This year?s Vermont 50 became a ?Series of Unfortunate Events?, as Brian so aptly pointed out. But it didn?t start out that way. I was actually having one of my best races ever.

This was my first year lining up with the Sport Masters. (This is where you say to me ?Gosh, Mark, I didn?t think you are old enough.?) We were mixed in with Sport Juniors (anyone under 22) and Sport Clydesdales.

I and one other racer traded pulls over the first 4 (or so) miles. A couple of youngsters caught us and surged ahead of us on the first hill. I didn?t think they?d last, and they didn?t. By the top of the hill (and it?s a long climb) I had ridden well away from everyone in my group, and passed scores of riders from the previous Sport wave (Senior I, II, Vet).

And I felt great. Granted it was still relatively early in the race, but I was feeling better every minute, climbing well, and passing folks everywhere.

After a very long paved-road downhill at ludicrous speed, we turned left on a gravel road climb, and somehow I managed to find just the right cadence, and was motoring up the hill, passing even more folks without quite redlining my heart rate, when ?click, click, BANG!? my chain broke. I did not throw a tantrum, although I believe I had every right to do so.

I set to work fixing the chain, but pushed the pin too far out and dropped it in the leaves. I eventually found it, but when I finally had the chain almost going together, it flew apart under derailleur tension, the pin launched, and was gone forever. I still did not throw a tantrum. After what seemed like forever, I finally put together the now-too-short chain, clipped in, stood up, (remember this is a hill) and Bang! The chain broke again. Still no tantrum, but I finally gave in.

I pocketed the chain, turned around, rolled down the hill, and asked the cop at the bottom of the hill the best way to get back. He was clueless. Pleasant, but clueless. He eventually understood where I wanted to go, and gave me directions that were so complicated I had no chance of remembering them, much less following them. Off I went anyway, pushing my bike up the tar road.

I hadn?t gone three steps when the SAG van pulled up. The driver loaded my bike on the rack, and drove me back to the start. Good thing, too, ?cause it was a long ways away, and my suspicions about the cop?s directions were confirmed. I wasn?t smart enough to follow them.

By 8:30 I had mounted a used chain that I keep in my bag for just such occasions, and was mobile again. I considered just starting the race over. Assuming a 5-hour race, I would have finished long before the cutoff, but Brian would have been waiting for me for a long, long, time after he finished. I then decided to ride the 50K running loop. It starts and finishes with the bike course, but cuts out about 25 miles in the middle. I estimated I would be back on the bike course somewhere near where I would have been had I not broke the chain. While I admit I briefly entertained evil thoughts of cheating, I visited the timer, DNF?d myself, and told them I would ride the 25K.

I set off again, hammering away over the same ground as before, finally turning off on the running course. After passing a few folks who were hobbling along, I started overtaking more and more runners in the back of the pack. Please note that a solid majority of these runners were women. Fit women, mostly younger than me. In shorts. Need I say more? And they were friendly. They mistakenly thought I was the first biker through, and they were all cheering me on.

At that point I had about 20 miles in, my average speed was at 11.4 MPH and improving, attractive ladies were cheering me on, and no knuckleheads were hogging the single track; I was having the ride of my life! I was blasting down a steep woods trail (unlike bikers, runners generally don?t work a singletrack ?line?, just a loose trail) thinking: ?If I had to do this day all over again -get up at 3:45, start a race in the dark cold morning only to suffer a broken chain and a DNF - I would.?

And then my front wheel got caught in the loose stuff, wrenched around, and I launched over the bars. I came down on my head and right shoulder. The breath was knocked out of me so hard I simply couldn?t inhale, and I feared I collapsed a lung or worse. My shoulder hurt like hell, and once I was able to sit up and take inventory, I realized the tip of my collarbone wasn?t where it used to be. My worst fear was realized: I?m hurt badly enough that I won?t be able to ride. For how long, I don?t know.

I walked, pushing my bike, to the next aid station. It was a long walk. I then got a ride from a very nice lady named Pat who was completely wound up because she was trying to resupply some aid stations that were running out of food and water, but she trucked me back to the start without complaint. I got a sling at the EMT tent, and Brian was kind enough to fix me a lunch plate filled with food that could be eaten with one hand.

New London Hospital?s ER wasn?t particularly busy. In triage, I muttered something about maybe I should grow up some day, and the nurse said ?No, don?t do that. Your vitals are the best I?ve seen in two days. It?s a pleasure having a patient that actually takes care of himself. The collarbone will heal.?

XRays revealed a rather ordinary broken collarbone. No surgery, no pins, no screws, no casts or straps. I can wear a sling, or not. I can ride my bike or run as soon as I?d like (?Let your pain be your guide.?), but I must not fall down for 6-8 weeks. I have a couple of cracked ribs, too. Physically getting up out of bed this morning was an adventure.

But there is still a good outcome to the day. I?ve been in a bit of a funk since last year?s Pinnacle Challenge; it was good to have my groove back. Granted, I?d much rather not have a broken collarbone, but it was an outstanding ride while it lasted.

Mark,

Sorry to hear about your misfortunes but I agree with the nurse, "The collarbone will heal".

Hope to see you out there again soon. FYI, you will be healed up nice just in time for snowshoeing. :)

Ryan

"you will be healed up nice just in time for snowshoeing."

At which time you can follow Rockboy and Dana off a ledge and twist up your ankle.

Good, I need another volunteer sunday. See you at 9:00.

I'm particularly cranky these days, so put me in a place where I can yell at somebody. See you at 9.

[quote:4fcd19dbaf="Gurney"]I'm particularly cranky these days, so put me in a place where I can yell at somebody. See you at 9.[/quote:4fcd19dbaf]

You could dress up like R. Lee Ermey and yell at people as they walk up Big Rock.
 
"If you brake, you don't win." Racer Mario Cipollini

I am thinking he would be better placed to drive his wife's Jeep as my lead-out man for the road ride, leading all the 13.75 miles yelling at me during the entire distance.

Wow - sorry to hear about this Mark, best wishes and I hope the recovery goes quick.

In reading your race report, my favorite part is your final comment: "But there is still a good outcome to the day. I?ve been in a bit of a funk since last year?s Pinnacle Challenge; it was good to have my groove back."

The fact that you finish the story about a trip to the hospital with "there is still a good outcome" means you definitely have your head in the right place. Well done!

Aaron

My VT50 story is the polar opposite of Mark?s adventure. Nothing exciting or painful to report here. Having no significant riding over the last month I knew my performance would not be as good as earlier in the season. So the plan was to not get caught up in the race hype and simply ride a pace that felt comfortable, enjoy the course and the scenery. There was not much scenery for the first 20 minutes as the first wave pedaled along in total darkness. The typical knobbied tired peloton over the first few miles spread out much more than normal out of self preservation. We simply could not see well enough to ride in a close pack. Those who did have lights were being surrounding by us have nots, looked like moths swarming around the porch light. As is typical for this race, the first hill quickly brings out the overall contenders. Usually I am just behind this group and get to hang with them for a little bit. This year I was a bit further back and it was too dark to do nothing more than pick out the silhouettes of the fast guys speeding away. As the light started to win out over the darkness I settled in a nice pace and smoothly logged the miles. Frequent updates from Robin Liston, who was there supporting Clint Angwin, let me know I was hovering in the 15-20 overall range. The course was in perfect shape this year making for really fun and fast trails. And the scenery from the high points was amazing. I am told the overall winner, some super fast dude from Utah, was actually stopping and taking pictures. I spent miles 10-35 riding with the same group. They would pull me on the steeper climbs, I would get it back on the flats and lower grades. Clint was always just up the road riding a great race. The only time I caught up to him is when nature called. Then he gapped me again and stayed away for good. From 35-45 I became a pacer for a Will Crissman, a wicked fast single speeder racing in the geared Senior II class. Over the last 5 miles I started to slow and Will zipped by and quickly disappeared. Pretty much by myself after that, just counting down the miles with the occasional glance over the shoulder. Ended up finishing 7/81 in class and 20th overall. This was better than I had anticipated and I finished very happy. Then I saw Mark standing at the finish in a sling which dampened my good mood quickly. But Mark was doing a good job covering his disappointment and we had a few laughs while waiting for the food to be ready. Overall this was a very uneventful race, no close calls, crashes, mechanicals, missed turns, or funny sightings. Just a pleasant 50 mile ride around Vermont on a nice fall day.
 
[img:7c60f52a7e]http://www.team-pinnacle.org/albums/bc_personal/120x90.png[/img:7c60f52a7e]

Sounds like a back to roots kind of ride, nice job Brian.

Ryan