Tower 300: My First Ultra, 300 Miles, and Everything In Between

This was my first ultra. My friend Emmett gave me one piece of advice going in: hold off at the start. Don't fall into the trap of going out too hard — in a race this long, that's a death sentence. I took it seriously. I sat at the back of the 16-person field and just let things shake out.

Surprisingly, 3rd Place

I wasn't expecting a top-5 finish. I was hoping to finish. So when I showed up to the first resupply tied for 3rd place out of 16 riders, I didn't quite know what to do with that information.

I found out pretty quickly. My first teaser of bonking came right after, out in the heat of the Wyoming sun on the wide open gravel roads. I caught up with Curtis and we rode together for a bit until I got to a campsite and ate what I might call the most magical bag of Cool Ranch Bugles I've ever had in my life and drank a ton of water. After a short rest underneath a picnic table for shade, I started back up with high spirits — only to be immediately met with a 30% grade on a horse trail that required 30 minutes of hike-a-bike that wasn't even wide enough to walk next to my bike.

The next couple hours post horse trail were incredible though. Canyons and two-track that kept me wanting more.

The Sheep's Nose

As the sun was setting I was shot out onto the Sheep's Nose. Curtis joked that it was named that because it was as sheer as a sheep's nose. There was no real trail — just exposed rock with trail markers once every 200 feet, and the light was dwindling. Only four people had passed over it in months. At the top I caught up with Curtis and we rode until we caught his brother Zach, both of them outpacing me on singlespeeds. We had some interactions with cattle and rattlesnakes.

Around mile 120 Curtis and Zach decided to sleep at a singletrack loop near a lake campsite. I kept the push going through the dark on some gnarly and not-so-flowy singletrack, eventually getting back to the road where I caught up with the 2nd place rider — who spoiler, won the race. He eventually screamed by me and I stopped for rest in the small town of Hulett, Wyoming's city park.

Hulett

Against advice from others I slept about 2 hours until I was woken up by the sprinklers at a nice 5:30am. No more sleeping to be done.

I headed to the only open facility in town and got a not-so-tasty breakfast burrito at the gas station, and got questioned by multiple people why I was visiting their small town in lycra. They were all so nice and excited to hear that more people were coming through. I did refrain from telling them I slept in their city park.

Into the Wind

The next 3 hours of riding were rough. The gravel was slow, the winds were strong, and the views were lacking. That is until I got my first view of Devils Tower — the namesake of the ride.

Once at the tower I stopped for a drink and rode up to the base, which we had to walk around. Two miles of hoping I didn't fall, because clipless shoes are not great hiking shoes, apologizing as I walked by far faster than anyone else, looking crazy in lycra — not looking at the tower, but instead clenching a bike computer in one hand and a satellite phone in the other. Once back at the base I stopped again since I wouldn't have services for a while. As I rode out from the tower, Curtis was riding in. We exchanged words and continued on.

This Is Where My Troubles Began

I just wanted to finish. But I was now sitting in 3rd — far enough behind the leaders that I wasn't thinking about catching them, but ahead enough of 4th that I wanted to fend off the singlespeed brothers. And to my advantage I had a 3,000-foot climb where I could use my granny gears while they had to smash their pedals.

Turns out riding 140 miles the first day on 2 hours of rest wasn't quite enough for my legs. My knees started to flare up and I was struggling to put power down. I ended up walking for 5 minutes, riding for 5, until I finally got to the top and climbed the fire tower lookout — only to see Zach cresting the hill behind me.

We rode together briefly until the cow path that was so rough Curtis gashed his sidewall (I found out later), and Zach being a better tech rider pulled ahead. Ashamed to admit I couldn't hang on my full sus with him on his singlespeed hardtail.

That next bit — minus a bit more hike-a-bike — led to singletrack that was actually fun. Finally I remembered that biking was fun.

Sundance

After a long descent I landed in Sundance with a throbbing knee. The grocery store was still open, which was a blessing — I bought a compression wrap and a bottle of pickle juice. I really wanted the frozen mac and cheese, but to my dismay and a plethora of very nice persuasive attempts, the cashier would not let me use their break room microwave.

I rode to the gas station and had what was the absolute best egg roll ever. I'm sure it would be gross if I wasn't 200+ miles into a bike race. After slurping down 18 CARBS gels over the last two days, a real burger actually tasted incredible. I got water out of the faucet that normally would be considered hazardous, but this was pristine compared to the cow troughs I'd been passing.

After staying way too long in Sundance, I took off into the night.

Headwinds

I was feeling great. For 3 miles. Until the headwinds started and the roads kept going into them. With gusts over 30mph and a consistent 20mph headwind I had to pedal on downhills. I was just eyeing when public land started back up at around mile 230.

About 5 miles from my resting point Curtis caught up and we rode into the wind side by side until I told him to go ahead — my knee was still bothering me. Once public land hit, I made it past the gate about 100 feet before I set up camp. I was tired.

I slept 5 hours this time.

The Last Push

I woke up to a better knee but a GPS that had me off the route by .25 miles southeast. I knew I was on track, but you second-guess yourself after riding your bike for that long. It didn't help that I was back on OHV and two-track without any signage, so I had to guess my turns and pull out my phone. Once I corrected the GPS I felt a large sense of relief — until I looked at the 3,500 feet of climbing still left to go.

My knee did not fare well. I was walking. Emmett, who I had been beating by 20+ miles consistently, was catching up. Emmett — I was secretly hoping you would've caught up so we could've chatted all the way to the finish line.

I was walking anything above a 6% grade until I realized I just had to push through the pain. Once I downed the pickle juice and changed my mindset, we were back in business. Not much later I got to the top of the hill and found myself a Mountain Dew — perfect carb-to-caffeine ratio drink — and thought the fast descent was about to begin.

That turned into 6 hours to traverse 40 miles that trended downhill. Through singletrack, steep climbs, cliffs I walked up, and a lady telling me to watch out for mountain lions, I finally made it to the last section of singletrack. I couldn't hold back my excitement. The trails were so flowy that I just ripped as hard as I could.

Spearfish

I popped onto the road into Spearfish — our final destination. I did however forget that we had to ride through the city. So I quite literally passed our cars and sprinted to the finish.

I HAD DONE IT.

I got off the bike and sat down with no one at the bar knowing what I had done. And to my surprise, I liked it that way. I had raced this obnoxious event to prove myself and test my limits within — not to get praise from those around me.

5th place. 61 hours and 17 minutes.

Later Curtis showed back up. He had finished an hour beforehand. We sat around a fire and told stories. Emmett finished later that night.