The Big Sky Biggie

Talk about putting an exclamation point on August #spondywarrior style. I went four for four on the Saturday races/events this month (Long Bridge Swim, Swim the Fish, York 38 Special and the Biggie). This was uncharted waters for me as it was my first attempt at back to back (Saturday/Saturday) races in the endurance/marathon MTB realm. There’s really no playbook for an endurance athlete with ankylosing spondylitis, so I do my homework, I check in with my team, and ultimately, I listen to my body (the best I can, as I always want to go), and try and make a good decision that balances my minds desire to compete and my body’s need to recover. Most endurance coaches encourage their athletes not to take on more than two mountain bike events of the 3+ hour range in a month, ideally with two weeks in between, so I knew I was treading on thin ice, but I treaded carefully all week.

I had put my name on the waitlist the week before the 38 Special and got into the Big Sky Biggie late (snuck in on a cancellation) and didn’t know if I was going to ride it until the day before. I put in a short recovery ride the day after the 38 Special and then took the following day off, but after two rides on Tuesday, my knee and legs blew up a bit. So, I took Wednesday and Thursday off the bike (spent the week recovering with daily lap swims under the sun), and then went to some of my favorite single-track for a climb outside of Butte to check my form. After testing the legs on a training ride to see if they had rebounded enough from the 38 Special effort six days prior to take on another ultra style race, I happily told my wife, “It’s on. I’m racing tomorrow.”

Some of my fire to compete likely stemmed from a talk I gave the night prior. The head football coach at Gallatin High School here in Bozeman, Montana, asked me to come speak to his team before their first game of the season. After they all motored through their spaghetti dinner, I spoke to the 80+ player team for forty minutes about effort, focus, competing and what it looks like to be a part of something–in this case, a football team.

As an athlete with ankylosing spondylitis, it’s important to check in with all of my parts, not just the guru of go parts. Earlier in the week my longtime counselor and mentor cautioned me to really check in and if there’s a part of me that thinks it’s a bad idea to race, to listen to that part. The thing is, I’ve been listening to that part for two decades. I may not always follow what that part wants me to, but that part (the questioning and fear part, “Can I do this?”) is always there. There’s just no rule-book or recipe for those of us trying to to do bold and audacious things with ankylosing spondylitis.

Even at the start line, after a ten minute warm-up, spinning through Big Sky neighborhoods surrounding town center (in a big parka I might add as it was 39 degrees), I wasn’t sure if I’d have the legs.

All I can say about the Biggie is that the hype is real and how grateful I am to have raced it. It was truly an awesome event (vibe) from the wicked course, the friends, the riders (the ladies that were dominant), and the team of organizers and volunteers who make these races happen.

I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised by the strength of the field with so many Bozeman, Big Sky, Jackson Hole, Missoula, Butte and Flathead Valley riders. And then there were all of the out of staters that turned out for this event to earn points for the National Ultra Endurance (MTB) Series.

It was a fast and furious start at the pointy end of the pack with a stacked field of strong and spirited riders. I was a little surprised to find myself going out hard early–not my race plan. At one point, about five minutes into the ride, a friend riding beside me said, “Do you see how fast we’re going,” and I looked down to see us clocking 20 mph+ going uphill on asphalt. Once we hit the two track the race really began. Everyone was jockeying for position going into the first long section of single-track, which would take us up for nearly 2,000 feet of climbing. Since I had the legs, I went out early, figuring it was better to be closer to the front for the first big climb.

Not long into the first single-track climb, there were people ahead pushing their bike. This is always tricky for me as walking your bike on some of the steeper and more technical sections is often a better strategy, as walking will help lower your heart rate a bit, but I chose to ride as much of it as possible until I was forced out of the saddle by a half dozen people hiking their bike. I’ve often said the bike is my wheelchair, and when I’m forced to hike-a-bike, I always have a real risk of flaring my achilles or hip. The achilles did fine for the short push, but my hip with the labrum tear (the one with Femoroacetabular impingement, FAI) immediately pinched and I knew from then on I needed to stay in the saddle.

There were some steep sections of two track under the chairlifts that made sense for everyone else to walk-a-bike, but I stayed in the saddle, grinding, spiking my heart rate, picking my way through the technical sections, but not risking that dreaded knife like pinch in the right hip.

The climbs were relentless (my good mate’s Garmin said we climbed 5,200+) and at times technical—my favorite kind of climbing—and the downhills fast, flowy and at times a bit gnarly.

Going into this race I felt a lot of vulnerability. Not having ridden the course, I didn’t know how technical the downhills would be, something I always have to consider with Factor V Liden (homozygous), a clotting disorder that has forced me to take blood thinners since 2013. Hitting my head, even with a helmet, isn’t really a good option. And then there’s the uncertainty of riders stacked up in a snake like train, forcing me to go faster than I otherwise might feel comfortable. There was one freshly cut section that was super steep and gnarly as it was full of loose dirt and shale. There was a warning sign right before I hit the lip of this short, section of steep downhill, but I hit the lip with so much speed and felt two riders behind me that I really had no choice but to ride it–to stop would have sent me over the handle bars and send the two riders behind me careening downhill.

Thanks to the stable and confidence inspiring Transition Spur, with it’s slack head tube angle, long reach and Dissector/Rekon (Maxxis) tire combo, I was able to navigate it without incidence. Talk about a rush. The young rider behind me from Austin, Texas, immediately hollered, “That was the steepest thing I’ve ever gone down on a bike.”

I learned a lot from this ride. I learned my body is more capable than I’ve known. I learned that my technical skills were plenty competent to be competitive. I learned that I burnt too many matches on that first two hours of climbing, as I started to fall apart on Ralph’s Pass (what felt like a never-ending section of switchback single-track) and didn’t have the power I was looking for in the long asphalt climb that began the fast descent down Mountains to Meadows.

I grew as a a rider and racer.

Two weeks after the Biggie, I’m feeling fulfilled and grateful—multilayered. With decades of overuse injuries and battles with ankylosing spondylitis and chronic migraine, I don’t take one of these races, opportunities or experiences for granted. The fact that I had the legs to attack the first climb and put in a big 3 hour and 25 minute saddle effort, is a credit to some special people.

This is such a big much love shout out to my team of supporters (family and friends—you know who you are) PT’s and doctors who make these big efforts a possibility and this summer’s adventures a reality. Dr. Kaplan from U of U, I can’t imagine navigating this healthy journey without you. Jason Lunden from https://excelptmt.com/our-team/  you’ve been a game-changer. Amy Pakula from https://momentumptmt.com/ you’re one of the best and brightest in the West. To John Henry Anderson from https://www.bozemanaprs.com/ you’ve been there for me since the brush with eternity and Christmas saga of 2013. And to my physiological guru of all things 80/20, Stephen Seiler, your research, calming presence and desire to share what you’ve learned with the masses, has been deeply felt, spanning the mountains of Norway to the banner of the Bridgers here in Bozeman, Montana.  To my wife, @mmandaleach your love, goodness, support, willingness to get up SO early on your days off, to whip up your GF blondie bars (race fuel), and to just be so damn fun to share life with, mahalo nui loa from the depths my love.

Showing up for the Big Sky Biggie was a bold move. Racing it was audacious. There’s been some fallout for sure and I’ve got one more big multi-day event on the calendar for the first week of October. After putting in six rides in eight days following the Biggie (huge growth from a biological durability standpoint), I’m laid up this weekend with a flared hip-flexor following some threshold efforts and a long ride earlier in the week. But I’m hopeful and I believe in my body’s ability to heal, with some help. So, instead of training this week, I’ve been in full-time recovery mode, icing, hot baths, stretching, foam rolling, with the occasional sweetgrass smudge to keep the hope up and the spirit strong.

I never know quite what to expect from my body following these big endurance efforts–despite the relentless and tireless training. But I’m continuing to grow and learn with each season. And I’m more hopeful and optimistic than I’ve been in over a decade regarding what is possible by moving away from the flat out all out approach to training that caused me so much biological fragility over the years, and slowly but surely building up that biological durability.

Capable body, strong mind, brave and bold heart. That’s the mantra right now. Shout out Kate Courtney!

WNbL, michael w. leach