Trans Am 2017 Day 10: Alma, CO to Haswell, CO — 224 Miles, +4,516 ft

8 min readNov 5, 2017

On the list of things to improve on next time, pretty high up there is “Slow Mornings.” I didn’t explode out of the post office and was slow as I made my way to Fairplay. I spent way too long getting coffee, Subway, and other shit at the gas station and headed to Hartsel feeling sluggish.

All throughout the race, mornings were a struggle. In the mornings, I felt unaccomplished as my miles were obviously still low for the day and my lack of progress on the day felt like a failure. I also often kicked myself for waking up later than planned. It wouldn’t be until I felt like I was making progress on the day, getting over 100 miles or 150 miles and clearly keeping pace with everyone else, that I would feel better. That’s often why I would go so late in the night, because, as the race went on, I didn’t really feel strong until then. But then I would wake up later… It was a bad cycle.

I ate a normal Subway breakfast in Fairplay, but my stomach was playing games on my way to Harstel. I felt woozy and I worried that the Subway breakfast sandwich was gonna haunt me, as Subway sandwiches sometimes do. I didn’t push too hard, hoped to digest whatever it was I was stuck on, and tried to ease some food down to push it through. I stopped in Hartsel to sit and drink a gatorade to try and settle my stomach — the first time sitting for ‘bonk’-like symptoms since Togwottee — but it didn’t do much. I set off south through the rollers and short climbs feeling shitty and fighting a mean headwind. I called my mom with a case of the whines, and she was supportive as always (Sidenote: I called my mom all the time, along with the rest of my family and a lot of friends, not just when noted in this story. I was always calling people, and their support was critical).

I knew that today wouldn’t be as much downhill as many people anticipate there will be and that there would be a lot of wind going the wrong direction, so my expectations were in the right place, even if my stomach wasn’t. My dad kept saying this could be my biggest mileage day, but I think he fell for the same false assumption that most do — that there was a “backside” of the Rockies that you can cruise through.

Remember this guy? Fake News! Screenshot of Inspired to Ride

The grades are super low going down aside from a few short stretches, and there are a number of small climbs and rolling sections that you have to navigate. If you weren’t look at an elevation map, it wouldn’t feel downhill, particularly with the wind coming out of the south as it had for the past few days. I was getting kind of crushed by this section and having no fun, but I kept moving.

It was hot, I was tired, I was suffering, and I just wanted to get to Cañon City. The wind was a massive setback and only getting worse, voiding gravity on any downhills, and it certainly weighed on my mind a bit after multiple days fighting it. I suppose it could’ve been a pretty stretch, but I hated it.

Another reason for my low stoke was my hesitation about what lay ahead. I knew the climbing and elevation over the past week was a strength of mine relative to the field, and I worried that I would fall off the pace when it came to hammering the flat, straight roads that lay ahead on the plains. Had I hit my peak in the race? Is this where I fall off? I felt a sense of dread for the brutally boring, flat, and windy plains, but wasn’t going to lose my edge. Just hold the wheel and keep your place, I thought, until we get back into some hills.

There were a lot of negative thoughts as I came into Cañon City, and I stopped at a bike shop/cafe to eat and recover the vibes a bit. There was an exceptionally cute girl working there, and that helped a lot. I ate, got some tubes, and geared up for a brutally windy stretch. I was doing better as I battled a brutal head wind on the last southern stretch, so I moved slowly but didn’t hate life. I had to pop into the bushes for a bathroom break, but that was standard procedure and my stomach finally began to ease as a result. Ahhhh.

Finally! The road turned east, and I got a bit of a tailwind. My stomach was relieved, and I ripped down the road to Pueblo and got great views of the plains disappearing into the horizon and the mountains to the north. Coming over the front range is always a beautiful sight with thousands of miles of dead flat plains stretched out in front of you while you descent whatever hill you’re coming off. It feels like you’ve reached the end of one world and the beginning of another.

I was thinking about this post for a long time.

For so many reasons, I had been looking forward to reaching the Newton Bike Shop for months. That shop and town defined so much of the race for me, especially the plains, and I couldn’t wait to meet Heather and James. I had dreamt for a long time of rocking up to the shop and doing a Mike Hall bunny hop. So, as soon as I could find a reason to shout them out on Instagram, I did. The next couple days until Newton were defined by how far I had to get to the shop and what time I would arrive there.

I was low on water, so I was ready to stop in Pueblo as I rolled into town but got derailed by a flat. I immediately realized that the tubes I bought from the cute girl were the wrong size (whoops, distraction) and had one tube of the right size left after I replaced the flat one. Hope that lasts me to Newton! This was the beginning of a brutal hour and a half of getting lost and finding food in Pueblo. I knew big towns can be a huge time suck and tried to avoid it, but did not manage to in Pueblo. I got food on the east end of town and finally managed to get back on the road, but was majorly frustrated when I finally did.

The stretch out of Pueblo is one of those “How did no one tell me about this??” stretches. You are on a legit highway for like 10 miles, and cars are ripping by while you dodge debris on the shoulder. It sucks. I finally got to the exit, but after pedaling for five minutes realized it was the wrong exit, and had to go back on the onramp to go the quarter mile to the right one. Slow days, slow days.

The road was quick after that, dead straight to Ordway and beautiful while the sun went down. Eastern Colorado is a different part of the world from the mountains, and everything was incredibly old and worn down. It also feels much more marshy and wet. This would be life until Missouri — straight roads and a wandering mind — but on that evening I was enjoying it. The straight roads allowed me to look around a lot more than I had before, so that was nice…

I’d been watching the tracker and was anticipating catching Richard, who was only 10 miles ahead of me. I rode hard, somehow thinking I was going to make up the gap within an hour. I got to Ordway, my last chance for food for a long time, just before they closed and geared up for a long haul. The high school kids working there were mystified that I planned to head to Haswell, telling me that it was a lonely, long road. Oh my it was.

I don’t know what it looks like in the day, but the road was insanely straight and I felt like I was pedaling through a lagoon, as far from any humans as I had been in weeks. I’d see a car in the distance, then it would seem like thirty minutes before it finally passed me. There were occasionally specks of light off in the distance, but there wasn’t a sign of life near the road until I passed through the almost non-existent Arlington. I learned that night about the perils of looking forward when coming into a town on the plains. I saw the lights of Haswell (even though there weren’t many) maybe 12 miles out of town, and they got no closer for a long time. This is how it was across the plains, day or night. Towns appeared a lot sooner than you though, then never actually got closer. I hate the plains.

I rolled into Haswell and saw the post office right on the corner immediately. The one road through town is dirt, and there didn’t seem to be any occupied buildings except the post office. I tried to find water, but no spouts I found actually worked. As I found out the next morning, water was stored in small water towers near each building, and I’m not sure there was standard running water. It was a cool outpost, and a crazy vibe being there in the middle of the night with the one street light cast down on the post office. It was freezing inside, and for the first time the lights in the Post Office were off! I was pumped for how much that would help sleep.

It hadn’t been my best day and I’d suffered more than others, but I’d still put down decent mileage, kept pace and held the gap from the guys behind, and was getting to bed at a reasonable time. I snacked up, stretched a bit, got into my sleeping bag liner, and I passed out.

Trans Am 2017 Intro

Trans Am Day 1: Astoria, OR to McKenzie Bridge, OR

Trans Am Day 2: McKenzie Bridge, OR to Prairie City, OR

Trans Am Day 3: Prairie City, OR to Council, ID

Trans Am Day 4: Council, ID to Lochsa Lodge, ID

Trans Am Day 5: Lochsa Lodge, ID to Bannack State Park, MT

Trans Am Day 6: Bannack State Park, MT to Cameron, MT

Trans Am Day 7: Cameron, MT to Lander, WY

Trans Am Day 8: Lander, WY to Cowdrey, CO

Trans Am Day 9: Cowdrey, CO to Alma, CO

Trans Am Day 10: Alma, CO to Haswell, CO

Trans Am Day 11: Haswell, CO to Ness City, KS