On Tuesday, the 4th of August, we (the Beyer family having just reunited from a whirlwind summer of music camps, business and training trips) flew to Denver with in-laws in tow. The trip went without a hitch and we stopped at Beau Jo’s in Idaho Springs for some official Mountain Pies (pizza). My Trek (Gary Fisher) SuperFly 29er bike, was supposed to be in Leadville, assembled and waiting for me. My plan was to do a 2 ½ hour endurance ride to scout out the Pipeline section of the race course at 9 am Wednesday. However when we awoke Wednesday in Frisco CO at approximately 9,000 ft. of altitude, Denise was struggling with a bad bout of altitude sickness. To make matters worse, my bike was stuck in Denver. I scrambled that morning trying to find remedies to help Denise feel better. I post-poned the training ride until later in the day. Finally around noon we dragged Denise out of the room and she, the kids and my in-laws drove down to Glenwood Springs where we had planned a day and evening of sight-seeing and relaxation in the hot springs. Unfortunately the altitude sickness put a major kink in Denise’s fun. With the family headed to Glenwood Springs, I headed to Leadville to do my training ride. I would catch up with them later. Thankfully on Thursday Denise began feeling better and we headed back to Leadville and to the cabin where we would spend the next three evenings. On Friday Denise’s parents were bed-ridden with altitude sickness. Ughh.

Saturday, August 13th. Courtland’s 19th birthday. Leadville 100 Race Day! It was finally here. The journey to this point required 5 months of training at an average of 12 hours per week. Over 100,000 feet had been climbed, 3,000+ miles had been ridden. Thousands of sit-ups, burpees, push-ups, running, swimming, weight lifting, crossfit training and numerous other fitness exercises all had done their part to contribute to my state of preparedness. I had raced two 100 mile races in preparation. I took a recon trip to pre-ride parts of the race course. I knew I was physically fit. However, questions lingered. Would the altitude hold me back or make my race miserable? How would my bike hold up? Would I be able to pace myself? Would I know when to push and when to go easy? Would I successfully manage my nutrition giving my body the best chance of persevering thru a twelve hour bike ride? Had I made the best preparations to handle whatever the weather threw at me? I had practiced these things over the last five months. I worked with multiple coaches, asked advice from those more experienced, followed blogs, and watched youtube videos. I had done all I knew how to prepare. My drop bags had been labeled, submitted and directed to the aide stations of my choice. The time had come to test my preparedness.

Friday evening Carmichael Training Systems put on a carb loading pasta dinner at 6 pm. My total Carmichael experience was awesome and I would recommend it to everyone. Arriving back to the cabin to make final morning preparations, I ate ½ of a frozen California Kitchen Margarita pizza. I slept about six hours that night waking up every two hours to go to the bathroom. At 3:45 am my alarm woke and I grabbed my carefully laid out biking clothes, dressed and made my way to the kitchen to eat a cup of Quaker Oats Quick 1 minute oatmeal. The plan was to leave the cabin at 4:15 am. While my wife, daughter, son and in-laws scrambled to get themselves ready, I went to check the air pressure on my bike tires. The front tire (tubeless) was new having been replaced due to a gash received in the screwed up shipment to Leadville. I had no air gauge so I was going to rely on feel. At first I tried a new hand pump purchased the day before. When it became obvious that I was unfamiliar with the nuances of its small size, I abandoned that idea and reached for an air canister with my emergency tire repair kit. Unscrewing the air canister from the presta valve I accidently removed the inner valve stem and with a scream of air my tubeless tire went flat. It was nearly 4:15 am and I had to get going. I swallowed my panic and screwed the stem back in, loaded a new air canister and prayed the tire didn’t unseat from the rim. I pressed the valve to release the air and voila, the tire inflated and stayed!

I was one of the firsts to arrive at the fifth corral (very back of the race dubiously assigned to first time Leadville racers) to get appropriately positioned to enter when they opened the corrals at 5:15 am. The plan was to enter the corral when permitted, lay my bike down in the best position I could garner and then get back to the SUV for some warmth. The temperature was 42 degrees. At 5:15 am I rushed to find the perfect spot to lay my bike down and then headed back to the SUV to wait with my wife, kids and in-laws. We surprised my son with birthday cards and presents and thanked him for sharing his day with me. After restlessly experimenting with wearing two sets of gloves and fighting the urge to pee I finally decided at 6:08 am I had better get back to my bike and get ready to race at 6:30 am.

Courtland and I jumped out of the SUV and arrived back to the corrals only to see hundreds of people standing, shivering in the cold clutching their bikes and waiting for the start. Although I couldn’t immediately see my bike because of the sea of colored spandex, I decided to rush to the port-o-potties anyway. As I stood in line I heard the announcer say they were moving the tape that formed the corrals and that they wanted everyone to move forward approximately 25-50 yards. Oh boy, my heart began to thump in my chest. I didn’t even know where my bike was. I thrust out my arm and hurriedly gave my bike computer to Courtland and rushed to empty my bladder. With the announcer calling off the minutes until start, Courtland and I dove into the crowd of racers looking for my bike which I was sure had been trampled on by now.

Out of the 1,900 registered racers, 1,600-1,700 had actually made it to the starting line that morning. I couldn’t find my bike. I began yelling out to the racers if anyone had seen a Gary Fisher/Trek SuperFly that was red and white. Well-intentioned bikers sent me on several wild goose chases. Time was running out. The announcer kept hyping up the crowd with his count down. Still no bike. With about 5 minutes to the shotgun, I turned to see my screaming panicked wife who had been trying to get my attention. She had my bike. She had left the SUV to see the start and came upon my bike and didn’t see me. When they asked the racers to move forward she jumped into the corral, she made a quick decision, grabbed my bike and moved forward with it to maintain the starting position I had worked so hard to get earlier. She didn’t know where I was, so she laid it down and went looking for me. She found me. Great. 3 minutes to go. My bike was ok. Oh, but wait. Where was my computer? No! Where was Courtland? Unaware that my bike and I were reunited, he continued to weave thru the throngs of bikers desperately trying to locate his dad’s bike. I whistled, I hollered and shouted his name. Denise disappeared into the crowd shouting his name. A lady ran up to me and asked if Courtland had a cell phone. She dialed his number once, twice, three times with no answer. Crap. Two minutes until the start, the announcer screamed into the P.A. system. Then Denise came running to me with the computer. Somehow she had found Courtland. One minute. I straddled my bike shot a nervous glance over to my anxious family who were relieved they had solved the immediate problems, but concerned for my safety during the race.

Boom!!! The shotgun went off, and the announcer screamed into the P.A. I stood still. The giant mass of bikes took a few moments to get rolling. Then it was my turn. I was off. Was this really happening? I was racing Leadville. Wow. The computer chip on my leg later indicated it took me about a minute and a half to cross the start line. As I left the intersection of 6th and Harrison in the huge wave of bikes I could hear the announcer admonishing the bikers to slow down. Everyone was going was going too fast. I looked down at my computer and noticed I was doing approximately 32 MPH down the hill on 6th street on a mountain bike in a peloton of 1,600+ racers. This was unreal. I was racing.

As a massive peloton, we flew down the street towards turquoise lake before we turned off onto a dirt road towards St. Kevins. Although I wore full finger gloves my fingers were frozen. On my recon trip it had taken over two hours to climb St. Kevin’s. However, when I arrived at the top of St. Kevin’s I looked at my computer and was very happy to see that only 55 minutes had passed. I was well on my way to meeting my split time goals. At the top of St. Kevin’s we turned down the paved road and let gravity suck us down at nearly 40 MPH until we hit Hagerman road and made the gradual climb up to Sugar Loaf. The climb up Sugar Loaf mountain wasn’t too bad. I was preoccupied thinking about how I was going to safely come down the Powerline. Since my recon trip, I had been dreading the descents fearing the self-appointed super heroes who would be reckless. Fortunately not too many crazies felt the urge to pass when there wasn’t room. The Powerline descent went without a hitch and I was still on track with my target time goals.

As planned, I found some people to draft with and on the paved surface on the way over to Pipeline and drafted at nearly 28 MPH passing those who chose to ride solo like they were standing still. This was one of the highlights of the day.

At the pipeline aide station the Carmichael people were ready for me with my red drop bag. Wait. My RED drop bag! Oh man. The red drop bag was supposed to be at Twin Lakes, I explained to the Carmichael volunteer. He held the bag up and showed me my own hand writing which stated “Pipeline.” Crap. I had made a mistake and mis-marked my own bags. The red bag had all of the extra mechanical parts I had strategically thought would be best positioned at Twin Lakes. It also had extra socks and an extra warm rain coat in case the Columbine climb coughed up bad weather. Dang-it! I took nothing from the bag and after a quick potty break took off toward Twin Lakes.

The ride on the forest road toward Twin Lakes went without a hitch. A rider had crashed at the top of the steep decline just before the downhill single track section. Those who had stopped waved me on. Leaving the single track I climbed up the gravel road to crest above Twin Lakes. It was another highlight of the day to come down from the mountain on the short section of paved road overlooking Twin Lakes and see the lakes, the dam and the thousands of people and the hundreds of aide tents etc. Remote control helicopters carried cameras filming the event for to 2011 Race Across The Sky. Riding up to the dam I heard Courtland yell out “dad” on the left. I continued to ride across the dam toward the Carmichael tent which I thought was down at the end on the left. It turns out I had mis-information from the recon trip and had to turn back around to find the tent at the beginning of the dam crossing on the right. The family was there and I grabbed some coke and asked for a peanut butter sandwich. My daughter confirmed I had met my split time goals. 3 ½ hours had passed since the race start.

It took 2 ½ hours to get from Twin Lakes aide station to the top of Columbine. On the way up I saw Todd Wells and the leaders come down. They were flying. I rode the entire way up Columbine with the exception of the last 1 ½ miles at the top of Columbine which is the steepest part. Because the leaders were flying down the hill and because the people in front of me were walking I had no choice but to walk. At the 12,424 ft. summit of Columbine I gladly accepted watermelon and orange slices, a cup of chicken noodle soup and a cup Sprite. My stay lasted no more than a couple of minutes and I was off to ride the 3,000 ft. descent down Columbine.

Approximately 40 minutes later, on my return to the Twin Lakes aide station I was a bit disappointed that my family wasn’t there but I knew I would find them at the Pipeline station. I grabbed some more coke, ate my first pirogues and was off. Climbing up the hill away from Twin Lakes I began talking with a guy from Miami who was wearing a Gators bike jersey. I told him I was from Florida and encouraged him saying we were both well on our way to getting a buckle according to my split time goals. He wasn’t so confident as he was not feeling well. After more words of encouragement I left him never seeing him again. At the top of the hill having climbed the single track, I had to expend a bit of energy saving myself from a crash on the only roots we encountered on the race course. Leaving the single track behind I had to walk (congestion) on the short very steep climb back up to the forest road that led back to Pipeline. A couple of miles before the aide station I found a huge dude to ride behind and hide from the headwinds! I don’t know if he ever knew I was there!

Arriving at the Pipeline aide station I was starting to feel physically tired. I was 8 hours into the race. Mentally I was very encouraged knowing I had beaten most of the course difficulties. Up to this point, my legs had felt great. The nutrition was working and I had escaped cramping. The altitude wasn’t hindering my breathing. My biggest struggle was with all of the dry dust that was everywhere. My daughter cheerfully told me I was 5 minutes ahead of my time goals and that I had 4 hours to simply ride 26 miles to get my buckle. The Carmichael people were all over me getting me more fluids, pouring water down my back, and fetching another pirogue from my bag. After a little more coke I was on my way to climb Powerline. On the paved road section I snuck in behind a tandem and a group of 5 riders and we drafted thru the headwinds and slight uphill back toward Powerline. Interestingly, at mile 75, just before the Powerline climb, a group of guys had set up a tent (make shift aide station) and were offering cold Pabst Blue Ribbons to riders. No thanks! Finally at Powerline the sun was beating down with no shelter for the riders and most complained of the heat. I really didn’t notice the heat. The weather that day had been perfect so far with temperatures in the mid 70’s and sunny.

I walked almost all of the approximately 4 miles of Powerline. It was here I really lost a bunch of time. Powerline although approximately half the distance of the Columbine climb, seemed like I was climbing (walking) forever. I simply followed a strategy my coach had imparted to me. He had said to keep moving at all times. Don’t stop. If I needed to walk, keep moving. So, I had played in my head all day the character Dory from Finding Nemo: “Just keep moving, just keep moving, just keep moving!” The next challenge was riding down the very rocky Sugar Loaf to Hagerman road. The down continued on Hagerman road (gravel).

The final big challenge was to climb up St. Kevin’s on the paved road. By now, I was sick and tired of all the GU and the GU brew as well as the warm water in my camel-back. Volunteers and spectators had been everywhere along the course all day, some camping out and cheering and others offering assistance. A lady along the road up St Kevin’s offered me a cold bottle of water. I took it. It was the best tasting most refreshing drink all day! Down the road others offered to pour water on my back as I passed. I took up the offer and was most appreciative. Turning off the paved road at the top of St. Kevin’s I eagerly anticipated the downhill ride and became quickly disenchanted with all of the ups that followed the downs before finally I was able to sail down the mountain.

At the section of dirt road that ran parallel to the railroad tracks just before the boulevard, I was down to my final 45 minutes. Knowing it was only 4 miles to go, I knew the buckle was within my reach. Riding up the steep hill to the boulevard I recalled riding the same path two days earlier with both Court and Aria. That day Court rode way ahead of Aria and I. This day Court was my motivation as I pictured him way ahead of me. I pedaled harder! Off the boulevard and onto the street and a right turn up the hill on sixth and I had 35 minutes left. I motored on up the street and finally onto the red carpet. I heard the announcer (mayor of Leadville) bumble thru my last name and I was finished!

11:39:17 chip time. I averaged 8.6 MPH over the entire race. The last 26 miles had taken me 3:39 minutes! Crazy. It was the longest bike ride of my life. I had done it. I had climbed over 14,000 ft all above the 10,000 ft mark and rode 103 miles! I finished. I earned a buckle! I just stood there, leaning on my bike afraid I would fall over if I moved too fast. “No,” I told the volunteer. I didn’t need medical. After a few minutes I followed my family over to our SUV and gratefully drank a cold coke with ice. I had done it. I achieved both of my goals. I finished the race and I earned the silver buckle and I was only 9 minutes over the pace I had hoped to maintain.