Hotter'N Hell 100

Team Snorting Bull Photography streaked across the Texas landscape in a big blue and white blur reminiscent of the heyday of the US Postal Service Team.   It was a sight impressive enough to move thousands of other cyclists to their right.  Nobody that wasn't wearing the Bull on their shirt wanted a piece of the "Pain Train."   Well, that was true for a few miles of the ride, anyway.  Let me back up.

When I was first diagnosed with cancer, the obvious concern is life and death.  Once past that, you move into what the next year is going to look like.  When my schedule of chemo and radiation were laid out for me, it initially looked as though radiation was going to interfere with this event.  Let me back up even further.

Team Snorting Bull is basically a group of friends from all over the United States with a common interest in cycling and a much more loose interest in jeep vehicles.  The Hotter'N Hell 100 is like our Super Bowl event.  This century event is somewhat conveniently located in the middle of the United States, making it feasible for us to come from Texas, Colorado, California, North Carolina, New Mexico, and even Alaska, and it has become a tradition for us.

In the meantime, this group of folks has served as a tremendous source of support for me while going through the roller coaster that is Hodgkin's.  As perverted as it sounds, one of my first thoughts in my very first oncology office visit was, "Oh (swear word), now I can't race in Texas with the guys."  Not kidding.  I remember emailing them that night after my bone marrow biopsy stating I was out.  That was it.  Not only was I out, but I was especially out on the Triple Threat.  The Triple Threat combines a mountain bike race and half marathon trail run with the 100 mile ride, to win the greatest award in sport: the coveted triple threat log.  Last year, a handful of us thought it would be a great idea to go for all three.

This team is smarter than I am:  They didn't buy that I was out.  They accepted things, but held out judgment in the hopes that it could come together anyway.  It did, and they were right.  I'm still a little shocked that this came together, but thankful doesn't describe the appreciation I have that it did.

As you can imagine, a weekend like this produces far more stories than can be shared on a blog.  Even more, many of the stories are sort of insider.  It is worth mentioning the weekend's triumphs however.

Thursday night, the team gave me a bike that they made for me.  Expect this to be the next blog post, update: found here.

Friday night was our mountain bike race.  I did it on the HiFi.  Three friends did it on Cyclocross bikes in an attempt to prove a :onebike: theory, and as part of the triple threat.   Unfortunately, some dude took out Charles in a crash a quarter mile in.  Crashed out, he went back.  The two others did complete this mountain bike course on cross bikes.  This video and this website and yet another website do a decent job of giving you a picture of the trail.  Here are three teammates at the starting line.

And here three of us are coming up on the finish line.

All I'll say about this was that other than losing a teammate, it was a fun ride, although we certainly didn't have the best times on the course.  Not even close, in fact.  Saturday was the actual HHH.   What does 13,000 riders look like?

It looks like a never-ending rainbow, to be honest.  It took 44 minutes to clear the start line.  In this picture you can actually spot Team Snorting Bull.  I'm fairly obvious due to the long sleeves I'm wearing for sun protection.  By this point pictured, two of the three triple threat challengers were eliminated, this one due to a timing technicality.  We had but one hope left.

Our team goal is typically 4 hours and 44 minutes.  It seemed unlikely this year due to the Friday night injury, lack of training due to lymphoma, and some fairly bad luck.  By mile 8 we had two flats already.  In that time we got to watch many of those 13,000 folks pass us.   How do you recover from something like this?  By passing one rider at a time.   Sadly, we got to pass many of them several times.  We got caught behind an accident, and 4 of us had to actually walk about a quarter of a mile.  We then got caught behind a train, and had to sit a few minutes.  Later, we were much slower at our planned rest station stop (mile 50).

Hell's Gate closes at 12:30.  If you don't make the gate, you ride 85 miles.  Typically we fly past that with several hours of padding.   This year, we cut it a little closer, but had plenty of time.

The temperature was well into the 90s at Hell's Gate.  Believe it or not, that's lucky for Wichita Falls, TX and this event.  If you've never ridden a century in long sleeves, well, consider yourself lucky.  (Truthfully, it wasn't that bad).

It was around this time that we recalled the "outlaw" mile 95 rest stop.  This one is at a bar offering free beer for riders.   We never stop in an attempt to reach our goal and an attempt to keep our sports nutrition down.  By now we were so far off our goal due to everything that had happened, it seemed logical to stop.  With any luck, we'll never be on such a slow overall pace again.

This is one of my favorite pictures from the weekend.  Team Red Cup!  I have no idea what they were serving, but cold beer never went down so fast.  I really should have had them fill my bottle so I could nurse another one the last 5 miles.

In the end, I was proud to have finished this ride with such minimal training.  I was fueled by some FRS, and some Larabars and Honey Stingers but mostly I was fueled by the excitement that only a cancer survivor who just finished chemo can understand.

That evening was our traditional fajita dinner graciously provided by Greg and his crew from Texas.  Delicious as always, and I look forward to it all year.

Sunday morning was the trail run.  Our last hope was exhausted and sore, but determined.  Actually, I'm not even sure if determined is a strong enough word to describe Erik's efforts.   The evening before, a few of the Texas crew who didn't know him as well had doubts, but Charles, Jon, Greg, and myself knew there was nothing that was going to separate Erik from his trophy.  And he was successful.  This is what a log winner looks like.

I could not have been more pleased with his success.  He came down from Alaska, rode two events on a bike he built himself, and finished the half marathon to win the log.  The card he is holding is a free entry for two events next year, since his story is so remarkable.  In the meantime, Team Snorting Bull is working on getting the Wichita Falls newspaper to take a human-interest submission on this.

Despite all the bad luck, I consider the weekend a success.  Charles was injured worse than he thought, but he managed to squeeze out 100 miles with a few fractures, like our own version of Jens.  Erik got his log.  Greg and Erik proved the :onebike: theory.  Somehow, I found 100 miles within me, and finished as well.  Most of all, we got to hang out together and enjoy.