- 1st place Woman, 19th overall
- 17 hours, 53 min
- 125 mi
- 17,100 ft of climbing
One of my friends had been handed an entry, and talking to him about the race, Vapor Trail 125 sounded like good fun. I was coming off a strong ride on the Colorado Trail Race, and two weeks after my winning finish, my legs were feeling surprisingly spry. The registration had been full for month’s, but the word on the street was that people were “dropping like flies.” Indeed only 98 of the 125 registered participants started. Only 58 of those finished.
After learning that there were still a few entries available, I emailed the race director and asked nicely to sign up. I felt confident that I could finish, and I was feeling recovered enough from the CTR to put in a big effort.
Still, Vapor Trail was and is a daunting race. Mark had raced it a few years prior, and I had been intrigued by his finish, but before this summer, it seemed out of my wheelhouse. The route boasts 17,000 ft of climbing over 125 miles in the Colorado high country. Most intimidating for me, was the 10 pm start, which means riding through the night and well into the next day.
The race started on Saturday night. I was working the day of–coaching the high school mountain bike team–so I would be up from 5:30 am until at least the end of my race–a full 36 hours. Even during the CTR I had not gone this long without at least a few hours of sleep, and I was unsure how I would perform after being awake for so long. I was excited for the challenge, and glad to see a few familiar faces at the pre-race meeting.
But the sleep deprivation challenged me in ways that I did not expect. I was mostly riding well, but I spent most of the race nauseous and I came as close as I ever have to offering up a “how are ya’ today?” to a stump (I could have sworn that thing was a hiker in a football jersey). The faint, but persistent nausea only subsided after a short, mid-race nap. The brief glimpse of an appetite was a relief, and I was able to get down a few more calories before returning to my general disgust towards energy food.
Still, I was able to hold off my other female competitors for the duration of the race. I had a modest lead by aid #1, but it was not until I rolled through the last aid station that I learned how much of a lead I had on them. Even with my apparent lead, the last 30 miles were still the toughest of the race: the least inspiring riding and a a long rolling stretch of trail called Rainbow (“because you cannot find the end,” quote from Cooper Shanks).
I was thankful to have another rider with me for that final, tough push to the finish; Kalen and I had been leap frogging for most of the day, and we rode almost the entirety of the last stretch from aid #5 to the finish together. We thrived on one another’s company, not necessarily moving quickly, but at least keeping one another’s spirits intact. We rolled across the finish line together in just under 18 hours.
My Race Recap:
Start to Aid #1
The neutral roll out was fun, chatting and sharing nerves with the other racers. I mostly chatted with my friends, Cooper and Kat. I got to have a quick conversation with Nolan too, who ended up winning the race. I couldn’t help but chime in when I overheard him talking about his attempt at the CTR this year. He and Mark had met the week prior when he was volunteering at an Aid station for the Monarch Mindbender and I was glad to say hello before he pedaled off well ahead of me into the night. The race begins around mile 7 where the crowd of riders crosses highway 285 then begins the climb to the Colorado Trail. The road climb meant there was still plenty of space to chat, and I was glad to be feeding off the energy of the other riders. By the time we got to the CT, I was riding with a small group of maybe 5 people, and I was surprised to be keeping up and even catching other riders on the descents (usually I get dropped on these rocky, mildly technical bits of trail). My familiarity with this section of trail and the hours of night riding I had done on the CTR was keeping me in a mix of good riders.
I had a lot to do at aid #1. I had to pee, tried to eat as much as I could, filled all my pockets with snacks and my warm layers for the coming high alpine climb and descent and refilled water and caffeinated tailwind. Johnan, who was also crewing her wife Kat, had kindly agreed to help me out, bringing my warm clothes to the aid station and helping out with my other aid station needs.
Aid #1-2
I felt like I made a fairly quick turnaround and yelled goodbye to Scott (who was crewing one of his athletes) as I rode off. I landed in a little no man’s land between racers for much of the chalk creek road climb, but somewhere up the 4×4 road to Hancock I found a little group of headlights and I fell into a rhythm, leapfrogging with 3 or 4 other racers. We rode up the long road climb, then slipped, road, and pushed up a bit of singletrack, new to this years race into the alpine.
It had stormed up high as we starting the race, and once we were above 10,000 ft or so, the trail was wet and the rocks and roots slick, but luckily the active rain and hail had stopped. The cloud cover had kept temperatures fairly warm, but now the sky was cleared and the lingering moisture made for cold early hours. Just as stars started to fade into the encroaching dawn, I crested Canyon creek, the high point of the race. I put on all my layers, and descended the majority of the trail in the dark, navigating the technical stretches with my headlamp turned up high.
It was an incredible stretch of riding. I was alone for most of the descent, and in tears multiple times because it was so much fun and so beautiful and I just could not believe how lucky I was to be there. It was an incredible experience, that early morning descent, the kind of thing that makes this event so worthwhile.
By the bottom of the trail, I was turning off my light, and unzipping my jacket and vest as the sun rose. Kalen, who I would finish the race with, caught up to me as sunlight filled the forest, but we only rode together briefly as our paces diverged.
Aid #2-3
At the aid station, I was greeted by cheers and chain lube while I drank hot coffee with an english muffin. Mike, who organizes the race, congratulated me kindly. I responded with my most ernest thanks, but wanted to tell him to save it for the end of the race, because there was still a lot of trail and a lot of hours between me and the finish line! I really appreciated the positivity though, and came into the Old Monarch pass climb feeling rejuvenated.
I spent the first half of the climb moving at a good clip and eating lots. I hoped to find another rider to enjoy the long climb with, but only passed a couple guys who seemed to have no interest in picking up their pace to match mine. I rode alone, looking forward to the company waiting at the big Monarch Pass aid station. During the last half of the climb my stomach was very upset, and I had to take a break from eating. This put me in a bit of a whole, but I had to give my digestive system a rest, as I could tell it was on the verge of revolting.
My saddle sores (which have hung out since our bike tour this past winter) were screaming at me, and I spent much of the gravel climb out of the saddle. Not the most efficient, but pedaling hard, standing up like this was a nice respite for my already achy knees.
Aid #3-4
Johnan and Scott, and some volunteers were ready to help get me in and out of there onto the back half of the race on the Monarch Crest. I dropped my warm layers, changed out my wet wool socks for a clean lightweight pair, re-applied chamois cream, ate some watermelon (I definitely should have eaten more here, but I was still struggling to even think about food), restocked my water and snacks, someone put air in my tires, and I was off onto trails I knew and loved. I, like many cyclists, love riding on the Monarch Crest, and race day was no different, even if it was a little more challenging after having already ridden through the night to get there. It was a relatively easy ride to Marshall pass and the next aid station, but between my decrease in calorie intake and the race clock ticking its way to 12.5 hours, I was feeling tired.
I tried to stay focused as I rolled through the aid station, eating some potatoes and filling up my water bladder for the next 14 miles of trail. I kept moving, but I could feel that my mind was starting to take a different shape.
Aid #4-5
Stumps were looking more and more like people as I started the Starvation Creek descent. I knew I was going to need to change something as I started hearing voices in the wind. I made a deal with myself that if I pushed through this descent I could take a brief nap at the bottom. I focused in and rode somewhat conservatively, trying to save my hands from pain that would force me to stop and shake them out. I arrived at the bottom, pedaled over to a dispersed campsite just off the Poncha Creek road climb and took a nap. It was such a relief to let myself slip out of the focus I had been trying to maintain for so many hours. After seven minutes, my phone alarm went off and I climbed back on my bike. At first, my motivation was sapped, “I could just still be sleeping.” I thought to myself, but my stomach was feeling much better after the few minutes both neither moving nor eating. I had an appetite! I ate some sugary food, and found my energy and excitement for the race coming back. “You can sleep anytime, this is your opportunity to race!” My self talk quickly came back around, and as I caught up with two other riders. I was happy to be pedaling along even at the slow pace that took up that climb.
Aid #5- Finish
It was only at this point in the race that I learned what a lead I had over the other women: over an hour. But I tried to imagine them right behind me as I moved our of the aid station and into the last stretch. I caught up with Kalen just a little ways out of the aid station, and we rode together to the finish. He was usually a faster descender than I was, but he was as excited to have a buddy as I was, so we pushed one another to keep moving all the way through Rainbow trail and back to town. Rainbow trail was so long. It had been years since I had ridden it, and I had forgotten how terrible it was. I kept sabotaging myself by thinking when it was over when there were still miles to go. A lesson I learn so often in long rides; expectations only disappoint. We spent the last mile of trail in the rain, but did not put on our jackets until we got to the road, not wanting to stop and spend any more time on that trail than we had to. We crossed the finish line together after a hard spin on the bike path to make it in under 18 hours.
Friends, veggie burgers, beer, seltzer water, and camp chairs were there to greet us. I was cooked, pretty sure that I would never do this race again (although after a few hours sleep I changed my mind) and so thankful to have the other racers and the event organizers that made this race happen.