’t). So, I carried on as the course got back into some beautiful woods and scenery. It was a perfect opportunity to use the GoPro. Too bad that it wasn’t.
I had my Hero5 mounted on the handlebars, and when I began to record, I noticed a really loud rattling sound. I looked down and saw that the entire camera was violently shaking even though the surface was relatively soft. And then BAM! There goes the GoPro.
There was no way I was leaving a $500 camera in the woods, so I had to stop and go backwards to get it. It was fine and just laying in the center of the track. The mount, however, was completely messed up. Apparently all those ‘simple crashes’ coming down the mountain took a toll on the camera mount. It was gone. Good thing that I had my backpack, however! My backpack only kept getting heavier…
Back to racing, and some incredible single-track on the Santa Ana River Trail. Wow. Tough, technical, scary sharp turns and LONG runs. It should’ve been an epic fun ride, but it wasn’t. I was toasted. Instead of hitting the run with confidence and the necessary speed, I doubted almost every turn and couldn’t hold my balance to save my life…literally. I fell at almost every legitimate and likely opportunity. Nothing big and horrible, just the same silly stalls and falls. I popped another gel thinking I could still redeem myself and refused to believe that I was really ‘that gassed!’
After the single-track, it was now time to hit the paved road out to Pinezanita and ultimately the Radford Road climb. This is where things got a lot better, but only in the short run. Once again, my diesel engine kicked in and I was passing riders with ease. Perhaps I wasn’t that gassed, but just a really crappy technical rider? This is what I told myself, which was motivating me to believe that I could complete the day, but also really stung because, if true, then I really suck. Regardless, I powered through the field and came across the next big feed zone at the bottom of the Radford climb.
I knew nothing about the Radford climb, but the happy volunteer welcoming me to the feed zone said, “Welcome to hell. This will be the longest climb of your life!!” Well, OK, then I guess I better eat some real food. Gels are good, but I know from experience that you can’t do a full day on gels. So, I ate 7 celery sticks with peanut butter and then took off for the climb. (Idiot move #TooMany).
Ten minutes into the fire road climb and I felt pretty good. I wasn’t passing people, but I wasn’t loosing ground either. The road was NOT smooth, but gravel and erosion ruts. Those took a toll on my body and rhythm, but I thought I could see the summit as I looked ahead, so I powered on. Turns out that it was not the summit but, rather, a measly little crest before you dropped into the REAL climb – the climb that never ends, never levels out, and is IMPOSSIBLE to see the end. All you can do is suffer, and I did for over an hour as I walked that stupid bike all the way up the mountain. I tried to ride a few times, but it was useless. If the muscles didn’t quit, the mind did. It was pure will power that got me to the top, but even that began to break when I realized that there was no ‘reward’ for getting to the summit.
Once the climb was over, there was a feed zone waiting for us, but it wasn’t much of an ‘oasis.’ There were other riders parked there and they were miserable and baked, too. One guy had suffered a mechanical and he just found out that his day was done. His disappointment was extremely transparent and caused all of us to doubt our equipment. Another guy apparently had taken a fall early in the day and his injuries were now catching up to him and he was being forced to abandon. Eek! Would my injuries catch up with me later in the day? And then there was the sad fact that the food selection was absolutely minimalistic. There were Fig Newtons, Gatorade, and some crackers. Ugh. I had to get out of there, so I grabbed about 15 Fig Newtons and got back on to the trail, but even that was a let down.
You would think that after a hour+ climb that you would at least be rewarded with some downhill. Nope. Skyline is a roller coaster. You get some rolls, but you have to earn them with lots of little technical climbs trough switchbacks and boulders. Ugh. Every pedal stroke sucked. There was no one else around. I was alone, hungry, and had no idea how much of the course I still had left to complete. My Garmin was reading somewhere around 40miles, but there had been lots of talk that the course may not be a real metric century (62miles) but, rather, somewhere between 52-58miles. That may not sound significant, but when you are BAKED on technical mountain bike trails with a 30lb bike and 10lb backpack, 12-22more miles seems impossible. It was here that I seriously thought about abandoning the race. I had nothing to prove here. Maybe it was best to just cut my losses and try again next year? NO WAY, man! If you quit once, you will always find it easier to quit again the next time it gets hard. Pedal, dang it!
Eventually, Skyline ended and it was back to another fire road stretch (and climb). Somehow, I caught up with another rider. He was a much older rider, but he was still riding strong, and I could barely hold his wheel, but I did. Having someone to ride with didn’t take away all the pain and fatigue, but it did alleviate some of it. We road the fire road together and finally made it to the last feed zone. By the grace of God, it was packed with the absolute best food choices I could ever dream of!! There was Coca-Cola, Gatorade, PB bars, almond butter bars, more Fig Newtons, and tons of Clif Blocks. I downed a 12oz Coke and about 12 PB squares and 12 almond butter squares. I filled the hydropack with Gatorade and a handful of Blocks. I was ready! And then the nice lady said, “Have fun. Only about 8 more miles to go.” What!?!? Really? Hallelujah. I can do 8miles! And off I went, pedaling as if I only had 8 more miles to go...
From the rest stop, the course flowed into some great trails (Cabin 89) that really worked for how I was feeling. They had a lot of flow, gravity assist, and were a lot of fun. I don’t know, maybe I was just on a sugar high from the Coke, or maybe just that amped from believing that 8 miles would be a breeze (on a MTB), but I was having lots of fun again and rolling at a steady speed. It was also at this point that I caught up with some other riders on the trail. I think they were part of the race, but I couldn’t tell for sure. They acted like they were, but they didn’t have race bibs on their bikes. Regardless, their presence made me feel like I was back in the race rather than just trying to complete a very long day.
I kept me eyes glued to my Garmin after leaving the rest stop, counting each tenth-of-a-mile until I hit the magic “8.” After getting through the Cabin 89 portion, we dropped into Pineknot. Maybe ‘dropped in’ is the wrong term to use to describe it. Yes, there was a downhill into the trail, but that was the end of that. The whole darn thing was uphill. But, unlike earlier climbs in the day, I refused to get off my bike and walk if I didn’t absolutely have to. (Only 4 more miles to go!!) There was a reason my bike had a giant tooth ring on the back, and, darn it, I was going to use it! I thrashed my gears during Pineknot, but I didn’t care anymore. This was an epic race, and epic challenge, and after today, I could easily justify a trip to the bike shop. Go hard, man!
Sadly, the sugar high wore off, the climbs didn’t stop, and the trail was now sprinkled consistently with hikers at 2pm. The crew I was riding with broke up and I was on my own, again. (Oh well, only 3 miles to go!) I was felling every pedal stroke and my gears sounded horrible. I had severe brake rub at any reasonable speed. My bike and I were now completely miserable. But, by the grace of God, the Pineknot trail eventually crested and I was now staring at the last fire road that would lead me home! Of course, there was another climb to the top, but it was manageable even in my dilapidated condition.
I bombed the hell out of the fire road riding into town. The weather had turned very windy and it was impossible to see anything, in front or below. Who cares! I took my hands off the brakes, got into a hip-hinge and just let gravity and the bike take over. It was a fast, dirty, and wild ride into town. And when the road turned back into a paved surface, the past 8hours seemed irrelevant. It was as if I had just hopped on my bike for the first time in the day. I could now see the finish line and my fellow riders enjoying the end. “I should GoPro this,” I thought, and so I did using my hand instead of the busted mount (which looked like crap without the mount, BTW). I crossed to line to little fanfare and a small sense of disillusionment. I wasn’t tired. I wasn’t amped. I wasn’t anything other than very hungry and very dirty. All in all, it was a little anticlimactic, but, whatever. I sat down, enjoyed a Jersey Mike sub and a $1 beer courtesy of the local men’s club, and waited for my family to come pick me up. And that was it: day done.
Looking back on the race, I had a lot of fun. My bike held up really, really well, especially because I ran it ‘as is’ from the factory. No special tires, grips, gears, or even tweaks to the suspension. It was also great to have had the opportunity to learn so many new trails in Big Bear. It really is an amazing place to have multi-day MTB rides and never run out of options. The network, quality, and support for the trails are really impressive. And on this note, the local people of Big Bear are really legitimate and encouraging of bike tourism. Some places, you get the feeling that either just want your money or that they just don’t want you to visit, period. That’s not the case with Big Bear. Sure, they want your money, but they aren’t going to gauge you or make feel bad for visiting. It’s been said that Big Bear is a ‘blue collar town;’ and, I agree, which is a good thing.
I guess my only gripe about the event is that maybe it was a little too low-key. I’ve had similar experiences at other bike and triathlon races that cost the same amount per distance as this race (approx $125). I appreciate the finisher medal, the on-course food, number of aid stations, and race timing. But trying to get information about the race and the race website where underwhelming, and they didn’t build the hype and confidence that carries you into and through an event. And I think the ‘after party’ at an event is perhaps as important as the race itself.
I know that most people just grab their medal and go, but what if they didn’t? What if they actually stayed around because the race organizer created an atmosphere that made them want to stay? It’s been said that how a customer feels leaving a store is AS important as their first impression entering. I believe this. If you want people to come back to a race and bring their friends, then their last impression of the event needs to be exceptional. You can’t control every part of a course or a rider’s experience on a course, but you (as a Race Director) can control their final experience when they cross that finish line. (Think Mike Riley calling out, “You are an Ironman.”) I did the Belgian Waffle Ride in 2017. It was hell on a bike. I felt like death. I cried after crossing the finish line. But, I stayed at the event for an additional hour+ because they threw a killer after-party complete with “free” beer, BBQ, waffles and ice cream. I left feeling like a champion and super impressed with the leadership of the BWR organizers. I hated the course, but I greatly appreciated the event and couldn’t wait to throw my money, time and support behind the next one! If I was to do the Grizzly 100k again in 2019, it would be because I love riding my bike and I like the town of Big Bear…not necessarily because it think it is an incredible race and achievement. Again, when I crossed the line…no one really cared.
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