Breck Epic '22: Stages Three (no), Four and (sorta?)

Woke up on day three sorta kinda hoping that the third stage would be canceled.  I mean, I've been at the Breck Epic now multiple times when things have turned to shit up high.  Lightning, hail, bone-chilling cold... Besides, I'll take an extra credit for the one stage I actually finished last year.

I've had my fair share.  Even after Stage Two this year, I mighta got off the trail before the rain, but I got dumped on during my ride back down the mountain to the condo, a reminder that even a bluebird day can turn on a dime.

They went ahead and canceled day three.  The good news is that a reprieve meant that we could focus on hanging out, hot tubbing, and putting our legs up.  I spent many a minute in my rat hole with the Squeezy Leg Bags running.

Ignore the Orange Seal tubeless fluid.  I swear it wasn't mine.  Nick owned that corner of the dresser.

The other good news being that they were not going to take the Guyot Stage away from us, but it would replace the Aqueduct Stage that gives me feels of meh.  I mean... it's okay... but it's no Guyot.

Stage Three (now Four?)

Gawtdamm I love this day.  It just feels so good... even the ride outta town and into the backcountry feels good.  I got jammed up in a large group coming down Little French Gulch... which was mebbe a good thing being that I've let it hang out a little too far here in the past and have flatted three outta eight times down it.  To make things worse, I saw someone's fancy glasses smack dab in the middle of the trail, and since I wasn't getting down at my max speed anyhoo, I stopped and picked them up... and instead of doing the smart thing and sticking them in my jersey pocket, I did the rest of the descent with them dangling outta my mouth.  My gag reflex being what it is, I was heaving occasionally and regretting often.  Down at the first aid station, I pitched the glasses to a volunteer, hopefully (eventually) reuniting someone with their eyewear that evening.

The following two descents were pretty much everything I come back to Breck for after all these years.  Insane speeds, tech gnar, steeps, and occasionally passing befuddled riders.  I ended up catching first place female single speeder Colleen at the last aid station and kinda went back and forth with her all the way to the finish.

That was a good day...

Until...

I was getting ready to go to bed, and I decided to look at my bike one more time.  I noticed a black line on my bottom bracket cup, and tried to wipe the grease away... but it wasn't grease.

Poop but also of course.  This explains the noise that had been getting louder every day.  Fortunately Rob had brought a couple (really?) spare bottom brackets with him, so after sticking a Hellbender 70 in my bracket hole, I was back up and ready for the Wheeler Stage by 9:45PM.

Stage Four (but really Five?)

Wheeler.  What could possibly be a better follow up to Guyot than the monster known as Wheeler.  We started in groups of ten to spread out the field before the many, many miles of hike-a-bike over the pass and also around Mount Gawdammit.  I gave 'er a bit on the five mile lead up to the big walks, being that this would really be the only chance to move up until we got all the way down to the second aid station.  I saw a guy take a random topple in the swampy rock section where Peter lost his phone one year.  I asked him if he was okay, and he kinda shook his head in a bunch of directions.  More up and over Wheeler.  Eat the bacon, drink the whiskey, see Montana lying there looking all resplendent.  I assumed he was waiting for his better half in close proximity to said whiskey and bacon, but I was wrong.  He had opened up his kneecap, and was waiting for... the right moment... to ride down the mountain and to a hospital?

Anyways, my ride down the mountain was less eventful, and the traverse over the Peaks Trail went well enough, and I... moved up to exact mid-pack in the now Montana-less field.

Which is fine.  Just fine.