The drive home was not bad.

Surprisingly.

We made it home on Beau Jo’s pizza, coffee/diet cokes, and listening to some of the creepiest HLN murder mystery radio (we missed you Eric!).

To help pass the time Sunday morning, I time capsuled myself back to the early ’70s & jammed to some concerts.

*sidenote, my 3 favorite:

1. Black Sabbath, 1970 Live Paris
2. Zep – Dazed & Confused, 1972 LA Forum
3. Traffic – Low spark of high heeled boys, 1971

On with it then. Some parting thoughts & photos as I say goodbye to the 2018 #BreckEpic.

BTW, #3, above is really good, it pairs well with wine and these musings.

7 days ago we finished the 6 day #BreckEpic. This is by far, the most difficult thing I have ever done on a bike.

Individually, each single day seems relatively manageable, like a normal epic ride kind of feeling.

But two days in a row, at elevation. Oof.

Three days? Cuss words. 3 hurt, bad.

We would have been happy to stop at 3 days. (and this was when Jena and I asked ourselves, wtf did we sign up for 6).

4 days. Numb. Everything numb. Can’t eat enough. Losing weight. Beer consumption at all time low.

5 days…Day 5 was the worst. Wheeler’s {expletive} Pass.

Jena and I both agree, if it weren’t for 5 hours of hiking our bikes over 12’k feet, we would probably sign-up for 2019 right now.

Wheeler, to simply put it, was like getting kicked in the junk. For 5 hours.

Dirt and tears after day 5. That kind of stage.

6th day.

aaaaaaahhhhhhh.

That was fun.

Smell the barn kinda ride, and for 3.5 hours, we smiled and laughed (minus the 12 miles of 4% climbing). But mostly we romped thru some sweet sweet flow and let the big dog eat coming in.

Beer and taco consumption at all time high!

Life is good. We survived.

Thinking back. There were times where the focus was so tight. That gawdman belt buckle.

One step in front of the other, breathe. Repeat. For hours. 

Yeah, this was fun, but in a sick kind of way. Hanging out at elevation for 6 days at 9500′ is no easy task. The first couple of nights, folks in our group stated that they were laying in bed with a hummingbird in their chest. My resting HR the first night was 140.

ONE FORTY. lol

Damn Flatlanders.

Riding  Pushing a mountain bike up gnarly single track for 5-6 hours a day, over 11 or 12k’ for 6 consecutive days, well that’s a physical effort that requires more mental grit that physical fitness.

Earlier in the week, I touched on the dark places the mind will take you when the body goes well past fatigue. We all went there. Some stayed longer than others, but we all went to the badlands in the corners of our mind.

That’s where a good dose of love comes in, and how I’ll wrap this adventure up.

The community in Breckenridge is amazing. The entire community comes out and supports this event. The mayor rides and kicked off the week, stating how proud he is that the promoter passed on the bid from Ironman. The passion they share, for their little town and amazing network of trails, is difficult to comprehend. Smiling faces at every aid station, no matter how remote, isolated (and exhausted) we felt, there were local folk sharing their love to help each of us get complete our respective races.

Three particular volunteers, who (IMHO) exemplified the soul of this community. Each, on the course everyday, and in a personal way to me made a lasting impression.

1. Mike the SRAM mechanic. Evidently Captain Destructo rode my bike and broke my new SRAM Eagle cassette. Mike was kind enough to replace my cassette and get me up and going before the continental divide shoe debacle that was stage 3.

2. Keep Pedaling Chloe. She was at every aid station, best I can remember, on every stage. Her ears always perked, she would give a hard look of encouragement and her being there was a pleasant distraction from the pain emanating from my legs. Her human was pretty nice too.

3. And then there was Ava.

Sweet Mrs.- “I make the best damn train-wreck samiches on the planet” – Ava.

@MathenyEndurance recommended we ask for the “Jamie Driscoll”, which was basically everything from the feed table, crammed onto two slices of bread, skittles bananas waffles goo, eeeeeeeverything. 

I passed. I did however, inhale at least 3 or 4 of the Ava Classic, white bread, miracle whip, pickles & potato chips. Kind of like those tiny little burgers from White Castles, but better.

SO DAMN GOOD.

There are so many other volunteers that make up the soul of BreckEpic. The 3 listed above were my favorite though.

The most important love though, that came from the knuckleheads that got us into this in the first place, and equally important, the friendships we forged with fellow sickos, while out on the mountain each day.

Thanks Friends, old and new, for helping Jena and I survive. We love ya’ll and want you to know we’re not doing this again. Nope.

Until the next post-ride this Fall or Winter, where we drink tequila again and someone breaks out a laptop.

You can do it off the couch someone will say….

…..

…….

Shitballs.

Thanks for the memories. Enjoy the pics.

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