Trans Am 2017 Intro
Just as when my friend Pim Ter Hennepe asked me after the race, “How much did you prepare for this?” I will struggle to convey in the pages that follow just how much the 2017 Trans America Bike Race occupied my time and mind in the year leading up to it. Any success I had was the culmination of months and months of extremely deliberate training, planning, and outright obsession. Upon returning home from the race this year, I spent a week writing down everything I could remember about each day of the race. I wrote it for myself as a means of processing and reflecting on the experience, and I’m publishing it to hopefully do for future racers what race reports from prior years, like those from Lael Wilcox, Luke Kocher, and Janie Hayes, did for me. What follows is as honest and in depth an account that I can muster of how I prepared for the TransAm, raced it, and finished in Yorktown on June 23rd, 2017, arriving in just over 20 days.
Heads up! There is a lot more after this one. Click here for days 1–21
The Build Up
In June 2016, one of my older sisters, Amy, and I biked from our family’s house in Silverthorne, Colorado to Seattle. At the time, we were both living in Colorado — I was in the mountains and Amy was in Denver — and in need of serious adventure. We had time constraints on both ends: Amy didn’t finish teaching until June 2, and our cousin was getting married in Seattle on June 18. Our house is right off the TransAm route, so we decided to follow it west until Kooskia, Idaho, where we turned north to head to Washington.
In order to arrive in Seattle with a few days to spare, we had to average over 100 miles a day for two weeks, something neither of us had ever done. Amy had ridden her bike from Florence to Berlin two summers before, but she wore sandals and carried two massive panniers on a steel-framed French bike from the 1970’s with down-tube shifters. I’d never done a bike tour or owned a bike but am always down for a challenge and to explore new places. Plus, Amy said that we could do it, so little brother bought in.
We were very much outsiders in this new world of serious bikers (notice I’ll continue to use “biker” far more often than “cyclist”). Everyone (basically, club riders/weekend warriors with whom we spoke) told us this was insane and that a century a day for two weeks was unsustainable, but we were convinced we could do it and thoroughly researched our route and the principles of ultra-light bikepacking to get ready. Before we even knew who Jesse Carlsson was (or how many times I could shout him out in one post) or anything about ultra-endurance racing, we read the Curve Cycling blog post on his 2015 TABR bike and gear as well as any other ultra-light lists or relevant blog posts we could find. We bought low-end road bikes, “light-weight” sleeping bags, and a tiny stove, and borrowed our mom’s tent. We were pretty proud of our set-up, and although we learned it was significantly heavier than any well-researched TABR racer’s set-up, it was far lighter than the four-panniered touring rigs we passed en route. From the beginning, the ultra-endurance ethos of “pack light, travel far” just resonated with us, though we were maybe “pack lighter, travel farther.”
We learned about the Trans America Bike Race on our second day while sitting eating pizza in Saratoga, Wyoming after the longest day of my life — 112 miles — with our Warm Showers hosts and two other westbound touring cyclists. We planned to ride 125 miles to Sweetwater Station the next day, and were feeling smug, especially compared to the two other tourists with massive front and rear panniers.
Somehow RAAM came up and one of the other tourists, Tom, told us that there was an ultra race along the Trans Am route that was starting that weekend. We’d never heard of it, but the legend that Tom told us about the race made us blush. He said that the leaders would average well over 200 miles per day, some even close to 250 miles. We’d been told that riding a century a day was unheard of, but who were these mythical creatures doing more than double that?? We were thoroughly put in our place.
We continued our ride west with the race in the back of our minds, wondering when we might encounter the racers. Outside Twin Bridges, Montana on the evening of June 7, we finally crossed paths with Steffen Streich, and, a few hours later, while pedaling into Dillon, Montana, crossed paths with Sarah Hammond (we had a MASSIVE headwind coming into Dillon, but she was focused and feeling the tailwind). The next day, we stopped Luke Kocher on the road just before the climb out of Jackson, Montana and began a friendship with him that ultimately inspired and encouraged both of us to race. Over the subsequent days, we witnessed a parade of suffering, regularly encountering racers in restaurants, at intersections, or on the side of the road. We heard convenience store clerks gossip about racers, and our obsession with the race grew and grew.
As soon as we got home from Seattle, we dove into everything TransAm related that we could find. We watched Inspired to Ride again and again and read every race report from previous years that we could get our hands on. Those reports gave us a window into the racers’ experiences and mindsets. We learned from Lael and Evan that the race doesn’t really start until the hills of Missouri, and that there is more climbing in eastern Kentucky and western Virginia alone than any other stretch of that distance in the Rockies (apparently, not many people know this). From Janie, we read that you can pace yourself in the first week and then start to push it when you feel good and end up with a great result. We scoured Luke’s blog to learn what happened after we met him on the road. We watched every interview with Jesse Carlsson about the 2015 race we could find (and encountered the Cycling Maven! What a crackin’ human) and got to know the badasses at Curve. We worshipped Mike Hall (even starting “Mike Hall Mondays” after he passed, when we would send out dope Mike Hall quotes to the rest of our family). Amy and I knew — without explicitly saying to each other or anyone else — that we would both be signing up for the 2017 edition.
Winter rolled around and, with it, the January 31 deadline. I had already submitted my inquiry months before, but now the impending deadline made it real. Money had to be spent, forms filled out, and a legitimate commitment made. While it made me a bit nervous, at no point did I have any real hesitation (maybe only to cough up a hundred bucks). By late January, I was signed up, on the roster, and had turned my focus to the June 3 start date.
I lived in New York City during the winter and spring, and, as any cyclist there will tell you, there is not an abundance of options for riding, even once the weather warms up and the snow melts. For a while, I biked three or four days a week, either sweating it out in my bedroom on a cheap trainer, or, when the weather was warm enough, on long, one-day, weekend rides outside of the city, almost always alone. My diet was more deliberate than I’d ever committed to before and I lifted weights or ran when I wasn’t biking. The Indian Pacific Wheel Race tracking page was my daily church for two weeks in March, upping the stoke level even higher.
Come April I was in as good of shape as I’ve ever been. I cut down on the weight lifting and continued to focus on eating lean to lose a bit of weight (I’m quite skinny even at my heaviest, but apparently all the best bikers are extremely skinny). I even did a 50k trail running race — despite a strong distaste for running — just to practice racing, eating, drinking, and suffering in ultra events (Okay: another of my badass sisters Hannah convinced me to do it, and proceeded to smoke me). My job as a freelance developer allowed me to be flexible in my training, but for a month I didn’t go out with friends in New York.
Once the weather warmed up, I spent every weekend out on the road for overnight rides. I made multiple attempts to ride over 200 miles back to back, but something always came up as soon as I got close to 200. A broken bike, bad weather, a fellow rider crashing — it seemed like I had a ceiling somewhere near 180 miles that I couldn’t break through. But, I knew that every ride, every overnight, every bonk, every mishap (and resulting lesson) was a step in the right direction to my goals on the TransAm.
When I first signed up for the race, I wanted to do everything I could to prepare myself to ride 240 miles a day and compete for a win. In the course of my research, however, it became clear that I was falling for a common mistake. Many of the racers who fail to complete races like the TransAm or IPWR have expectations that are far above their experience and ability. It was unrealistic and a disservice to myself to set a goal I had no evidence to believe I could achieve. I thought about how Janie approached her 2016 race by going in with realistic expectations that she then exceeded. That seemed like a far more positive way to approach the race than setting an ambitious plan that, unless one has the experience to warrant it, will lead to disappointment.
Thus, I changed my outlook and goals. After months of training, my biggest single day had only been 185 miles. Nevertheless, I’d done multiple days around that length and I felt super strong throughout those rides. I also felt like I had pushed myself into and through things that strengthened my resolve and confidence in my physical and mental endurance. I knew that I could pick myself out of the gutter and keep going. On one training ride, I was on the side of the road at mile 150 of 185, bonked and unsure if I could continue. But rule #1 of endurance riding is eat some food, pick yourself up, and finish, so that’s what I did. Instances like these helped me feel confident that I knew what to do when I got into trouble and, most importantly, how to stay out of it completely. While it was still pretty ambitious, I felt like a goal of over 200 miles a day and under 21 days for the Trans Am was doable.
In addition to training, I tried to be as mentally prepared as possible. I hoped to make up for my lack of experience with knowledge, which I gained by excessively researching the experience of other racers and races. I read and reread every race report published, watched the race replays from previous years, and strategized with Amy. We plotted all stops made by the leaders in previous years and researched the hours of remote gas stations. I made an excel spreadsheet of every supply stop on the road and the miles between them and I planned to depend heavily on that info throughout the race. I knew the western half of the route really well, so I worked on memorizing the route from Pueblo, Colorado to Yorktown, Virginia. I went state by state and quizzed myself on each town and turn that the route took, just in case at some point my multiple GPS devices failed and I had to rely on memory to keep rolling in the right direction.
I also did tons of research on gear and had learned from our 2016 trip, so I had a very good idea of what I needed. I scoured the internet for the lightest, cheapest gear, so often that my Chrome window quickly autofilled “Steepandcheap.com” when prompted with an “s”. While I had a strict budget, I was more particular on certain items than others.
I’d ridden with Lake Cycling mountain bike shoes for the past year and really liked the brand, the quality, and the story. Unfortunately, I wanted to get new, stiffer road shoes and those cost a lot from Lake. I reached out to them hoping to get some help purchasing a pair. Luckily, one of the co-owners, Bob Maas, replied to me and offered a massive discount on a pair of shoes. That they would respond to a nobody with no experience but a lot of passion reinforced my feelings on Lake, and I was so stoked to buy a fresh pair of sick CX 237’s. I reached out to a couple of other brands for other goodies and was excited by an offer Warsaw Cycling made to help me with a jersey, but I wasn’t able to order it in time for my race. They make super stylish jerseys and I will buy one at some point.
I subleased my apartment in New York at the beginning of May and flew back home to Colorado to test my fitness and push it as far as I could in the three weeks leading up to the race. I worked with a friend/coach on devising a plan in those weeks to properly peak and taper my training. While spring weather in the Colorado mountains interrupted some of my more ambitious rides, I ultimately came out feeling more confident, ready to go, and stoked.
I flew to Portland on May 31 where I stayed with some family friends (thank you, Sylvia and Heinz! Also thank you to Amy for arranging much of our Portland stay), relaxed, and prepared my bike for the start line. I’d been waiting for a few weeks for some wheels from Curve, so had put off a lot of work on my bike until they arrived shortly before I left for Portland. Finally there with all the pieces in hand, I dropped my bike off at River City Bicycles to get it all in place. A new drivetrain, 50/34 chainrings, new tires, new pedals, aero bars, freshly installed dynamo setup, and a lot of other little things. The dudes there took really good care of my bike and are a massive reason I didn’t have any mechanical issues during my race.
I hung out in town, met up with our friend Andre, and took care of the last things I needed to buy. I ran into a couple racers at River City, some of whom were super friendly and cool, others who were weirdly standoffish and not cool (rural America survival tip number one: be friendly AF).
After not being able to get the Warsaw jersey, I had been planning to just wear a t-shirt like the legend Lael Wilcox (I would have worn dri-fit, while she had cotton) but knew that, with storage on the bike being super tight, I needed the carrying capacity of the rear pockets. I wanted something super lightweight and wool that didn’t look like a standard road jersey.
While perusing the gear at River City, I saw some really cool jerseys made by a brand named Anthm Collective. I sent them an email, and the founder, Brian Anthony, got back to me quickly and wanted to help. We met up at a coffee shop to chat about Anthm and the right jersey, then he sent me on my way with this cozy, gray, functional beauty.
The day before the race, my bike was finally ready to go, and Amy and I loaded into Andre’s car to drive out to Astoria. We got to town in the afternoon and started taking care of the final details. I went over to The Legend Luke Kocher’s hotel to get some help setting up GPS and hear all the pre-race gossip, and then Luke, Amy and I biked up the hill to the monument to get our caps and trackers. It took a while, but it gave us a chance to meet other racers, check out other set-ups, and catch up with the few people that we already knew. And to take a dope photo.
After the meeting, everyone descended on one of the breweries in town (thanks Fort George) and it was chaos. We ended up finding a table with a couple other racers, including Luke, Jon Lester, and Aaron Ehlers, whom Amy met on the flight from Denver to Portland. We chatted about training, nerves, plans — all the obvious things. Luke told me that Jon was a super strong rider, but that he had never done any ultra racing. Jon was so low key during dinner that I didn’t think that he had any ambitious goals for the race, but, oh, was I wrong. I will never forget how humble he was before and after the race, and how hard he absolutely smashed it. The stories he told me after the race about how hard he trained showed me the difference between my level and his. He even paid for everyone’s dinner that night. Deadset legend.
After dinner, I ran to the Safeway to get some food for the next day, then met up with Amy and Andre back at the hotel to finish preparing our bikes. I felt surprisingly calm that night; my brain reacted to the stress by turning as far down as it could. I packed, joked, and got stoked. Amy, meanwhile, had a panic attack.
Our mom had written both of us letters to read before we started, so just before bed we both pulled them out. Obviously, her words brought us both to tears (thanks mom, and thanks Andre for comforting us) and did their job of reinforcing my focus on the race. Along with a letter, she’d written a number of short reminders/mantras that got me so, so pumped for all of it.
One of her recommendations was to journal if possible during the race, but it turned out I only wrote one thing down the night before. The note reads:
“Night before
Cranked a bit of work and sent some emails. Some lingering shit but hopefully Mike can take care of it. Feel pretty mellow, mind not racing, but could be. Don’t quite want to sleep, maybe because dont want the build up to be over and race to actually start. A bit nervous about just the suffering”
I felt free from expectations that night. I hoped for the best, and didn’t worry too much about what would happen. As my note says, I really just thought about what the constant suffering would be like. I had simplified my goals to spend as much time in the saddle as possible — since this is the one aspect of the race you can control — and to push myself physically and mentally well beyond comfort. If I did that, I would be happy.
I always thought that the hardest thing would be to continue on if you had a setback — a mechanical, crash, bad weather, etc. I always admired that Luke rode his hardest throughout the 2016 race despite multiple mechanical issues. Could I also push forward with the same drive and commitment if something slowed me down and put me behind my time goal?
The race is about finishing, but its a fine line between pushing your limits and being able to reach Yorktown. In the end, if I rode myself to and beyond my limit, made myself uncomfortable, and finished, it would be a successful race, no matter how long it took. As Billy Rice says in Inspired to Ride, “Everybody, from Mike all the way to the Lanterne Rouge, is giving 110% to stay in this thing, whatever their 110% is.”
Read More:
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
Trans Am Day 12: Ness City, KS to Rosalia, KS
Trans Am Day 13: Rosalia, KS to Ash Grove, MO
Trans Am Day 14: Ash Grove, MO to Pilot Knob, MO
Trans Am Day 15: Pilot Knob, MO to Elizabethtown, IL
Trans Am Day 16: Elizabethtown, IL to Falls of Rough, KY
Trans Am Day 17: Falls of Rough, KY to Booneville, KY
Trans Am Day 18: Booneville, KY to Meadowview, VA
Trans Am Day 19: Meadowview, VA to Daleville, VA
Trans Am Day 20: Daleville, VA to Mt. Olivet Baptist Church, VA
Trans Am Day 21 FINISH: Mt. Olivet Baptist Church, VA to Yorktown, VA
Ice Cream or Ass Cream: The Trans Am “Epilogue”
Stay tuned for more to come…
