APC

The first Antelope Peak Challenge is a done did thing.

Pretty cool concept for the race, I don’t mind saying myself. I like that the course is pretty darn remote. I like that only a very small group of people have ever ridden (or hiked, or anything’d) on it. I like even more that Chad stepped up to put on an self-supported event on it. I like that you can see the ‘goal’ (Antelope) through most of the ride. Then, the race is not just about who can go the fastest, but strategy and unknowns play into it a bit.

Not that I had any kind of aggressive strategy going into it. Last weekend’s singlespeed “race” was full of such dread and loathing that it more or less crushed my (usually peculiar) desire to suffer. A complicated week, familiar and otherwise, left me scrambling to find any perspective whatever. Why is always the question.

So much so, that I almost went back to sleep after stumbling around for a few minutes @0530. That was the hardest part–getting out the door. After arriving and neutral rolling, the group lifted me. Smart asses, the lot of them (I’m a smart ass too). I’d be remiss in failing to mention the sunrise, the cold crisp air, human powered movement and my brain’s internal mp3 player. At times asking WHY seems rather silly.

Max was hellbent on the win, so I was surprised when no one wanted to take the lead, under the AZT sign and onto singletrack. So I took it, and went with the mantra “smooth and efficient.” It’s good to have a goal, I guess, but I wasn’t reaching it.

Pedaling while even slightly overgeared brought a visceral pain and fear. Not going to go there today.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t suffer out there, but I just had no interest in riding at my limit and jamming cliff shots down my throat all day, hovering just below meltdown. My system did not have the capacity to endure it. I still had my low moments, as any ride does, but the low moments didn’t stick.

I’m usually such a hothead that I was lucky there was this funny concept of time bonuses. One was for cleaning the gasline, and I told myself yet another reason to keep things efficient and moderate was to save some for the final gasline hill (and to make sure I cleaned the 2-3 difficult ones before it). I had no idea if that last hill was rideable. For whatever reason (mostly because I felt like crap), I didn’t give it a good try when I pre-rode with Lee. And at the time the time bonus was for cleaning Blood Sucker, not the gasline (we would later find Blood Sucker to be no challenge at all).

So it was with great apprehension that I approached the final hill. 9 miles riding, probably thirty climbs, all clean to this point. One to go. I saw Max (well ahead) on it, and swore he was walking (though my eyesight is not known for accuracy at long distances). The pressure was now really on. If I could clean it I’d have a half hour time cushion on Mr. Max, and could really sit back.

In the back of my mind (the part filled with doubt) I was sure the hill was not possible. But I had to try, and as I approached, it didn’t seem so bad. Before I even started working hard my heart rate was skyin’. I’ve felt this kind of nervousness before – so many climbs have the crux move at the end – when a stupid mistake will cost you a perfect / clean climb. A couple rocks deflected my line, but my tires stuck and I rode out of it to a “yeehaw!”

After a few seconds congratulations, the self-defeating mind took over, asking “are you really going to take a win just for cleaning that hill, earning a contrived time bonus, set by yourself?”. The time bonus was likely too high, but little did I know that Mr. Max had also cleaned it (and knew it to be rideable beforehand), so in reality I had no time cushion.

I’m glad I didn’t know that, because I had a great time riding the rest of the trail under misinformation. Nate and I rode together through most of it. I was really impressed by how slowly he could pedal while still staying upright. Clearly I have a lot to learn about riding bikes.

Once he found out I’d been up Antelope before, he stayed with me, following me all the way up the peak. For some reason I thought that hoofing it up a 30 degree slope was a good time to eat a cliff bar. Hands free? Yep. Possible to swallow between gasps? Nope.

Max and Chad smoked the peak climb (up and down), making me realize that the peak bagging bonus was probably too high as well. But that is the Antelope Peak Challenge–to make it to the top. So it should be high.

After the hike I stopped to inflate my flatting tire, and never saw Nate again. He’s a good spinner too, because I never even caught a glimpse of him, even on the flats. I did catch a few glimpses of Chad behind me, so when I got to the 24 hour course turn off I waited for him, offering kind words of encouragement.

“Chad, you’re going the wrong way!”

“What?”

“You’re doing the 24 hour course with me.”

Once upon a time I pulled sub-hour laps on that course for the UA team. But it’s been six years since I’ve ridden out there, and there’s new singletrack. I had a GPS track, which I’d soon find wasn’t completely accurate. But more interesting was whether the loop was going to be “worth it” – for the 90 minute time bonus. When I set the time bonus I didn’t think about the fact that the His/Hers trail adds a mile and trades singletrack for dirt road. I also didn’t think about the half dozen gates that are open race day, but cause serious (perceived) slow down on APC day.

It’s riding into unknowns like this that really turns my crank. Of course, there wasn’t much question in my mind when I neared the 24 hour course. It was only 1pm, the weather was perfect, and I still had enough water to sink a ship. Big time advantage or no, I was riding it.

And I was really glad I did. I recognized, by perhaps muscle memory only, a couple sections of the trail. I do distinctly remember pedaling in my racer-boy 46 tooth big ring, for all I was worth, coming down the Highpoint trail. (Now I don’t even own a bike with a big ring!) Some great riding in there, and my lucky guess (left) led me to the slickrock woohoo line. Cool.

The rest of the course is full of flowy trail, and strangely enough, my singlesped knees stopped aching until I got back on Willow Springs Road for the final pull back to the cars. My interest in graded road riding was less than my interest in avoiding suffering, so I cranked it up to make it go faster.

I was fourth getting back to the cars, but ended up first with all the time bonuses. Max got the gasline bonus, but didn’t ride the 24 hour course, and my ~20 minute “pickup” paid off there. Nate, on the other hand, had ridden the 24 hour course, but didn’t clean the gasline (on a singlespeed, no duh). So really, I’ve gotta give the race to him. He rode (and hiked) as much as I did, and he did it faster, on a singlespeed. He’d get my vote for best race out there.

A bonus of the ‘optional’ race format was that people finished pretty closely. That and the neutral roll / coffee store run gave the ride a good vibe that lasted into the post-ride pizza/italian gorging. I’ll look forward to more rides/races with this bunch.

~74 miles
~10,000′ climbing (which feels a little high to me, not sure what’s correct)