Chasing Altitude: The Road to Leadville

At home, I have a writing desk. It faces the wall in a brightly lit room with little distraction except some calming artwork. Usually, no bills or papers are lying around. I can focus.

From my van's writing desk, I'm staring at everything I have to do: Clean my kitchen. Empty the trash. Vacuum the living room. Put away the laundry. Walk the dog. Prepare for tomorrow's ride. Look at the stunning view. It's hard to focus.

I could also attribute this latest publishing hiatus to my intense work schedule before leaving in early July. Multiple video project deadlines required my complete attention. When I wasn't editing, I was training or planning for this trip.

Or, I could mention the fact that this trip started with such a whack in the spirit that I couldn't bring myself to share it. I wrote about it but thought it was too raw to post. So, ten days later, I wrote a trip summary—too boring to post.

So I'm starting over, a little of this, a little of that, hoping to catch up my dear readers. Much like the LT100, it's been a helluva ride and a bit of a roller coaster.

Leg 1: West Virginia to Colorado: Another Dog Bite

Colby is home to my favorite Kansas rest stop. They have fake palm trees, a Starbucks, and bushy green grass. My mouth watered for a hot sandwich and fresh decaf, and Hazel was stoked to hear about another pup cup coming her way.

We avoided the fenced-in dog parks and took our own walk around them, staying in the fresh grass. Hazel was in heaven, sniffing and prancing around like a pig in you-know-what.

As we returned to the van, I heard a loud dog barking by the pumps. I made a mental note to stay away from that dog. As I rounded the corner between the gates of the dog parks, that very dog was somehow upon us. I pulled Hazel back toward me, close enough, I thought, to avoid interacting. The brown male dog was on a leash, but he was pulling his thoughtless owner along instead of the other way around.

What happened next was extremely fast and somehow, unexpected. The brown dog started growling aggressively. I was pulling Hazel away, but now I was backed into the dog park fence. I had nowhere to go.

Again.

He attacked her hindquarters and was going for blood. Hazel yelped and tried to get away but couldn't. I was screaming WTF!! and other things at the woman. Hazel was between me and the other dog; I could not deal with the dog myself.

The dogs finally separated and I let the woman have it. I not so kindly suggested that she not have her dog in public if she can't control it. I was livid. I was nowhere even close to this angry at the people whose dog bit me just two months ago.

I checked Hazel all over, feeling for blood. Nothing. I went into the van, shaking, crying, likely a full-on panic attack. This was all so soon after my own attack. I couldn't believe it happened to Hazel. I checked her again. I then watched the woman leave her dog unattended in the dog park. I rolled down my window and forcefully suggested that she not do that. She said, "He's alone, it's fine." What an imbecile. I decided to sit there and wait until she retrieved him and warned any other dog owners about going in there.

I'll make this story a little shorter and say I screwed up. I didn't get the woman's info. I thought Hazel had escaped unscathed. I was wrong. Not long down the road, I noticed she was licking her side. Sure enough, I saw a puncture wound. I called a few people to figure out what to do. I went with my Aunt Kathy's advice as I figured it was closest to what my mom's would've been: "Take her to an emergency vet as soon as you get to Matt's," which was still two hours away.

Two hours, two puncture wounds, three meds, and one cone of shame later, Hazel stumbled out of the vet (they drugged her to clean the wounds).

As you can imagine, this dampened my mood. I felt responsible. How did I let this happen? How could this sweet girl get attacked just like I did? What the hell is wrong with us, and why am I out here in the first place?

See what I mean? Dark.

I ran the numbers on the time and money to take Hazel home to the rest of her pack, Bill, Pepper, and Jasmine. But I didn't bring her because she had nowhere else to go. I brought her for an adventure—and company, of course.

When Hazel and I are out riding or walking together in a new place, we are both taking it all in, like two best buds having the time of our lives, me with my eyes ahead and she with her nose to the ground. In those moments, we share in each other's happiness and wouldn't want it any other way.

The lesson I've come up with is this: If you open your heart to love someone, you make yourself vulnerable to pain. It is impossible to have one without the other. My love for Hazel as a sweet being who brings me comfort comes at a price. She depends on me, and when I fail her and she's in pain, I am too.

Leg 2: Denver to Never Nederland

My brother lives in a suburb of Denver, not far from Boulder and about 45 minutes from Nederland, Colorado. Many months ago, I decided to kick-start my altitude acclimatization and signed up for a 50-mile mountainous gravel race that topped out at about 9,200 feet elevation. I was also in for a good dose of heat training; temperatures reached well into the 80s if not the 90s.

I kicked it off by falling over at the start line in front of at least 50 people—all serious, skin-suited, chomping at the bit racers. I was bloody, embarrassed, and rattled, and the race had yet to begin. I have since replaced my cleats.

As I rolled back to take my place in the pack, a fellow next to me suggested I stop by first aid, which was right after the start. “Are you going for a podium finish?” He asked. My reply: “Is anyone back here going for a podium finish?” 

I knew the dry heat that lay ahead and wrestled with the idea of wasting water on my bloody knee. I decided to spare some salty carb mix and use my one fat Band-Aid to keep out the dust. After all, my little niece always feels better once the Band-Aid is on. It worked.

There was a 23-mile section of the course without any water, and it included 14 miles of straight climbing, with almost half of that over a gnarly 4x4 road riddled with baby heads. I ended up rationing my hot liquid and reckoned with how it feels to be dehydrated. The next aid station was only 10 miles from the finish, but I filled both bottles, drenched myself, and grabbed ice to put down my jersey.

I received a lot of cheers for riding a mountain bike. I think folks felt sorry for me; this was a gravel race, after all. But I chose this bike for a reason. It's my Leadville steed, and this was a test race to see how we did together. Plus, I had a blast on the descents and no problems on the 4x4 roads.

Many distances were available to race with varying start times, and I was passed by some elite racers doing the ultra distance. I marveled at their calves and gravel bike handling skills. They were all very polite.

I finished in the back third of the pack, but considering the field of Coloradans, my awful sleep to that point, and stress over Hazel, I was happy with that. Moreover, it was a promising Leadville pace. All I have to do is double the effort, and I'll buckle.

Sounds so simple.

Leg 3: Making a Home in the Mountains

As Hazel healed and I came to terms with why I was out here, the trip started to come together. After enjoying some time with the kiddos before and after Ned Gravel, I finally spent my first night at altitude. It was over 10,000 feet on the side of the road between Frisco and Leadville. There was a river down below and green trees and vibrant plants everywhere. It got down to 40 degrees that night. It was perfect.

Between warm compresses, giving Hazel her meds, and one more trip to the vet, I started looking for other places to camp around Leadville while scoping out where to ride. I have a few spots that I call home now. One is near Turquoise Lake, and another is outside Twin Lakes next to Mt. Elbert Forebay. The Mt. Elbert spot has much better views, is quieter, and is very close to the singletrack section of the LT100. The spot near Turquoise Lake is a short drive from a course section leading to Powerline. I also enjoy camping right on the course, not far out of town, on a small strip of National Forest land.

As I got to know the area, it became easier to find interesting rides. My routine goes like this: breakfast, prep to ride, take Hazel for a fast-paced ride for about a mile and a half to tire her out and keep her from feeling left out, set up the van to keep her cool, and jump right back on the bike. I have to ride before the heat settles in and the afternoon thunderstorms develop.

Hazel has gotten used to this routine, and I've come to like riding at the beginning of the day. Sometimes, I'm toast after and end up taking a nap. But I usually get chores and work done, and Hazel is just happy we're back together.

So far, I've spent 17 days and nights in the mountains close to 10,000 feet. Most of my camps have been around 9,800 feet, and the rides take me higher. I'd be lying if I said this hasn't been lonely. I miss everyone at home; every ride out here has been solo. It's easier to put Hazel first and get my training in if I keep to myself.

Earlier in the trip, we experienced a thunderstorm every afternoon. Hazel went through a lot of calming chews. However, the wildflower blooms were in all their glory as a result. I thought it was a lot of rain then, but it actually wasn't. The trails are extremely dry, loose, and sandy.

As the smoke from the Canadian wildfires swept down through the Midwest, the clear mountain air became hazy, and views were obstructed. At its worst, I became concerned about riding in such poor air quality. However, I never smelled smoke or seemed to have any issues breathing.

I had a hiatus from the mountains last weekend and spent some quality time with my brother's kids. They love Hazel, and she gets a lot of attention (and treats) from them. She was healing well, so we all played ball in real grass. My brother made his delicious Sunday brunch, and my niece made her famous chocolate chip cookies. Time with family always boosts my spirit.

Speaking of food, they say your basal metabolic rate increases at higher altitudes, but your sense of hunger decreases. This means for some, it's a real effort to eat enough. I have yet to experience this! I may not be hungry at dinnertime, but I tell myself I must eat, and I scarf it down once I make the food. I have no idea what I weigh right now. I don't plan on weighing myself until my final bike setup so I can fine-tune my tire pressure. I'm sure I could've shaved off a few pounds, which would help me on the climbs, but I haven't been willing to compromise my recovery these last few months.

Leg 4: Let the Taper Begin

As I wind down my training and move into the grand taper, I look forward to recounting a few of my pre-ride stories. I've had some adventures out here, all alone but always with my Garmin inReach on board. It adds a lot of weight, but I figure it's good training!

I also have a ton of organizational work to do. This includes:

• Develop a race week schedule
• Finalize my fueling, hydration, and aid station strategy
• Commit to a pacing strategy and note my split goals
• Create a cheat sheet for my crew
• Make a pre-race prep sheet for the day before and the morning of
• Shop to get everything I am now thinking of that I need!

I better get to it!

Once I get my race number this Thursday or Friday, I will post it along with a link for anyone interested to keep track of my race, which is Saturday, August 10, 2024. Thank you for sharing in the journey so far!

If you enjoyed this story and it made you go "hmmm," please forward it to a friend. For more frequent meanderings, follow me on X @vweeks and Instagram @victoria.weeks.