Day 1 of La Ruta now seems like a lifetime ago. Not only because so much has taken place since that first start line, but because I think it’s impossible to go through this event without it changing you, at least a little bit. 

There’s a lot of reasons I wanted to do this race, and surprisingly, a lot of people have questioned it because it extended my already long season by about a month. The first reason I wanted to do this race is purely the fun of it. I think as a professional athlete it’s easy to get sucked into the job aspect of racing, fighting for results, and navigating the most competitive and visible racing opportunities. I love it, but I also think it’s important to every now and then step back and remember the simple love of riding your bike. This race was for myself, to experience that love, and to remember that while cycling is my job, it’s also the best job in the world. 

The second reason I strongly advocate for races like this, is that they add tools to your tool box. Over the course of my career, I’ve seen how valuable experience is, and how you can pull on different experiences sometimes in the most unlikely of times. Doing really hard things gives you perspective and allows you to see that once hard things, don’t seem nearly as hard anymore. 

Day 1:

I stood on the start line of stage 1 at La Ruta and pretended to listen to the instructions of the race spoken only in Spanish. I had no idea what to expect, but I did know that day one was supposedly the easiest day of the race. 

When the neutral start was over, we exploded into a fast pace, ping ponging off of the embedded rocks in the gravel and dodging the enormous pot holes filled with water. Sometimes the water would only be a few inches deep and other times it would be hub deep.  It was a gamble.

The first stage was fast and flat, so tactics and pack dynamics would play heavily into the outcome. I found myself at the back of the lead men’s group a few minutes in and out of fear of the hard days ahead, pulled my chute and backed off to the group behind. 

I found myself with about 7 other men, leading the charge, trying to encourage working together, but everyone was content to sit up and sit in, so a few minutes later a group of about 15 more caught us, including the next woman. 

For the next 20 or so miles we all sat together in a group, swerving across the road to avoid the treacherous potholes and holding on for dear life through some of the larger puddles that engulfed my whole bike up passed my crank arms. Ever pedaled under water? It’s wild!

I knew that if I attacked too early the entire group of men would reel me back in and give my competition prime opportunity to counter-attack so I had to find a place that it would just be me verses her. 

With 7 miles to go, we turned a corner and immediately the person in front of me began to dismount. I looked ahead and there was a huge rock wall, so steep that they had a rope set up to help people climb it. I sling my bike over my back, climb up the wall, remount and glance back. My competitor was 2 bike lengths behind me, and the rest of the men were strung out and remounting still. This was the moment. I stood and put all of my power into the pedals. I was gone. 

Over the next 7 miles I gained about a 2 minute lead on the second place woman and claimed the leader’s jersey for day 2!

Day 2:

Day 2 started with a 3:30 am alarm clock and race took off straight uphill. Day 2 was a 40 mile stage with 10,000 feet of climbing. From the start, we would climb 7,000 feet up to a volcano before getting our first descent of the day. The amount of climbing is actually similar to riding from Moab all the way to the top of Burro pass in the Whole Enchilada so I put on that mindset and embraced it. The trouble is, in the Whole Enchilada you do that climbing in about 32 miles, but this would be done in about 25, so I knew it had to be steeper, but how much, I could only find out. 

The climb averaged between 12-20% for 25 miles. It was ruthless. Most of it was steep road, but occasionally you would hit sloppy farm grass and fire road just to slow you down a bit more. The slower pace on day 2 also meant less air flow and more sweat dripping off your body from the thick humidity. 

It was an interesting internal battle to want to fight for more speed, but also fearing the day ahead (Stage 3 was supposed to be the hardest Stage by far!)

After 7,000 feet of straight climbing you were treated to an incredibly fast descent and then greeted by, what had to be, the most brutal surprise possible- a hill that was 30% gradient. I stood on the pedals and wrapped my waist over the handlebars to keep the front wheel on the ground. I spent more than half of stage 2 in the 32 tooth in the front and 51 tooth gear in the rear and next time I race this I will use a 30. 

As I came to the finish, I was still downing calories, knowing that despite the fatigue, the hardest day was still ahead. I finished 2^nd on Stage 2 and was less than 5 minutes down in the GC. With a 7 hour Stage coming up, I had to give myself the best shot possible of closing that gap. 

Day 3:

When my alarm went off at 3:30 am again on Day 3, I moaned. Clayton had to be exhausted too, but he was the hero of the morning. I confided in him that I felt like garbage, and he just smiled telling me that he was confident that I would have my best day yet. I gagged as I tried to stuff as many calories as possible down my throat and when I told him I couldn’t he just laughed and motioned for me to keep eating. 

When the neutral start came to an end, I took a deep breath and stood on the pedals to gain speed and I smiled. Clayton was right, these were my best legs of the week. I knew right away. 

Since I had the time to make up, it would be my job to animate the race, and I took that very seriously. I decided that my biggest goal of the race was to empty myself, to have no regrets, and to leave nothing left. This is the last race of the year after all. 

In the first 15 miles there were about 10 climbs that were between 2-5 minutes long that were all 30% gradient. I had swapped my chain ring for a 30 for this last day and I felt invincible. I attacked climb after climb at 300 watts and I could hear the other female breathing hard behind me. Her fans were screaming, “Si, se puede” and I told myself she had to be on the rivet. 

At mile 15 the elastic snapped and I got a gap. I put the hammer down and kept feeling better and better, driven by adrenaline. 

We hit a big wet rock slab that I basically slid down with my bike on my lap, we crossed rivers that were waist deep, we hiked for 20 minutes on wet rocks that were unrideable and we climbed for miles and miles and thousands of feet. This was not even close to the hardest part.

I had 2.5 minutes at kilometer 70 (of 110). I felt strong and had been fueling well. A few kilometers later we hit the infamous “Carara.” This is a National park that is known for its ruts, mud, and hike a bike. 

A total rookie mistake, I took my last sip of water as we entered Carara. I felt dread as I heard that empty noise from my hydration pack as I tried to suck just a little more moisture from the hose. 

I looked at the man next to me and asked how long this section would be, he said 8k. Ok, no problem. Then we turned and I saw it. This would be a problem. 

This really is something you had to see in order to understand, but I’ll try to paint a picture. 

This section started with a deep river crossing and then turned uphill on rock slab. The rock was at about a 40 degree angle (enough to use your hands as you walk) and it was slimy and slippery. Just walking with my bike, my tires would slide on the rock and my bike wouldn’t be rolling but instead basically dragging horizontally. The cleats and toe spikes in my shoes created an ice like effect as I constantly slipped and couldn’t find traction. I tried to walk in the small stream of water trickling down the rock to gain some footing in the crack, but every now and then you would step and fall, smashing your knee or your bike on the ground. 

When the rock gave way to mud, I was relieved, but only for a moment. The mud was red and thick. It looked solid, but it engulfed you as you walked. Typically your foot would go ankle deep, but every now and then you would be surprised by a knee deep step. I was terrified I would lose my shoe 2 feet under and at one point as I was up to my knee in mud and I was holding my bike at shoulder level, I genuinely wondered how I would get out. 

The trail pointed upwards and a 10 foot wide fireroad had so many ruts it left you at a loss on where to walk. The 10 foot wide road had about 5 different ruts in it. The ruts were only 6 inches wide, and the high portions between were only about 6 inches wide. The ruts were 3-4 feet deep. You could walk in the rut and hold you bike above you or you would balance on the 6 inches in between the ruts and risk slipping in the mud and falling down into a rut. At one point I tried to carry my bike on my back but the bike wouldn’t fit horizontally between the ruts and I was left still trying to push it below or above me. At one point, I fell and slide down into a rut with my bike and we both slid back down the hill I was trying to hike up. Of course, this was physically tiring, but for me, it was mentally exhausting just trying to learn and problem solve on the fly. And…I had no water. I was licking the sweat dripping on my face as I realized that this 4 mile hike-a-bike would take approximately an hour. 

This is where I was caught and she hiked straight passed me. I watched her technique as she went out of sight and I tried to use it as a crash course to get through the section. Apparently, in Costa Rica (which is where she is from) they practice this section and they actually have training sessions in which they train hiking with their bike on their back. In case you were wondering, that is not a part of my training routine! Haha!

When I finally made it out of Carara I was the thirstiest I’ve ever been and downed about 5 bottles of water at the aid station (enough to make my stomach hurt). 

A few miles later the fluids felt like they had kicked in and I was back in a charge and on the hunt to the finish. I had lost the win in the hike-a-bike, but I was bound and determined to finish the race strong.

I finished the Stage in 2^nd and finished 2^nd in the GC. I had an amazing time. This race is so much more than a competition, it’s an adventure, a challenge, and survival. It made me tougher and stronger and in the darkest and hardest moments I continued to smile because the challenge is exactly what I came here for. I came here in search of a test of my determination and grit. I wanted a race that would beat me down and force me to stand back up when it hurt the most. I found it here and I’m so thankful for the opportunity to experiences places in Costa Rica that very few people get to go and I’m thankful for this place making me a better, stronger, and tougher racer. Pura Vida!