Colorado Trail Race Navigation

2012 update: I just posted my 2012 CTR track and waypoints file here.

A few people have asked me about maps, waypoints, and GPS tracks. Here's what I did last year. It worked well, so I'm doing it again this year.

Steps:

1. I loaded all of the waypoints from Bear Creek Survey (BCS) into Topo! (National Geographic’s mapping software). I also loaded Stefan’s track.
2. In Topo!, I deleted BCS waypoints that were irrelevant due to detours, etc. I also added some of my own.
3. Then I converted the Topo! file into something that Mapsource (Garmin’s mapping software) understands, using GPSBabel.
4. I then used Mapsource to load the tracks and waypoints into my Vista HCx GPS unit.

The net result is that I have an awesome track to follow on my GPS, and all of the waypoints match the Colorado Trail Foundation's Databook. I printed maps out of Topo! at several different levels, so I can also verify waypoints on the maps. I also printed the wilderness bypass instructions directly on the maps.

As an aside, you can probably do the same thing using TopoFusion, but I owned Topo! for about ten years before TopoFusion came out. Maybe someday I’ll buy TopoFusion—it looks like a great program and will obviously save some steps because it seems to have superior GPS connectivity. There’s no doubt that I would have bought TopoFusion, and not Topo!, had it been available!

I rode 95% of the trail using just my GPS and a printed profile. But I figured that the maps might be very helpful if my GPS failed. I did use the maps on the Cataract section, just to find out where I was, and when I was going to get to Silverton (it was night, and raining hard)! I also thought the maps might come in useful if I needed to bail to the nearest highway or hospital, but fortunately I didn't need too.

Here's an example of a printed map (highest detail level). Click to view it larger, and then zoom to see more detail.

Here's another detail level:These maps fit nicely into a handlebar map case, and I threw them out along the way to reduce the weight!

Colorado Trail Race Profile

A couple of people have asked where I camped on the CTR in 2010. Click on the image below to see the complete CTR profile--my camping spots are marked on the bottom in white numbers. After you click, you may need to zoom on the photo a bit to see the details.


Also, here's an overview map. Again, click and zoom!

OK, I confess: I camped at Super 8 in Leadville!

LocoKoko

OK, I'm off the fence: I have begun the process of establishing an official Kokopelli Trail race. In deference to those people who still want to hold outlaw races, I'm not going to reuse the "Kokopelli Trail Race" name, so this race will be called something different. For now, I'm thinking that LokoKoko is amusing and seems to fit the bill nicely. Maybe Lokopelli?

But regardless of the name, here's the scoop:

1. The race will adhere, as much as possible, to a non-commercial ethos. I'm not in this to make money, or to make money for anyone else. Any potential entry fees will simply cover necessary costs like insurance, etc.
   
2. This race will be about having fun. Therefore, I will work with the BLM to guarantee that the race is fully legal, 'cause getting ticketed isn't fun.
3. COPMOBA and the BLM deserve huge kudos for establishing the Kokopelli Trail, so this race will honor them in some fashion (TBD).
   
4. The first race will occur in 2012.
5. I will establish a site that provides more details in the next few months.
6. I welcome input and suggestions, especially the positive and creative variety!

Cheers!

Kokopelli Trail Race?

A few years ago, I came across a thread about the Kokopelli Trail Race (KTR), a 148-mile self-supported mountain bike race along the entire length of the Kokopelli Trail. Unfortunately, I discovered that it had been shut down by the BLM because the racers didn’t get approval and a permit. This was obviously very contentious, in large part because the race wasn’t a conventionally-organized race with sponsors, entry fees, etc. It was really nothing more than a group (ok, a group of 50 or so) of riders who just put a date on the calendar and headed out for a competitive ride. Apparently the BLM was unable or unwilling to distinguish between a commercial event and a small informal “disorganized” race, and at least one ticket was handed out. Since then, the “race” has taken place in one form or another, often by solo riders reporting ITT times. There have been some small groups out there as well, but only those in the know have been able to participate.

In October of 2009, I contacted the BLM about a running a legal KTR. Turns out that the requirements were relatively limited and seemingly easy to address. In a nutshell, the BLM needed a little paperwork (which requires several months of lead time), an insurance policy (surprisingly cheap), and a relatively minor detour around a few miles of trail outside of Fruita (mostly to facilitate parking at a more "hardened" area). I estimated that everything could be covered by about $30/rider, although I have forgotten the exact amount. The BLM guy that I spoke to seemed sincerely excited and supportive of the idea, and offered to personally help expedite paperwork, etc.

I didn’t proceed beyond the initial inquiry though, for a number of reasons. One was that many Kokopelli Trail Race veterans didn’t want to draw attention to the event, out of reasonable fear that the BLM would hide in the bushes and hand out tickets again. The other was it seemed stupid to essentially commercialize the KTR just to fulfill the BLM’s expectations of what constituted an allowable race—after all, one of the joys of the current ultra-racing ethos is the utter lack of glitz, glamor, money, and corporate meddling. Lastly, I caught a lot flack on bikepacking.net for opening what turned out to be a volatile can of worms.

In hindsight, I think that a lot of the vitriol expressed on bikepacking.net is fairly reflective of the tensions that exist between land-use agencies and land users in general. Every member of the public feels that their use of public lands should be allowed because they are the "public." Miners, ranchers, hunters, hikers, birders, ATVers, mountain bikers, river runners, etc. all want to do their thing without any regulations or unwelcome intrusions from other users, and they get pretty bent when they are told that they can't. On the other side, those who manage public lands are under continual attack from pretty much every side, and it gets especially heated when one type of land use interferes with another. They end up circling the wagons and hiding behind their desks, which I think is pretty understandable (if annoying) considering the circumstances. In practical terms, this means that they generally fall back on the legal regulations that have been hammered out after years of turmoil. In the case of the KTR (in its current low-profile, DIY style), the event simply doesn't fit the regulations very well--so the BLM didn’t know what to do with it, therefore they stick it into the best-fitting basket that seems relevant. In this case, that means treating it like a commercial race, which is an imperfect fit. Then, of course, people get angry because they feel (not without just cause) that the rules are clumsy, stupid, and capricious--and everyone gets testy until the cows come home.

Despite the acrimony, my interest in the KTR hasn’t waned. This year, I’m planning on through-riding the route in one shot with a couple of friends. We’re definitely not racing, rather just seeing what it’s like to ride for 148 miles without stopping. Although two of us completed the Colorado Trail Race last year, all of us are still pretty much newbies who are just looking for a demanding adventure.

If I successfully complete the ride, I suspect that the desire to race it will be just that much stronger. So, the question is, should I attempt to work with the BLM to start a “legitimate” KTR in 2012? Would I just face a huge time-suck and a mountain of grief? Or would it be possible to hold an event that retains the DIY spirit of ultra-racing, while enabling a bunch of riders to enjoyably race the KTR without being chased through the desert at midnight by BLM staffers?

I really don’t know the answers to these questions yet, but that’s why I’m posting it on my blog. I’m eager to hear what people have to say—although I would sincerely appreciate it if people tried to maintain a civil tone.

Colorado Trail Guidebook and Waypoints Updated!

Last year, I purchased the excellent Colorado Trail waypoints from Bear Creek Survey. In addition to uploading the file to my GPS, I also added them to my printed maps. Combined with Stefan's excellent track files, it was pretty cool to have so much information available at the touch of a button (and the turn of a page).

In light of the new Colorado Trail Guidebook (and presumably Data Book) coming out in a bit, I checked with Bear Creek to see if the waypoint file is also changing--and indeed it is. New files should be available to purchase in a "couple of weeks."

Information on the updated Colorado Trail Guidebook:
http://www.shop.coloradotrail.org/NEW-Official-Guidebook-of-the-CTF-8th-Edition-GUIDE8.htm

Bear Creek Survey:
http://www.bearcreeksurvey.com/

While on the subject of spending money: If you are planning on riding the CTR this summer, please make a donation to the Colorado Trail Foundation. The trail is an amazing resource, and the Foundation could really use some extra cash to buy new tools, chainsaw oil, etc. Compared the the money that we spend on bikes, gear, food, etc., donating $50-100 to maintain the trail is a bargain!
http://www.coloradotrail.org/

Panniers for 2011?

EDIT, August 4, 2011: Panniers with a full-suspension bike SUCK! While they worked well my old solid hard-tail, they made the rear triangle of my new full-suspension Cannondale RZ 120 wag, wiggle, and sway like a bowl full of Jell-o. Time to move to a rackless setup!

With the Colorado Trail Race still seven months away, it seems sort of silly to be organized my gear already. But long, cold, dark nights lend themselves to contemplation. Further, I can save a fair bit of money by watching for sales over the course of the next few months, rather than buying stuff at the last moment.

Having completed the CTR last year, I have a better idea of what worked and what didn’t, so this year I’m mostly fine-tuning my choices rather than starting from scratch. Last year’s gear certainly worked well enough, but I’m aiming to cut a little weight for 2011, in hopes of riding a little faster.

The biggest conundrum I’m facing is whether to ride with panniers again, or to move to "modern" racing bags. Of the forty riders who showed up last year, I was the only guy with "retro" rear panniers—which made me feel just a little conspicuous! It didn’t help that several people that I met along the way wondered if I was "one of those racers, or just out for a tour."

The truth is that I liked my panniers. They were incredibly convenient. But I’m worried that I’m missing something that the other 39 riders know about. So, to help me figure out what to do, I’ve been writing up the pros and cons of panniers versus new-style gear:

Pannier advantages:

1. No heavy pack. Without panniers, it’s not possible to put everything on the bike (especially on my Cannondale RZ 120, which doesn’t have much room for a frame bag). Even with huge seat bags and handlebar bags, most racers seem to carry fairly heavy/bulky packs. This is the biggest reason that I’m considering using panniers--I really don’t want to ride with a top-heavy, arm-cramping, back-destroying, and butt abusing pack! A simple and light hydration pack is OK, and it even helps provide some protection in the event of a hard crash.
2. “Fluffy” food is easier to carry. While re-supplying in Buena Vista, I discovered a box of Poppycock at City Market. It fit right into my roomy panniers, along with a roll of bagels. Yum.
3. Lower center of gravity. Panniers make it possible to carry heavy stuff nice and low, thereby improving bike handling.
4. Easier organization (especially with a rack bag). Rather than have to cram everything into super-compressed frame bags, panniers make it easy to organize and access food, clothing, etc. A dry bag on top of the rack also makes a convenient pantry, shrinking and growing as vittles are consumer and replenished.
5. Pannier dry bags are DRY! Last year, I used Pacific Outdoor Equipment dry-bag panniers. With just a roll and a clip, everything stayed nice and dry. No covers required. Very nice! Yes, some seat bags have dry-bag inserts, but then they start getting heavier.
   

Pannier disadvantages:

1. Weight. Yes, panniers (and a rack to hang them on) are heavy. About three additional pounds (edit: with lighter panniers, the difference is closer to two pounds), in total--which seems like a lot when otherwise counting every gram. How much extra energy is required to move three (two) pounds over 500 miles of trail—not to mention 60,000 vertical feet? Is it worth it to avoid carrying a large pack?
2. Wide load. When slipping between tight boulders and trees, I couldn’t help feel a little thick in the rear. Not a horrible problem on the CTR, but occasionally distracting.
3. Unbalanced. While it didn’t bother me as much as I expected, panniers make for a heavy-ended bike. Spreading the weight around would be nice. On the flip side, panniers have a lower center of gravity, which is nice. Maybe smaller panniers combined with a smallish handlebar bag would provide the best of both worlds?
4. Overkill capacity. With large panniers, the temptation to carry enormous quantities of gear may be an issue. But all it takes is a little willpower to avoid carrying the kitchen sink. My gear ended up weighing about the same as most racers’, maybe a bit less than average.
5. Wind resistance. My commuter bike has panniers, and on windy days I feel like I’m dragging a parachute. Not bad for training, but not great for getting to work on time. Wind drag isn’t much of a problem on the CTR though.
6. Hitting legs while walking. This did drive me a little crazy on a few of the longer hike-a-bike sections, although I did get used to it. The bags that I used in 2010 were pretty thick (9+ inches). Thinner panniers would be nice, and Ortlieb makes a nice pair of 5.5”-wide dry-bag panniers...
7. Rack durability. I haven’t broken a rack, but many people have. OMM racks seem pretty tough.
8. Panniers look dorky. Bright green love handles? Ah, who cares!

At this point, I’m leaning toward panniers and a handlebar bag for 2011. Perhaps a pair of smaller Ortlieb Front Roller Pluses mounted to an OMM rack, and an Ortlieb dry bag strapped to the bars? Probably time to start sorting, measuring, and weighing everything to see how many cubic inches I actually need. Only six more months to mull this over!

There are a couple of good threads over at bikepacking.net about panniers and carrying gear. Note that when people post photos of their setups, they often omit the pack!
http://www.bikepacking.net/forum/index.php/topic,697.0.html
http://www.bikepacking.net/forum/index.php/topic,385.0.html

Colorado Trail Race Gear (2010)

Edit: my newer setup for 2012 can be found here.

In preparation for the Colorado Trail Race in 2010, I spent months tweaking my gear list. I didn't want to carry a lot of extra stuff, but I also didn't want to end up leaving behind something important. While I've had a decent amount of experience with selecting gear for backpacking and mountaineering, the requirements for ultra-light bikepacking are somewhat different.

There are a number of great resources on the web that helped immensely. Some generous riders have posted their gear lists, which provided an excellent starting point. There are also some superb ultra-light backpacking sites that have good ideas for saving weight, many of which are applicable to bikepacking. Probably the best site on the web is www.bikepacking.net.

My final list ended up being pretty extensive, and therefore a little heavy. But I decided that I'd rather risk carrying too much than too little, especially in light of my relative inexperience.

Probably the most "contrary" equipment choice that I made was to ride with panniers. Very few racers use panniers anymore, instead choosing to use seat bags, frame bags, handlebar slings, and lightweight backpacks. But I didn't want to carry much more than water on my back, and most racers seem to carry pretty large packs because it's difficult to fit everything on a bike. On the plus side, panniers are incredibly flexible and easy to load/unload. On the downside, they tended to whack my legs when walking--and they weigh a couple of extra pounds. I was worried that they would stick out and hit trees, etc., but that was never a problem. Some people also warned me that panniers would unbalance my bike, but I honestly didn't notice them much. See this post for more thoughts on panniers.

For my next CTR attempt in 2011, I'll be re-thinking my entire kit, including whether to use panniers again. I now have a much better idea of what gear I really didn't need, so I'll easily drop a few pounds. With luck, next year will be drier, and I won't feel compelled to add a bunch of extra warm clothing at the last moment like I did for 2010!

Here's my CTR 2010 gear list. While overkill, I did manage to finish the race--and I never worried about being cold or being unprepared. I'll post my 2011 list when I get it sorted out.

Clothing
helmet
helmet visor
fingerless bike gloves
warm gloves
helmet liner/hat
bike shorts (2 pairs)
short-sleeve bike jersey (2)
heavy-weight long-sleeve bike jersey
mid-weight fleece pullover
rain jacket & hood
rain pants
leg warmers
long underwear
wool socks (two pairs)
down jacket

For Toby
sunglasses
lip balm
sunscreen
chamois cream
extra contact lenses
contact solution
contact case
glasses
asthma inhaler
small bottle of alcohol
toothbrush & toothpaste
dental floss

Navigation
GPS (Vista HCx)
Spot
maps
compass
speedometer

Gear
panniers
hydration pack
feed bag
camera
batteries for all gadgets (GPS, headlamp, HRM, camera)
headlamp
Velcro headlamp straps
rite-in-the-rain pad
waterproof pen
travel wallet
cash ($100)
credit card
cell phone & batteries
cell phone box
bandannas (3)
watch
hear-rate monitor strap
bike lights (front and back)
small leatherman tool

Camping
sleeping bag
pad
bivy bag
TP & shovel
wet wipes
big Ziploc bags
small Ziploc bags
extra straps
water bottle

Nutrition
electrolyte pills
vitamins
Aquamira water purification drops
7,000 to 5,000 calories/day

First Aid
Benedryl
Tylenol
gauze
athletic tape
tweezers
NoDoze
Allegra
Tums
whistle
tick picker
oral thermometer
band aids
safety pins
antibiotic cream
lighter

Repair Kit
random extra bolts
3 extra chain links & quick links
super glue
derailleur hanger (2)
tire boot
brake pads (6 sets)
spare tube (2)
tube patch kit
zip ties
string/cord
wrench
cleats & bolts
extra pannier clip
quick stick
spare derailleur cable
needle and thread
safety pins
pump
spokes
duct tape
grease rag
Thermarest patch kit

If anyone has any specific questions about brands, models, etc., please feel to post questions in the comments section.

Thoughts on Quitting During the Colorado Trail Race

Going into the CTR (see this post), I gave myself 50% odds of completing it successfully, which is about the historic percentage of riders who have succeeded. There are many things that can lead to unqualified failure, such as a bike-destroying crash or broken bones. But many people have quit the CTR in past years for less obvious reasons. In the months leading up to the race, I put a lot of thought into my reasons for attempting it, in hopes that such clarity would help motivate me when faced with the seemingly inevitable desire to bail that so many riders seem to experience.

In the end, I didn’t quit. But I did think about it a number of times, and in different ways. Some were fairly obvious, while others walloped me out of left field. Being the analytical geek that I am, I decided to write down the experiences, including what happened and how I overcame them. As I learn more about racing, I’m sure that I’ll be learning more about the psychology of quitting, but here are my initial thoughts.

Expected reason for quitting #1: This race is too hard for me

Before the race, I was concerned that I would I discover somewhere along the ride that I wasn’t strong enough to make it to Durango. I imagined that such a realization would hit me on one of the grueling climbs, when I was most exhausted. There I’d be: Nothing but a weeping lactic-acid stain on the trail discovered by some amused hiker.

Oddly, this never happened. The day that I climbed over the Ten Mile range was, as I wrote in my log, “soul crushing.” Yet I never considered bailing then—or during any of the other hard spots. The physical struggles always seemed to give me purpose, and to enhance my motivation. Several times, it helped to recall my wife's parting words: "You're a bad-ass, and you can do this." Bad-ass or not, it helped to have someone else believing in me!

I also need to give credit to David Goldberg, an accomplished ultra-distance athlete, for helping me avoid this one. A couple of days before the race, Dave told me, with the greatest intensity and seriousness, to eat all the time. I did, and I never bonked once. I also wore a heart-rate monitor, and kept my heart rate at a manageable level throughout the race.

Expected reason for quitting #2: I’m not having any fun

I’ve read about this one in many ultra-racing blogs. Often relatively early in long races, some people just quit, seemingly without any significant reasons. They often stated that they weren't having any fun, and that the whole endeavor seemed rather pointless and stupid.

This one was the most insidious of all, largely because it’s very logical and rational. It first hit me as I was riding though the Coney/Cataract section, which is a stunningly beautiful part of Colorado. The massively ragged San Juan peaks are surrounded by delicate tundra and crisscrossed by burbling mountain streams. The sun was out, and I was warm and toasty—and I started thinking about how much fun it would be to share such a special place with my wife and son. Rushing through such beauty, often alone and sometimes in the dark, for so many days on end, suddenly seeming idiotic and selfish. Wouldn’t it be more fun to take the time to smell the proverbial roses and share the experience with those who I most love? It’s a fair question, and it led me down a dangerous path: If this isn’t fun anymore, and I’m supposed to be having fun, then maybe I should quit and go backpacking with my family.

I fought this one off by reminding myself that the CTR was mostly fun—but that over the course of a week, there will undoubtedly be times when something else would be more fun. Rather than dwell on the moment, it became important to look at the complete experience and to acknowledge that my family would still be there when I finished the CTR, and that we could enjoy the mountains together when I returned. Indeed, the struggle through Cataract motivated me to take an early-fall trip to Canyonlands National Park with my family.

Expected reason for quitting #3: My body is falling apart

There’s no doubt that the CTR took a toll on my body. By day six, little cuts on my hands and feet started getting infected. My left heel was starting to really hurt on hike-a-bike sections. My throat and tongue were so raw that it hurt to swallow and eat. Especially on descents, my neck and back cramped and burned. And my butt—well, my butt hurt in so many ways that I don’t want to talk about it! It was pretty clear that my body couldn’t go on forever.

I didn’t overcome this one lightly. Instead, I sat down and took stock of all my physical issues. I figured that nothing was presenting an immediate threat to my health or ability to keep moving, but that the infections might develop into something more serious if I didn’t sort them out soon. So I took some extra time in Silverton to grab a hot & soapy shower—and then to rip open every infection, scrub it out with soap and alcohol, and then pack it with antibiotic ointment. I also stopped in a Laundromat and washed my clothes with bleach. Fortunately, this seemed to work. In short, I had to remind myself that unless I was in danger of death of permanent injury, there was no reason to stop. Taking time every day to evaluate and/or treat emerging ailments helped me determine what needed attention, and what could be safely ignored.

Unexpected reason for quitting #1: What if I quit?

This one seemed to rear its little head more often than I ever imagined. It was never terribly serious, but it was incredibly irritating. Every hour or so, regardless of whether I was flying down some fantastic singletrack or slogging through mud in the rain, a little voice would ask, “What if I quit?” The answer was usually, “What the hell for? Everything is fine. Go away.” And it would go away—until it popped back up again just down the trail, for absolutely no reason.

I’m still not sure how to completely resolve this one. It’s like playing whack-a-mole: I just kept whacking away and focusing on something else.

Unexpected Reason for Quitting #2: Laziness

On about day three, I found myself lying in a warm aspen grove, eating a bagel with Nutella, and thinking that I didn’t want to get back on my bike. Nothing hurt and I wasn’t having an existential crisis. I wasn’t even really thinking or feeling much. I was simply zoned out and extremely comfortable and unmotivated. While it’s kind of amusing to imagine being overwhelmed with pure laziness in the middle of a bike race, that’s what happened.

Fortunately, my inertia was overcome when another rider caught up to me. We chatted for a bit, and with his encouragement I begrudgingly got back on my bike—and wobbled along for a good hour before the fog lifted and my motivation returned. (Thanks Andy Farish!) I was hit by similar episodes of laziness several times in the race, and they always evaporated once I started rolling again. The trick was to not worry about it or get worked up, just to start moving before I started to sprout roots.

Conclusion

I expect that next year’s race(s) will reveal more on this topic, as different races and different objectives will reveal different pressures. But at least I can add some “unexpected” reasons for wanting to quit to the “expected” column—and thereby have better plans for dealing with them. Hopefully I'll never quit a race for a reason that I later regret!

Can anyone ride the Colorado Trail Race?

When people first hear about the Colorado Trail Race, they often assume that the racers must be mutant super humans. At least that was my first thought after reading about it. After all, who can ride almost 500 miles and climb almost 70,000 feet in a week?

The truth is that some of the riders are indeed mutants! Riding the CTR in 4-5 days is an incredible feat of physical and psychological endurance. But, after finishing the CTR myself, the truth is that almost anyone who takes the time to develop a few strengths and abilities can complete the race in about a week. It’s a difficult and committing experience, but it is within reach of most mortals.

While finished quickly requires more talent, training, and planning, here’s what I think that it takes to finish in 7-9 days:

1. Good aerobic capacity. Riding (and sometimes walking) a fully-loaded mountain bike 60-80 miles per day, often above 10,000-11,000 feet in elevation, is going to raise your heart rate. The race isn’t a sprint though, but more of an all-day slog. Most of my training was road-bike commuting, and I averaged about 19-21 MPH over 34 miles (with panniers) on training rides. I also ran a fair bit, and averaged 7:20-minute miles for 4-8 miles on my runs. I trained 3-6 days a week for about a year. With limited time for training, I included a lot of intervals (fartleks mostly) into my workouts.
2. Good high-altitude genes. I live at about 5,000 feet, and I didn’t spend any time acclimating to the higher altitudes of the CTR. Fortunately, I’ve always been strong when the air gets thin—and I’ve never been altitude sick. If your genes aren’t great, a little acclimation goes a long way!
3. Good mechanical skills. If your bike breaks, you’ll need to fix it. While there are bikes shops in Leadville and Buena Vista for major repairs, you’ll need to be able to get there first. Knowing how to replace broken brake & derailleur cables, replace spokes, etc. will keep you rolling. Rolling is much faster than walking. I completely re-built my bike before the race (except the Headshock), which helped me familiarize myself with how everything worked and which repair tools and parts I should pack. As an added benefit, I like to think that one reason that I didn’t have any mechanical issues was because I prepped my bike myself.
4. Good mountain-living skills. Experience with long-distance backpacking and/or overnight mountaineering is very useful. You’ll need to be comfortable slogging all day through the rain, sleeping in a bivy bag or micro tent, and then doing it again every night for a week.
   
5. Decent navigational skills. While the Colorado Trail is generally well marked, it is crisscrossed with a bewildering network of trails and roads. In some places, such as Coney’s, there isn’t much of a trail at all—and riding it in the dark would be nearly impossible without a GPS. Getting lost is bad. You’ll need to be able to use a GPS (including loading waypoints and tracks), read a map, and follow rough and obscure trails.
6. Reasonable bike handling skills. Much of the ride is extremely technical, with miles of rock gardens, talus, steep climbs and descents, muddy singletrack, scary side-cut trails, etc. But if you don’t mind being slow, you can walk the sketchy parts—which is what I did. Hopefully I’ll be able ride more next year (especially if I get a new full-suspension bike).
7. A durable bike. I rode the CTR on a 1994 Cannondale Delta V 700. It did have some major upgrades such as new wheels and brakes, but it’s certainly a far cry from today’s carbon fiber full-suspension trail-eating machines. But my bike was tough and able to take a beating for 500 miles without falling apart.
8. Proper lightweight gear. I’ll post my gear list in a bit (and you can find several other CTR gear lists on the web). After function, the overriding considerations are weight and bulk. Every extra pound really adds up when you’re powering your bike up 10,000+ vertical feet per day. Of course, the lighter the gear, the lighter your wallet. When asked how much his gear weighed, one CTR rider responded with, “I stopped weighing it once I couldn’t afford to buy anything more!”
9. Perseverance. Assuming that your frame doesn’t break (and maybe even if it does!), the most important characteristic that you’ll need to finish the CTR is perseverance. The CTR will beat you down, and you’ve got to have enough bull-headed stubbornness to deal with the adversities on the trail and press ahead. You will want to quit, and your brain will start providing all sorts of reasonable justifications (see this post)—but with enough psychological strength you can stay positive and keep moving. See my previous blog post on this topic for more thoughts on this.
10. Good luck. Good planning can help reduce the odds that some bad luck will knock you out of the race (for example, enough warm clothes will help if you have some unlucky weather), but sometimes fate will win in the end. I’m not terribly superstitious, so I simply tried to plan for bad luck, and then cheered any good luck that came along.
11. A supportive partner (if you’re attached). Training, planning, preparing, executing, and recovering will be an all-consuming affair for months. My wife was (and still is!) incredibly supportive and understanding, which was helpful beyond words.
12. Good character. One rider was disqualified from the CTR this year. The first time that this has ever happened. Among other things, he hitchhiked around a tough section of the route. People like that shouldn’t even bother to show up.

So, there you have it. If you’re up for a personal challenge, and you’ve got time to train, plan, and prepare, then go for it!

Psychological Challenges

I've been asked by a few people how I managed to deal physiologically with riding the Colorado Trail Race. It's a good question, and one that I thought about a lot before even lining up to start. While there are a number of things that could have ended my ride regardless of how psychologically prepared I was (a broken frame or bones, for example), the CTR was largely a mental game for me--as it is for most riders. Here's a list of stuff that kept me going, not in any specific order:

1. Stay safe, focus on not crashing or breaking gear.
2. Eat and drink lots and often. Forward motion requires calories, so keep them coming--even when wanting to barf more than eat.
   
3. Don’t get emotional when things don’t align with expectations—just adapt and move on.
4. Listen to my body, and try to figure out what it needs and what it doesn’t.
5. Maintain some forward motion, even when “resting”—even if that means just walking.
6. Deal with small issues before they become big issues (blisters, getting cold, mechanical problems, etc.)
7. Don’t get overwhelmed by the many small pains and maladies like blisters, saddle sores, swollen hand & feet, tired legs, multiple infections on hands & feet, trashed shins, etc.
8. Don’t get scared about things that I’m prepared for, like snow, hail, etc.—even if it looks like crap.
9. Believe in myself, and embrace the encouragement of others. Right before I started riding, Alix (my wife) told me that I could do it because I was a "bad-ass." Amazing how much her words helped at times!
10. Ignore the negativity of others. That includes naysayers beforehand and anyone whining on the trail.
    
11. Have a good time, and focus on all of the positive things about riding a bike through 485 miles of one of the more beautiful places in the world.

Overall, I was happy with my mental performance except for on the last day. My body was getting beat to pieces, and I just wanted to finish already—which made me think about finishing more than just riding. As I result, my focus diminished and I crashed twice—fortunately not too hard.

I'm not planning on changing much for next year, although I hope to ride two days faster. I will train harder, especially my upper body. I will carry a little less gear, and I'd like to have a better bike with full suspension. Knowing the route and having a better idea of what can be ridden quickly and what can't, where to get water, how much food to carry, etc. will help a lot.