Recently, I found myself in some uncharted waters. It was not my surroundings that caught me off guard rather it was my familiarity with the surrounding that put me in this unusual place…leading the pack on the final climb on the final day of winter training camp.
As I mentioned in my last entry, while I enjoy climbing on my bike I have never considered myself a climber. With that said, winter endurance camp this year found me riding with the front on many of the climbs, and to my surprise on a few occasions dishing out a little pain of my own. While I was more than happy to explore these newly acquired climbing legs I was not going to fool myself into thinking I had a crack at winning the final training day’s mountain stage that was being billed as EPIC.
Indeed the day was to be epic but not in the ways many of my teammates had envisioned but none the less epic in a single way in which I found myself right at home.
The day started as all the others earlier in camp had quick descent into the adjacent valley followed by a few hours of climbing our way back out of said valley to yet another descent to yet another climb. As we approached the final climb we had all managed to soften each others legs a bit pushing the pace when the terrain suited each individual’s strengths. With approx. 40 miles covered and some 3,000+ feet climbed the beast known as Kitchen Creek Road began to flex some muscle. Kitchen Creek consists of an approx. 5000 feet climb over 13 miles much of which is covered on a gated road leaving you unsupported and thanks the broken terrain lacking cell phone coverage.
As the road pitched up so did the pace with the true climbers sitting on a the front driving a pace that in the past would have left me waving good bye. But with my new climbing prowess I dug in…then it happened. SNOW, yes that’s right as the elevation climbed patches of snow began to encroach on the already narrowing road. Soon a light dusting lay trackless in front of us. All of sudden we were on my home turf, playing my game, finally an epic last day of training camp I could win.
As the snow deepened our riding turned to short burst of crud busting surfing until at last all traction and forward progress was halted. Always the optimist I was sure things would clear up just around the next corner. Plowing forward with my bike slung over my shoulder hunting out the most efficient way up the mountain in mid-shin deep snow, clad in lycra and a smile from ear to ear, at last I was on a solo break, set to take my first mountain top victory. As the march up Kitchen Creek continued the distance grew as I felt my competitors/teammates succumb to my superior preparation. Approximately, 3.5 miles later I topped out on the climb with plenty of time to zip up my jersey throw my bike over the 5 foot tall snow bank and celebrate my victory to the amazement of a half dozen crazy cycling fans …or maybe they were shocked teenagers on a sledding outing.
As the rest of the team came trickling it was apparent the day’s ride indeed was epic but alas it was an epic day that played to my strengths, strengths that have been crafted and tuned on the winter roads of Montana.
I must admit hindsight is 20/20 and while everyone survived the Kitchen Creek ride, it certainly will not be billed as the best example of good team decision making. Namely, that crazy Montanan, blinded by the thought of his first mountain top victory, should have stopped and encouraged the group to retreat. I suppose that would have been the sane thing to do, but alas being a Montanan predisposes me to a bit of insanity.
