I read about La Ruta in a cycling magazine back in 2003. There was something about it that drew me in and stoked my desire to take the challenge on. I had never ridden in any sort of race and was looking at this as more of a personal challenge. I planned a methodical training regimen that kept me progressing from the spring, summer and fall. It included a 12 hour solo race, 100 mile endurance race, a few short track races and many long hours on the bike. At one point I was logging 15 – 18 hours a week. For me this was a ton of time riding but I wanted to be sure I was prepared. The training rides covered all the bases including intervals, sustained climbs and 70 – 80 mile base rides. By October, I felt I was as prepared as I was ever going to be.

My wife and I arrived in Costa rica a week before the race and traveled around the coutry as much as we could. It was really difficult to “unwind” as I was anxious about the race. We still managed to have a good time and see much of the Western coast of the country. I could write pages about the beautiful rainforests and super friendly people we met. We arrived at the town of the race start a day in advance and I became increasingly more nervous as the resort became saturated with mountain bikers from all over the world. It was fairly intimidating and I began to wonder if I had gotten myself in over my head. After some hotel room mixups, last minute gear panics and a hearty meal of pasta, I kicked back for a long restless night of no sleep.

Day one was by far the hardest day of riding I have ever done. The first 6 – 8 miles or so started off fairly mellow with a nice, fast moving peleton out of the Punta Leona resort near Jaco at 5:30 am. The road out was cobbled, wet and mossy and we were warned by race officials that it would be slippery so go out slow. I had already discovered the slippery factor by falling on my butt in the parking lot a day prior. Of course the pace was pushed by the eager and several people had pileups just 10 minutes after starting. Somewhat unsure of what to expect, I positioned myself toward the back of the pack and slowly worked my way forward as we got underway. The slick, cobbled road from the resort entered the highway after a few miles and the pace increased significantly as riders jockeyed for the optimal spots. Roadblocks were in place and long lines of cars cheered us on as we held up traffic both ways. After the highway, we exited onto a gravel road and hit the first climb of the day. It was a typical fire road with a gradually increasing grade and I was able to pass quite a few people. I was shocked to see people actually walking their bikes on this first climb. It really wasn’t that bad and I remember thinking these guys are going to be screwed later if this race has what I think it does in store. After the first hill, the road flattened out descended a bit and started another long slow climb.

Toward the end of the second climb, I became very much aware of the heat and my need to drink water regularly to keep hydrated. My sunglasses were so steamed up I put them away and never wore them again on any of the days. We hit the first river crossing and the pack quickly traversed it. This guy in front of me was trying to find a way around it without getting his new specialized shoes wet. I figured I’d get wet at some point so I just jumped in. It was cool water and it felt good anyway. This pattern of river crossings went on until the first check station. I just fueled up on water, mixed some cytomax and sped out with plenty of time to spare.

Almost immediately after the first check station, the dirt went from a grayish-brown, gravely play dough to this sloppy, reddish goop consistency. The grade of the trail descended steeply and I was completely out of control as was everyone around me. I eventually came to an uncontrolled stop on my face in a rather deep puddle of mud. The mud was everywhere completely coating me and my bike. I was initially concerned about bringing a new bike to such a brutal race but was really happy about the weight and wide wheel clearance on my hardtail Litespeed as I could push the bike quite a distance before having to remove the mud. I saw many people having to stop every few feet to clear mud from their wheels in order to move their bikes. I eventually resorted to just hauling the bike on my back after tiring of removing mud every 20 feet. This mud was absolutely ridiculous and relentless.

After a while a cycle developed, walk up muddy hill with bike on back, slide down muddy hill out of control to river crossing, wash chain and derailleurs in river, re-lube chain, repeat… It made me laugh thinking about the guy earlier who did not want to get his feet wet. Ikept wondering what his shoes looked like at that moment. After the fifth river corssing cycle I heard the whistle of a blown tire. I was horrified to see air bubbling through the mud on my front tire and this was no place to change a tube. I kept on until it was completely flat then found a clearing on the side of the trail to get to work. I really was not sure how I was going to do this but went to automatic mode. There was so much mud I had difficulty separating the tire bead from the rim. I eventually got the tire off, removed as much of the Stan’s from it as possible then set about getting a tube in there. After about 20 minutes using most of my water to clean out the tire, I got the tube inflated and the tire back on and set out again back into the pattern. 30 minutes passed and I looked down and again, my front tire was completely flat. I was anxious and angry but got to work quickly. People riding by shook their heads and muttered things like “Poor bastard” and “that sucks”. It didn’t take me long to figure out the source of the second flat. I had left the valve cap in the tire when I changed the first flat and just didn’t see it because all of the mud. So another 20 minutes was burned up on this flat.

Realizing I had just burned an hour dealing with flat tires, I was super anxious to get moving. I did not want to be eliminated before the second check station on the first day because of mechanicals. I surfed down several mud hills and began running up the complimentary sides, skipping the ceremonial river cleaning and re-lubing. After an hour or so, I began to see the familiar faces of several of the people who had passed me while I was fixing the flats. I made it to the second check station with only 15 minutes to spare. Thankfully the mud dissipated back to a gravel road and it flattened out for a while. I pushed my pace and started passing people again. I think the mud was a de-motivator for allot of people as there were some sorry looking souls riding up the hills after the mud. This continued for a while then we hit another paved road climb section.

The longest climb of the day, this was the only place I felt I could really make up time so I turned it on here. I managed to hook up with a Costa Rican “tico” mountain bike trainer named Simon who had done this race several times. A super nice guy, he gave me really good direction on pacing myself for the remainder of the day and it was invaluable information. He climbed standing up for several hours, while making conversation which makes me tired just recollecting.

After the third check station I lost Simon as he sped down the hill ahead warning me to be careful of the upcoming descent. I cautiously made my way down the hill which seemed to get steeper and steeper until my butt was almost on my back wheel. Then it became paved and was serpentine and steep. I almost lost control here as I couldn’t see how anyone could actually drive or ride up or down this stretch. At the bottom, a paramedic was working on someone who apparently had an endo. He was conscious but bloodied pretty good and his bike was done for. This was a wake up call to slow down and I slipped into a more reasonable descending pace. The road eventually flattened out and went through a small town. Some children came out and cheered me on offering water and slapping my back. It was pretty cool. I could barely make out a few riders ahead of me and made them my rabbits. Afternoon was obvious and not knowing how much time I had left, I picked up the pace and cooked through a few small hills until I caught up with the rabbits. It was Simon and his friend Diego. They were treating this like just a normal afternoon ride.

Simon kept warning me not to burn up as the last climb of the day was nasty and it was. It was a short greasy climb to the finish that was just plain sadistic. Very steep with a thin layer of mud covering rocks, it took all of my remaining energy to clean it. I was elated to see the finish line and felt surprisingly ok after 70 miles and over 11 hours in the saddle. I think if I would not have gotten the flats, I would not have made the cut off because I got extremely motivated to make up time after that. The body count must have been high on day 1 because I passed allot of people on the climbs and didn’t see too many come in after me.

My wife made it to the finish line in the rental car and after we figured out what hotel I was in, she set about getting me there. Turns out the race folks had over booked the two main race hotels so an overflow of riders were booked in an upscale San Jose hotel. After several hours driving around San Jose trying to figure out how to get into the hotel we pulled into the reception area. There was some kind of event going on and I had to wait in line to check in. Still in my muddy bike gear, I was disgusting, the right guard had failed it’s test hours before and I was getting puzzled looks by all of the formally dressed patrons. I could tell by the whispered tone of the Spanish that they thought I was some kind of bum. Oddly enough, the doorman knew what was up and high fived me wanting all the details regarding the punishing first day. They eventually got my room straight and I went up for some food, a much needed shower and sleep. I slept a solid dreamless sleep and had absolutely no motivation to ride when 4am hit.

Off to downtown San Jose for day two. Everyone on the hotel shuttle looked equally miserable. There was moaning, stretching, whining and yawning. Aside from normal muscle pain, I felt ok and was ready to get going. They started us somewhere in downtown San Jose with police escorts, cheering crowds and the whole nine yards. I felt important, briefly. The peleton picked up the pace with intermittent warnings of upcoming potholes “Wechoes”. Someone several bikes ahead of me wasn’t paying attention to the warnings and down he went along with 8 or so other riders including myself. I didn’t wipe out too badly and was back up and riding in seconds.

The road narrowed and began a slow ascent towards the mountains. It steepened until the peleton was spread out into a slow moving congo line. I began to pass riders as I found a good pace. I was concerned about turning it on too quickly and burning out before the top so I slowed into a steady tempo.

This was the kind of riding I trained for, head down and chopping wood to get to the top. I found it especially amusing to watch riders make switchbacks in the road to lessen the grade. This only makes it take longer. I think there was a good deal of bonking and dehydration going on as I saw allot of folks walking their bikes and several piles of vomit. People lined the steeper sections cheering riders on to keep going and it was nice to get the support on those sections. I was surprised when I got to the check station at the top just after 4 hours. I thought the climb would take longer then it did.

There was a short bumpy descent then a short steep climb. This continued for a while and then came the real mccoy, the dreaded technical descent down the Irazu volcano. I was concerned as many people told me it was going to be very difficult on my light weight hardtail and I’m not a fantastic descender as it is.

This was some of the most insane technical downhill I have ever seen. Gigantic rocks with mud in between and loose bowling ball sized stones on ridiculously steep substrate made it almost impossible to find a line or stop once you got going. It looked more like a waterfall stream bed then a road and I imagine on a good wet day it was. After several near endo’s I slowed to a crawl and was passed by many other riders. I tried to speed up but kept getting out of control so I just let them go. Eventually, the terrain became more manageable and I was able to let it roll some. I saw the ambulance and several 4 wheelers rushing up as I descended. It’s all down hill from here and I cruised the last 20 or so miles into the finish in roughly 6 hours. At the finish, I heard there were a few broken bones, lots of cuts and scrapes from the insane folks who attempted to bomb it. I was a bit disappointed about my timid approach on the descent but the overly cautious “I want to ride tomorrow” approach got me to the finish and it was behind me now.

Miraculously, my wife had managed to locate the finish which was someone’s ranch in the middle of nowhere. She had her own adventure driving in San Jose and the backroads to locate the finish. We set about getting to our hotel for the evening which was 1½ hours away. This was a cool ranch style hotel back up the volcano where we had just finished riding. There were only a few other racers there when we arrived and we were all famished. The spanish speaking manager kept repeating something to the effect that there would be no food until 7. It was 4 and I was in need of some serious food. I went back to my room, desperately surveyed my camelsback, and made this delectable snack:

2 packets oatmeal
4 packets coffee creamer
1 smashed melted candy bar
5 packets of sugar (for taste)
1 Cytomax Goo (vanilla flavor)

I put all of this in a water bottle with some hot water, shook it up and went to town. I almost retched but was no longer hungry.

After numerous requests from tired, emaciated cyclists, the hotel manager eventually caved and expedited dinner. Rice with lentils, it was awesome. Unfortunately it had ill gastrointestinal effects on me, ruining my sleep that night.

Morning came way too quickly and my room mate Steve was up before me. He immediately pointed out that my back was going to hurt when I got up. It did as did my legs, arms, butt, feet, neck and head. Oh well, last day, there will be a finish and there will be beer!

Day three started allot like day one with some steep climbs followed by tricky muddy descents. They started us on the highway after informing us that the course was shortened slightly due to a bridge being washed out (A common occurrence in Costa Rica). The guy next to me stated he wanted his money back. They then warned us against riding the first bridge. It was pretty ominous “Do not ride the first bridge, there are class 5 rapids below, you fall, you die” Nice way to start the day. I’m sure my wife was checking the life insurance papers. We quickly got underway with a fast road climb. I got to work passing riders but after 2 hard days, my legs had lost allot of their punch. I was still passing riders but not with any acceleration or gusto and I soon was worried about bonking.

After the road climbs and descents, the road tranistioned into a rock infested descent which quickly degraded into a muddy/pooh stew. Apparently this grass, mud, pooh mix is jokingly known as a Costa Rican cocktail. Back to the surf and run pattern again. Luckily it was a short section and we quickly came to the first bridge. It was indeed a dangerous looking prospect and everyone walked their bikes. Right after the bridge the second big climb started. It was a tricky, rutted gravel road that climbed ceaselessly up and up to a small town. Everyone was crawling up this thing having little energy left to make any aggressive pushes to the top. An hour passed and I could hear cheering, just one more turn, then an incredibly steep section to finish this off. There was a good sized crowd at the top cheering on the masochists as they wheeled by. I recouped at the check station and took on the descent invigorated.

There was some nice downhill with some undulation in between. I settled into a fairly relaxed pace and took time to look around. I also noticed that it was quite a bit hotter than the previous day and that I had better speed up the water intake. For a long while, I was alone. I saw one rider in the distance and I slowly gained ground on him. It took about an hour but I finally caught up with him. He was a tico and I think he was trying to tell me the next hill will be hard because it was. I passed him and started up a ridiculously steep hill. An old man at the bottom, smiled at me and said “1k”. This “1k” took me almost 15 minutes of full effort. There were families out cheering and spraying the riders with hoses as they slinked by. Unconcerned about where the water came from in the hoses, I welcomed the relief and weaved back and forth across the road to hit every one of them. I would not let myself just stop and walk this section even though my legs were gone and I probably could have walked it faster. I finally crested the hill and was ecstatic to see the next check station. I found out later this hill is ironically called “Happiness”. My wife was there and she took some picture of me in a completely exhausted, pooh/mud covered state. I was informed it’s all down hill to the end.

This downhill was nice, paved road and gradual. I picked up some serious speed, 40mph+ and just coasted for a while pacing with traffic. I could smell the salt in the air even though we were still 40 or so miles from the coast. The road soon entered the highway to Limon.

I was told earlier that day my best bet would be to get into a pace line when I reach the road to make it go by faster but I just could not muster the strength to keep up. The first pace line I jumped in with was a tico team who put me up front immediately. After 6 minutes of all out effort, I peeled off exhausted. They kept on trucking. I pretty much got used there. I tried another small paceline but was quickly dropped. After about an hour of solo riding, I caught up with a German fellow and we worked together efficiently, trading the lead to finish the road riding.

Another check station and then we hit the tracks. The railroad tracks were not as bad as I had envisioned them to be. My butt was so numb at this point that having a full suspension would not have made much difference. Having to stare between them for so long was somewhat maddening though as after a while everything I looked at was framed by two rails.

I did not like the suspension bridges at all. All the trestles were rotted and bowed and there was one particular trestle that was spaced 3 ½ feet from the others and on very tired legs with a bike on my back I stumbled getting to it. Luckily, I tripped onto another trestle and only got an intense adrenaline rush out of the ordeal instead of a long fall and swim. Every trestle I stepped on, I wondered if I would be the one that finally broke it. I was elated to finally see the beach and smell the ocean air. We rode along it for a while and I watched many riders go full out to ride to the finish. I chose to slow down and take it in. I was riding with two other riders whom I had passed and been passed by on previous days and we decided to finish together. There was plenty of time so we enjoyed the coastal ride with the pools of mystery. You never really knew how deep they were and what was at the bottom when you rode into them.

The finish was extraordinarily relieving. It was like a huge weight had been lifted as all the training had come to fruition. The $1.00 imperials went down smooth and we all excitedly congratulated one another on our accomplishment.

Rumor has it, 2006 will be the last year of La Ruta. Make your plans now:

1. Be prepared to be flexible. Everything is on “Tico time” so don’t expect things to be right away

2. It’s a hard race but not impossible, expect to spend 4-6 months preparing depending on your fitness level. Incorporate all facets of training into your regimen including hill climbs, over distance, intervals and general endurance riding. Running could also prove very beneficial.

3. Get a clip on fender like a flinger as there is allot of mud and poo which you don’t want on your face. If you don’t have one, cut a water bottle lengthwise and use zip ties to attach it to your down tube.

4. Take hydration and nutrition seriously. Drink when you aren’t thirsty eat when you feel sick.

5. Bring lots of tubes, use motor oil instead of the expensive bike oils and pay for the mechanic service.

6. Most important is to just keep picking away at it. Make it a finish at all costs type of ride.