2020 Silver State 508
Introduction:
The infamous 508. A very popular ultra cycling event, but one I have never done. Until 2020.
My exposure to the 508 first started in 2011 when my friend Marc Patton told me about the Furnace Creek 508. (Marc's responsible for getting me into doing double centuries.) I read the website and racer ride reports, and even went to Townes Pass in 2012 to watch the racers summit the long climb. I was aware the race was moved to Nevada in 2014 and renamed the Silver State 508. So, it's been on my radar for a long time. However, when Hoodoo 500 added a 300 mile distance in 2013, I used that as a springboard for getting into the ultra cycling events. It's no secret I fell in love with Hoodoo 500. The 508 just never seemed to get on the To Do List each year.
Part of my reluctance to do SS508 (and RAO, which I also did this year) is the need to get crew to support you. But, SS508 had added a self-supported "randonneur" division, which had me thinking about it for the past few years.
For 2020, my friend Marco Ensing signed up for SS508 rando division and was asking me for help in preparing for his first 500 mile ultra. We rode a couple double century rides together earlier in the year. I was eager to help him make the jump from Hoodoo 300, which he completed in 2017 using my 2013 Hoodoo 300 ride report as a guide. We had been communicating back and forth for a few months about bike setup, food, clothing, lights, etc. But, I had no plans to do SS508. After all, it was scheduled for three weeks after the Hoodoo, in which I would be doing 500 mile Voyager division yet again. [Actually, there were only 18 days off between the end of Hoodoo and the start of SS508.]
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| Marco, me, TJ at Three Points, Heartbreak Double (5/23/2020) |
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| Marco and me on our way to finishing Heartbreak Double (5/23/2020) |
Immediately after returning from Utah, I started looking into the possibility of doing the SS508. At first I tried to see if I could join someone for doing a 2x team, but that didn't pan out, so I shifted my thinking to doing rando. What piqued my interest was I found out that the rules allowed drafting among the randonneur division racers. So I started doing some tentative planning. I made a spreadsheet mapping out the distances, elevation gain, and estimated speeds between time stations. I got the days off work. Although I would have preferred an additional week to recover from Hoodoo and prepare for SS508, I figured there would be a good possibility to ride a significant portion of the course with Marco and/or one or more other randos. And, if I died then there would be a chance to hook up with one of the randos behind me and get help finishing.
I emailed the promoter, Robert Panzera, and warned him I might be signing up last-minute. I just couldn't make up my mind. Sign up? Stay home and recover from Hoodoo (and save the money, too)? I made the decision to go for it less than an hour before the prerace Zoom meeting (due to Covid-19), on Sunday evening, just five days before the race. After paying the entry fee, filling out the online registration forms, printing/signing/scanning/emailing the release forms, I barely had enough time to grab my laptop and join in on the meeting!
Totem:
Historically, the racers in the 508 take on a distinct animal name, called a totem. Rather than race numbers, the participants are referenced by their unique totem. For as long as I can remember, I had planned that if I ever did the 508 I would request the totem Tarkus, after the 1971 Emmerson Lake & Palmer song and album.
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| Tarkus! |
Prerace:
My drive up to Reno was delayed when I realized my car tire was flat. After pumping it up I noticed it had a bulging bubble. That meant a (not) quick stop at a tire shop.
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| tire troubles |
Driving to Reno on Wednesday (16-Sept) the air quality due to fires in the Mammoth Lakes area was horrendous. In Reno, the air quality was noticeably poor because of fires in Northern California. There was a possibility the SS508 would start/finish somewhere outside Reno along the course, and that the race would be shortened. In the end, the promotor's decision was to start in Reno and do the full course.
The air quality in Reno was so poor that I was unable to go for a small spin on Thursday. After doing the registration and bike inspection early in the afternoon, I went out and picked up a late lunch/very early dinner. Later in the evening, after compiling my dropbags and dropping them off. I went to the tiny hotel gym and pedaled lightly on the spin bike for 45 minutes. The big seat on that thing was quite uncomfortable.
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| pre-race mugshot |
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| planning out clothing to go in my dropbags |
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| more dropbag stuff |
In the morning, I packed up my room and brought my luggage to Marco's room, which he was keeping for the duration of the race. The plan was to share his room for the one night after the race. I made my way outside to the start.
Start/Reno to TS1/Silver Springs [mile 0-48] - 48.2 mi.; +2,820'; -3,090':
The solo racers, supported and self-supported, all start together at 5:00 a.m. We ride together at an easy pace for about ten miles, when we reach the base of the first major climb, the nine-plus mile ascent up Geiger Summit, mile 18.3, 6,790'. The field was small this year due to Covid-19. There were 11 rando solos (3 fixed gear), and ten supported solos (one fixed gear, and one recumbent). We followed the pace car around town in the dark. I got to say hello to Dave Haase (rando) and Rob Mann (supported, on fixie), two folks who raced Hoodoo three weeks ago. Once the group started working up the climb, it shook out such that Dave H. was out front, along with Rob M., another supported solo, and another rando. I sat on Marco's wheel as he worked out a strong, sustainable pace. Roughly half way up, we traded places, and I pulled the two of us over the summit. Along the way the sun began to rise and dawn passed into morning. The air quality on the climb was significantly poor.
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| Before the start. (L-R) Marco, me, Rob Mann. |
Before I continue, let me say that we had no pre-arranged plans to team up. It just worked out that we hooked up and rode together on the climb up Geiger. I had no idea how for long we would stay together. As it turned out, we rode the entire race (almost) together.
On the decent, we passed the Rob M., spinning a super high cadence, and two other racers; all but Dave H. Marco led the steep descent from Virginia City down Six Mile Canyon. At the bottom, we turned left onto Highway 50. and started on the mostly flat 18 miles to time station 1, Silver Springs.
TS1/Silver Springs to TS2/Fallon [mile 48-75] - 27.0 mi.; +330'; -560':
Dave H. bypassed TS1 -- I think he didn't see it; the tent was off the highway in a somewhat hidden location due to construction -- so we checked in for him. It was a quick stop for us, less than 10 minutes and we were back on the road again. One rando racer came in after us and he left before us, as I was using the restroom.
Not far out from the time station we caught and passed the other rando racer. I thought he'd join us, but he made no effort to stay with us after we all started from a traffic light. Marco and I just took turns pulling each other for about five to ten minutes along this flat-ish section of Hwy 50. In about 1:07 ride time we pulled into the Fallon time station.
The air quality at the lower altitude was improved, but it seemed to get worse as we rode east to Fallon. I could feel a bit of burning in my throat.
TS2/Fallon to Middlegate [mile 75-125] - 49.9 mi.; +1,710'; -960':
Dave was long gone before we arrived. We did a quick fill up and I shuffled some clothing from my dropbag. Another quick stop. Less than ten minutes, and we hit the highway.
The further we went we could see Dave off in the distance getting closer and closer. About five miles outside of Middlegate we caught him near the top of a short rise. The three of us rolled into the Middlegate rando stop together just before noon.
Middlegate to TS3/Austin [mile 125-186] - 60.9 mi.; +3,860'; -2,200':
Middlegate is not an official time station, but rather a checkpoint and dropbag location for the randonneurs. This year the stop was manned by Tren Morris and his daughter, a motorhome parked on the side of the highway just past the turn from Hwy 50 on to Rt 722. Dave refilled and sped off fairly quick. Marco and I spent a bit more time, adding powder to the bottles, etc. I refilled my hydro pack and swapped a bit of clothing in preparation for the heat of the afternoon.
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| Middlegate rando stop signage |
Leaving the time station, we had no illusions about racing Dave. We weren't chasing, but instead settled in for the steadily increasing incline up to Carroll Summit: 16 miles, 2,700 feet to an elevation of over 7,200'. Both Marco and I were putting out equal efforts and neither of us seemed to be putting the other in distress on the climb.
Following the summit was a solid six to seven miles of quality downhill, then another 35 or so miles to the turn back onto Hwy 50, and the short climb into the Austin time station. The majority of this section of Rt 722 is flat-ish gradual decline in elevation with one short 'bump' in the middle. It's sections like this that having a partner with which to share the work really pays off. Both of us together were able to maintain a higher speed with less effort than if we were solo. Since most ultra cycling events don't allow drafting, we both had this feeling that we were cheating. There were times we could see Dave's taillights very far off in the distance, but we weren't going to catch him. Later on this stretch we started to get caught by some of the faster relay teams.
We encountered road construction near the end of the two-plus miles of climbing into Austin. Cars were stopped going our direction, but the traffic control guys allowed us to continue without stopping. The time station was a gas station in the beginning section of town. We arrived a little before 4:00 p.m.
TS3/Austin - TS4/Eureka [mile 186-256] - 70.1 mi.; +3,150'; -3,210':
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| climbing up to Austin Summit |
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| Marco leading on the climb to Austin Summit |
TS4/Eureka - TS5/Austin [mile 256-326] - 70.2 mi.; +3,050'; -3,000':
In the motel room we spent a long time eating and relaxing. Marco heated some noodles he bought at the store in the microwave. I ate some of the Pringles that Dave had left for us. Marco did a video call with his wife in Korea. I changed clothes into my night kit: warm knickers, long sleeve base layer and jersey, vest. I also packed some more warm gear on to my bike.
When we went back out to time station tent to leave our dropbags, it was raining steadily and started raining stronger and stronger. Ugh. I had decided to leave one of my other warm long sleeve jerseys in my bag, rather than pack it. Now, I was starting to wonder if that was wise. Oh well. We took off in the rain and darkness. A bit of downhill, followed by 42 miles of flat, gradual uphill.
The rain didn't let up. Soon we began to experience lightning and distant thunder. And rain. We started seeing racers heading east to Eureka. We passed a solo supported rider. Eventually, Marco asked about stopping so he could put on a jacket. No problem. I used this stop to sit down on the wet asphalt shoulder of the highway, in the rain, to put on my shoe covers. It was tricky to do in the darkness. The solo racer we had just passed went by us.
Along the way, there was an ambulance that past us at speed going towards Eureka. Later, it flew past us heading west. Marco and I both worried that one of our fellow racers had been injured. (We found out later that the ambulance wasn't carrying a cyclist from the race.)
By the time we reached the climbs to Austin Summit the rain and lightning had stopped. We made our way up the first part of the Austin climb well. It was six miles and 1,350'. I remember just being in an easy gear and plugging away at it with an earbud in one ear filling my head with some music. Then it's a fast downhill for one and half miles, followed by the final two and a quarter miles uphill to the Austin Summit, 7,500', mile 323. It was on this climb that I found myself getting ahead of Marco. I waited just a bit at the top and we descended together down in to Austin. We had to be careful going through the construction in town. Large cones, steel plates. Best to take it easy and be safe. Soon enough we see the time station tent on the left side of the road. It was 3:18 a.m.
TS5/Austin - Middlegate [mile 326-387] - 60.6 mi.; +3,210'; -3,960':
When we checked in at the time station, we were pointed to the motel room reserved for randonneurs. "There's some guys in there. But they are DNF, so you can kick them out." Umm. Okay. Marco and I grabbed our dropbags and walked our bikes across the uphill gravel lot to the room. It was a small room with two racers, one in bed and one on the bed. Stuff all over. I just asked that they move their bikes outside the room so we'd have a little bit of space to do our business. At one point I wanted to sit down for a bit, and resorted to using the toilet as a chair. (After being in the room for over half an hour, I realized there was another bedroom in this small motel room where a third racer was resting in the dark.) I ate food, and refilled as usual. The whole time I rearranged my clothing, attached gear to my bike, and repacked my dropbag, I was running my mouth to Jeffrey Sparks, a young fixie rando entrant. (Jeffrey told me after the event that he learned a lot from just watching us and seeing how we planned and prepared our dropbags.) Meanwhile, Marco was telling me to shut up and get going so we could leave and get on the road. After all, the temperature was likely to drop below freezing, and we would want to be further along the course at a lower altitude when that happened. I left wearing arm warmers on top of my long sleeve baselayer and jersey, knee warmers on top of my warm knickers, and two vests. I switched helmets to one that had more room inside for warm hat.
About an hour after arriving, we got back on the road. In the darkness it was difficult to make out the left turn to Rt 722. Thank goodness for GPS bike computers. Making navigation more difficult was the dense fog. After making the turn, visibility was 10m at most. This section of Rt 722 didn't have any painted lines. Marco lead, riding very close to the right shoulder. I was struggling to keep awake, and weaving all over the road in the darkness. The shoulder appeared to be small gravel with very low shrubs; so relatively safe if I accidentally drifted off the road. Worse, though, I nearly collided with Marco's rear wheel a few times. Not very safe. I don't know how long this lasted, but I was eventually 'awake' before daybreak. By the time we reached Railroad summit, 6,300', mile 346, it was starting to get light out.
Two miles of downhill rest followed the summit. Then, we had 15 or so flat miles to the base of the climb to Carroll Summit. Even as it got lighter, the temperatures continued to drop. We had been above freezing in the 30's, but soon I saw my computer show 32F, 31F, 30F. We only had about an hour of freezing/subfreezing temperatures. Just enough to make the fingers tingle. Once the sun rose above the horizon behind us, it started to warm up. I kind of welcomed the upcoming climb, as it would help bring up the body temperature.
Somewhere around here was (from my perception in hindsight) the beginning of the end for Marco. The climb to Carroll Summit starts off gradual for three or four miles, and then it's five and a half miles of 'real' uphill, up to an elevation of over 7,200', at mile 370. On the climb I pulled ahead of Marco. Realizing we weren't together, I stopped about half way up to make sure he was okay. Once I saw him working his way up the road, I got going again. I just took it easy up to the top and waited a minute or two for him to join, so we could roll downhill together. Seventeen miles of nice downhill and easy pedaling into the checkpoint at Middlegate.
Middlegate - TS6/Fallon [mile 387-438] - 51.5 mi.; +990'; -1,720':
We arrived at the checkpoint at roughly 8:40 a.m. It was nice to see Tren and his daughter here once again. Whereas Marco had pestered me to shut-up-and-get-going at the last time station, now he was content to sit and have a small nap. This gave me plenty of time to strip off my cold gear and change into a fresh kit (al fresco!) for the second day. Marco complained of muscle pain in his quads, and eagerly accepted whatever ibuprofen I had to offer. He suggested perhaps now I could go ahead of him if I wanted. My response, which never changed, was that we had plenty of time to finish within the time limit and that I would ride with him at a whatever pace. Finally, after filling up, we set off before 10:00 a.m. for Fallon.
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| me and Marco, sporting some of the gear that helped us through the rain and subfreezing temperatures |
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| with Tren at Middlegate (after changing into new kit) |
The course from Middlegate to Fallon is fairly unremarkable. After a little more gradual downhill, there were a couple uphill bits, less than a mile each, followed by a long, flat/gradual uphill drag into town. I pulled the whole way. Three hours. So, still a reasonable pace. The temperatures rose to the mid-70s during this stretch.
Once in Fallon, Marco spotted a CVS drugstore across the road and asked about stopping for some muscle cream. Being the nice guy I am I agreed, but I made him buy me Mtn Dew while I waited outside with the bikes. We carried the purchased stuff another couple blocks to the time station.
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| bikes outside Fallon CVS |
TS6/Fallon - TS7/Silver Springs [mile 438-464] - 25.5 mi.; +610'; -340':
It was 1:08 p.m. when we arrived at the Fallon time station. While we were here, some friends arrived: Daniel Tran, riding with a 4x team, and Steve Meichtry, who had paired up with Ira Kucheck. Again, Marco suggested it was time for me to continue without him. I argued that it was only 25 miles to Silver Springs, mostly flat; let's just see how it goes. We refilled and rested up.
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| at Fallon time station; (L-R) Marco, Daniel T., me |
Immediately upon leaving the time station, Marco was in difficulty. He told me he wasn't able to keep his eyes up, so was just staring at my rear wheel. I was careful to point out the debris and potholes. We stopped a few times along the way to drink. The profile of this leg is more flat/gradual uphill, with a couple shorter 2-3% hills. The temperature reached the low 80s, the warmest we would experience during the race.
TS7/Silver Springs - Finish/Reno [mile 464-508] - 44.0 mi.; +2,940'; -2,710':
The stop in Silver Springs was a another motorhome, staffed by a nice couple whose names I'm sorry I cannot remember. Thankfully they allowed me to use the restroom inside. I had been putting on heaps of chamois cream since Middlegate because I felt a worsening saddle sore. Once again Marco told me to go ahead without him. He would either rest longer and then ride to the finish solo, or he would drop out and get a ride back to Reno. And again I said we had more than enough time to finish and that I didn't care how fast we went. After refilling and resting, Marco agreed to get back on his bike and stare at my rear wheel.
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| sitting down at Silver Springs time station |
Y'all know the deal... This final leg of the course goes up Six Mile Canyon, with it's killer steep section into Virginia City, and over Geiger Summit back to Reno. Before we could get to the climb, there was another 18 miles of flat riding on Hwy 50. We did some more stops along the highway to drink. We made slow but steady pace. After turning onto Six Mile Canyon, I stopped at a fire station to text my family and let Marco get ahead of me. (From my mother's texts, it was apparent that my Spot tracker was no longer working.) I would ride until I caught up to Marco, ride with him, stop, ride again. This persisted half way up the climb. Then it finally reached the point where Marco started walking. I convinced him to take off his shoes so as to not destroy his cleats. With my 1:1 (33x33) gear, I could ride behind him while he walked. The final mile into Virginia City averaged well over 9%. Eventually reached the right turn onto D Street, and found a nice short wall made of two stacked railroad ties. We leaned our bikes and sat down.
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| signs on Six Mile Canyon |
Marco expressed reservations about his ability to get back on his bike, but was still willing to try. One problem, though; he wasn't able to put on his shoes. So, I fed his feet into the shoes and tightened the Boa closures for him. D street is one brief flat block, followed by another short moderate uphill block, and then a bit of slight downhill before it joins into Geiger Grade Rd. From there to the summit is a mile of gradual uphill, and then two and a half miles of serious climbing to the summit. Marco just couldn't pedal. The pain in his quads was too great. The shoes came off, and then more walking. I reminded him that even at walking pace, we'd be at the summit in an hour. After that is about ten miles of coasting downhill, and then a flat five or six miles back to the finish. Heck, I would push him to the finish if I had to.
By now it was getting dark. A few of the passing cars slowed and asked if we were okay and if we needed help. We waived them off. It had gotten cold up here at dusk and altitude. Marco stopped to add a warm long-sleeve undershirt. We were at mile 489, less than 20 miles from the finish. 96% of the course completed. A few more steps, and then it happened: Marco stopped, turned to me, and said he had to stop because he wouldn't be safe going downhill. He was shivering a bit. He was right, of course.
I couldn't leave him without knowing he had a safe ride back to Reno. Within a minute, two cars stopped and one agreed to take him to Reno. Marco began loading his bike into the guy's minivan, thanked me, and told me to get going.
I pedaled up to summit in the dark. I had mixed feelings about leaving Marco. I wondered if it would have been better to have left him back at Silver Springs (and return in my van to pick him up). It was too late for that. The fatigue of hundreds of miles and little to no sleep doesn't always make for the clearest thinking. In the end, though, he made the correct decision to stop.
Just past the Geiger Summit, mile 493, I pulled over and took out my phone. I sent a text my family and to Robert Panzera to let them know where I was, and that I would be finishing in about 45 minutes. It was approximately 8:00 p.m.
The long downhill gave me time to ponder the wisdom of not trying to do it in Marco's condition. I proceeded safely, even pulling into wide shoulder turnouts twice to allow cars to pass me. It was warmer at the bottom, but still chilly low 60s.
I pressed across town towards the finish. But I could barely remain seated. My saddle sore had developed into something that couldn't be ignored. There was a bit of pedaling out of the saddle, and a lot of shifting around. The finish couldn't come soon enough. Finally, I started to recognize my surroundings and to see hotel. I turned in and crossed the finish line at 8:43 p.m. For someone who just finished an ultra, I looked quite fresh. (Reminder: I had no sleep at all for the entire duration of the race.)
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| big smile for the finisher photo |
Postrace
Robert P. told me that Marco had already been dropped off at the hotel. I went up to the room and found him awake, resting in bed. I called a restaurant to order us food before it closed. Without bathing or changing clothes, I grabbed my car keys and drove over to pick it up.
An hour later, after I showered and ate dinner, Marco decided to go to the hospital one block away from the hotel. You can read what happened to Marco here. (FYI, It wasn't good.)
I slept in Sunday morning, packed my car, packed Marco's gear, took all of his stuff and bike to the hotel's storage, and dropped off Marco's phone charger at the hospital before driving home.
(Well, I stopped at CVS first. Let's just say it isn't easy to put Neosporin and bandage on your butt while sitting in your car in the parking lot of the drugstore.)
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| Marco's comment to me on Facebook, and my reply to his comment |
Ride data:
[published 2020-10-10]
Love this; especially the comaraderie in exceptionally tough times. As it should be!
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