Boone Fondo | Race Results and Recap

Race start.

The Boone Gran Fondo was easily one of the hardest cycling events I've ever participated in. Clocking in at just under 94 miles and over 8000ft of elevation gained, this race was not for the faint of heart. Saying this makes it sound like I have all my sh!t together, but the truth is simple - this ride just about killed me. 

The Fondo had only a few hundred total participants. In fact, there were almost as many racing in total as there were in my age group at the Highlands Gran Fondo. Naively, I thought this was going to work out well for me - surely with so few people, and the thousands of miles I've already pedaled this year, the probability of a strong finish was in my favor. 

Yeah. I was wrong about that. 

Once again, there were 4 timed segments in this race, each of varying distances and difficulty. The table below summarizes each segment, my target time, and what my actual time on course was. As you can see, I fell within my target times for the first 3 segments, which I'm quite pleased with. The last - and easily the hardest - segment broke me into pieces. More than 11 minutes off what I thought would be my maximum time had me sliding well down the rankings by the end of the day. We'll get to that one in just a minute. 

Segment	Distance	Gain	Fastest ('22)	Target	Actual
1	2.3mi	525ft	7:58	7-12	10:46
2	7.8mi	841ft	21:10	25-30	26:17
3	4.2mi	719ft	13:15	15-20	19:17
4	5.5mi	1015ft	18:21	20-25	36:06

The regular reader will recall one of the lessons learned I had following the last race in NJ; I started in the middle of the pack, and when I had reached the first timed segment the road was so congested with riders that it was exceptionally difficult to maneuver. For Boone, I decided I would start at the front of the pack in hopes that I would stay with the front group long enough to avoid the traffic. That strategy worked well, as Segment 1 started only 2 miles into the course and riders were still bunched together behind me. However, I was far enough ahead that I had plenty of room to move and hold a comfortably-uncomfortable pace. I definitely burned a few matches working my way through this segment, but it was still early in the race, my legs were fresh, and I knew I would recover fairly quickly. Ultimately my final time for this segment ended up right in the middle of what I had projected, which was relieving to see. 

Nearing the end of Segment 2

There was a ~10 mile gap between segments 1 and 2, and although a long Segment at just under 8 miles,
the elevation gain was relatively gradual and easy to sustain a high speed with. In addition, I was able to team up with a few other riders for this segment, and although there were only three of us, we each took turns pulling and drafting, helping to push the speed slightly higher. I only separated from them near the finish, where I knew I could push a little harder up the final climb. I felt great during this section, but certainly welcomed the aid station that waited just after the line. 

Segment 3 was a long, curvy section that kept me near my threshold for most of the climb. It wasn't terribly steep, but it was steep enough to create a nice burn in my quads for the duration of the Segment. I was fortunate to draft off another rider for a mile or two, and even though I didn't gain much advantage (if at all) at such slow speeds, it definitely helped me to mentally stay in the game. I watched in jealous awe as a few riders swiftly passed by me. Still, I made it in my projected time - albeit just barely. 

It was after Segment 3 that things began to get interesting. The day started cool and clear, with relatively low humidity and a slight risk of showers during the afternoon. As the miles began to pile up, so did the heat, and with that, the storm clouds. 

As I descended from the end of Segment 3, I noticed the sky was beginning to darken, and I felt a few rain drops hitting my skin. Given how hot it had become, I didn't mind a little rain at first. It felt good, and definitely took the edge off the heat. The problem, however, was that the rain didn't stop. It just continued to build and build, and by the time I was at the bottom of the mountain it was pouring rain. Within minutes I was soaked, water was sloshing around inside my cycling shoes, rain coursed over the side of my helmet, and my glasses fogged over with moisture. 

For the non-cyclists reading this post, you are probably wondering if I pulled over and waited for the rain to pass. Simply put: nope. I was already soaking wet, and there was a time limit that needed to be met. If I stopped for too long, I would be disqualified from the race. It was in my best interest to keep moving, and take it easy. 

It was a long haul to the next aid station - close to 30 miles - with no timed segments in between. It rained the entire time, but fortunately I came across another cyclist roughly half way through and we kept each other company until reaching the next aid station (thanks, Eun!). Ironically, the moment we pulled into the aid station around mile 62, the rain stopped. I refueled and before long was back on the road. 

And then came Segment 4. The rain had stopped (or so I had thought), the sun came out, and quickly began to steam all of the rain back into the atmosphere. With over 1000ft to climb during the Segment, the road wound its way up the mountainside. I've always dreamed of riding switchbackups the side of a mountain, just like in Le Tour, and this was finally my chance. The first mile or two were relatively sedate, with only a modest gain in elevation. I remember thinking to myself this isn't so bad. 

Yes it was, I just didn't realize it yet. 

As the road began to tilt further up, the corners became tighter and the road more narrow. The sun beat down on my back. Sweat dripped from my chin, my nose, and anywhere else it could collect. My legs burned like they were on fire, and still the road went up. The gradient increased, and with it my suffering. I rationalized taking a brief, 30 second break. I pedaled on. Up ahead, I could see the Segment finish. Just at the top of one more steep section. 

And that's when I had what I thought was a brilliant idea: time to stand up out of the saddle and give one final push. God, what an idiot I am. As soon as I stood up on the pedals, both quads - yes, both - instantly cramped. At the same time. I could barely get myself back down into the saddle, and struggled to pedal through the cramps and gradient. I ripped one of my cleats out of the pedal just in enough time to get it on the ground before tipping on my side. So there I was, quads locked in a vice, 50ft from the Segment finish.

And I stood there. 

Eventually I was able to swing my leg over the saddle and pedal to the top, crossing the wire (I hate stopping on a climb, and never walk up them). A few feet later I pulled over to the side under a bit of shade and collapsed over my handle bar. 

So now you know why Segment 4 took 36 minutes. 

I'd be lying if I said dropping out didn't cross my mind. Finishing the last segment, I still had another 25 miles ahead, and that climb had sucked the life out of me. Still, I wanted to finish and pushed on. A few minutes later it started raining again, even harder than early in the day. It would rain for the remainder of the race, so at least I didn't have to worry about the heat, right?

Once I was moving again and had regained some of my strength, I set a comfortable and relatively slow pace. At this point the rain was coming down hard, I was soaked, and visibility was poor. I was again joined up with one of the same riders I had been with earlier in the day, and we pedaled through the wet mess together, helping to keep each other safe. The final climb ahead of the race finish was slow and painful, causing me to stop to take a break several times. I hated watching cyclists ride by me while I stood on the side of the road, willing myself to keep going. 

Eventually I did, crossing the finishing line 6 hours and 25 minutes after beginning. I was cold, wet, and exhausted. But I had finished. Despite all of the challenges towards the end of the race, I finished 16th out of 24 in my age group. Not great, but also not last. 

Once I had the time to slow down and reflect on the day, and began to think about what I had learned. In terms of my equipment, everything worked almost without issue. Somehow the data screen on my Garmin had changed to a format I didn't like, but that was minor and easily fixed. My chain also dropped twice towards the end of the race, but after that many miles of water, dirt, and sand being run through the gears, I wasn't all that surprised. Again, that's easily fixed. 

Finish line

The most important lesson I took from the day, however, was my nutrition. cramping towards the end
could have been avoided, and doing a better job keeping my electrolytes in check would help with that. More importantly, I had simply run out of fuel by the end of Segment 4. Although this may sound strange, I think I actually ate too much during the day, slowing down my digestion to the point that the carbs and fluids I was putting in were not being absorbed and used. This is common with endurance athletes, and once you start to feel that bloated, upset stomach feeling in the saddle, it's already too late. The damage had been done. 

So, what's next? Well, I've qualified for the Gran Fondo National Championships in September, and have every intention of competing in that event. The field will be even smaller, and, perhaps naively, I'm targeting a top 10 finish. The route is slightly longer than the course in Boone, and also has 9000ft of elevation gained  -- that's 1000ft more than what just brought me to my knees. Race day nutrition will be key, and I'll continue to work on that leading into September.