Scratching the Tour Divide 2023, Part 1

The morning of the Grand Depart was early thanks to a 7:15am start and our hotel being a 25 minute drive from the start. Also, upon arriving in Banff, I would need to repack my bike because driving it fully loaded on the highway seemed a bit reckless. As I have done for nearly every gravel race, I packed oatmeal for breakfast. While I did finish it, I was not exactly feeling hungry on the morning of the Grand Depart. On the upside, my morning trip to the bathroom was uneventful.

On the way to Banff, I sipped from a Nalgene holding 16oz of water mixed with a packet of Skratch Hyper Hydration to increase my odds of staying hydrated throughout the day. It did not settle particularly well. In fact, once we parked, my stomach almost threw it and all of my breakfast back up. I diluted it further and eventually got it down safely.

The organizers had put me in the third wave of riders, those riders who expected to finish within 17-19 days. Our group started without much fanfare and just like that, my Tour Divide race had started. My legs felt solid and I was immediately at the front of my group feeling strong. The temperature was cool and the sky mostly cloudy. Pretty stellar weather for a race start.

The first part of the race is on a wide trail with a couple punchy climbs and loose rock, but nothing too terrible. The next section was single track and had a number of washouts with sudden drops. Enough roughness that I saw two lost hydration bottles and a bear spray from the 40 or so riders that were ahead of me. About 12 miles in, I tooted...and there is no easy way to say this, the fart was not alone. Right in my chamois. Not a lot, but also not insignificant.

When I reached the trading post at mile 50, I snuck behind a dumpster and completely cleaned my chamois with water, sanitizer, and the TP I had on me. Also applied some vaseline as the irritation was unpleasant. More than you wanted to know, I am sure, but it was a 20 minute break I had not planned for. While there I looked at my fork and saw that the swooping single track we had done before this section had caused my wheel to completely shred the protective tape I had added. I added new tape, drank a chocolate milk from the store, and kept on trucking.

Around mile 68 or so, I developed stomach cramping. Was it the chocolate milk I bought at the trading post? A consequence of stuffing so much food and drink into my body while still not being fully recovered from my illness? Not sure, but it was mild so I hoped it would work itself out. Coincidentally, this is where the rain started in earnest and did not let up until about 10 miles from the day's end.

Mile 100 is the turn to Koko Claims pass. I was with a small group of riders and we all stopped to go pee, eat + drink, and adjust anything we needed before the long climb. The cramping had become increasingly uncomfortable and I considered just calling the race there as a small town was not far away. It was only 50 miles to Fernie though and Koko Claims is infamous, so I pushed on.

Koko Claims was worse than I imagined. Part of this was the stomach cramping. Part of this was the steady rain making all the rocks slick and loose. But, then, it is also just a horrendous pass to travel. This video by motorcyclists shows it rather well. Watch that and then imagine doing it after 100 miles of riding, in the rain, with a 50lbs touring setup. There are four separate rocky and steep sections where you have no choice but to pull/push your bike. After I finished the first one, I thought I was done. Nope. Another one. Assumed it was finally over. Nope. One more. And then the final one? I literally had to heave my bike over multiple rock steps.

And then you get to the top and have to go down the other side. Instead of rocky sections there were now steep, sandy gravel sections with deep rain washouts. I am not exaggerating: -25% grade in parts. More than a few times you were off your bike and riding your brakes to not lose control as you walked/stumbled down. There were frequently sections that were ridable and one of these is where I crashed. The trail was nice and loose from the rain, so when the dirt collapsed under my rear tire, I went over the handlebars. I landed reasonably well but it still made my right neck and shoulder unhappy with a number of scrapes on my right leg and fingertips. The bike was in reasonably good condition, thank goodness. Right shifter was out of place but that was an easy adjustment. Drivetrain got a little dirty, but nothing a quick wipe with my rag could not handle.

At the bottom of the pass, there is a left turn that four of us went right past without even recognizing it as a possible route. Our bike computers' all beeped at us and I swear it looked like an old, unused trail that had been abandoned 10 years previously. As a group we just shrugged and listened to what are GPS told us. Eventually the faint trail turned into something more akin to single track, followed by another nutty descent on rocky terrain. And then we turned onto a real gravel road! Hallelujah! It had taken me nearly 3 hours to do the ~10.5 mile Koko Claims section with an average speed of 3.6mph. I think I aged about 3 days during it.

With 110 miles done, it was only 40 miles to Fergie, BC, my goal for the night with a promise of a hotel, shower, and warm food. After a bit of diarrhea, fork rubbing issues, stomach cramping, the brutal climb and descent of Koko Claims, a bike crash that made my right side crotchety, and the incessant rain I mentally latched onto reaching Fernie and recovering. If I could just reach that town, I knew a good night's rest would set me up well for day 2.

3 miles later my bike computer died.

I purchased my Garmin Edge 840 a little over a month before the Tour to replace my rather beat up Garmin 530. This new device was solar powered and had a fresh, longer lasting battery with improved GPS. I used it for every single ride the month before the Tour Device in all manner of conditions, including mud and pouring rain. Performed flawlessly, not a single issue.

I remember looking down at the bike computer's screen and seeing no numbers changing. It was frozen. OK, it happens, just shut it down and restart. I shut it down and the damn thing would not start up again. I tried multiple times and it was just dead. "Am I cursed?" literally came out of my mouth. The last I checked it was over 90% battery, but I still plugged it into a battery pack and waited 10 minutes just to see if that would help. Nothing. Switched to my second battery pack, waited, and still nothing. OK, so primary navigation was dead. I still had my phone with RideWithGPS on it and while not ideal, especially with pouring rain, it would work. A few other riders had caught up to me during my fiddling around with the Garmin, so I just decided to simplify matters and stay with them until Fernie.

On and on we went. The road had many many many many many water filled potholes. Occasionally, a stream overflowed and we had to go through bigger stretches of standing water or jump off to carry our bikes over a deeper part. My stomach continued being unhappy so I was just nibbling small bits of food (raisins, Spring energy gel, peanut butter cup) on a regular cadence trying to keep it from fully shutting down but fueling me enough not to bonk.

Night started to fall and I turned on my front headlight. We were going uphill at the time and it was still twilight, but it looked like it was not shining particularly bright or well. The crash had bent it up a bit, so I manhandled it back into place, but it was definitely flickering. It is dyanamo hub powered, so I just assumed the uphill portion was not charging it enough but things would improve on a downhill.

But during the downhill from our last pass, it continued flickering. Not exactly a strobe light but near enough. Checked the dynamo hub connection, the wire loom connection, etc. and all seemed intact. Our group had gotten spread out (everyone was pretty exhausted) and I was alone for the descent. A rocky, muddy, sandy gravel road with washouts and potholes at night with a flickering front light. It was less than fun. "How close is the road, how close is the road, I need to get off this." was echoing in my head.

And then, right ahead I saw the unmoving light of another rider on what finally looked like a level section. I slowed down to see if they were in trouble and I am glad I did because–thanks to my poorly working light–I did not notice the thick, gooey mud that had brought the other ride to a complete standstill. A sudden fishtail and in a split second the lower half of my bike was incased with mud. 25-40lbs worth of extra weight I would guess. With an exasperated groan, I pulled out my phone to see that the pavement was barely a mile away.

So began a fun party at 10pm—after 145 miles of riding—where I would clean out gargantuan chunks of mud with my chainring cleaner and then pick up the rear end of my bike to run as fast as I could until the mud seized everything up again. Despite the hour and exhaustion, I did this with a certain amount of fervor. I could smell the proverbial barn. I also pulled out my headlamp as the dynamo hub powered front light was effectively useless and I needed light to see.

Thanks to the mud, I saw a half dozen cyclists in this section, more than I had seen since the beginning of the day. All I really saw of them were their front and rear lights, but you could tell no one was able to ride through. No grass on the sides of the road to escape either, just a wide road full of gooey mud. By the 5th or 6th cleaning, the mud had thinned enough that I was able to get back on the bike and throw down enough power to get going again. It was a short few minutes and I was finally on the pavement. Thank the gods.

Suffice to say, my bike and its drivetrain were a complete mess when I got to the pavement. I cleaned it up the best I could so I could shift again (chain only dropped once, yay, electronic shifting), pulled out my water bladder to drain the last remaining milliliters into my mouth, and started riding to town. I was completely thrashed and feeling like absolute shit; but the pavement, oh man, it was so nice to just go.

During the ride towards town, I did a realistic assessment of how my race was going...and I hope it is clear from the above, it felt one small step away from disaster. Multiple mechanical issues, a crash that meant I could not turn my head to the right, and a gastrointestinal system that was barely functioning leaving me underfueled and dehydrated. My second day of racing was supposed to have 116 miles with 8815' of elevation gain, and I thought it highly unlikely I would make that in my current state. In fact, I suspected I would crash and burn both mentally and physically. So, I texted Tina to find out how far away she was from Fernie.

Dynamo hub is broken and Garmin stopped working. Also diarrhea in shorts today. Also crashed.

In Fernie, I went straight to Snow Valley Lodging. They had posted in the Facebook group about how they would be up late with food, a hose, and discounted lodging for Tour Divide riders. Two other riders were in the office before me, and I gotta admit that we all looked like we had been through the wringer. Wet, muddy, and chilled with an exhausted, resigned look.

After acquiring an entire room to myself for two nights, I rinsed off my bike with the hose and went up to the room. First order of business was getting some more Skratch Wellness into me. Scratching the race was definitely on the table and looking like the right choice, but I was not going to fully commit to quitting until I tried to address the myriad of issues I was facing. First and foremost was trying to get my stomach and intestines working again. Hydration seemed like the first step.

Unpacked my bike to get things cleaned and dried out on my room's table. Grabbed a small bowl of chili and a bun from the Snow Valley Lodging peeps that went down without trouble, which was encouraging. Took a shower and found a bunch of cuts and scratches from the crash and mud, which I cleaned up best I could. Got another Skratch Wellness in me and tried to start the Garmin bike computer again but it remained unresponsive. I left it opened up with the faint hope that drying it out might help. Took a handful of acetaminophen for my neck + shoulder as the endorphins had finally worn off and it was quite painful.

And so, shortly after midnight I headed to bed with an agreement with Tina to talk early in the morning about whether she should come get me. Food and Gatorade were on the night stand so I could continue working on fueling and hydration throughout the night. Thus ended my first day on the Tour Divide.

Woke up before 6am and started assessing my problems. Intestines were still not happy but I was tolerating carbohydrate-rich liquids so there was still a chance. Discovered the wobble had caused my wheel to partially wear through my feed bag straps, which was yet another problem to solve. Spinning my front wheel, I could definitely still see a flicker in the dynamo light, so I emailed the people I bought the light from asking for advice as the connections still looked fine to my eye. The local bike shop did not open until 10am, so I walked 10 blocks to get coffee hoping some caffeine might help clear up my backed up digestive system (you know, coffee, the magical elixir of life that solves all problems). On the way back from the coffee shop, I found a bakery and got a couple treats. While they were super tasty, my stomach immediately cramped up from eating them. ::slow sarcastic applause::

Back at the hotel, I took off my front wheel to start working on repairs to the worn areas and also clean up the light connectors. The light still did not improve so it was either the light itself or the dynamo hub. Right when the bike shop opened, I called them to see what front light options they had for night riding on gravel roads and trails. They had one possibility that might work, but I would probably need to purchase an additional high capacity battery since I could no longer rely on my hub for charging things. Magically, my bike computer started up again and I was able to save the first 110 miles of the race it had actually tracked. Was a bit dubious about its reliability though so I was considering purchasing a backup option from the bike shop too. Still, finally a step in the right direction?

Note: I did not notice at the time, but when I got home to Boulder I plugged in the bike computer and it refused to charge despite my best efforts, so it was definitely NOT reliable.

I was trying not to be quitter and Tina pointedly asked after all this, "Do you want to keep going?" and my answer was a pretty solid no. The first day had sucked, parts of my body were in serious pain from the crash, I was going to need to buy a number of new things to keep racing, and the real cherry on top was that I was unable to eat food without feeling incredibly ill.

My ego is trying to write checks my self preservation is trying to void.

I think I need to be smart and realize that I am not well and while I could pull off a recovery, I feel pretty shit right now and might make things rather worse.

I am literally sitting on the floor drinking a hydration mix as I cannot eat.

::sigh:: please come fetch my sorry little ass.

Tina arrived around 4pm and after with one final check-in to make sure I wanted to quit. Given I was on the stairs sipping water with painful intestinal cramping, I gave a solid yes.

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Epilogue

Here I am a week after we arrived home in Boulder and while I know it was the right decision to scratch, it still does not sit particularly well. No one shows up to the start line of the Tour Divide intending to quit after the first day. 7 months of prep and training with quite a bit of money invested in this endeavour only to have it end after 150 miles–just over 5% completed.

But it took four days for me to have a normal bowel movement and I ended up losing 6 pounds of weight because I was primarily subsisting on liquid calories for three days. My neck and shoulder are better, but those also took a couple days and numerous pain relievers before they felt ok. And, as mentioned above, the bike computer was borked and had to be returned to Garmin. The dynamo hub powered front light is functioning normally again, and the current theory is water got into the hub causing issues. I will need to be doubly sure of it before any future bikepacking races.

Realistically, I think if I had headed out on day 2, there was a 95% chance I would have turned around and come back to Fernie or ended up calling for assistance. I was not well. And with that 5% chance of making it to the next stop, it was like digging a hole and deciding when you hit bedrock to pull out the dynamite. That is not where I wanted to put myself.

And oh boy, I think I may have dodged a bullet a little. The conditions on this year's Tour Divide have NOT been kind to riders. So much rain, hail, mud, cold, and destroyed equipment. But that one day taught me quite a bit. That one fierce day of riding tested me so much more than the months of training beforehand.

Will I attempt the Tour Divide next year? If you had asked me the first two days after quitting, it was a solid "Hell no." But four days afterwards, I was already considering what I would do differently. New approaches to training and also the gear I would bring is on my mind. I made good choices based on what I knew, but doing that first day and watching the riders this year, there are things I definitely wish to change on my setup. Also, I feel I left something unfinished out there.

So, I already posted an Instagram reel where I explained most of what happened during the Tour Divide this year, but here is a written account with even more detail, for posterity.

First, the backstory. Way back in early November, I was trying to decide what I would focus on in 2023. Thanks to the popularity of gravel racing and the early registrations, you really need to start putting together a plan by December. Given my enjoyment of remote, semi-isolated rides up in the mountains, I felt the Tour Divide was a worthy option. It is a ~2700mi race starting in early June going north to south along the Rocky Mountains from Banff, Canada to the Mexican border. Go read more about it, if you like, but it is a race where anything can happen: wildfires, floods, miles of mud, endless eqqipment failures, and there is so much climbing.

Sometime in mid-November, I decided the Tour Divide would be my primary bicycling focus for 2023. A few other races sprinkled would be spinkled around it (Old Man Winter, CO2UT, NedGravel, Steamboat), but the Tour was the focus around which everything else would revolve. Once the Black Friday sales started, I started acquiring the gear I thought I would need to pull off this challenge. I also ordered a Lauf Seigla as it seemed the perfect balance of lightweight, huge tire clearance, and a decent price.

The next four months involved training, learning more about how other riders have tackled the Tour Divide, and slowly purchasing more items I thought I needed as my budget allowed. Once my winter training block was over and the weather had improved here in Colorado, I set up the Lauf Seigla with aerobars, bikepacking bags, dynamo hub powered lights, etc., got a bike fit from IOG, and started taking it out for rides. Long rides, climbing rides, a few night rides, and rides where I tested new pieces of gear and resupply strategies at small stores or gas stations.

There was so much trial and error. So many purchases to experiment with new gear and bike setups. It was a part-time job on top of the 12-18 hours of bike training a week, which was already on top of the 30-hours a week of web consulting I was doing. Still, things progressed and I got comfortable using such a heavy setup and riding it for hours on the roads and trails around Boulder. Also learned a number of new skills too. In May I started feeling actually ready to take on a 2700 bikepacking race.

The Wobble: One problem I did find during training was a wobble on the frontend of my bike that would periodically appear during rides, normally when fully loaded and on paved roads at 15mph or faster. The Lauf fork has springs meant to dampen bumps and hits in the direction of travel. However, it also does have some flex from side to side. Not much, but when you load it up (say for backpacking), are using wide tires, and have the weight positioned in a certain way, it will develop a wobble where the frontend shakes and you have to keep at least one hand on the handlebars. It was a bit unnerving. Manageable but definitely not quite right. I tried a few different setups and weight distributions, but I could never get it to disappear. Replacing the fork and maybe the handlebar was outside my budget and the fork definitely made riding rough gravel roads for hours far less abusive on my body, so I kept it and continued working on finding a way to keep the wobble at bay.

After a final bike tuneup, a haircut, and a day of packing everything up, Tina and I started driving to Canada on June 5th. Nothing special about the drive. It was long, took the better part of two days, and we saw a couple serious thunderstormes storms along the way. We arrived in Canmore (a short drive to the start in Banff) mid-afternoon on Tuesday, June 6th. We happened to run into a friend of Tina's in Canmore whose partner was also doing the Tour. Grabbed dinner with them and on Wednesday I did a shakedown ride to Banff along a bike path and then back via the first part of the Tour Divide route.

On Wednesday night, we went out to dinner at a local restaurant and my stomach felt a little uneasy. Chalked it up to all the driving, a warm day, a harder than expected shakedown ride, and maybe some nerves. I do not really get nerves at bike races, but the Tour Divide seemed significant enough that it might be the case. I grabbed a ginger ale with dinner to help and did not think much about it.

Woke up Thurday morning and my abdomen was gurgling and grumbling something fierce. Tina had already headed off for a bike adventure to Lake Louise by the time I got up to go bathroom. And the bathroom experience was an unpleasant flush of my system. Shit. Well, actually, not shit, just diarrhea.

My first step was to mix up a Skratch Wellness packet from the stash I was intending on taking with me on the Tour Divide and drink it immediately. The rest of me felt fine, including my stomach, so I hoped this was a minor blip and that I could deal with it by keeping well hydrated.

I had brought oatmeal to eat for breakfast, but I was not craving it so I went out to get a coffee and bagel with cheese + egg. Unfortunately, after eating breakfast, I got back to the hotel room and 30 minutes later had another bout of diarreha. The rest of the morning was spent drinking Skratch Wellness, going to a nearby bike shop to fetch more Skratch Wellness, and grabbing a couple of last minute items. I was still eating but only basic foods like animal crackers to try and help my system settle.

I think the point at which I started having a real worry was when I went to the grocery store mid-afternoon to get my first 150-250 miles worth of food and nothing looked appetizing. Months of Tour Divide gut training and two years of bike racing before that, and I could not figure out what I wanted to take. After a couple laps through the store, I grabbed what made sense, including an entire container of Gatorade hydration powder. I figured if the Tour Divide was going to start with a problematic gut than liquid calories should be readily available.

I did another 6 mile shakedown cruise before dinner and discovered the wobble had caused my wheel to wear away the protective tape on my fork, so I put some electrical tape there to reinforce it. Also discovered that my spare bib shorts had the left side of the chamois no longer attached to the bib fabric. Addressable and minor problems, but I was sort of hoping the day before starting the Tour Divide would be a bit more confidence inspiring than all this.

Dinner was uneventful. I was still eating. No diarreha since the morning and the bike was all setup to go, everything was organized, and even though the day had not been confidence boost I still felt ready to go.

Part 2 is coming...

3.5 days after scratching on Day 2 of the #TourDivide, here is a video (originally posted on Instagram) explaining what happened. Essentially, I was unable to get food down and did not think I could get to the next resupply point without taking at least 24-36 hours off the bike. That meant (to me) that my race was over and it made sense to call it. Given that it has taken me three full days to feel good with eating solid food, I know I made the right choice. Still. Oof. Feeling pretty shit about needing to call it so early. So it goes.

CO2UT. So. First off. Ow.

I have never sworn during a race like I swore during this year’s CO2UT Utahraptor 125 miler. It is over 30 hours since the end of the race and I still have slight numbness in my left pinky finger from the jarring conditions found on this year’s course. Also, I might have mild PTSD from camouflaged sand traps.

The Diverge STR that I rented for this race was super capable and a solid choice for the course, but I would have loved to have had 45mm tires on it (up from 42) and a second wrapping of bar tape on the handlebars. Those two upgrades would have definitely reduced the beating my upper body and specifically my hands took during the bone jarring sections.

Given the Tour Divide is less than a month away and is my primary biking goal for this year, I treated CO2UT as a long, hard training ride. I wanted to test my fitness after months of training, but I was definitely not there to risk getting a Did Not Start (DNS) for the Tour by hurting myself. Given the two crashes I saw happen right in front of me and also the result of someone hitting a cattle guard at high speed, I am very comfortable with my choice.

And it cannot be understated: it is simply gorgeous out there. It was hard to stay focused on the road and not drift off staring at the views.

I feel like I need a conclusion here. Um. It was a race. It was brutal. I’m still recovering. I questioned multiple times why I do this stupid ass sport. I thought about quitting the Tour Divide and finding another hobby. Would I recommend this race to others? Only if you really hate yourself. Still. I might do it again. 🫠

@desertgravel #gravelbike #gravelrace #co2ut

With the copious amount of free time granted to me by not currently having a job, I am continuing to contemplate this year's race season and all the training that went along with it (part 1, part 2).

The current facet that I am mulling over for next year's goals and races is my talents vs my interests. As a cyclist, I have only been seriously training for a little over 18 months and have only owned a gravel bike slightly longer. In that time I have done a fair amount of cycling around Colorado and a number of races in Western states like Oregon, Utah, and Idaho. My training has been almost equally split between the trainer, road, and gravel. Overall, I think that is enough time and experience to know what my talents and interests are as a cyclist.

As in other sports I have participated in, I seem to be a solid all-around cyclist. Never the fastest, strongest, or most skilled but capable of doing almost everything reasonably well. Ok at everything, a superstar at nothing. The joy and curse of never completely focusing on any single sport and developing a true speciality. Still, my physical size and long history of being active has given me some noticeable strengths and weaknesses.

As a 182lbs, 6'1" male (82.6kg, 1.85m for the rest of the world), I am not a natural climber. To quote myself, I am just too damn dense. Training has definitely improved my power and ability to spin up hills as well as making me lighter. But, unless I lose 15lbs and focus my training on it entirely, I am probably never going to be a world class climber. I do love to climb though. Especially hard, challenging ascents with super steep and fast descents. It's simply fun!

On the flip side, With my weight and fairly decent power, if you put me on a flattish road, I am quite fast. On a cool, windless day, I would put even money on me being able to do a solo 100 miles in 5 hours on the roads north of Boulder. That is without anything like aero bars or a time trial bike. If I really dedicated myself to it, I bet I could be a somewhat competitive time trialist. And yet, um, no interest whatsoever. Spending that amount of money on a dedicated TT bike and aero improvements just so I can push myself hard and stare at the road while in an uncomfortable position? I dunno, seems boring as shit.

The above disinclination also covers doing track cycling. I tried running track in high school and dropped out after a month. Give me the open road, s'il vous plaît.

Given all the 100+ mile gravel races I have done, you would think I might have a fondness for endurace racing. And, well, you would be right! It is very gratifying being out on gravel roads, away from one's busy modern life, and just cruising through nature. And I am moderately good at biking for long distances. Yes, it gets tiring being on the bike that long and it requires oodles of calories to keep me fueled, but it is satisfying on many levels. What I am not good at is long distances in hot weather. Even with heat training and careful fueling + hydration, my body starts losing the hydration game around the 4th hour. So, I prefer endurance racing when it is cooler, wetter, and a bit more sheltered from the sun. Sort of how Unbound XL ended up in 2022. 🤔

Tina happens to be doing cyclocross this autumn and having a blast. Given my ability to put out power quickly, I was very tempted to also participate. However, I've had a broken bone, serious sprain, or other injury almost every year for the past 5 years. Given the intense competitive nature of cyclocross (especially with males in their 40s) and my relatively newbie bike handling skills, I thought I would take this year off from visiting the ER or urgent care. But, if I stick with cycling through next autumn, I might give it a shot.

Speaking of high speed, manic bike activites, there are also criteriums. For the same reason as cyclocross, I have not explored this aspect of cycling culture. Crashing at 30mph on pavement because I had my wheel tapped by another cyclist while navigating a street corner...I mean, I'm no longer in my 20s and eager for such "fun".

So, where does this leave us? First, long endurance rides on gravel surrounded by nature in cooler, wetter weather. Second, challenging hill climbs with fast descents. Third, a possibility of cyclocross in the future once I gain more skills and less of an aversion to crashing.

You know, part of me thinks all of that combined sounds a great deal like adventure racing...

Most adventurous, outdoorsy, athletic people are well acquainted with the Three Types of Fun (explained here and here). To simplify it, here is how I think of the three types of fun:

• Type 1: Wooooo!!
• Type 2: LOL, that was nuts. Do it again?
• Type 3: WTF?! Never again.

Now, I have had my share of all three types and greatly prefer the first two, by leaps and bounds. I am not against Type 3 fun, but it has to be towards some purpose or worthwhile goal. In short, I am against suffering for the sake of suffering.

As I think back to my past two race seasons on the bicycle, I have discovered that the races where I firmly slipped into Type 3 fun are the ones I have no intention of doing again. I suffered during a couple races this year and ended up feeling wrecked afterwards. And when I try to find some benefit from doing those two races, I find none. No chance of being on the podium, no amazing views that took me away from the pain, and no bonding experiences with other racers during the race. In point of fact, they felt like suffering for the sake of suffering. Thumbs down. Hard.

And here's the flip side. There is always a possibility that a previous Type 3 activity could be turned into a Type 2. I did Rexy in 2021 and ended up DNF'ing with my body feeling like shit for days afterwards. Unlike Oregon Trail Gravel Grinder and RPI's Queen Stage Race though, I have continually thought about doing Rexy again. While the race cracked me (and cracked me hard), I still have a handful of positive thoughts that make me want to do it again someday. The scenery was beautiful, I had a great crew, and the first section was enjoyable despite my freezing feet. Sure, I could barely move my body the next day and sitting was hard for weeks, but I can foresee me one day (with a few better bike and clothing choices) having a great Rexy race.

I am keeping all of this in mind as I start to slowly consider what challenges I will put on the calendar for next year. Unbound XL is on there as it toes that line between Type 2 and Type 3 with the possibility for some really enjoyable moments and being a solid accomplishment. The Great Divide Bike Route is also tempting me. It's been nearly 10 years since I thru-hiked the PCT and I feel I am past due for a grand adventure. Let's not forget the Montana Bike Odyssey, which I almost did this year and just looks stunning.

I am also contemplating an international trip as I have not been out of the country in a good long while. There is a race around Scotland, the Rift in Iceland, and one must admit that the Alps or Mallorca are pretty gorgeous too.

Decisions, decisions...

With the shutting down of buddhi in August, I am once again doing a job hunt. And while job hunting is rarely an enjoyable experience, this one has been far and away my most frustrating one. So far.

Part of it is the fact that whenever I apply for a job, I rarely know what the interview process is going to be like. There are some companies that legitimately think 8+ hours of inteviewing with multiple technical challenges is the correct approach. While on the other end of the specturm, one company scheduled only three interviews where I simply talked with the hiring manager, the engineers on the team, and finally the CTO. A rather more friendly, informative, and personable approach in my opinion.

And the technical screenings are a complete toss up. I had a company ask me to build a Binary Tree from an array on a whiteboard. Another wanted me to solve the Maximum Index problem in my preferred language and then answer a dozen Computer Science questions. You know...those really important problems that always come up when building a web application. 🙄

My personal favorite recently was a take-home coding challenge that had an expected completion time of five hours. Naturally, the requirements for this challenge were poorly thought out and were written in a text file with two mistakes in it. Definitely the sort of challenge that a software engineer with two decades of experience is eager to do. I waved goodbye and moved on.

I was also tickled pink when a Director of Engineering admitted he had learned coding from software that I wrote...and yet still wanted me to take their coding challenge. A little flexibility on this point may have been wise, just saying.

Skipping past the time commitment, which is truly fun when you remember I am interviewing at multiple companies, and also the wacky technical screens, I would like to talk about the ghosting. Two weeks ago I finished a company's entire interview process and then heard nothing for 10 days. I had to poke the outside recruiter to contact them and when he finally heard back, he was brushed off with a vague "We're moving in a different direction." with no additional details or feedback. It was the second company to ghost me like this. Seems incredibly unprofessional.

So, here I am fours weeks later, and I am starting my entire job hunt over.

Now, I expect job hunting to require some effort. It is you and a company trying to see if you're a match because it is an investment into what is hopefully a long term relationship. I also expect some manner of screening by a company to ensure that my resume is legit. There are scammers out there and a smart company will want to confirm one's credentials, so to speak.

However. Throughout my long (looooonnng) work history, I have been a CTO (twice), VP Engineering, Software Architect, Lead Engineer, Principal Software Engineer, and Senior Software Engineer. My resume includes building blog software, a CMS, a framework, multiple SaaS applications, and rewriting or maintaining numerous large scale applications. And my skills have me able to handle everything from creating a new icon, designing a website, building an entire frontend application, building the entire backend, managing servers, and deploying. I've got some skills and experience.

I have also been the primary technical interviewer for multiple companies and I truly believe an experienced technical interviewer can assess someone like me with an in-depth conversation. In fact, my most positive interview experiences were when exactly that happened. Further, anecdotally, the companies with the most exhausting technical interview processes tend to have the worst applications and engineering culture problems.

With all that in mind, if you are looking for a software engineer, I highly suggest you keep the following in mind:

• Post your salary range in the job description. It is one of the most important pieces of information to a candidate and is now legally required in Colorado and California.
• Post your interview process in the job description. A short description of each step and expected time duration.
• If you have more than 4 hours of interviewing for candidates, seriously reconsider your process and determine if this amount of time is really necessary. Candidates are interviewing at multiple companies, may have a current job, and need to schedule around their own life. Also, the mental strain is already intense, do not make it worse.
• Evaluate your technical screens for what information you really need and want. Keep them short and tight. Train your interviewers and standardize on questions and how to evaluate answers.
• Coding challenges should be no more than 2 hours, unless you are paying candidates for their time. The instructions should be clearly written, concise, and presented well.
• Do NOT ghost candidates. A simple email within 24 hours of every interview step, even if turning them down, is better than having candidates left wondering. Be honest and straightforward; you are representing your company here.

DOOM!!

With race season over, I thought a little race recap was in order. Here are my thoughts on each race and stage:

• Old Man Winter Rally. Brrrrr. Incredibly cold feet by the end. And the conditions in a couple parts–like Bow Mountain Rd–were super dicey. Overall though, I would highly recommend, just with dedicated cold weather biking footwear and maybe an extra layer + warm gloves for the Sunshine descent.
• Boulder Roubaix. For a race we signed up for last minute in the middle of a training cycle, this was my favorite race of the year and I ended up with 5th place in Cat 5. If I had known that a podium spot was within reach, I would have changed my tires and pushed much harder in the beginning gravel sections to break the group apart. Who knew you could race gravel and be done in an hour?
• CO2UT. Canceled thanks to a heavy downpour the afternoon before turning parts of the course into deep, sticky mud. The Colorado Monument was a nice consolation prize. Still, I felt ready for this race and thought I was going to nail it. Bummer.

• Oregon Trail Gravel Grinder (OTGG)

  • Day 1. Miles of loose, deep sand. Oof! The short downhill volcanic rock bit hardly qualified as a trail but was crazy fun. The downhill sections on gravel roads were a bit cursed with many small branches on the road and dappled light, which made it a bit hard to make sure you were not going to hit a branch and crash. Those downhills made me want those fancy photochromic bike sungalsses.
  • Day 2. The nearly 4000' climb in the beginning was boring. The latter half was way more fun, especially needing to navigate over short snowbanks. More dappled light on the gravel roads, which caused me to hit a pothole so hard that both water bottles went flying and I was fearful my gravel wheels were finished. Thankfully not.
  • Day 3. Despite the warm temps and a stick in my derailleur, I hit the uphill TT hard and felt proud that I did as well as I did. The taco stand aid station was not appealing to me, I would have greatly preferred a cooler of ice with tasty drinks (the one they had was empty). The downhill TT was a bit nuts and my life flashed before my eyes when a rider in front of me fishtailed and nearly lost it.
  • Day 4. Hot, dry conditions, one aid station without ice, next aid station without any drinks besides warm water. Miles and miles of loose sand at the end. Got bad heat exhaustion and probably needed a trip to the ER for an IV. Ended up feeling ill all night.
  • Day 5. I bailed and got a ride to the finish. Another 80 miles in that heat and exposure seemed like a recipe for disaster.
• NedGravel Ultra. Got COVID less than 2 weeks before the race thanks to Oregon Trail Gravel Grinder and did not race. Bummer. I was looking forward to that course.

• Rebecca's Private Idaho: Queen's Stage Race

  • Stage 1, Adventure Day. I survived and did not crash! I do not enjoy racing such tight, tough conditions with riders right on my tail, but I do always gain more skills on race days like this. Lost a nearly full water bottle with 59g of carbs in it, so I had to ration my water and snacks on the Harriman Trail section. Did not bonk but I was definitely drained at the end and needed a couple recovery shakes to rebound.
  • Stage 2, Dollarhide Time Trial. Holy shit, Tina did not catch up to me! She only beat me my time by 0.6s. Maybe I am not complete shit?
  • Stage 3, Baked Potato. Fuck the heat. Fuck the dry, dusty roads. Curse the 20mph+ head winds. And large pickup trucks barreling down roads kicking up huge clouds of dust can go straight to hell. Even on day 4 of Oregon Trail Gravel Grinder I did not consider quitting but I almost quit during this stage of RPI. Fairly wrecked at the end and I have sworn off ever doing this race in the heat again.

My overall place for RPI:QSR was higher than expected and by the numbers I did well, especially considering how COVID kicked my ass and killed my fitness in July. Still, that race was almost entirely Type 3 fun, which is not how I like riding my bike, so I think QSR and OTGG are the sort of races I will be avoiding in the future. Bring on the autumn weather!