Vapor Trail 125; After 8 Months It All Comes Down to This

The thing that makes a person a truly dear friend is the willingness to exercise their right to tell you like it is, to hold no punches, to tell you the things you don’t want to hear but must.  “Yes, your butt does look big those pants.”  “No, I don’t think that girl will go home with you.” “Uhm, that tattoo is spelled wrong.”  Well, Reilly is that friend and a bit less than a year ago he told me the god’s honest truth; “Alex, you need to race Vapor next year.”  Damn you Reilly, I hate it when you’re right.(which, for the record, is often)

Because this event is so tough, so demanding, you can’t simply pay your entry fee, show-up and race.  You have to apply, you’ve gotta prove your worth.  To that end I had to build my resume and earn a place next to the other sixty-or-so bad-ass cyclists who would roll to the line for the 9th annual Vapor Trail 125.

Since Reilly threw that gauntlet upon the ground, the Vapor Trail 125 has defined my riding and determined my life’s path for the past eight months.  Spending the winter and early spring in the Chihuahuan Desert of south-west Texas, there were innumerable hours spent riding deep within one of the Earth’s harshest environments.  In January of this year I raced the 50 mile Puzzler in El Paso, TX.  It was tough, damn tough.  It was just the beginning.

In June I came to Salida, Colorado to train at high elevation, to ride some of the most punishing–yet glorious–trails in America.  I would spend countless hours on both the road bike and the mountain bike, climbing huge mountain passes and flying down the other side.  There were many miles spent pushing my bike up hills too steep, too rocky, too tough to pedal.  There were days my legs screamed and my back felt like it was breaking.  There were plenty of the proverbial blood, sweat and tears.  I rode with friends old and new but also spent many miles trudging along alone, the call of the Vapor Trail demanding that I push just a little bit harder.  Last month, I raced the iconic Leadville Trail 100; it was challenging but it was still just a training ride.  A couple weeks ago was the Durango Death Ride…and it nearly killed me, literally.  But, like every warrior will tell you, it is better to sweat in times of peace than bleed in times of war.

Everything I’ve done for the past eight months comes down to this.  After all those miles, after all those mountain passes, single-track trails and sore legs, the time has come.  There is no more training, no more planning.  There is nothing left to do but put on my helmet, steady my breathing and start pedalling.  Today, is race day.

Goal number one is simply to finish, which in itself will be a great accomplishment.  My second goal is to finish in under nineteen hours; I’m still trying to grasp what it means to be on the bike that long.  And, just between you and I, my ultimate “in a perfect world” goal would be to finish near sixteen hours, but I really don’t think that will happen.

Regardless of how long it takes there is one thing that matters most, that is essential to any definition of success; having a good time.  Because really, all this masochistic self-induced suffering aside, what’s truly important is the joy of cycling; being out there, on the trails, with friends, having fun.  And so, let the good times roll!

[since the organizers have requested we all carry a SPOT tracker, you’ll be able to track my progress here]

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