They called Stage 2 ‘The Peak’ because they intended us to climb to the top of Brian Head Peak, 11,307 ft above sea level, during the race. But first we had to ride for about 45 miles on rocky dirt roads. The roads seemed so long that climbing to the peak seemed more of an afterthought—that is until I actually started climbing it.
I started out a bit more conservatively this time, in hopes of others in front of me blowing up after such a long stage the day before. We climbed up a paved road for a while, then turned onto a dirt road and climbed some more. In fact, we got within a few hundred feet of the peak, only to turn onto some single track and roll into a very long descent. You may find it hard to believe, but I actually caught and passed some of my competitors on this descent. That doesn’t happen to me very often.
The first feed zone was at the bottom of the descent, Mags hadn’t arrived yet so I pushed on without filling my bottles. I wanted to stay with a guy that was riding well and had been working with me. Eventually we put together a group of five riders, including Pua Sawicki, the eventual winner of the pro women. We all worked together for the next 20 to 25 miles. Well, we all did except this one guy from Ohio. I never saw him take a pull. He’s either a chump or a smarter racer than me, because he finished the stage four minutes in front of me.
I got dropped by the group when the roads turned uphill again. I was feeling a bit deflated by the final feed zone—my body, not my tires this time—and we still had a huge climb in front of us.
I put my head down and focused on pedaling circles. I could see Greg Gibson in front of me, and I nearly had him reeled in three different times before he would stand up and put a little time into me.
The road came to a saddle, which I had convinced myself was the top, but we turned onto some single track and continued climbing. Ten minutes later I was sure we were at the peak, because we stared heading downhill. Nope, the trail turned uphill again. I was demoralized.
There were at least four false summits, and I wanted more than anything to be done climbing. Finally we came to the dirt road we had climbed up at the start of the race. I thought I was done, and that all that was left was returning on the road the way we had come. The course marshal at the junction had something else in mind for me. This was where the real climb to the peak began. Oh the humanity!
Somehow I managed to get to the top. It was more willpower than cycling strength. Thinking I was finished, and mentally I was, I started to relax. Little did I know that the last five-odd miles to the finish were down the Super D course. Have I mentioned that I’m not a great downhiller? Especially when I’ve got 50 miles behind me for the day?
After the race, my time was 4:04—forty minutes behind the stage winner, all I wanted to do was sit. I couldn’t bring myself to eat, I couldn’t sleep. I really had no desire to move. I just wanted to sit.
How was I going to do this for one more day?
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