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Today was the fifth stage of the Breck Epic. Epic indeed. After some singletrack climbing and descending on the Breckenridge ski hill, surprisingly good singletrack in fact, we hit the Burro Trail. This is a tennish mile rocky rooty trail that kept us working, especially given the steady rise. This was followed by some steady climbing on dirt road that brought us into a breathtaking alpine amphitheatre and the Wheeler trail. To the south was the northern face of Quandary Peak, one of Colorado’s 14,000 foot peaks. It’s hard to describe just how amazing this scenery is. I’ve heard talk of some killer north facing couloirs on Quandary and I saw them today. After five days of racing this god-forsaken singlespeed, a lazy early summer ski day sounds pretty damn appealing. In fact, the Jeff Carter rule of hiking states that ski descents are the only reason to hike at all. There used to be two reasons, but I’m engaged now.

So this Wheeler trail is beautiful and a great place to take your bike for a walk, because all the gears in China aren’t riding that climb. Again, the Breck Epic delivers the Big Ride in race form. Yeah these aren’t the 6 hour days of the Transalp, but it also isn’t riding a 3% grade up a paved road for two-and-a-half hours either. In fact, thus far, I’d say this race combines the beautiful high alpine riding of the Transalp with the luscious singletrack of the BC bike race into one tasty package.  I love it.

So after nearly an hour of hike-a-bike, we topped out on the East facing flanks of the Ten Mile range and rode some soggy singletrack that kept us from taking in the views.  Having ridden this trail before, the view is of the Gore range, a fairly remote range north of Summit.  Cross the service road, lots of photographers, and see my good friend Catherine cheering us all on. Then we boot up to Wheeler pass where we are greeted by a nearly fifty mile-an-hour wind. Then it’s a three thousand foot descent to Ten Mile Canyon and the bike path. Loose high alpine trail gave way to bermed turns and stream crossings.  Hit the bike path and watch the geared bikers pass me by. At one point I try and catch a draft from a fifty year old lady with a lunch box on the back of her cruiser, but she, too drops me. The singlespeed does have its limitations.

In the singlespeed category, I pretty much saw my last-day podium hopes vanish as Jake simply rode away from me today. In fact he was second on the day. I have really enjoyed this competition and will come out as strong as I can tomorrow hoping for a miracle. There has been great camaraderie amongst all the singlespeeders and they are a great bunch of guys and girl. On the eve of the final stage, I can say this has been one of the most enjoyable weeks of my life, watching this incredible event come together in the mountains where I ride whenever I get the chance. As the fatigue of the week has set in, my ability to lay down witty blogs appears to be falling off. Thanks for reading.

A month ago, on a flight to DC, I started up a conversation with my neighbor because he was flipping through a catalog of farm equipment -- $150,000 tractors and combines and such. I asked what he was up to. He said he was a South Dakotan, and had picked up the catalog for fun, since his dad used to be involved in farming. We talked for a bit about machinery and engines, maintenance and reliability, lifespans and longevity. Such was our common ground. Was he still involved in farming? No, he worked for the South Dakota Department of Education, and was en route to DC for meetings with South Dakota's elected representatives. In particular, he was eager to talk to Senator Thune about getting funding for a program to deter bullying. I asked what he meant by deter, since it seemed bullying would always be around. He said I was right, and that the program would help teachers to better deal with bullying. This reminded me of John Guzzwell's definition of sailing: "prepare and deal."

I've been thinking of Guzzwell's definition of sailing a lot lately. At first, it suggests a 50-50 cut: half preparing, and half dealing. That's not the split on Syzygy these days. Lately, it seems like 99% preparing, and 1% dealing. It's frustrating, because the adventure is in the dealing, and here the preparing part is languishing interminably. We tear stuff out. We fix stuff. We make a mess. We clean it up. We buy things. We install them. We imagine that we are improving our boat -- that we are making it more suitable for long passages and burly weather and rugged conditions -- and we are. It just all seems so theoretical, so abstract. We want some hard evidence, damn it.

Our current preparations --  a new (way more efficient) fridge, a new (better located) propane locker, and a new (far stronger and more adaptable) radar/solar/wind-generator arch -- are, of course, bigger and badder than those behind us, and for some ridiculous reason we've chosen to tackle them simultaneously. Matt and I have convinced ourselves that, as such, they comprise "the hump." Getting over the hump is what we dream about. Getting over it will mean we're about 75% through our refit agenda, an achievement so staggering I'm somewhat scared to mention it. We imagine that the pressure, the frustration, and the difficulty will wane once we get over the hump. But John Guzzwell didn't mention anything about a hump. He just said prepare and deal. Believe me, we are preparing. If anything, we're preparing so much that we have to deal with it.

Mid-hump, there's only one consolation, and it's not pretty. Schadenfreude bolsters our spirits, gives us perspective. Things don't seem so bad when I think about Robert, whose boom snapped in two while sailing on a not-particularly-windy day. Things seem OK on Syzygy when I think about Jim's mainsail ripping clear across. The pace at which we're proceeding seems more tolerable when I think of Marcus, who spent almost $4,000, and six months, building a new fridge.

And then there's Stuart, who returned two weeks ago, with a new engine and $17,000 less in his bank account. Not knowing quite how to ask if he was satisfied with the result, I asked him, "Does it sound good?" "It sounds like an opera," he said. "Wanna see?" I was glad he asked. It was beautiful, bright red and shiny as a fire truck.

A few days later, Stuart invited me over for a beer. We sat in the cockpit, listening to seagulls squawk over fish guts on a nearby trawler.  The sun was low, the wind calm. Without prefacing it, he said, "Wanna hear it?" I said yeah. Stuart turned a switch, the oil-pressure alarm rang briefly, and then the engine started up. It purred, smooth and confident. Stuart said he might not even install sound-proof insulation in his engine compartment, given how quiet it ran. I was impressed.

The schadenfreude faded to envy. I can't wait to feel that way about my boat.

--Jonny Waldman

[ More, as always, is at SyzygySailing.com ]

I love living in Colorado and today is why. Stage 4 of the Breck Epic—the circumnavigation of Mt. Guyot— defines what mountain bike stage racing is supposed to be. A big committing ride at race pace. Huge alpine meadows, singletrack that spends 12 weeks NOT covered in snow, expansive views of South Park, cloudless skies and the rippingest Colorado Trail descent in the Summit County. Well, there was a downside too, about ten miles of mining road climbing and descending that nearly broke me, but we’ll get to that in a minute.  As I wrote in a few blogs back, I love the big ride, and today was it in spades.  In fact, this ride was billed as a Summit County classic big ride and I spent some time thinking about the first guys to ride to ride this twenty years ago on those heavy rigid bikes with plastic levers, the Styrofoam helmets and neon jerseys.

Now some of you may be wondering about the belt driven bike. It’s a belt, just like that found on Harleys, instead of a chain. It’s strong as hell, nearly maintenance free, super light and lasts something like five years. It takes a bit of time to get set up correctly, but once done, it’s bomber. It does require an interruption in the frame to get the belt into the rear triangle, but after riding two of these bikes, I’ve heard nary a creak from the frame.  After a couple of days of racing, I am giving it zero thought, which is exactly the point. It has generated a ton of interest here at the Breck Epic as well as everywhere else I’ve ridden it, but when I offered free test rides during the backbreaking climb up French Gulch, nobody was all that interested. Weird.

I started the day in third place in the men’s singlespeed category, but Jake Kirkpatrick put the hurt on, knocking me off my first ever podium. In fact, there were some great shakeups in the men’s singlepeed category overall making it a hotly contested category.  I didn’t give up without a fight though.  It was back and forth until the climb up French Gulch, when he pulled ahead on the steep climb, which is of course a hike-a-bike for singlespeeders. After cresting the hill, I lit up the descent as fast I could, but he was gone. I fought as hard as could all day, climbing as fast as I could, skipping aid stations, squeezing Gu’s in my face at an alarming rate, but Jake finished 5 minutes ahead. I was so shelled in the closing miles of the race that I there were tears streaming down my face. This singlespeed racing business is no picnic my friends.

My friend Cristina and I are both racing the belt drive and we are both suffering, although she seems to be holding it together a bit better as she is in second overall in women’s open. Granted she’s a mountain bike legend. In any event, we had some larger rear cogs couriered up from Spot in Golden to take the bite out of the climbs. We’ll need it, as we are climbing over Wheeler Pass tomorrow. Ouch.

Thanks for reading, I’m whipped and need some sleep, but couldn’t be happier with the inaugural Breck Epic. Like bike racing? Put it on your calendar for 2010. 

Most riders are either off the course or will be finishing the 2009 Tour Divide race soon. Despite the phantasmagorical weather this year, most records fell—an interesting portent for the evolution of self-supported Continental Divide racing. Alaskan Jill Homer broke the female record with a time of 24 days, 7 hours and 24 minutes. Jay and Tracey “T-Race” Petervary set a tandem (that’s right) record of 18:13:44. And 27-year-old engineer-turned-teacher Chris Plesko blew the asterisks off the single speed record in the 2009 Tour Divide with a time of nineteen days and sixteen minutes. He spun his Vassago 29er through unprecedented bad weather. I caught up with him just after he returned home to Colorado.

JB: How the hell did you keep up with the chase group for most of the race? They had gears (in case you didn't notice).

CP: The first part of the race course is quite singlespeed friendly. It's got loads of climbing and not too many long, gradual downhills which are my nemesis from the perspective of racing with the geared guys heads up. I geared really big (for me) at 32x17 but I knew from training in the mountains above Boulder with a 32x16 that I could push
that gear up almost all of the climbs without walking. Additionally I just tried to save time where ever I could, eating and drinking on the fly, changing clothes while riding, etc.

JB: You not only ride a single speed, but a rigid one. Are you a hippie?

CP: Haha nah I'm as far from a hippie as you can get probably. I love technology most of the time. I'll have to blame Dave Nice for riding rigid. I actually love the Rock Shox Reba forks but Dave gave me a rigid fork for my old Monocog one winter and I soon fell in love with the handling and simplicity of the rigid. No stanchions to freeze up in the winter slush, no pressure settings to fiddle with, just get out and ride. Plus I'm a decent expert XC racer but a terrible pro class competitor, even with gears and suspension, so the rigid singlespeed keeps things interesting in the expert class.

JB: You started last year and pulled the plug--what was different this year, considering the weather was epic?

CP: Experience, plain and simple. Like I mentioned before, I tend to jump right into these things whether I'm totally "ready" or not. Last year I still hadn't successfully completed a multi day endurance race but I wanted to give this a try anyway. Plus I didn't want to choose sides between the TD and GDR since I have good friends firmly on both sides
so I did an individual time trial. Between my lack of experience and the loneliness of the ITT, all the little problems that cropped up (achillies pain, lost GPS) made me pretty unhappy and I felt like I wasn't really racing as hard as I should be. Luckily Marni planted the Colorado Trail race seed in my head as soon as she picked me up from
Lima and I had really good success there finally. Of course in hindsight I should have kept going last year on the Divide because the weather was bomber compared to this year!

JB: From your call-ins you sound like the most positive person on the planet. Are you?

CP: In general I think I'm pretty positive. I feel extremely lucky to have a great wife, wonderful family and supportive friends. The off road ultra racing community is just incredible. We are all out there racing each other, pushing hard and yet we still are so crazy psyched when our buddies succeed. It's hard not to be positive when you've got that
kind of support. When we were dealing with the snow I thought of the epic AZT 300 this year and when the mud was horrendous I thought of all my Grand Loop buddies who battled truely epic mud this year. I do get down and have low moments like everyone does but generally I was having a ton of fun out there and that's the overriding goal.

JB: Were you ever tempted to get to a town, call Marni, and go home?

CP: This year, no. I am amazed myself that I never felt like pulling out this go around after how I felt last year. I did really miss Marni and wanted to see her, which I was able to do in Colorado, but I had no desire to go home until I got to Mexico.

JB: When I did the GDR in 2007, while I was riding I fantasized about baking. I went home and made muffins every day for a month. What did you think about when you were riding all those lonely hours?

CP: Anything and everything. Lately I've been climbing more in the mountains and I did think a lot about that, especially riding by the Tetons and near all the obscure rock formations scattered about the route. Kurt (Refsnider) is a Phd geology wiz and I loved learning about all the science behind everything from him. In fact my theme for racing in
2009 is "commitment" in honor of all the self sufficient alpinists who go out there and commit to huge routes with no chance for bailing. The Divide is even a little tame by comparison, at least from that perspective. I also thought a lot about my life and how much my wife and I have grown together through biking and touring and how much I
can't wait to do more of that. Sharing bike touring routes with friends and family, whatever their ability level, has been really amazing the past few years.

JB: Thousands of spectators watched your record-breaking ride this year. What advice do you have for the two or three who are convinced they can challenge the Divide on a single speed?

CP: For those who want the record, come prepared to race heads up with the geared riders. You chose a singlespeed and that's awesome but it's a choice you made so don't treat it like a handicap. For those who want to finish the Divide on a singlespeed, just make sure it's geared appropriately. Make sure you can climb the majority of the climbs on the route with your gearing and train on the road with the same gear to learn to deal with long term high speed spinning. As far as I know the successful people have run somewhere between 32x17 on a 26er and 32x17 on a 29er.

JB: What's the one thing you wished you'd known before setting out this year?

CP: That the weather was going to be epicly wet? My clothing was sufficient but not awesome for extended wet weather riding. I was quite wet and cold at times and did eventually have Marni mail me a Smartwool long sleeve base layer and a warm hat. Those who aren't totally experienced with going really light in bad weather, make sure
you bring enough warm clothing.

JB: Kent Peterson told me he's happy you broke his record. How important was his 2005 ride to you?

CP: It was pretty important to me actually. I had quite a few people last year who really doubted I could ride the Divide on a rigid singlespeed without hurting myself permanently. I'm a long time reader of Kent's blog and I read his Mountain Turtle story over and over again to both learn about the route and also to realize it could be done on a rigid singlespeed. He is very inspiring to me and I'm really excited to hear he will be riding the full route in 2010. He will just love the Canadian section, it's so beautiful.

JB: What does Chris Plesko eat for breakfast in, say, Del Norte? What does he buy at the Piggly Wiggly to get him over Indiana Pass?

CP: Breakfast for me on the trail almost always includes coffee of some kind even though I don't regularly drink it at home other than on our weekly friday morning Starbucks date. A little canned Starbucks DoubleShot with a couple 600 calorie muffins or danishes was my usual breakfast. If I was lucky I got a couple microwave egg sandwiches or breakfast burritos and a couple times I actually got a real hot breakfast of pancakes, omelets, potatoes and even green chili in Rawlins! In the worst stretch I didn't get a single hot meal for over 300 miles. My trail food was heavily peanut based now that I think about it. I ate dozens of Reese's Peanut butter cups, pack upon pack of king size peanut M&Ms, peanut butter Twix when I could find them and just plain old salted and honey roasted peanuts. Anything new and novel and easy to eat, pizza, cheese bread, cheese sticks, ice cream, brownies, donuts and all kinds of other junk food found it's way into my frame
bag too. The key is just to keep eating whatever you can get down because there was no way I could get close to enough calories out down the hatch out there.

JB: What's next? You gonna be back in Banff next year?

CP: Next up is a lot of recovery but perhaps a 1200k randonee or TransUtah later this year. I do want to qualify for Paris-Brest-Paris in 2011 and I'd love to keep my options open with a RAAM qualifier at some point. I can't really afford RAAM right now but it is intriguing. Next year I won't be back to race from Banff but I do plan to go back to the Grand Loop and perhaps up to the Ultrasport in March if I can figure out how to get up there. I have some other plans for next summer but they're not ready for public announcement at this point.

JB: The Tour de France started Saturday. Will you be kicking back with a few Dale's Pale Ales and yelling "Pussies!" at the plasma screen?

CP: I'm more of a wine or stout drinker these days but I'll definitely be keeping tabs on the Tour. It's really fun to watch those guys duke it out, even if they do sleep, get fed and get massages every night. Besides I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to see how Lance is going to do.

It’s a barn burner for third place in the men’s singlespeed category here in the Breck Epic. Jake Kirkpatrick (New Belgium Brewery) rode like a total badass today, taking out nearly all of my lead. He’s riding incredibly strong, descending like a madman on his fully rigid bike and its four bar Franken fork. Best of all, he’s a great sportsman. This is the essence of amateur bike racing; I nearly lost my marbles on the last few climbs, seeing stars, praying for downhill, a meteor shower, something to put an end to those excruciating climbs. But I didn’t give up- not with my first ever shot at standing on a podium.  I know carbon handlebars are pretty damn strong, but it felt like I was trying to pull it off my bike as I heaved and hoed trying to get that one-geared backbreaker up those hills.

 After the stage we joked that watching each other over our shoulders on the climbs was like the zombie-chasing-the-blonde in B horror flick. We’d glance back and see the other person moving so slowly, and then a few seconds later we’d look again and the other person would be closer. I didn’t let out a blood curdling scream, only because I couldn’t frickin’ breathe.

So today’s stage was awesome. We once again awoke to perfect blue skies, low humidity and cool temps. After a “neutral” start, we climbed Boreas Pass Road for a bit only to bomb down the Aspen Grove Trail. This is the kind of trail you see on granola bar ads on TV.  The field was tight and there was fast and fun wheel-to-wheel riding around me. And then the rolling climbing started, up and up through forested jeep roads and popping out into a beautiful alpine valley that defines Colorado’s beauty.  After a big descent down Boreas Pass Road, we hit the Banker’s Tank Trail. At one point, we passed the 8 foot deep hole that I fell into a few years ago in the Firecracker 50. (it was super cool- people watching, bloody leg, crawling out of the hole…  I felt like a first grader who peed his pants on recess). After bombing down French road, I thought I was pretty much done, but there were three brutal switchbacks before a loose descent to the finish.

So those of you who might have been encouraged to come try the Breck Epic next year after my first few blogs might be think this sounds discouraging. Au contraire is my reply. Who wants to plan a week around an easy stage race? A lot of people I guess, but then again most people think mountain bike stage racing as a vacation ranks above solitary confinement only because of the beer.  No, today’s fast and furious stage was a shit ton of fun, and a warm up for tomorrow’s circumnavigation of Mt Guyot, a fiftyish mile, ten-thousand-feet-of-climbing beatdown that will bring the field to its knees.

That’s all for now. Big pasta meal and birthday cake for my friend Brian. What a week so far. I’m so glad I’m here. Thanks for reading.