The highs and lows of my first finish of this iconic mountain bike race.

This is borderline sadistic, I couldn’t help thinking as a peddled my mountain bike up the steep climb in Aspen, Colorado, in the wee hours of September 1.

I was competing in the Grand Traverse Mountain Bike Race which begins with an in-your-face 3,300-foot altitude gain climb up Aspen Mountain in just five miles. You only have two hours to complete this climb, or you are out of the race.

In total, the race covers 40 miles and more than 8,300 feet of elevation gain.

I wish I had done my homework a little better about the initial climb to know what I was getting myself into. This steep intro with very little warm up sent my lungs into overdrive and mocked my supposed “fitness.” Perhaps it was the injury I sustained a few weeks prior (some hamstring/glut tightness) that turned into a three-week taper, or just the casual training I had done.

I lead a growing nonprofit and have two young children and I wife that I like being around, so my training time is limited.

Regardless, as I began climbing, I couldn’t help but thinking this was going to be one long, brutal day.

A long-held goal

I have wanted to do the Grand Traverse ever since I first heard of it. The iconic race covers 40 miles of trails in the Elk Mountains between Crested Butte and Aspen.

Historically, the race started as a ski race, a backcountry connect between Aspen and Crested Butte. Later, they added a bike and ski portion.

About nine years ago, I made plans to race the winter event. I bought race skis and started training. However various factors kept me doing it, including getting cancer (see the story here).

The bike race would be my second choice. And now years later, and considering I live close to mountain biking, this seemed the more realistic option.

When a friend nudged me to sign up for the race, I readily agreed.

The first aid station

I completed the initial climb in under two hours—1:47, which gave me a little buffer. From there, I would need to keep making the cutoffs at the next three check points.

I remember coming to what I thought was the top. There were a few participants taking a break and I said, “This is it, right?”

“Not even close,” a guy said, gesturing to the top of the rolling mountain. I could see distant participants about 1,000 vertical higher than we stood, looking like little ants with bikes.

Climbing

I huffed and puffed-up Taylor…Then tackled Star Pass. I was glad I read about this section ahead of time. It covers more big uphills, but what is helpful to know is that no one rides the steepest sections at the end—not even the pros. So rather than be demoralized, I dismounted my bike and tried to enjoy the stroll.

Atop Star Pass, I enjoyed the panorama of the Elk Mountains, spread out before me like a canvas. After a few minutes rest, I gathered myself and began the long downhill section, which descends eight miles and about 5,000 feet into Brush Creek area near Crested Butte.

This section was incredible. I would consider it like the 401 trail near Crested Butte, except with steeper and more difficult downhills. If it wasn’t so remote, I’d consider riding it more. I managed to make it through this section unscathed, but the continuous bumps and braking burned my forearms.

The final climb

Eventually, I rode into the final checkpoint at Brush Creek, with only about five miles to go. Some nice lady put some lube on the chain on my bike, which was bone dry after the dusty descent. I declined water and continued, which almost proved a costly mistake.

I’ve heard people call the last section cruel, because you think you are done climbing but you have another 900 vertical feet through the forest. And it kind of felt cruel.

I struggled through this final push, walking more than I would have liked. Soon enough, I neared Mount Crested Butte and a few minutes later, I crossed the finish line.

The race took me roughly 8:05, which was about 45 minutes longer than I had estimated, but considering the recent injury, I was just happy to finish and keep making the time cutoffs.

Beautiful and brutal

Someone once called this race, “beautiful and brutal,” which I would have to agree with. I also think it is a little sadistic, too.

Still, what a thrilling challenge. The views are second to none and the downhill was a pleasant surprise.

Now, all I need to do is find the time and fitness to ski the Grand Traverse before I get too old…