White Mountains 100

The White Mountains 100 race has been on my radar for a few years. It is a very popular race that takes place about 40 miles north of Fairbanks, AK in late March. This year (2017) the race took place on March 26th. Because it is so popular entry is by lottery. This year I decided to put my name in for the lottery -which took place in December 2016- and see if I get in. I did not get in, and was number 24 on the wait list. Needless to say, I thought there was no way I could get in.

Then in February this year (or maybe late January) I managed to mess up my ribs, which didn't particularly help with my riding or training for any event. Out of shape as I was, I figured I'd just do the Trio in Talkeetna -a 60 mile race on some sweet singletrack followed by a great party. The Thursday before the Trio (March 9th) my friend Tim told me that he had just gotten into the WM100 and that I would probably get in too  as they only had two or three more people ahead of me on the wait list. At the post-Trio party the topic of the WM100 wait list came up and I said "if I get invited I'll do the race." Yes, I still thought there was no way I would get in.

Monday after the Trio (March 13) I get a text message from my friend Tony saying "you are in! you are in!" but I never got an email with the formal invitation to the WM100. The day after I emailed the race director and said that I had never received the email inviting but I wanted in, so I was put on the official roster March 15(in retrospect, this minor hiccup was a sign of things to come). Twelve days to train for a hundred miler, in the snow, with ~8,000ft of climbing. I got this...

Inspired by the inimitable Jill Fucking Simek, I immediately got on with my 12 day training plan (essentially going on a couple rides with some extra gear hanging from my bike) and left arrangements such as where to stay in Fairbanks before and after the race for the last minute because... well, that's how I roll. To continue with the theme started by the missing email, Tuesday before the race we found out my wife's car would not be out of the shop as expected. So I needed to find a ride to go to Fairbanks. On Saturday. No problem, by Thursday I had a plan ready which involved riding to Fairbanks with Tim K, and then back to Anchorage Monday with Rob C. I also managed to book a room at the Airbnb that Tim K was staying. My half assed WM100 attempt was taking shape. Was I panicking about what to bring with me for the race and whether my feet would freeze on the forecasted sub-zero weather? Why, yes I was!

Anyway, Saturday came and to Fairbanks we went. I can't thank Tim K enough for not only driving my sorry behind to Fairbanks, but also sharing his knowledge about the race and helping me figure out what to bring along -and stop fretting about it. Once in Fairbanks we went to the pre-race mandatory meeting where the race director commented on the unusual amount of people that had dropped out and allowed them to go through the entire wait list. Specially remarkable was the amount of Fairbanks bikers that had dropped... did they know something we didn't???

Sunday morning, early we went to Wickersham Dome Trail Head. The place where the race started, at mile 38 of the Elliot Highway (pretty much the middle of nowhere) There I was provided with a Spot Tracker and did the final check in. This was it, nothing left to do but ride a 100 miles! The weather was cold -about zero or so at the start- and expected to be colder on some of the valleys. But the forecast was for much warmer temperatures as the sun went up.

Eight o'clock and off we went. I'm always amused by the mad scramble that happens on the start of these endurance races. It is a 100 mile race, it will take the fastest people close to ten hours to finish -skiers and walkers 15 to 20 hours- but everybody has to sprint to be ahead, because those twenty seconds will make a difference... The race does start with a climb, and then more climbing. I quickly realized I was overdressed, and probably should have stopped to change layers earlier than I did as I was sweating. But overall I did swap layers at a reasonable point. The trail was relatively fast, but some snowmachines with paddle tracks had been on it and it was squirrely for the first 20 or 25 miles.

The first check point came quick, at mile 17. I stopped for a glass of gatorade and some water (one of my best decisions of the day) and kept going. I would like to point out that the first checkpoint is preceded by a steep, one mile climb, straight up. No turns, just one mile of grinding. A few of those on this race. Shortly after the checkpoint, I saw Tim K get off trail and do an endo. He was ok, so I kept going only to do the same a few hundred yards after. Like I said, it was squirrely.

Not too long after that, about mile 20 or 21, at the bottom of a hill my derailleur decided to throw the chain into the spokes. Dafu... As I tried to figure out what the heck was going on, several people passed me. Eventually Tony caught up with me and suggested it could be a bent hanger. I pulled on the derailleur and "cave maned" it into submission -or at least got it to where it would work without skipping too much. So 80 miles to go and a messy derailleur. Do I keep going or turn around? Did I mention that on this race if you have to be evacuated it would be $200? And I wouldn't catch a snowmachine ride back to the start until Monday afternoon? Decisions, decisions... Who am I kidding? the thought of turning around didn't last more than a second. I kept going.

And glad I did, the trail got smooth and fast not long after that. My drivetrain wasn't working great, but it was good enough. And it was starting to warm up. My jacket had frozen and turned to cardboard when I stopped but, meh... only a few miles to the next checkpoint at a warm cabin with baked potatoes. Then at mile 25 I tried to drink from my camelbak and found out the jacket wasn't the only thing frozen... Yep. Camelbak hose was frozen, which meant no water until the next checkpoint at mile 39. But remember the gatorade I got at checkpoint 1? At the speed I was going and having drank that water, I was pretty sure I'd be ok for water until the checkpoint. My strategy worked, and I made it to the cabin. Tony B was at the cabin too and asked how my day was going, "my derailleur is skipping and my camelbak froze. Other than that, is not going too bad." I ate my baked potato, drank some hot water and waited until my camelbak thawed out and then set off towards the Cache Mountain Divide. The highest point on the race.

The climb towards the Divide isn't too bad, a gradual ascent with some turns on it. At least it wouldn't be with a bike that can shift into the low gears. Mine did not want to do that. Another racer said he had had similar problems and had been able to bend his hanger back to where it would shift. I was afraid to keep tugging at the hanger, what if it finally snaps? So I climbed the divide on a taller gear than I should have. Made my way up along the spruce forest, out above tree line and got to the top. And then we descended. A glorious descent on a packed trail under a clear blue sky. Following the descent we got into the Ice Lakes, which were not icy but covered in snow. That was another super fun segment. Ridden on that direction, you have a 1 or 2 percent grade working for you, and with a smooth trail it made for fast sailing. I mean riding.

Following the lakes was some sweet trail through the woods, still mostly downhill as we kept shedding elevation. I got to checkpoint 3 as Tim K and a couple other friends were ready to leave. I was feeling good and figured I'd stop for a quick bowl of soup and then move on, see if I could catch up with them (also chasing a finish under twelve hours, which seemed feasible at the time) So in I went, opened my camelbak to see how much water I had. Ate my meatball soup (seriously, the checkpoints are the best on this race. They had baked potatoes on one and freaking soup on this one!) As I was getting ready to leave I noticed water where all  my gear was... uh, oh... long story short: I didn't close my camelbak bladder properly and it had leaked. So my quick stop lasted an extra ten minutes as I tried to dry the darned thing so I wouldn't freeze my butt.

My disappointment from the wasted time quickly faded away, as the trail continued to be amazingly fun. And fast. I made pretty good time to the next, and last, checkpoint at mile 80. The Borealis Cabin. I decided to have a really short stop at this checkpoint because I still had a (slim) chance to make it to the finish under 12hrs. I left the checkpoint at about 5:30 pm, that left me with 2:30 hours to finish -or an average speed of 8mph for the last 19 miles. Ambitious, yes, but not impossible.

After the Borealis cabin you descend just a bit more, to the lowest (and coldest) spot on the route, and then it is pretty much all uphill. With some serious climbs and the looming threat of The Wall on the horizon. The (in)famous Wichersham Wall, a nasty, steep climb about 7 miles from the finish line. Being a rookie, I had never climbed that but I had heard that it was nasty (spoiler alert: it was). I kept making my way towards it, alternating between "I'd be lucky if I finish under 13hrs" and "I'm going to be under 12" as I went along. At mile 90 there is an aid station, some volunteers with water, Coke, and snacks. It is not a mandatory stop, but I decided that some caffeine would be a good idea before The Wall. So I stopped for a glass of Coke. The volunteers there, like every other one that day, were super-friendly, full of smiles and cheers. A huge thank you to all of them.

Then, seven miles from the finish I hit the wall. Literally and figuratively. Another racer just in front of me was able to ride half or more of The Wickersham Wall. Without access to my lowest gear (remember my skippy derailleur?) I had to walk the whole thing. And all the effort trying to finish under 12 hours caught up with me. Or maybe I didn't eat enough as I pushed my bike up, and the temperature started to drop. I don't know. All I can say is that the push up The Wall and the six miles that followed were hard. Really hard and slow. But then I got to the last downhill, and cruised towards the finish line crossing it with a finish time of  12:23. They rang the bell and gave me my finisher's belt buckle. No, I didn't break 12 hours, but finishing under 12:30 isn't bad considering that two weeks before the race I wasn't even going to do it, and I had to fight a malfunctioning derailleur for 80 miles.

All things done, I had a great time and I will do this race again. The course is nothing short of spectacular, and the event is incredibly well run. From the race-provided GPS trackers, to the food and supplies at the checkpoints, medical team on the course, and warm trailers for the racers to relax after they are done. Next year I'll be putting my name in for the lottery again. And no matter where I end on the wait list, I will be training for it.