2015 Inspiration 100: The Breakthrough

There was a constant argument I was having with myself... "How am I gonna out fox these guys?  What am I doing here?  No! You’re fine!  Think about all your training!  Think about all your preparation!  You trained and mentally prepared all summer to ride in this bunch, specifically with these guys."

That was the argument in my head.  We were 64 miles into the Inspiration 100.  I was in a chase group of four riders containing me and the previous three winners of this race: Charlie Schad (2012), Nick Vetter (2013) and Andrew Thompson (2014).  Up the road on a suicidal, solo breakaway was ex-pro Adam Bergman who was maintaining about a 1 min advantage over our group.  I felt really good, but this was only my 4th gravel race and although I’ve been riding my bike for a long time, believe it or not, this was only my 6th bike race ever.  Have you ever felt like you brought a knife to a gun fight...how the hell did I get here?

Race Scenery photo credit Deek Surly

In 2013, I raced my first gravel race.  The Inspiration 100.  It was 90+ degrees and I literally melted down at mile 56 on Nevada Drive, stricken by horrible cramps and dehydration.  I finished in 12th overall, 54 minutes behind the leading pair: winner Nick Vetter and runner-up Adam Bergman.  A normal person would have walked away from that experience and found something else to do, but I fell in love. I fell in love with an attritional style of bike racing that was made for those who could endure and suffer and I truly believed that I could swing with the big boys if I had enough time to prepare.

4:45 am is a punch in the face!

My grand plan had been to prepare and be ready for the 2014 Inspiration 100, but a hernia last summer derailed those plans.  So last fall, I began to plan for this year’s race. I planned how to train during the school year on very limited riding time, (four little kids and an amazing wife plus teaching and coaching takes up a lot of my day) and starting in February, I woke up at 4:45 am nearly every day to ride the rollers.* 

I planned how I would lose weight for a race that included 5,000+ feet of climbing and then carried out that plan, losing 23 lbs since December of 2014.  I looked for ways to mentally prepare for suffering that would last 5+ hrs and so when things like being under a tattoo gun for hrs at a time happened, I used it as an opportunity to learn how to shut my mind off to steady, continual pain.

I planned to learn about my potential competitors.  So I studied who the main challengers were, how their own racing was going and even how their training was going (you can find out a lot creeping on Facebook and Strava).

Racing won't hurt like this...

I also found ways to practice other things I identified that needed work, like riding hard on Minimum Maintenance Roads, drinking from a Camelbak while breathing heavily, and riding tempo effort for an hr+ when super tired.  

All this resulted in me sitting at the start line confident.  Confident that without having ever done it, I could ride with the big boys.  My training and group rides had proven to me that I was strong.  But nerves are always there and no amount of prep makes them go away, so I purposely placed myself next to Charlie Schad in the staging area.  I did this mainly to calm myself down and because he was a seasoned racer whom I knew would be a good calm wheel to be near.**

The racing got underway and there was a large group of people riding together.  Every so often we would go up a climb and a few more people would go off the back but I always made sure I was always up near the front.  

At mile 14, I was sitting about 4 guys back when I heard Adam Bergman coming from behind on an attack (his wheels were noisy as hell) and so I jumped on.  The pace which he laid down for the next mile was unbelievable and it blew a number of guys out of our group.  Adam finally realized his attack wasn’t going to stick, or rather that I wasn’t prepared to help make it stick and he relaxed a bit and we re-organized. 

My view on race day

About 4 miles later, Bergman lit another fire-cracker and this time he held his foot on the gas.  I again was the initial chaser until I realized I was going to blow if I didn’t let up and I let someone else take over.  This caused a small fracture in our chase and after a mile and a half of chasing basically at max effort, we let Adam go up the road. 

We rode as a group and were down to about 15 guys when I noticed someone coming up behind us, really fast.  I rode to the front of the group and told Nick Vetter and Andrew Thompson that I thought Adam was suddenly behind us and must have taken a wrong turn.  Andrew took one look back, confirming what I said, and attacked like a mad-man.

We chased really hard to pull Andrew back and as we all got back together, Adam caught us...and blew past us.  There was a lot of strong language from other guys in the group, stunned by Bergman's pace, and I can only describe the speed at which he came through our group in one way. 

Adam Bergman re-establishing his breakaway

If you have ever played the game Mario Cart, there is a moment where if you are behind, the game will give you access to a rocket, which then propels you at warp speed past your competitors...Adam was the rocket and immediately regained his minute or so advantage on the rest of us.


That was the status quo for another few miles, Bergman out front and a large group chasing.  We passed through Millerville at a pretty relaxed pace but then the climbing really started and as we climbed past the Lady of the Hills, our group shattered and immediately, we were down to five guys.  The five of us started to work together with about half the guys desiring to chase Adam down sooner rather than later while the rest of us felt it best to let him hang out in front for a while longer.

The Lady of the Hills   photo credit Deek Surly

We passed through Clitheral and no one even pretended to want to stop at the C-Store (the only possible stop on the route).  A short time later, two things happened.  First, another guy popped in our group and we were now four chasing one.  The second thing was that I had one bottle remaining plus whatever was left in my Camelbak to drink for the remainder of the race.  I went to take the first sip from that bottle and it slipped from my hand, slamming to the ground...stopping to get it was not an option.*** 

So...now I had what was left in my Camelbak to drink, and had just under half the race to go.  “Ok, new plan, you may only take five sips of water from your Camelbak every 15 minutes...it has to last until the end...good thing you decided you didn’t need the extra bottle and left it in your car at the start...”  Sometimes my sarcasm even sickens me.

Helping to drive the chase group photo credit Deek Surly

It was around this time that the premonition came that I had brought a knife to a gun fight.  I realized I was the green rookie a midst these hardened veterans.  These guys knew not just how to race, but how to strategically win races.  My bigger concern though lay less than two miles ahead.  Norwegian Road is a 2 mile double-track MMR full of baby-head rocks and ruts.  I had overcome my fear of these roads earlier in the summer but knew this would still be a critical point in the race.  

As we entered, it was agreed in the group that we would ride it smart.  Smart to me was going to the front where I could see where I was going and riding at a hard pace.  This went well for about a half mile, until we all looked up and realized we were closing on Bergman and fast.  This led to the group feeling jumpy and Andrew Thompson attacked.

Norwegian Road...a smooth section...  photo credit Deek Surly

Everyone else didn’t attack per se but rather just really upped their own pace.  The road was like riding a jackhammer and it sounded like our bikes were falling apart.  Vetter’s spare tube and tools came flying off his bike and I narrowly avoided crashing when I ran over them/just missed them.  I was absolutely riding on my limit physically and just trying to get through this section and manage the chaotic pace. 

I knew that Cougar Ranch was more or less the end of the MMR and as I passed it, I finally took a breath and looked up to assess the damage.  What I saw was deflating.  I had been dropped, and not kind of.  The group was being swallowed up by their own cloud of dust 25-30 seconds up the road.  Now what the hell was I gonna do?

I keep my Garmin screen from showing my heart rate (HR) during races because in that setting, most of the time it makes me freak out.  However, I knew that in a time like this, I had to not panic and manage my effort if I wanted to get back on, so I flipped the screen to show me HR data and pushed on the gas.  I rode at threshold and no harder, figuring they weren’t going to attack one another for a bit.

I assumed they were thinking they had gotten rid of the rookie and now could ride steady for a bit.  Bergman wasn't going to help pull because he would be dead from his long solo break so I was actually in a good place.  It took almost 4 miles but I got back on and didn’t overextend myself to do so.  Nick Vetter turned to assess the group at the moment I rejoined and he did a pretty big double take when he realized I was back.  All I could do was smile at him. 

Over the next 10 miles I started to notice a few things.  When I did turns on the front the pace actually went up 2-3 mph.  I couldn’t figure out what was going on.  Maybe I was just trying too hard,  maybe as the rookie, I didn't know how to pull, OR maybe these guys were getting tired.   I also noticed that on climbs we seemed to be grinding to a halt, crawling up the climbs.  When I would finish my turns at the front, I would drift back and stare at everyone trying to assess my competitors fatigue levels.  With the exception of Thompson, who seemed completely un-phased, everyone seemed pretty nailed.  Vetter seemed especially tired and even Bergman looked rough although I couldn’t tell if he was playing poker or not.  At mile 81, we hit a short punchy climb and Thompson, sensing Vetter was about to crack, hit the gas.  Everyone scrambled to get on his wheel but only Bergman made it across.  Charlie Schad seemed like he was about to bridge when he sat up and I decided it was an all or nothing situation to get across to him. 

During this chase, I realized we were at the end of sheet #5 on our cue sheets and went to remove it...only problem was that sheet 6 and 7 were gone, having fallen out of my cue holder somewhere previously on the road.  Now I had to catch Charlie, not only because it was my only shot at the top 3 podium, but also to avoid getting lost.  I caught him about half a mile later and said, “Charlie, my cue sheets are gone! I don’t know where we are!”  I laughed at his response, “we’re behind those two!” he said pointing to Thompson and Bergman about 20 seconds up the road. 

Charlie and I tried to fall into a rhythm and kept those two at around 30 seconds, until we missed an unmarked turn and spent about 3 minutes trying to find where we were.  This happened a second time about 2 miles later and that stop resulted in 2-3 more minutes standing around and me finally consulting Google Maps to figure out where we were. 

Corn Field MMR photo credit C. Tassava

Charlie and I stayed in sync and at around mile 95, we hit the corn field MMR.  This is a nasty tractor thru road known for it’s rough terrain and large holes.  Charlie kept repeating “watch out there are really big holes!”  The third time he said it, he was mid-phrase when a hole nearly as large as my bike swallowed me.  It was a soft landing and I remounted in pursuit of Charlie.  MMRs had been the bane of my existence as a racer previously and I was about to exit the final sectour of MMR in this race relatively unscathed. 

A man’s emotions can be pretty fragile when one is in such a fatigued state and upon exiting the MMR, I totally lost control.  Why?  Because for the first time, I was going to be able to go home and tell my daughters that the reason the guys beat me was because they were just better, not because their dad couldn’t handle a bumpy road in life.  I could show them that all my diligent work to improve in an area where logic said I couldn’t had actually paid off. 

Charlie and I linked back up and started working together again until he got away from me for good with 5-6 miles to go in the race.  I kept him fairly close, at 20-30 seconds, but as I mentally agreed to make one final dig deep into the well and go after him, I physically shifted my chain into my frame and had to spend almost 3 minutes on the side of the road trying to get my bike working again.  Apparently, simultaneously, Charlie was up the road falling apart himself, but in the end I didn’t have enough time to make up the gap. 

I crossed the finish line 4th overall, around 10 minutes behind the winner Andrew Thompson.  I can only think of one race in my entire life (Track Conference 10,000 meters as a freshman in college) where I have ever felt as satisfied as I did post race.  My prep had gone so well and there are few things during the race I feel I could have done better (the bottle situation being the exception). 

Planning and preparation, in all forms, helped me move the needle as a racer from a guy nearly an hour behind the action, to right in the thick of it.  That ideal is something I hope I can instill in my own children as well as the students I work with every day: the ideal or life paradigm that you can improve your situation, (family, work, performance) an unimaginable amount with proper planning and preparation.   

*From June until race date, I had ridden just over 3,000 miles

**One of the highlights of the race was getting to meet Christopher Tassava in person.  Christopher is a Grade A Bad-Ass known for his 7th place finish two years ago at arguably the most difficult Arrowhead 135 ever (and I believe getting his picture on the front page of Twin Cities newspapers in the process).  In one of the classes I teach, my students read about that epic race from his well-written point of view each year.  We have raced together before and we follow one another’s activities via Facebook but we had never met until Saturday. 

***I got the dropped bottle back at about mile 85.  A rider who had been dropped from our group and was now lost crossed our paths and saw I was missing a bottle.  He apologized for drinking about half of it and gave it back.