Hello to all my fellow racers. I think I’m finally starting to thaw from race day. First, I want to thank everyone who took the time to read all the Trailblazer posts this year. It was truly an honor to be selected as a Trailblazer, and it kept me engaged all season long. Thank you to Kat, Lindsay, and the entire team at the Cherry Festival Foundation. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.
The Obstacle I Didn’t See Coming
This year, Iceman almost didn’t happen to me. Around May, I went in for my annual check-up and was put on a new medication. By July, I had a significant reaction to it and lost over 60 lbs. While losing weight is usually good, I knew something wasn’t right. I worked closely with my doctors at U of M Health, and we had to adjust medications several times.
With that significant weight loss came a notable decline in fitness. A simple Zwift workout took me three days to complete. My FTP dropped from 280 to 215. I couldn’t finish a regular ride without bonking. I raced Uncle John’s Gravel Race, which is flat, and at mile 19 the doubts set in. For the rest of the race, I convinced myself that Iceman wasn’t going to happen. I’d finish my commitment to the blog, but I’d step back from racing.
I spoke with my coach, and we developed a plan. I’d do one more gravel race, the Alpena one, since that’s where my wife grew up—but after that, the gravel bike would be retired for the season. I’d train straight through any remaining events and make Iceman the priority.
After that final gravel race in mid-September, I had about a month and a half to prepare for the biggest race of my year. I went into mild panic mode and started filling old water bottles with drywall plaster to add weight to the bike for climbing strength. Am I nuts? Absolutely. But desperate times call for desperate measures. In my mind, I was doing everything I could.
I kept up with my early-morning trainer rides, and on weekends, it was all about hitting the trails. I rode one of the toughest mountain bike systems in West Michigan, Cannonsburg Ski Area. I participated in TC Trail Fest and felt the effort, but the work on singletrack was rewarding. I didn’t care about timing or results. I focused on comfort in technical sections and rebuilding my strength. It was a positive experience, but I knew I still had a lot of work ahead.
Peak 2 Peak has always been something I look forward to, and my wife loves that weekend at Crystal Mountain, but this year had another curveball.
Our dog, Bow, was diagnosed with a cancerous tumor. Thankfully, it hadn’t spread, and he’s expected to make a full recovery. But with three vet visits, two surgeries, biopsies sent to Michigan State, tumor removal, and roughly $4,000 later, we decided to stay home with him. What we did for Bow, showing up, staying strong, not quitting, is precisely what I wanted to model for myself and for my daughter. When things get rough,
We fight.
With Peak 2 Peak off the table, I rode Cannonsburg nonstop. One thing the Iceman crew does incredibly well is clear the course of leaves. Riding on wet leaves felt like riding on ice some days. But I kept riding, climbing, and getting ready for Iceman week.
Iceman Week: Countdown to the Start Line
I drove up to Traverse City on Tuesday. I made a deal with my wife that I’d bring all our gear and Lucy’s stuff up early, so all she had to do later was show up with the Sugarplum. I wanted to preview all the new sections that were causing quite a stir on Facebook, Sow’s Ear, Gussie, and the new singletrack near the end.
Sow’s Ear wasn’t nearly as bad as the comments made it out to be. It felt like riding moguls, but it was completely rideable, just something to get through. The two-track afterwards helped spread riders out, which was huge.
I rode Slush Cup for a few days. It was a great way to see the finish, practice climbing, and get familiar with where moves would be made. At first, I wasn’t excited about climbing Icebreaker straight into Woodchip, but the new Red Bull corner that sent us back down was actually awesome. What wasn’t great was having zero momentum going into Woodchip. But that was a race-day issue.
The expo is always a highlight, and watching the Bonk Bros do a live podcast was pretty cool. Hearing them talk about the race eased my nerves. Spending time with my wife and kid kept me grounded. The Iceman group text, where everyone was buzzing with last-minute prep, was the final touch of a year-long buildup. The bladder was filled, and the kit was laid out; everything I could control was done.
Only one thing left to do:
Let’s ride.
Race Day: Chasing the Timber Ridge Finish
I boarded the bus from Grand Traverse Resort to the airport. The bus was quite quiet. I had my music playing, and my heart rate was low. Since I was in Wave 22, I had some time to warm up, stay warm, and wish friends in the earlier waves good luck.
I lined up in row 2 and froze in the chute until we began to roll. I had my goals written on painter’s tape:
- 12.5 mph avg
- Dockery by 36:00
- Williamsburg by 1:36
If I can stick to that, I’d have a shot at sub-2:30.
When we took off, I sprinted hard to catch up with a group. Facing that headwind, I didn’t care about burning a match or hitting a PR – I needed a draft. I tucked in behind the third wheel and let the group pull me along. I recorded my second-fastest time out of the airport and set a PR on the segment to the first singletrack.
Sow’s Ear was slower than pre-ride (8.5 mph vs. 9.6), but that’s just a part you get through. It doesn’t determine the outcome of a race.
After that, I let it rip.
I reached Dockery just after 37 minutes. I figured I could make up that time if I got some luck, but luck wasn’t on anyone’s side in the later waves.
As we approached the new Gussied Up section, I felt incredible. The best singletrack ride I’ve ever had. Legs felt strong, confidence was high. Then we slowed down… and stopped. No crash, no help needed, just a long bottleneck. Everyone was wondering why we had come to a halt.
Once we saw the hill, people said, “Really? This is what’s holding us up?”
The woman in front of me asked if I could give her some space so she could get over the first crest. She said that if she couldn’t, she’d step aside and walk it. She didn’t need to. She handled it like a boss.
Once I cleared Gussied Up, I knew PR hopes, sub-2:30 hopes, even sub-2:20 hopes were gone. But my race wasn’t.
I hammered. I passed when safe. I PR’d Make It Stick by 10 seconds. From there to Williamsburg, I either PR’d or was within seconds of it.
Williamsburg to the Finish: Let ’Er Rip
Once I crested Williamsburg, something clicked. I felt amazing. No fatigue. No cramps. Not a single sign of exhaustion. even cold. At that moment, I knew all the training had paid off.
This was the part of the course I love, wide open, fast, fun.
Ice Crusher is, in my opinion, the most challenging climb on the course. Long, steep, punishing. I had to hike it the last two years, but not this year. Riding Slush Cup helped—I recognized the entry, paced it right, put my head down, and powered up. I looked up once, and I was already at the top. I took over a minute off my previous best, and the legs still felt great.
The icebreaker and the Red Bull turn was fantastic. The singletrack into Woodchip was tight but ridable. The braking bump was a little wild, but manageable.
Woodchip with zero momentum is cruel and unusual punishment. It was one of my slowest Times, and the moment when my legs first started to feel cooked. But the flyover and pump track helped bring back the fun. No sharp turns before the finish meant you could absolutely let the bike fly.
I crossed the line at 2:42, and honestly, there’s so much to be proud of.
I rode the best I ever have. I passed confidently. According to Pass Data:
- Passed: 204 riders
- Passed by: 28
- Finished: 29th out of 95
- 11 minutes faster than wave average
Given the circumstances, it was an absolute success.
Takeaways from the Trail
This year brought many challenges and significant growth. I learned that just because you’re down doesn’t mean you’re out. I discovered more about myself as a rider and a person than I have in years.
This was the best bike handling I’ve ever experienced. I trusted the bike. I leaned into corners. I let the tires do their work. I didn’t brake unnecessarily. I learned when to coast and when to pedal through. For the first time, I didn’t brake in the singletrack because of my own mistakes, only because of riders ahead or backups like Gussied Up.
Before the slowdown, I was pacing for low 2:20s. What that time could have been remains a mystery to me. But focusing on mountain biking this fall was one of the best decisions I made. With the Michigan Off-Road Championship adding more races that fit my schedule, 2026 might have more MTB than gravel.
Lessons Learned Off the Bike
Life isn’t something we can fully control. As much as we wish we could, we can’t. I’m so grateful that, despite everything—being first-time parents, my health issues, our pets—Christine and I stayed “on the trail.” We adapt. We support each other. We never waver.
A big thank you to my wife for her patience, growth, and understanding with me and all my hobbies. I couldn’t do any of this without you.
To all my fellow riders, I appreciate you taking the time to read the blog throughout the year. Thanks to the racers who called out “Lucy’s Dad,” “Sleeves,” or said something kind and then passed me on course.
I hope everyone has a safe and healthy holiday season. I wish that your time with loved ones creates memories you’ll treasure forever.
Until then, grab the fat bikes. I’ll see you in the woods.
A HUGE thank you to Chris Mutnansky @the_racing_ref for being our 2025 Iceman Trailblazer!