South Mountain - Team Ride

"The Interview"

It’s Christmas Eve, and Cycling Times’ Rodger Neil sits down with Tod Smith at his home in Scottsdale, Arizona. After years of eluding the media, Smith agrees to meet with us to discuss a range of topics, centered on both past and present that surround this controversial figure.

Perhaps influenced by the comfort of his home, with wife Tammi, and daughters Alexis and Madison in close proximity (in fact, the girls are in the adjacent kitchen working on the family’s Christmas Eve dinner), Smith is surprisingly willing to answer our questions, taking the tough ones head on. Occasionally guarded, even defensive, Smith seems for the most part quite relaxed, having just returned from a long winter “base” ride with his Bicycle Haus teammates. As we speak, he’s laying on the couch of his family room, sipping a recovery shake, legs elevated at an uncomfortable looking angle, sporting compression socks, with ice nursing his left knee.

RN – Tod, thanks for agreeing to sit down with us, but why now after evading the media, particularly in recent years?

TS – Well, I guess I just feel like there is so much crap out there. So many stories or rumors with no substance. Utter nonsense. As much as I try to avoid it…not listen to it...at some point I need to set the record straight, and I feel now is the time to get that done.

RN- Great. Well to start, how you feeling? How’s the training going?

TS – Things are going great. I’ve been concentrating on my strength, spending a lot of time in the gym lifting, yoga. It’s the time of year…

(Tammi is clearly overheard from the kitchen, interrupting, “This is such bullshit. He’s a fucking accountant for crying out loud. I’m so sick of this shit”.)

TS- Hey, hey, Tammi, please stay out of this okay! For crying out loud…So anyway, yeah, I was saying, lots of gym work, core. I really think it can be a differentiator for me this year.

RN – Well, it also looks like you are taking recovery quite seriously. I mean you have a lot of stuff going on there. Is that an age thing?

TS – Look, we agreed we’d stay away from age. It’s just a number, right? I don’t buy into statistics. I just think recovery is really critical. This is when we get stronger, taking in lots of rest between hard sessions.

RN – Look, your age is of interest to…

TS – Not going to discuss it!

RN – Well, I guess having your feet up at the office during your day job helps?

TS - Well, it’s not really a job. It’s a hobby. We all have different ways to relax. For me, it’s being a partner in an accounting firm. I don’t know, for me working on corporate recapitalizations, mergers, acquisitions, IPO’s. This kind of stuff just relaxes me. I forget my troubles. Clears my mind so that when I get on my bike I can focus.

RN – Tammi tells us that it’s really this… well, what you refer to as a hobby…that supports your family’s financial obligations?

TS – She’s nuts. Lost her mind. I had a decent season this year. There’s tons of money floating through the local Arizona race scene. You can get rich performing well in crits, picking up lots of primes, targeting the big events, like, for example the Hungry Dog Crit. I could go on.

RN – Your wife mentioned to us that it’s mainly pairs of sock, a box of cookies, stuff like that. But hey, I can tell you’d like to move on. Okay, you mentioned your season, what were your goals? Did you target any one race in particular?

TS – I was really focused on going good in August, for Leadville. My whole season centered on that race. I was really, really motivated. Got my weight way down. Lot’s of rest. You know.

RN – And the pay out for this event?

TS-What’s your point? What are you getting at?

RN– The winnings. What was your take home from this event?

TS – Well…for this one event, it wasn’t about the money…it was just about fulfilling a dream. You know, targeting something important and reaching that goal. Sometimes it’s not about the money.

RN– Okay. We get it, no pay out for this race. No big deal. Moving on, how did you prepare for this event? What training program do you ascribe to?

TS – I’m really disciplined. It probably ties into my hobby…the accountant in me. I use Joe Friel’s periodization approach. Making sure I have a plan and sticking to it. Making sure my easy days are really easy and on others days I train with a specific purpose. That’s why I’m such a big fan of social media. Twitter. It’s a way for me and other athletes to give back. You know, to share with the up and comers our approach to training.

RN – Is Joe Friel your coach?

TS- No. I’m not using a coach right now. I feel like I really understand my own body and have an approach that works for me. I’ve really got it dialed in.

RN – Okay, well let me be blunt. Your wife mentioned to us that she feels you need help. A coach so to speak. Mental help…a shrink.

TS- She’s referring to a sports psychologist. Someone that can help me take my pain tolerance to a whole new level. It’s all about suffering, and we as humans can take way more pain than we can possibly imagine. I feel…

(Again, Tammi from the kitchen, “He’s fucking nuts. Neil, when you leave, do me a favor and please take him with you.)

RN – Look, you’ve been open with us thus far. Let’s deal with the tough stuff…the rumors. Is it true that you intentionally ran into the street in a pair of shorts and slid across the road on your knees to create scarring…to toughen up your image for the crits?

TS – That’s such bullshit. Who in their right mind would…

RN – Alexis says she watched you do…

TS – It’s bullshit.

RN – We’ve learned from a reliable source that you refuse to go to the upstairs portion of your home. That it hurts recovery. That you have even reached out to contractors about the installation of an electric chair lift. So you won’t have to walk the stairs.

TS- Well there is some truth to that but it’s about extending common courtesy to guests. My parents are getting older and I just thought that when they come to visit it would be nice if they didn’t have to take the stairs.

RN – Tammi tells us that your family doesn’t like visiting you. That ,they too think that things are just not right with you these days.

TS – I don’t like the direction this interview is heading.

RN – I’ll change subjects then. Your daughters tell us that the only thing you talk to them about is what you eat and don’t eat. That they are both surprised that they do not have serious eating disorders. That you weigh yourself up to three times a day, and that you will never, ever weigh yourself in the morning until you’ve had a cup of coffee, triggering a massive bowel…

TS- Look, you are going way off course now. This conversation is going to end unless you act more professionally and cover the interest of my followers.

RN – Your Twitter account would suggest that you only have 13 followers. And that most of these are simply establishments you’ve frequented. Mainly restaurants.

TS – This interview is over.

RN – It’s almost impossible to talk about cycling and not talk about doping. However, you’re a believer in transparency and have published your blood panels and power tests on your website. From this data, it’s evident that you are either clean, or the drugs you are taking are not working. Your power to weight ratio is somewhere around, well, an average Cat 4 racer at best…

TS – That test was taken before I had peaked...seriously, you are pissing me off and this interview is over.

RN – Okay, okay, settle down. Let me ask one final question. One more time, how old are you?

TS – That’s it, get out. I knew I should never have granted this interview. Leave me in peace…this kind of stress is not good…this could set me back weeks.

Editors note – We’d like to thank Tammi and the girls for the hospitality during our visit into their home. As extensive as Smith’s problems appear, his wife and daughters are delightful, and we pass along our heartfelt sympathies to each of them. In fact, they graciously walked our Velo Times team out to our car, profusely apologizing, and leaving us with a variety of freshly baked holiday treats. Smith, in expected fashion, refused to get off the couch, as it would have interrupted what he called a “critically important recovery session” before lunch with (according to Tod) "Cipo".

"Recovery Ride" Gluten Free Pumpkin Bread

This stuff is so good I had no choice but to share. Well, I actually ate it all myself, but I mean "share" in terms of passing along this recipe.

So how did the batch of pleasure come together...Okay, so what I did was I took Mom's famous pumpkin bread recipe that I grew up eating by the pound, and modified it for us somewhat overly food focused cyclists. And because, every one of us are sensitive to gluten, just to varying degrees, I took the gluten out of it (or at least I think I did because gluten is in so much stuff I can't be bothered to check every label). I also made certain modifications, with muscle recovery, antioxidants, etc. in mind.

First of all, pumpkin in itself is a power food. It's loaded with antioxidant beta-carontene, which your body converts to Vitamin A. It is also loaded with Vitamin C and potassium. So it's good from the start. Next, the substitutions. Specifically, I used olive oil in place of butter. The beneficial health effects of olive oil are due to both its high content of monounsaturated fatty acids and its high content of antioxidative substances. Studies have shown that olive oil offers protection against heart disease by controlling LDL ("bad") cholesterol levels while raising HDL (the "good" cholesterol) levels. I also added coconut oil. Coconut oil is really good for you, including maintaining cholesterol levels, increased immunity, proper digestion, bone strength, metabolism and get this...weight loss for us power to weight enamored athletes. It also included added protein, glutamine, and branch chain amino acids.

So enough with all the analysis...here you go and enjoy!

1 1/2 Cup of Bob's Red Mill Gluten Free Whole Grain Oat Flour

1 Tablespoon of Baking Soda

3/4 Teaspoon of Salt

3/4 Tablespoon of Cinnamon

3/4 Tablespoon of Nutmeg

1/4 Teaspoon of Ginger

1 1/2 Cup of Sugar (you could give Stevia a try?)

1/2 Cup of Virgin Olive Oil

1/4 Cup of Coconut Oil

2 Eggs

1/4 Cup of Water

1 Cup of Pumpkin

1/2 Cup of Protein Powder

15 grams of L - Glutamine Powder

15 grams of Branch Chain Amino Acid Powder

Blend well and bake at 350 degrees for approximately 45 minutes in a small bread loaf pan (fill each pan half way and it will make 2 small loaves).

Let cool, enjoy and recover!!!

Mr. Smith goes "Hollywood"

Here is the link to the Sram commercial that ran during the 2010 Tour de France...filmed at the 2010 Tour of the Gila.

http://vimeo.com/channels/sram#13618277

Leadville Trail 100 - "The Sequel"

Every good horror flick has a sequel…I mean come on, what would Halloween have been without Halloween II, or more apropos to this event, the Texas Chain Saw sequel, or Freddy Krueger Goes Female. Seriously, and I say this respectfully, with great compassion for those still recovering, “She” was downright violent this go around.

Any doubts that may have lingered from a year ago, well, they’re simply gone. This mining town is seriously haunted. No question about it, She is a permanent resident here, affixed atop Columbine, looking down on all the fools lining up for the Leadville Trail 100.

I’ll give Her a bit of credit, she gives you fair warning. I had my own chance to bail out, as after all of my preparation, the Bitch inflicted me with illness a mere 5 days before the start. And a broader, last minute warning went out to the masses…holding the event the day after Friday the 13^th should have sent concern through all of our minds. Heck, this time She even sent a private telegram to Lance, and it instilled such fear in the man, he suddenly had hip pain, and stayed home. As rumor has it, She simply asked him “whether he liked having his one remaining nut?”

Lance has always been a very smart man.

Anyway, once you’ve ignored fair warning, the gloves come off. But first, She lures you in. This year it was the weather. Absolutely perfect racing weather. It gave you a total sense of calm, of (over) confidence. Oh how you will regret this. I’m telling you that you’ve got to protect yourself, guard your chin, and stay on your toes at all times. You must absolutely maintain concentration for somewhere between 7 and 13 hours or you are, well, you are simply fucked!

So after leaving Leadville last year, and feeling like I had been locked up in a Turkish prison with nothing but a slippery bar of soap, I made careful this go-around. Everyone told me I was losing too much weight, and way too concerned with my power to weight ratio (between body, bike and shoes I shaved 8 lbs.). Well, you’ve absolutely missed the point. I worked my ass of to lose enough weight such that the Wicked Witch would confuse me for a baby Birch Tree…the ones that line the Columbine descent. Yes, those are the ones, the trees She used as a meat grinder, as I watched in horror as three un-expecting young lads descended straight into them at 30 mph (again, in all seriousness, my thoughts and prayers go out). Oh, by the way, my strategy worked. I was simply so bloody gaunt she had no idea I was a contestant.

Others weren’t so lucky (like the dudes discussed above). For example, She tried to take a few favorites out early. Like at the top of Powerline, where She personally locked up Levi’s disk brakes, causing Todd Wells to ride up his ass, both of them tasting a mouth full of mining slag early in the event.

Heck, She didn't even let our buddy Chandler show up. The guy trains with tremendous discipline, with final preparation for Leadville in Telluride. During his final mini-camp, Mr. Spears does some epic rides, one with over 12 feet of climbing and has as we say, "great legs". The next day, doing more or less a recovery ride, he's faced with an easy decision. Go one way and it's a coast back to base camp...go the other and it's a treacherous triple black diamond descent. Well, the last thing anyone wants before big event is an injury, so Chandler wisely decides on a coast back to camp. One problem, She decides he'd enjoy the triple black diamond plunge. Well you know how this ends. As hard as he tries to turn his bars in the sensible direction, She overpowers him and sends him off a ledge. The side of a house would have been less steep, and certainly, with fewer boulders. He starts the drop with two functioning knees and finishes with one. She hates a dude with good legs.

Then there was Salstrand, coming off an 11^th place last year (and yes, this pissed Her off big-time). Eric was having a perfect day…placed in the top 10 descending Columbine, and well ahead of last year’s pace. No problem, She promptly got inside some guy’s head…schmuck thought he was British for a minute put himself on the wrong side of the fire road. This was beautifully timed, on one of Salstand’s blind corners, resulting in an aligned head-on. Eric trashed his front wheel and was promptly relegated to a feed zone 2 “time-out” for bad behavior. See, She knows Eric well, understanding he can handle the physical pain, but a time-out for crying out loud…pure torture. “Sorry Eric, you did it to me once (last year), but not twice”, She barked.

And then there was Schulhofer. “It’s your first go around”, She hissed. “No problem. I’ll let you finish…I’ll even allow you a very impressive time. But first, a few minor details. For starters I’m going to filet your arm against jagged stone, exposing a fair chunk of bone to you and your compatriots, pack it with rocks, leaving you with a high risk of infection. Then, for good measure and to add a tad of humiliation, let’s take those nice lycra shorts and drag them across some gravel, inserting more rock and exposing your white ass to the masses. By the time I’m done, you’ll get on your hands and knees and beg for the deletion of any and all photos.”

Next, She came up with special plans for Mr. White…a two-year strategy no less. Now with Bill we’re talking about an athlete with big-time talent, a U.S. National Mountain Bike Champion. This guy has got a serious engine, and when he focuses on an event, it almost always means victory. Bill leaves no stone unturned, no detail too small to overlook with countless hours of course study and machine preparation, training at altitude, etc. Her comments for Bill go like this… “Hey YT, listen up. Because I really admire Cindy, and for that reason alone, I’ll allow you do well this year. However Billy, I’m going to leave you with a sense of dissatisfaction when you’re done…a conviction that you can do way better. Yes, I want you to come back. I’m even begging you to come back. Go ahead YT, I know all about your strategies. Train with purpose, trim grams from your bike, even weigh your tires orders and pick the lightest from the batch. Go ahead and shave a gram here, and shave a gram there…heck, even give dieting a try. But here Bill is my commitment to you. Just as with Lance this year, you’re going to be my special recipient of a telegram next year. Just a simple note with a simple suggestion…really a recommendation…to start shopping now for full body armor. That’s right, I suggest you come back looking like a Knight of the Templar. Full helmet, the whole works. Bring a lance and ride a horse for all I care. Do your research and find a light one, but please put one on.”

Last but not least, there is Oakley Rich. “Mr. Weis. Let’s talk shall we? Last year, you had the audacity to invite guests and we all know how that ended up, don’t we? In fact, it was covered quite thoroughly in Mr. Smith’s Bullshit Blog…remember, all that crap about you and Lance together making a “pair”? How you feeling by the way…feeling like less of a man after last year’s single track? Did you come back to race or look for your nut? Well, I know how important it is for you to take care of your friends, so you ignore absolutely everything I taught you, and you come back! Not only do you come back, but you bring those assholes again! Well for that a special treat…I know of all your preparations Rich. Your calorie restriction, no eating till 4 p.m., endless treks up Mt. Lemon, the suffering up Continental. Oh, and all the bloody bullshit motor pacing. Well guess what, I just motor paced you to a 9:04. That’s right, four lousy minutes. I picked this as a very special number for you Rich. It simply means FOUR-K You!!!

Ok, hold on. Where are we at with this story anyway? You, know the critics got all over the original for being too long, so maybe we wrap this up now. The bottom line is, this is an extremely strange event. I’ve spoken to countless contestants and I’ve absolutely reached a final conclusion. Just read the comments from guys like Levi, whining to get off his bike, a TDF podium finisher saying that the event is just ridiculous, that he’s never suffered like that before. So my simple conclusion is this…She gives every contestant (no discrimination here, male or female) the opportunity to experience childbirth…triplets no-less. Just a buckle (one full-term and one premature), no baby. Imagine, giving birth to a belt buckle?

You sweat, sometimes you freeze, you suffer like never ever before. She embarrasses you. You plead for it to end. You curse, you yell, some puke. Heck, some even shit themselves. And then, the next day, with no logical explanation whatsoever, you forget, and you want to come back…for another date, with Her. Well fine, that’s o.k. Just make sure you wear your body armor.

Amgen Tour of California - Stage 8 Preview

This past weekend I had an incredible time training with my life long friend and teammate, David Schulhofer. Over three days we rode 200 miles and climbed over 19,000 feet. Most of our time was spent in the Santa Monica Mountains, climbs we have tackled together since our teenage years. We finished the weekend off with the Amgen Tour of California Breakaway Ride, which took place on the course that will be used for this years TOC, Stage 8. It includes a circuit with the famous "Rock Store Climb"...massive suffering. David and I were able to get into a four man break with non other than Ned Overand (no, I did not beat him...he was there representing Specialized and doing the longer course). With a lot of help from Dave, I was able to win the 63 mile event, which capped off a great weekend!

A Personal Story...

Af-flic-tion 1. a state of pain, distress, or grief; misery 2. a cause of mental or bodily pain, as sickness, loss, calamity, or persecution.

Have you ever wished, with all your heart, that you could fast forward time and bring yourself immediately to a place of eternal peace? Save a few days for precious goodbyes, but please, let’s just skip everything in between! It’s not easy to admit, but it would be inappropriate to exclude this very real thought if my true intention is to scribe moments that leap out at me, like they happened moments ago – lucid memories that are really so fundamental to this specific life experience. It’s really not an experience. In fact, it’s feels totally inappropriate to refer to it as such. From my vantage it at times feels like a tragedy, a calamity, bad fortune or a curse. An affliction.

Fundamentally, I’m afraid this was, and is, a life-altering circumstance, and now, really part of whom I am. While often maddening, exasperating, it does at times feel like a very, very strange sort of blessing. Let me do my best to explain.

It goes like this…

On Tuesday, February 21, 2006 I had a very thorough (frankly, too thorough, if you know what I mean) physical exam, including lab tests, and results showed I was in excellent condition. At that appointment, however, I complained of very slight burning and tingling sensations in my fingers and toes. On the 28^th, this strange and troubling feeling began moving, rather symmetrically up my arms and legs. On March 3, this pain became so severe that I went to the emergency room. After a wait that felt like forever, and a long list of patients in front of me, my exhaustion won out and I went home. Trying to rest the next day, the pain was now in my torso, and on the 5^th it spread to my face. On March 6^th, at 1:30 in the morning I went back to the emergency room and was admitted... the attending physician really struggled to understand what was happening.

I know, this story is getting long, so hang in there and I will fast forward a bit. I had concluded, based on numerous conversations and doctor theory, that my problem was neurological in nature. On March 14^th, I was referred into one the best Neurologists in Arizona. I went through nerve conduction testing, an MRI, and a small “punch” skin biopsy from the lower portion of my leg. Thank goodness, the MRI ruled out what could have been a very serious illness ( waiting for those results felt like three lifetimes, and with my mind racing, I was expecting the worse). However, the biopsy did confirm that my peripheral nerves were damaged…the bottom line, I was diagnosed with idiopathic (meaning no known explanation or cause) Small Fiber Neuropathy (SFN). In overly simplistic terms, SFN is a disease of the very small nerve fibers in the skin. Frankly, it’s hard for me to read published papers on the disorder – doctors use words like “progressive”, and “debilitating”, which is a bit disturbing when you’re the subject of discussion. On the other hand, “why be a statistic”, so I do my best to stay positive. In either case, I won’t lie…the pain is overwhelming at times, and I’ve had the distinct pleasure of experiencing ranging levels of pain, every hour of every day, going on four years.

Grief 1. Keen mental suffering or distress over affliction or loss; sharp sorrow; painful regret. 2. A cause or occasion of keen distress or sorrow.

Traditionally, there are 5 stages of grief…we’ve all heard this, right?

Denial - "This can't be happening, not to me."

Anger - "Why me?"; "It's not fair!"; "How can this happen to me?"; "Who is to blame?"

Bargaining - "I'll do anything for a few more years"

Depression - "I'm so sad, why bother with anything."

Acceptance- "It's going to be ok."; "I can't fight it, so I might as well prepare for it."

I’ve learned a person grieving may not experience all 5 stages, and they certainly do not have to occur sequentially. In my own experience, I float around denial, very brief moments (rather than periods) of depression, and acceptance. Acceptance is taking time however, and writing this is a part of the acceptance process.

I’ve been asked why I don’t get angry, and I guess I just don’t see the point, nor do I believe I have the right. Just look around you and you can always find someone with far greater struggles. “Why me”, well “why not me”…”stuff” just happens, and there is a certain natural level of disorder, chaos, in life that we should each come to expect.

And bargaining, well with whom shall I bargain? You see, I believe in a God with the power to intervene, but that rarely does. Not out of a lack of caring, but with confidence in our resiliency, our ability to care for one another, and a judge and implementer of ultimate fairness. I guess I just feel that in those extremely rare occasions when He does choose to intervene, I suspect…no I’m quite sure…He has far more important issues to deal with.

Suffer 1. To undergo or feel pain or distress.

We are taught that we each have a purpose, a reason for being here. Furthermore, history shows us that a circumstance of tremendous struggle, creates great opportunity. Rather than hardship excusing us, perhaps it obligates us. Don’t get me wrong, it really, really gets me down sometimes, but maybe it’s better, healthier, for me to believe that suffering is part of my purpose, so to speak, my glory or unique contribution (it must be, given my love of racing bikes, which is really all about the beauty of absolutely horrendous suffering) and that SFN is my vehicle to help others, and inspire? Besides, while it is relative, we all struggle, and we all suffer to some extent.

Attitude 1. Manner, disposition, feeling, position, etc., with regard to a person or thing, tendency or orientation, esp. of the mind.

So in the end, it all seems to come down to attitude, and our free will to decide how we react to challenge. I mentioned early on that perhaps this was a blessing. And while at times I honestly want to eat these words, often, this is truly how I feel. Why? Well I truly am one of the lucky ones. My wife, girls, and the extended family I cherish. A rare set of friends. A team of the best doctors, a career I am grateful for, and a passion for cycling that first and foremost I am physically able to do, but that also helps me to feel better, and mitigates my symptoms.

I guess what I’m saying, in conclusion, is that as a product of this condition, I’m able to appreciate life, and all that is around me to a degree, and with intensity I never, ever knew before! And for that, I am truly blessed...and very, very indebted.

Small Fiber Neuropathy

This link will take you to an excellent article on Small Fiber Neuropathy.

A Dream, or the AZ State Time Trial Championship

I just woke from the craziest dream. Really, it would be more accurate to categorize it as a bloody nightmare. It was so intense, so vivid that I felt compelled to put it on paper. If anyone out there is good at psychoanalysis, have a read and help me out with this. Please!

So the dream goes like this. The 2009 race season is winding down, with just a few events remaining. I have no intentions of doing the AZ State Team Time Trial Championship, but at the last minute, we throw together a Haus team that makes absolutely no sense. Don Williams, Scott Schraff, and myself. But the part that is absolutely ridiculous, we recruit Eric Salstrand as our fourth guy?

Now, I need to be very respectful of Don and Scott, and deservingly so. These guys are super strong bike racers, and Don holds more cycling championships and records than anyone I know. In fact, if you had a racing pedigree with 1% of Don’s accomplishments, you’d be doing extremely well. But the problem with these time trials is that they are excruciatingly painful. Generally speaking, a little under an hour of living hell. Then you throw in a guy with “pulls” are like Bill White’s Ducati crotch-rocket, and well, hell would be a much, much nicer place. If you could finish with one guy o.k. but the rules require you finish three intact.

You see, Salstrand is part man part animal. I could spend all kinds of time describing him using fancy adjectives and metaphors, but let me keep it simple... if he wore socks you’d swear you were riding with Fabian Cancellara. For God’s sake, he even looks like the guy. What also makes this team selection so comical is that there’s a bit of age difference. In fact, if you take the 3 of us and calculate the difference between each of our ages, and Eric’s, you get total of about 60 years. No big deal. Just more experience, right? Well, you're wrong.

So in this phantasm, there are all sorts of interaction and communications between our team. I can’t seem to remember all of it, but a few remain tucked in memory. First, I recall calling Don and asking him to join our outfit. He asked who are teammates were, and when I mentioned Salstrand, he reacted calmly, but tellingly with the utterance, “oh shit”.

There was also tons of conversation with Eric. Actually, it would be better described as very specific instruction. “Eric, understand the strength difference in our team”, “we need to ride as a unit”, “the key to going fast is pacing”, “we are faster with 4 guys than three”, “we need to start slow”, and “no gaps in our formation”, “if we tell you to slow down, slow down”…anyway, you get the picture. So we’re on the start line and ready to go. But, here is where what could have been some really nice R.E.M., becomes a complete train wreck. Salstrand immediately behaves like we did something to upset him. Like we kicked his new born, Paige. All of our pre-race chatter, and instruction…the pacing, etc. he completely ignores. It’s like we never had the conversation. And the more we yell at him to slow down, the more upset he becomes. Not good.

So five minutes in, after 3 or 4 monster “Salstrand pulls”, Schraff looks at me and says, “I’m done”. I seriously considered asking if I could leave with him...you know, just sneak away without the other two even knowing...hide in some bushes or behind cactus. Bad decision, I decide to soldier ahead. So now we’re down to three. And to make my personal experience even worse, Don is in great form and the two of them are just killing me. How can I describe this? It’s truly like someone holding a flame to your lungs, for 55 flipping minutes, and these 55 minutes feel like 55 years. The pain and suffering is just unbearable. In this horrible dream, I keep slipping off the back, trying to get back on this 34 mph locomotive. I pray for a flat tire. I consider an intentional overlap of a rear wheel, as I’m totally convinced at this point that sliding on pavement would be more comfortable than trying to hang on. What excuse can I come up with? I politely ask, more than once, for them to take it easy. When they look back at me, they have fangs, and red eyes lacking pupils. Their stare startles me, waking me in a pool of sweat.

Only a dream! Thank goodness. After calming myself, I begin to chuckle. So absurd, clearly my common sense would never put me in such an idiotic position. Now I’m laughing out loud, right…so ridiculous! This could just never happen. But the images are so concrete, and the pain so irrefutable, that I’m starting to wonder could this really have happened.

Please, somebody, tell me it isn’t so?

The Leadville 100 - The Race Across the Sky

The mountains around Leadville are haunted. The ghost that roams this old mining town and its surrounding valleys and clouded peaks, most often disguises herself as Mother Nature. It doesn’t feel like She works alone, as it seems it would take several talented spirits to hand out the torture, and torment, to those riders foolish enough to bite off The Race Across the Sky. There’s no other explanation for the circumstances that surround this mysterious venue, and this epic race…The Leadville 100.

The town, founded in 1878 by chasers of gold first, then silver, is very, very, rough. It originally consisted of 120 saloons, 118 gambling dens, bordellos, and almost no law. Every noteworthy gambler and gunslinger of the American West followed miners to Leadville. Luke Short, a whisky dealer and gambler showed up in 1879. A gambling dispute provoked Short to shoot a man in the face. In character with the town, he was never charged. Doc Holiday arrived in 1883, and was promptly confronted by an armed Bartender wanting repayment of a loan. Holiday shot him. When a peace officer came looking for Doc, Holiday shot and killed the lawman. He claimed self defense, and the charges were dropped. Like I said, almost no law. Leadville’s proudest structure is the Opera House, built in 1879 and which still stands today. On its opening night, the premier was upstaged by a double hanging. Two claim jumpers were taken from jail by vigilantes and hung from the jailhouse roof. Their bodies were left hanging for days to discourage other thieves. Well, this town is still really rough, and this Race leaves bodies hanging as well.

And many, many accidents…or so it was thought. In 1892 two miners were fatally injured by an explosion of gun powder in their cabin. One of the miners laid two sticks of the powder near the fireplace, with plans to take it to the mine. Both men were relaxing when the explosion occurred. I think She casually picked up the sticks, and tossed them in flames, sending these two men to an early “exit”. A few years before, a cave-in occurred, entombing two other miners in a drift at a depth of 400 feet. Again, I sense our little friend may have been at work. Do you remember Poker Alice? Among the few women gamblers on the frontier, she began her career in Leadville after her husband was killed in a mine accident. Apparently our “visitor” had a jealous streak. Again, not much has changed in terms of mystery and intrigue. Today over a billion gallons of contaminated water is trapped deep in an abandoned mining tunnel. It is feared the water could escape into the town. Commissioners have declared a state of emergency, as a large snowpack melt could create a wave of toxic water. Personally, I don’t think this will happen. I think it’s where She bathes.

So this Race, what’s it like? She makes it hell, using every arsenal at Her disposal. That’s not to say She doesn’t warn you. The race starts at the only stop light in town, symbolically suggesting that you Stop!, get off your bike and go back to bed. Once you foolishly ignore that warning, you’ve really asked for it. Yeah it’s a neutral start, but the Witch has no manners. She sends you off in your well thought out kit, only to use the tire you trail as a weapon, flinging cow dung off Forest Road 103 into your face and jersey…no joke! I suggest you wear Oakley’s, as they saved me what could have been a disastrous eye infection.

Just as you dismiss this as a random, isolated, never to occur again event, She makes you drop your guard. You’re fresh, and the first early climb over St. Kevin, and even the front side of Sugarloaf Pass, allows you to find your rhythm. She lulls you into getting ahead of yourself, convinced that you will be o.k. Well bullshit, you won’t. She makes it rain, and within minutes you will ask yourself if you have ever been as cold on a bike. I’ve never been. You don’t believe me? Well go ask Tinker. It’s been a day and he’s still thawing out. They’ll need a blow torch to warm up his 60 kilo frame. Also, She just won’t let you eat. The rocks you’re rolling on are softer than your frozen Power Bars. Oh, I was one of the lucky ones. Singled out to make an ass of myself on a slippery right-hander. Yep, face-plant an hour twenty into a long day so I got to look down at blood, as if to warn me of greater danger ahead, streaming from my right knee.

Next is a special little section. It’s designed for those crazy enough to return. Typically those who she “skipped over”, like God skipping over the chosen people from His “consequences” to the Egyptians, for ironically, failing to accept warning. Remember the stop sign? It’s for those who did well, proudly displaying their ridiculously oversized belt buckle trophy. What now you ask? Bone jarring single track, and it’s exposed to the wind. This year, these bumps teamed with a saddle and literally took a “nut” from a friend… one of these returning soldiers. It took him out of commission. That’s right, set him next to Lance and you have a pair. Oh, and if you are lucky enough to get through this track on the way out, She will get you on the way back using the enormous strength of Her breath. It is bush lined narrow single track, and the wind will simply knock you into the gorse. This stuff makes St. Andrews look like harmless front yard shrubs.

Ok, so you all know what’s next…the Columbine Mine Climb. But first, time for a trivia question. Do you know the highest U.S. city? That’s right, Leadville. This particular climb starts at about 9,700 feet and you (try to) climb to 12,600 feet. So what if it’s hailing golf balls? So what if a gentle start to the climb on smooth fire trail turns into dodging bowling ball sized craters. Don’t feel bad, Lance walked sections this year. You’re dizzy when it gets really steep, and you’re 47 miles into the race, so how long can 3 lousy miles take to the turn-around. Well they take forever. An eternity. Riders, or let’s call them hikers, were celebrating birthdays up there. Don’t worry, you’ll likely get there, but at about 2 miles an hour, so let’s call it 45 minutes plus or minus. Don’t try to think or speak, because your intellect will be adjusted to a small rodent. The elevation does that to you.

Eventually, you will make it, and there are some incredibly nice volunteers at the top. You know the type that never drink, and like to make fun of the village idiot that’s wasted at a party. You sort of here snickering as you roll away. “Did you see that guy trying to take a gel? Looked like he thought it was sunscreen”. So you’ve made it to the top, and it’s all downhill from here, right? But it’s a pretty nasty decent, and remember you’re dodging the “hikers” going 30+mph, and you’re both operating at small infant mental capacity.

I’m going to skip over some of Her smaller tactics, although this year I had the chance to mix in a “run” with my ride. Actually, it was an all out sprint to the portal-potty, which is never pleasurable, but particularly in the middle of this restful event. Honestly, I couldn’t wait to sit down. But let’s just get to the real animal. The nuclear weapon! The Power Line climb. Have you tried rock climbing? This is not a mountain bike climb, it’s a wall. If it were in L.A. it would be tagged with graffiti. I kept looking for a rope. They should hand out white flags at the bottom. Forget the Power Line, where do you buy tram tickets? Just no sharp object left at the bottom please, as the altitude can cause instability. You know, it’s simply not good manners to place an obstacle of this enormity, at the 80 mile mark of a mountain bike race. This is where entrants drop like flies, those that are left and actually belong in the race. This year maybe 65% that started finished. With a 13 hour cut-off, many drilled this thing at a scorching 8 mph! You might walk it faster.

Oh yes, some will crest Power Line and She will let you rebuilt your confidence again, just to play one last cruel joke. An unforgiving act of treachery. In my case it was to tease me against my target time. I actually started the day strong, well ahead of my needed pace by the top of Columbine. But I went through a bad stretch…the run to the potty and all that. So things started looking not so good. But on the St. Kevin climb coming home, I started feeling better, and at a lower elevation was upgraded to 5th grade math. I figured that if I went as hard as I could, I would make it, with some room to spare. Well guess what? This Demon is liar. I reached the 100 mile mark ready to put arms in the air…and I was in the middle of a fire road without a soul in sight. Eventually, disgusted, I ran into a photographer and asked where the finish line was? Did I make a wrong turn? No, She stretched the race to 104 miles. Damn it. It’s not called the Leadville 104. Like I said, She’s a liar. They should make it 666 miles. It would be more fitting, and it just can’t feel any longer anyway.

So I finished 13 minutes outside my target time, but it was the time I deserved. Going in, I just didn’t realize how mean She was. And believe it or not, this story gets worse. You fall to sleep in exhaustion that evening and She makes you forget it all. I would imagine, with all due respect, it’s like a women giving birth. You would never do it again if you remembered the excruciating pain. I know, I know, you’re saying well I didn’t hear Lance complain. Well that’s because he’s too fast for Her to catch him. Your thinking he’s riding like a bat out of hell because Dave is chasing him, but it’s really because he’s actually riding out of hell. And what about Dave Wiens? He doesn’t complain either. He keeps coming back year after year. The fact of that matter is that everybody who has ever met Dave Wiens loves Dave, even this miserable tyrant. So the next day you wake up to blue ski, and an inability to acutely recall the sensation of torture that started just 24 hours ago. She fools you into thinking that next year will be different. That you can shave those 13 minutes. Well, well what an appropriate number! It makes sense I guess. She needs us to come back. After all, what’s a ghost without all of us to torment?

2007 Ford Ironman Arizona

In April of 2007, I competed in the Ford Arizona Ironman as a way to respond positively to my Small Fiber Neuropathy diagnosis. What follows is a brief write-up from my Firm's periodical.

That which does not kill you makes you stronger. - Friedrich Nietzsche

Though Phoenix Tax PIC Tod Smith is accustomed to challenges, he must have a whole new insight into Nietzsche’s famous maxim since finishing his first Ironman in late April.

Tod completed the grueling Ironman Arizona in 11 hours and 29 minutes, achieving his personal goal of breaking the elusive 12-hour mark. He finished in the top 15% of the over 2,000 professional and age group participants.

For those unfamiliar with Ironman Triathlon, the day starts with a 2.4-mile swim, followed by a 112-mile bike, and finishes with a full marathon—a 26.2-mile run.

Contributing to the challenge on this particular day were 35 to 40 MPH winds. These conditions were particularly challenging on the bike, causing crashes and resulting in the highest “did not finish” rate ever for this event.

Why did he do it?

“It’s interesting to hear the many reasons why someone will set Ironman as a goal,” Tod said. “Often it has less to do with the race, but rather the way in which establishing, focusing, and reaching this goal helps us deal with and overcome other challenges in life. I guess I fall into this category”.

“There are certainly lots of other positives that come out of it. Obviously, personal fitness and a healthy lifestyle are great benefits; as are serving as a positive example to my daughters; and most importantly, the hope that I may inspire others along the way.”

How did he do it?

Tod spent roughly 10 months preparing for the race. “I have a fairly extensive background in competitive cycling, and have spent lots of time in the water. I felt that if I could prepare myself for the run, I would have a good chance to get through it. It did require some very thoughtful planning, given my other professional and personal responsibilities, but it’s manageable if you’re willing to sacrifice, make very good use of your time, plan carefully, and remain flexible.”

One of Tod’s best friends from childhood, a physician and world-class triathlete, worked with him on training, nutrition, and race day strategy. Tod's workouts required him to wake up at 4:30 AM to swim on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. He biked primarily on weekends, and squeezed in long runs as best he could.

Injuries got in the way of Tod’s best intentions of training for the run. His longest run prior to Ironman was 17 miles, about a month before the big day.

Fuel for the fire
Tod testified that while the Ironman is all about preparation and some mental toughness, proper hydration and nutrition are also crucial.

“They say that Ironman is actually four legs: swimming, biking, running, and nutrition,” Tod said. “I planned my race day nutrition very carefully”.

“It’s really tough to race and at the same time take in enough calories, but if you don’t, the result is not pretty. As planned, I didn’t eat any solid food during the race. I took in Power Gel, sports drinks, and, at the end of the day, nothing works better than Coca-Cola—the combination of sugar and caffeine really helps. I also took Endurolyte tablets, which are electrolytes to prevent cramping.”

Going for it

Tod described how his race unfolded: “I knew it was going to be a long day so I tried to stay relaxed and get in a good rhythm. The race begins with a mass start in the water—there were more than 2,000 athletes all going off at the gun. It’s literally more of a wrestling match than a swim. You’re fighting for space and oxygen, trying to avoid being hit by a sea of thrashing arms and legs, trying to get past people who are absolutely panicking. My strategy was to go out really hard the first 300 meters and get space. That worked really well—I got out of the water in the top 100, excluding the pros.”

“The bike was what I expected, although the wind was absolutely brutal.”

“The run was the most difficult because I couldn’t train properly. The last six miles were beyond difficult. Of course, you always have concerns over an injury or cramping or something that could just knock you out of the race.”

Celebrating—and not looking too far ahead

Tod’s family was there rooting for him, along with the friend who helped him train. Three other close friends surprised him by flying in from southern California to cheer him on.

To celebrate his achievement, Tod planned to go home and collapse, but, “my friends were hungry,” he said, “so I managed to get up off the couch and go out to dinner with them.”
Will he do another Ironman? “The only thing that’s certain is a future of uncertainty,” said Tod with a smile.