I was more heavily involved in the pre- and post-race efforts this year than in the past, and I think that burned me out on the concept of actually racing -- until the day arrived. It had been so blisteringly hot (for Laramie) that the cloud cover was a welcome development. Over 330 riders crowded into the downtown area and the whir and hum of knobbie tires could be heard blocks away during the parade out of town. Unlike last year, the lead group broke-up before ever hitting the dirt -- there was wind out of the east that was strong enough to fragment the first 100 or so riders into several groups. I figure I hit the dirt at least 1 minute behind the lead riders. The sandy section at the bottom of the first climb seemed to have gotten bigger so I didn't waste too much time and energy trying to plow through. I worked pretty well on the first climb, but stayed in my comfort zone the whole time. I must be climbing better because I didn't get passed and even picked off a few people. At the summit aid station I swapped out a water bottle and got in with a small group that booked it on down the paved and dirt roads to the first section of single track.

I always make a mistake in this race -- bonked and flatted the first year, two flats last year. This year I got lost. Okay, how does a local get lost? First, he has to be an idiot. Second, he has to be locked onto someone's wheel who can see trail markings. Third, he has to be obstinate and think he can bushwack to the correct trail faster than he can backtrack. Entering into the single track at Blair Picnic Ground there was a hard right. The guy I followed went straight and we were followed by a half-dozen other guys. I don't ride in that area myself, and it seemed vaguely correct. Well, me and one of these guys kept going and we clearly shouldn't have. Once we agreed we were off the trail, we thought we could just drop down the hill and on to the trail. Well, we were several hills off in our estimation and found ourselves scrambling up and down boulders until we finally found our way back to the trail. We lost at least 15 minutes to this fiasco. I later found out that the guy who wrote the trail map for that area, Doug Lowham — one time co-owner of The Pedal House (a local bike shop), was in that group that got lost. That makes me feel a bit better.

We were now well back in the field and started rolling along as fast as possible. I must say there is something to passing scads of people -- I still was pissed-off and felt pretty stupid and put that into riding hard. I swapped out my bottles on the run at the second aid station and started up the Headquarter's climb. This climb has always given me troubles in the past, but I must have still been riding the adrenaline rush as it didn't prove too tough this time. I was pleased with my ride through the singletrack trails of Happy Jack and continued to pass people. The guy that I had gotten lost with had been swapping back and forth the lead with me during this whole section of the course. For the next 10 or so miles we teamed up and continued to ride hard. On the hike-a-bike section heading to the Windy-Windey, he finally dropped me. I got to the top of that climb just a few yards behind him, but I was a bit shaky and had a miserable ride through that section of single track. I actually hit a tree so hard with my head that I cracked off a small piece of the plastic on the top of my helmet.

I trundled up Pilot Hill in good order and blasted down the back side. I could tell I was a bit under-fed, but I knew the course well enough to guess that I could make it to the finish, so I concentrated on riding. The Cactus Canyon downhill was a bit sketchy -- I still made it down in good time, but it wasn't pretty. I rolled across the line at 5:16:14, which put me 63rd overall and 18th in the Vet Men category. I was about 20 minutes faster than last year, which was good. The conditions were ideal, a light wind out of the east with a good temperature, and a slight change in the routing of the course around Pilot Hill made it a bit faster as well. If I hadn't gotten lost, perhaps breaking 5 hours wouldn't have been out of the question. Well, if it's not one thing, it's another.

The author post-race. It was dusty, not muddy.

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