So I finished the Gunnison Growler race, and it was the hardest thing I've ever done. Well, I guess I shouldn't say ‘finished’ because I took last place and had to take two shortcuts just so that I can make it home safe. I'm not joking when I say it was the most physically challenging experience of my life.
And I say that after playing 14 years of football and exercising on and off for most of my life. The only thing that can come close is probably the triple session practice days in August when I was playing college football. That was really tough, but let me explain why the Gunnison Growler tops my list of pain.
First, you have to understand that you're riding a bike at 9,000 feet in elevation. And it was just my third time out in a real trail environment. That alone is not easy because there's less oxygen and so it's hard harder to exercise at that altitude.
Second, the dry air and wind wind were beating me down for the entire ride. Sure there were some nice downhill descent where I was able to catch my breath and relax a little bit. But for the most part, it was uphill and I had to climb around 4000 feet in total. And we're not talking about just easy climbing like on a road. This climbing is often over boulders and rocks and I had to hop off my bike to push it along for much of the race.
Third, was the sun. I still have sunburn and it’s four days later. The race started at 8AM and it was a cool 60° so I didn't really mind the sun during the first hour. But as the day went on and one hour turned into six, the sun became brutal. I spent a lot of time at the aid stations drinking pickle juice, that’s for sure!
I arrived at the finish line after just over six hours of painstaking effort through 32 miles of fighting through the course. I wasn’t able to claim any kind of victory because there were two sections of the course that I simply could not do. The first section was fittingly called Skull Pass, and the second section was fittingly called Rattlesnake. I think that if I did either of those I wouldn't have even made it to the finish line.
So what did I learn in this process? Well, I learned that I need to prepare better and not assume that I'm ready for things that are going to require a lot more training. On the morning of the race I even left my plate/number and tag in my AirBnb and my friend had to race down to Gunnison from Crested Butte with it. He arrived at 7:57 AM to tie it on my bike. I literally lined up at exactly 8 AM as the gun went off, which was the cutoff for the race. This put me last in line and that's basically where I stayed. The entire day was in last place.
I also learned that it’s better to face our limitations sometimes. I raced forward for twelve miles and things were looking up. I thought that I was in a good position to finish. But it got harder and harder. At one point, I thought I could take a series of rocks, but my front tire got stuck and I toppled over. Thankfully, I landed in the best possible way, on my right arm and shoulder. I hit my helmet, bent my brake handle, and got cactus thorns in my hands.
It was at that point that things started to go downhill (not literally). That was the 20 mile point. The final 12 miles were harder. During the final five miles I was literally crying tears of pain on my bike. Yes, I was crying out loud while riding, and I’m not ashamed to admit it. The final 2 miles were the hardest of all. I physically did not know if I could make it.
Sometimes just showing up and giving our best is all we can do. And sometimes getting beat up humbles us and teaches us more than victory. A friend of mine who I wrote about in last week’s essay—how he convinced me to sign sign up for this race—took second place, finishing in just over three hours!
I filmed him on the podium as he celebrated. I can't tell you how impressive that is to me now that I've experienced it. I can never look at him the same again. He's a beast, a total machine. And I have total respect for not only his skill, but the humble way in which he talks about how he took second place as if it was no big deal.
Everyone is asking me, ‘will you do it again?’ You better believe it. I'm already thinking about my training plan and I am going to be more than prepared for next year's race. I'm not saying I'm going to finish in the top three; my goal is to simply finish the entire race, without skipping Skull Pass or Rattlesnake.
Until then, I’m going to be healing from my wounds and humbly accepting my limits. But I won’t stay on the ground. I’ll get back up, dust myself off, and try again.