2018 Dakato 5-0 👊

Perhaps, I should go back a few months... or years, actually.

I had met Josh when he was still working at Freewheel in Minneapolis (around 2009) and when he decided to break out and pursue his own vision of what a bike shop is, I was happy to support him - Angry Catfish Bicycle Shop and Coffee Bar. After hanging around the shop and joining the team I kept hearing about The Dakota 50 (pronounced: five - oh) in Spearfish, South Dakota. I knew very little of what the event actually was and I signed up and found myself heading there over Labor Day weekend 2010.

Dakota 5-0 2010

That was the worst day ever on a bike. Weather: perfect. Bike: performed flawlessly. I was out of shape... So out of shape, in fact, that I did not know what out of shape even meant. Somehow I managed to finish the race. 9 hours and 30-some minutes after I departed the community center in Spearfish, I returned. I actually wept a bit. It felt as though I had walked as much, or more, than I had ridden. In hindsight, I am surprised I had not given up cycling right then. I could barely walk, that was my first exposure to muscle cramps, it sucked. By the time I finished, they were getting ramped up for the awards ceremony, the food was all gone... all things I laugh about now.

2 months later my Dad would die of a heart-attack.. 59 years old. It definitely made me wonder, should I be riding at bike for 9 hours with an average heart rate of 154bpm?

Dakota 5-0 2011

A year has passed since the last event. My riding and training had not changed much - in fact, I probably rode and trained less as I was pretty devastated over losing my Dad (and if someone knew/thought something was bothering me... very few people knew it was the loss of my Dad). Anywho... went back to Spearfish in 2011... rode the first 23 miles or so, and said: "Fuck It... I'm out" and rode the gravel roads back to town. If I wept that year... it was for an entirely different reason. I'm done with these stupid races.

And I was... done with those stupid races.

Dakota 5-0 2017

For whatever reason, 2017 was a turning point for my riding. I was riding harder and faster than I had.. probably my adult life. However, I was not sure I could handle a 5-0... but.. I still wanted to go back out to Spearfish. I just happened to see a cry for help from KJ asking for volunteers. So, I offered to be the "back marker" for the first section. Basically a 12-mile segment to the first aid station. Really didn't feel like a big deal. I had found some dude originally from New Zealand now living in Texas on the trail with a broken chainstay and so I walked with him to the first station... and offered to let him use my bike to finish the ride. We put his number on my bike and off he went. Finishing several hour later.

A Platinum Birthday year (side note)

The Platinum Birthday, analogous to a Golden Birthday, except if you're having a Platinum Birthday year... it means that you are over your "ideal weight" by at least your age. I was 44 that year... and it was my Platinum Birthday year. Fowk.
I weighed about 215... and at 5'10", I should have weight about 165. Awesome.

Dakota 5-0 2018

I did not train for the Dakota 5-0. Until this week, I did not train for anything. I don't ride my bike for exercise... I ride my bike because I LOVE riding my bike. I love the sensation of railing a corner...or clearing a double-jump... cleaning a drop. I like the sound a tire makes when it contacts the ground after a jump... or when you roll a corner too fast and your tires start to push to the outside of the berm. I like the sound of my freehub when I find a fast downhill. And the past two years... I love clicking send on my Strava app and seeing that I had bettered my time... I don't compete against others (although I now compare myself with them) there would be no point in competing with them. I am still over 30% body fat and not in the same category as the people I ride with. I'm OK with that.

So, while I did not train... I did ride.. and ride as often as I could. My mantra: if I am not injured, or it's not wet, I'm going to ride. (Unfortunately my travel schedule for work, and the Minnesota weather did not always cooperate, but I did OK)

I was unable to get signed up for the D50 in 2018... but... since I volunteered the year before, I had a Golden Ticket... and I cashed that in.

My friend Rob graciously offered to let me stay in his spare room - which worked out perfectly.

Thomas and I left the start line DFL (dead fucking last). We cruised out of town at a leisurely pace. Big mistake. I finished 410 out of 528 participants. I had to pass 118 f'n people. That.. was the worst part of the event.

I had been trying to formulate a strategy to mitigate my fear of cramping.
Mountain Dew (caffeine) and some food - pre-race

For each hour of the race:

a 20 oz bottle with 2 x Skratch packets

Camelbak full of water
2 x sportlegs capsules

Seemed to work until about mile 18. WTF? Cramps? Seriously... WTF? This can't be right.
I backed off a bit and pushed just to the point where I could feel my left quad about to fire off a horrific bout of excruciating pain. This was working. At some point around mile 24 or so, I recalled that I had some Jack Link's jerky along. So, I stopped to grab some.. handed some out to some other old dude who I was riding with for a while. Then something happened. I was kind of "on fire"... or, as "on fire" as my fat ass could be. While I was admittedly riding with the "slow kids" it was still surprising to have other riders catch up to me on the climbs and comment on my downhill.
So... I spent the last 12 or so miles actually chasing a goal. I was no longer just trying to finish, I still had something in my legs and I was going to get after it. Some other guy was apparently in the same position as he was pushing too. It was fowking glorious!!! Unfortunately though.. he was a bit more aggressive when dealing with other riders, and I was not OK doing the same. While chasing that dude, I happened upon a guy in the last section on the side of the trail and I asked if he was OK... he said "levers... I need levers". Poor dude, got two flats in the last 12 miles... and somehow broke 3 tire levers trying to get the tire bead over the rim. He asked if I had one... to which I replied "Umm... if you broke all of yours, do I want to give you mine"... he got the joke but immediately said "fine, can you get the tire on?" I'll admit, I struggle a bit with the mechanical stuff nowadays... not in understanding, but in execution. But, after a few minutes, I had his tire seated and I was on my way. Railing again... pedaling hard.. running wide in corners.
As I rode down the final stretch, I see a guy with a plastic grocery bag hanging off his bars and I say.. you got Coors Light in there? Mostly joking about the obvious.. but he says... "ya, here" and cracks it open for me and I finish with a Coors Light. No fanfare... no serious fatigue... no drama. I stop... shoot the shit with some folks. Just another ride.

No cramping in my sleep. No soreness walking up stairs. Damn it - I should have, or could have, pushed harder.

"A man's got to know his limitations" -- Dirty Harry