The Danimal Tales, Part 1: Boggs IX

Dan Findley won this year's Boggs 8 Hour by completing 11 of the 8.5 mile laps in under 8 hours and 45 minutes. This is his personal account of the race. If you want to get good at racing your mountain bike, read this. Or don't. This is his story...

Boggs is the best mountain bike race there is. No question. It is the truth. After being introduced to Boggs last year with a 6th place finish in Solo Sport category, I upped the training and entered the Solo Expert category this year. I was shooting for what I hoped would be a top 10 finish.  

We arrived at Bogg’s around 4pm Friday and after setting up our camp, we decided to head to the pit area to scope out a spot. Last year, when it was just Matt and I, we ended up throwing a couple backpacks full of supplies down next to a fence about 4 minutes before the race was about to start. This year, we staked down two pop up canopies with enough space for a full on NASCAR pit stop. This was good.

Race morning 

A 6am wake up call allowed us enough time for a good breakfast and time to drive our race supplies down to our pit area. At about 7:40am, I head to the start line but found it was already full of people. I lined up about 50 people deep...not really what I wanted. As time went on, more and more people filled in sideways near the start line which would inevitably create a terrible bottleneck as soon and the gun goes off. 

10 minutes to start

I started thinking about the previous weekend, when Matt and I both did the Belgian Waffle Ride. This, my second favorite event of all time, includes 134 miles, 11,000ft of climbing, 30 miles of dirty, rocky trails and fire roads and lots of pain. My pain was intensified due to a lack of proper nutrition and a series of bad cramps that slowed me down considerably. But this week I have my electrolyte pills...shit...standing at the start line I remembered that I forgot to take some. Ok, I can handle a lap without them and I’ll grab some when I finish the first 8.5 mile lap. The race director talks about the race rules; do as many laps as you can in 8 hours. We have until 3:45pm to start our last lap, then you must be in by 4:30pm. Gun goes off. 

This is the bottleneck.  Have fun.

The bottleneck is bad through the start gate. But I make it through and begin the initial fire road climb. I can see far ahead at the front, where Menso, Levi Leipheimer and other pros are drilling it. I begin to do the same, I am slowed by many riders who probably didn’t need to line up so close to the front before the race started. It is very important to get to the first singletrack as close to the front as possible, so I’m pushing the pace. I get to the singletrack in a good position, but there are still many riders ahead of me.The rest of lap one included a lot of passing. A few stubborn riders made things difficult and some even tried to speed up when I called out for a pass.

When I reached the pit, I went straight for the electrolyte pills and downed one. I felt better. I continued on a quick pace for the second lap. Faster than I thought I should go but I felt surprisingly good so I kept it up. Traffic became less and less and after lap 2 I saw very few people around me. At the pit, I grabbed another pill, threw a portable rice cake in my pocket and headed off.

This is a Danimal.  

On lap 3, 4, 5 I began lapping other riders. Each time I saw one of my friends up the trail it gave me a little boost to catch them, give a hello and continue on my way. In the pits I continued my normal 1 electrolyte pill and rice cake per lap. At some point during these laps, I was stopped at the finish line by the race director and my race number was cut off. Apparently the electronic timing chip attached to my race number was giving me and some other racer credit for the same time. Luckily, Logan Fiedler’s dad, Ralph, who lives near Boggs, had driven up to watch. He knows the race director and helped sort out the problem and had a new race number for me on my next lap.

Lap 6, my legs start to feel it. I can tell my lap times have slowed a little, but Logan’s dad told me that I was about a minute off of first place. Wow, I thought, that can’t be right. On the final climb, my legs start to feel a cringe of a cramp...Uh oh...Luckily, I held off a full on cramp until the pit where I downed 3 electrolyte pills. After 6 laps of rice cakes and fig newtons, I grabbed a handful of Red Vines and ate them. Nothing in my life had tasted as good as those Red Vines at that moment. 

Lap 7, On the initial climb, I could feel the sugar from the Red Vines go right to my legs. I felt good, but still took it easy in case the cramps would return. At the end of the lap, more pills and more Red Vines.

Lap 8, was a survival lap. At this point of the race, your legs are tired, and you still have a couple hours until the finish. It is mentally tough, but all you can do it keep riding and surviving. More pills and Red Vines.

The Danimal experiences fatigue,
but the Danimal (for some reason)
never slows down.

Doing the Math

Lap 9, I’ve done the math by the time I start this lap, I have 2 more laps to go. This would get me back to the finish by about 3:50pm. My lap times were hovering around 50 minutes at this point so I knew leaving for an 11th lap at 3:50pm wouldn’t get me back to the finish by 4:30pm. Lap 10, OK, last lap. I figured I would keep the same pace I had the last couple laps. Nothing crazy. If I saw someone in my category pass me, I would follow them and try to beat them at the finish. I rode the entire lap and saw no one pass me in my category. I finished the final climb and coasted down to the finish. It was 3:50 and it felt good to be done. I rode to the pit where Jim was hanging out. 

“You’re in first place” he said. “Awesome! It feels good to be done.” I said. “You’re not going out for another lap?” Jim said. 

“No...I wouldn’t finish by 4:30pm.”

“I think they changed the time to 4:45pm, go ask Jason, he’s at the finish area." 

I rode over to the finish area where Jason was looking up my position on the live tracking IPads they had displayed. He confirmed the same thing, I had until 4:45pm to finish. Checking the live feed we noticed the second place guy had finished 1 minute after I did....shit….I jumped on the bike and tore off up the course. Jason yelled out, “You have 55 minutes to finish, the second place guy’s number is 54!” It had been 5 minutes since I finished. 

I was in frantic chase mode. I figured #54 was 4 minutes ahead of me and I had just lost my first place position due to a finish time change that I wasn’t aware of. I was pushing it as hard as I could with 8 hours and 85 miles in my legs already. In my rush I didn’t have time to grab any more food. I had a couple red vines in my pocket so I downed those and kept riding. As I passed people, I asked if they had seen #54. Nobody had seen him or they hadn’t been paying attention. I kept rushing. About halfway through the lap, I see Jason King is there with a Gel and more Red Vines. I grab the Gel and he yells out that I am still in first. I apparently left for the 11th lap before #54. I breathe a sigh of relief but attempt to keep pushing it. I down the Gel but almost gag and spit it out in the process.A mile or two later, a rider catches me, but doesn’t ask to pass. It is a downhill singletrack section so I don’t think much of it. We finish the downhill section and pop out on the final fireroad climb. I turn my head to check who it is behind me and I see it, on his number plate, 54.

Uh oh, this is going to get painful. He comes around me and starts drilling it. I hop on his wheel and grit my teeth. My legs are pissed and I feel a cringe that could eventually explode into leg locking cramps. It felt as though this guy may be too strong for me and I may have to back off and let him ride to victory.But as the climb steepens, #54 lets off the pace a bit. I feel better, I was able to recover a little bit and began to think about how I was going to beat this guy. 

The last mile of the course is singletrack, I knew I had to be ahead of him by that point because it would be difficult to pass before the finish. My strategy was clear: attack him on the 20% kicker at the end of the fire road climb and get to that singletrack first.We continue climbing and begin the kicker, I shift up and go. Hard. I don’t look back. I crest the climb and keep drilling to the singletrack. I don’t hear anyone behind me, but I don’t look back. I yell for other riders to clear room as I blow by them. I start the final short downhill to the finish, sneak a quick peek behind me but don’t see anyone charging after me. 

I cross the finish. 

Holy crap I did it. I won.

PROOF.

Boggs IX 8-Hour: The Aztec Alumni Travel North

If there has been any one moment in the past year that confirms my love for Nicole, it was at 4:00 am Friday morning when my alarm went off.  I reached for the iPhone, trying to silence the heinous chime coming out of that black rectangle of death when I felt her hand over mine.  At first, I thought she was going for a sentimental good morning hand squeeze, smile and kiss on the cheek.  It didn’t take long for me to realize that she was still asleep and, in her slumber, searching for my phone, probably trying to hurl into the next zip code.  We’re perfect for each other.

4 a.m. turned into 4:30 turned into 4:55 before I got up and chugged a cup of coffee.  It was 3:30 pm before we knew it, setting up camp in the woods just outside of Cobb proper.  Camping is difficult.  Nicole and I did some seriously amateur shit trying to put up our tent, but Clod was there to save the day and get the thing upright. 

El Presidente was there with his lovely girlfriend, Kathleen, and everyone seemed to be happy happy.  It was, for the most part, only Danimal and I who knew what the following day would bring.  It would be a miniature blood bath, but amazingly fun, nonetheless.

Camp

Danimal and I did the Belgian Waffle Ride the week before.  I thought it was a dumb idea.  Danimal thought it was brilliant.  Seeing as how the guy has a full-time day job, doesn’t race, doesn’t own a racing license, and made it up and over Highland Valley a bunch of Cat 1 and Cat 2 fools (and finished 32^nd), I figured I’d believe him.

He was right.  It was the perfect opener.

Learning from our mistakes last year, we got up around 6 am on Saturday, had some breakfast and set up our pit.  We scouted the spot on Friday evening, leaving us with nothing else to do but place the water, food, tools, chairs and beer.  It was going to be a great day.

I thought it would be a fantastic day until I lined up way in the back of the field.  Again.  I’ll learn from this, maybe.  After blowing a kiss to Nicole, I began weaving through the field.  In 2013, I was scared to push it on the first climb, worried I’d burn through all of my matches.  2014 Matt Smith said, “who gives a shit, you need to have a clear first lap!”  I encountered only modest traffic on the first single track.  Lap #1 was a success.  Also, I popped a huge wheelie.

Lap #1: 50:07 (A personal best)

I don’t remember the second lap because I was too busy trading wheels with a couple dudes that, at first thought, seemed infinitely stronger than I.  I hung onto their wheels through the first flowing, forest single track section, all the way down the fire road before eventually losing them both on the short inclines littered all the way to the switchback decent.  I lost them, sure, but was descending quickly while.  I saved a ton of energy on the descents, doing my damn best to resist the urge to sprint out of every corner.  I traded the downhill pedaling for (sometimes) dangerously late braking.  It was nice to see that my downhill times were still fast for being so leisurely.

Lap #2: 52:13

The third lap was the same damn thing.  I caught my buddies in the transition, lost them on the first climb, caught them on the descent, and lost them in the rollers.

Lap #3: 52:15

On lap four, I caught my buddies the same way and dropped them hard on the switchback descent.  It was free sailing.  I’m pretty sure that this was the lap I caught Nicole.  She looked like she was having one of those moments when you realize, “Holy shit, this is for real.”

Lap #4: 53:37

As I recall, the Danimal caught me here.  As I did in Mammoth, I cursed him under my breath while remaining cordial out loud.  He’s a beast, and he charged off on the final fire road ascent.  This would be the same spot he would drop his competitor, riding to a 30 second victory after 8 hours of pedaling.

Lap #5: 56:58

The sixth lap was my worst.  I was doing all sorts of math equations in my head, trying to decide if I had nine laps in my system.  It was seemingly coming together and unraveling simultaneously.  I wanted to push hard, but I felt flat, I hurt, and I was worried I wouldn’t have enough for 7, 8, and 9.

Lap #6: 57:26

In the transition, I believe I had 2 endurolyte tablets, 6 fig newtons, 1 soy-egg-bacon rice cake, 1 banana, a swig of coconut water and a chicken drumstick from Thursday night.  It was a heavy climb up to the top of the hill, and the rest of the lap faded into memory.

Lap #7: 57:17

All that food settled!  I was like a fucking nutritional expert.  1 more banana, 6 more fig newtons, one more portable, another bottle of skratch labs raspberry, 2 red vines, and I was off.  Those dudes I dropped?  Lapped ‘em!  They looked like two miserable piles of angry, frustrated, and defeated epidermis.  I gave them a positive shout as I rode by, remember that, in 2013, I just barley made 8 laps.  And now, in 2014, I flew by feeling chipper and on my way to 9.

Lap #8: 54:37

I was doing my damn best to ride like a man possessed.  I thought I saw a 200-number roller through, meaning that someone was in my category and, obviously, was there for me to decimate.  After fixing my right cleat that had come unscrewed from the shoe, I took off in hot pursuit of rider 244.  He was in the distance, the far distance, for most of this lap and even though I was always closing the gap, I lost interest when I came in sight of my other race-goal: the whiskey station.

Yes, the whiskey station.

For 7 fucking hours and 45 fucking minutes, or 8 laps, I passed by a group of lovely, wonderful, amazing people who wanted nothing more than to deliver shots of whiskey and freshly cooked bacon to struggling riders.  I passed by every lap, ever the professional, but made a secret deal to myself: You will take a shot before the race is over.

It was now or never.  Though they were out of bacon, I had what was clearly a double shot of Maker’s Mark before heading out on the trail.  That stuff is instant speed.  I immediately passed back the 5 riders who went by during my pit stop, surged over the last roller and descended down to the fire road climb.  It was a thing of beauty.  The guy I was chasing ended up beating me by a little under a minute….and 1 lap.  He was a lap ahead of me the whole time and ended up winning my category.  Cheers, mates.

Lap #9: 55:35

In Conclusion

Danimal won the expert category, smashing 11 of the 8.whatever mile laps in 8 hours and 35 minutes.  His lady, Sara, took 7 laps and rode to a solid fourth in the open women’s division.  Nicky finished her first race 8-hour race, netting 6 laps and battling through some serious adversity, female troubles, and an overall lack of fitness due to our recent adventures in Peru.

Clod scored himself 7 laps after not really training at all and drinking some beer the night before.  He laid down some scorching times on laps 2 and 3, proving that if he actually applied himself a little bit, he’d be flying.  El President came into the race with even less mountain bike practice and even more beer and whiskey in his system, scored himself 6 laps and, in a feat that sent shockwaves around the camp, managed to pack his tent up on the same night and road trip to Santa Cruz (a feat that is nothing short of mind blowing).

J-King and his lovely lady, Ali, took on the coed division and, from all observations, seemed to have a good time.  Plus, Jason is super duper handsome and brought me a Pliny.  Ali is a lucky lady.

All things considered, this event was another “net positive” for the Aztec Alumni Crew.  Boggs, you were lovely.  We’ll be ready to raise the pines again come 2015.

Nicole and I, before and after

Yours truly, immediately after