As I write this post, I'm sitting here trying to think of funny & witty remarks to close in on my experience at VT125. Point blank, I just can't. VT is a race you have to do for yourself to experience the beautiful pain that makes this the best worse race of my life.
I'm sure most others were well prepared for this race. I'll be honest here, I'm from Mobile, Al and have spent the last 2 years in Nashville, Tn.... I had never even heard of the VT125 until I asked Jonathan Davis if he was racing the Park City P2P race in Utah. He was all "Nah, man I'm racing Vapor!" In the back of my mind I was trying to figure out why he wasn't doing both being that he races alot of the NUE stuff. Well, I was soon to learn the answer to that question as I thought I too could race Vapor. No big deal right?
VT125 is my kind of event. Grassroots, backcountry as hell, and tough as nails. To relate to all of my friends back home, this event is like Snake Creek Gap on steroids served on a platter by a serial killer. Vapor is 125 miles in length, you see no same trail twice and after the initial climb out of town, you never sit your chamonix below 9k ft until the descent back into town 106 miles in. The race starts at 10PM and serves up a whopping 20k ft of elevation gain.
Vapor was a many of first for me. Even struggling with altitude in Park City, PC only topped out at 9200 ft. Vapor hit 13k ft and most the race was well above the highest point in PC. I also raced with a backpack. I have never ridden my bike, let alone raced in a backpack. Perhaps that makes me crazy here in Colorado. With a race like Vapor, you must be ill prepared. I suited up my backpack with the following: Knee warmers, a vest, a multi-tool, 2 extra spokes(I had one recently break so I was paranoid), an extra water bottle, food, a rain jacket, 2 tubes with nec. flat repair gear, arm warmers, a light-weight LS jacket, and my cellphone. My backpack is a standard Dakine almost school style bag. Prob wasn't the best thing for me to use but it was all I had and I swear that sucker was 20 lbs.
The race start was a neutral roll-out out of town until we hit a dirt road climb. I sat in the top 8 comfortably. JD mentioned it was a slower stat than normal so perhaps thats why I felt as such ease. I was in for the long haul. I didn't really want to "race" this event yet ride it, enjoy the aid stations and the beautiful scenery around me. Until about hour 2 I was in race mode. I am competitive by nature and awfully hard-headed so I gave it what I had. I lost alot of positions and time on the first bit of singletrack, the Colorado trail. I was sitting 7th into the woods, and maybe 18th coming out. For me, the trail was gnarly, let alone to ride at night for the first time. Rocks were everywhere, lots of off-camber turns and there is no soil here, loose gravel on hardpack dirt. Not something I'm quite used to riding on yet. It was here only 2 hours in the race, I thought to myself, "what the hell did I get myself into?"
I cleared that section of 12 mi singletrack in 1:40. From there til about mile 50 was all uphill topping out at 13k ft. 20 miles of steady climbing! Paradise for me, I settled in comfortably, using my headlight on my helmet from time to time to gaze at what was around me at 1am in the morning. My favorite part of the climb was around Alpine Tunnel, an old mining facility and railroad used back in 1910. Huge rock faces everywhere and it was about here we climbed out of tree line. It was raining earlier so I had my rain jacket on. I stopped to take it off before the infamous hour long Hike-A-Bike came I had been dreaded yet equally embracing. I actually rode alot of what most people hiked to be honest. I don't really have any experience hiking with my bike so I opted to ride when I could. near the top is too gnar to ride(and impossible). I threw my bike over my shoulder and hiked for a solid 30 mins to reach what seemed like the top of the world! It was probably around 3:45am at this time. I was beat. 50 miles, 8800ft of ascent so far and the hiking absolutely killed me. This was the first time in the race I thought about quitting. "Cut your losses, you're new here, you're from sea level, no one knows you, you can't even breath walking up stairs" is what I kept telling myself. I soaked in the amazing sights, and charged at the 9.5 mi descent down Canyon Creek. To some, that descent might be easy, it took me 1:20 mins. Let alone at night with limited sighting and apparently I suck at riding the rocks here, I heard a loud bang from my rear wheel as the wheel locked up on me. I had broken 2 spokes. I was able to stop and fix the spoke I broke on the disc non drive side without removing the wheel or anything from the bike. So I hopped back on and within a mile of more downhill noticed my rear tire was getting soft. As a bike mechanic, I should have noticed the broken spokes pierced through my tubeless tape. So I had no choice but to tube my rear tire. With 75 miles of rocky hell to still ride through, I was quite upset but ventured on in high hopes not to pinch flat.
The sun was started to come up, In races like this or 24 hour solo's there is nothing more beautiful than watching the sunrise and feeding into the energy this amazing world can give to you. I got to change yet another rear flat(damn tubes) before the 9.5 mi climb up Monarch pass reaching a high elevation of 11,375 ft. This is where my race completely ended. I was done. Toast. Beyond tired, beyond frustrated with my bike and I wanted that 20 ton backpack off my shoulders dammit! I think I posted the 3rd to slowest time up Monarch Pass on Strava. I blew apart like never before. I was nauseas, light-headed and even vomited twice up the climb. I walked my bike the last mile. I had zero energy to pedal my bike. The next aid station could not come soon enough, I was going to quit.
I stopped to put on arm warmers at the top here. I also obviously took pictures. It was then, I decided to continue to push on. I knew my limitations, I knew I could ride hard, I could breath only the shortest of breaths, but I was going to cross the finish line. And with the aid of a nice cold Coke at the next aid station, I push on.
To be completely honest, the rest of the race was a massive blur. I was thinking the entire time, I would end up needed some sort of medical aid. I was sick to my stomach, walking my bike when I couldn't climb and suffering like NEVER before.
Jonathan had made mention that the climb up Starvation Creek was the last long climb of the race and where most everyone if not already blows up. I was mentally prepared for the climb. It's funny to look back, it was only yesterday. But it was such a blur, such a blur that if I didn't have a GPS record, I would even ask myself if I finished the event. I almost have no recollection of riding my bike. I was dancing with the devil. I do remember a super fun descent down the Monarch Crest trail that brought me out to the highway I would then ride back into town on. But that's it, that's my story on Vapor.
The hardest day I've ever had on a bike, I think my finishing time was just under 18 hours.
All the mechanicals, dizziness, and vomiting aside... it was a great time. A sucker for punishment, I know I am. But I will never forget the feeling of hiking up to 13k ft at 4am, the sweet mountain mist or looking down the mountain and seeing the lights of other racers 2k ft below me mid-night and saying a prayer for them as they have to climb up that beast as I just did. I pushed myself further than I ever thought I could have in this event. I will be back next year, and I will RACE it. My only tipping advice to any of you, unless you want the hardest day of your life, don't race Vapor until you're acclimated to some high altitude riding. But IT IS possible to finish!
