After two posts, I’m thinking I’m going to stick with this theme of finding places of gratitude and grit. There’s just really something about Iceman (and mountain biking in general) that stirs things in me I don’t always have words for. Maybe it’s the northern Michigan chill that clings to your bike frame in the morning. Maybe it’s the crunch of frozen earth under tires you debated on the Iceman Facebook page with somebody’s weird (but awesome) uncle for a week. Who knows. For me, maybe it’s the fact that every single year I line up for this race, I feel something I didn’t expect to feel when I first started doing this: reverence. Iceman isn’t just a race. It’s also a ritual of gratitude.
Some (and I’d argue most) people don’t think of suffering as a gift. And even those of us who train hard, push limits, and go deep into the pain cave – we sometimes forget. We forget that voluntary suffering is a privilege. That to be able to hurt in pursuit of something on your own terms isn’t necessarily normal. It’s not universal. And it’s not promised. Personally, that’s what keeps me grounded. Every time I climb out of the saddle, lungs tight and legs begging to quit, I think: “This hurts, and I think I hate it now, but man I’m lucky to feel it.” This has been a theme for me in recent years, and something close to home.
Earlier this season, I was invited to join the Challenged Athletes Foundation mountain bike race team and race the Leadville 100 on their behalf. It was one of those moments that hits you with both honor and accountability. The chance to ride for a cause I deeply believe in and that’s close to home – supporting individuals who have lost mobility, who have experienced catastrophic injuries or congenital differences. When CAF reached out, I said yes without hesitation. But what I didn’t expect was how profoundly it would change my relationship with my own body and ability. As I’ve become more embedded in their foundation, I’ve felt this sense of gratitude growing significantly as I witness what the CAF athletes can (and are) doing. And quickly on CAF; they raise money for athletes of all ages and skill levels, whether that’s entry level to paralympic athletes, CAF helps them get access to equipment, training, nutrition, coaching, you name it. Mobility is freedom, and freedom is independence.
I started noticing things I used to take for granted: getting out of bed pain-free. Swinging a leg over the top tube without thinking. Standing on the pedals during a steep climb. The micro-movements of daily life, the independence of motion, the effortlessness of motion – these aren’t givens. They’re silent gifts. And I’ve just been really feeling that gratitude recently as I ramp up my saddle time (and climbing) in preparation for Leadville… and Iceman of course!
My training plan for both Leadville and Iceman isn’t flashy. No complicated intervals for the most part (though occasionally). While I am slightly a tech-obsessed data rabbit from my exercise phys background, the biggest success for me over the past few years has been a simple, consistent commitment: minimum two-hour rides, with 1,500 to 2,000 feet of gain. Saddle time and climbing. That’s it. The idea is to simulate what Iceman dishes out – a race that grinds you down slowly with its relentless rhythm, only to reward you at the end in Timber Ridge with thousands of cheers and an ice cold Bell’s adult beverage!
All that to say, I do think there is why between the watts. There’s something spiritual that happens when you blur the line between discipline and devotion… call it passion. And that’s where I find myself now and why I felt compelled to write about the gratitude I’ve been feeling around the ability to get on that starting line in 29F degree weather. Iceman isn’t just a race, if you’ve raced it one single time then you know this. Let this year be something a little more. For me, it’s as much a mirror as it is the final dance of everything put together in the 2025 season. And the same for Leadville, it’s the other half of that mirror. It will demand more from me than any ride I’ve done, but I’m just happy to be on that starting line. Because I can. Because I’m lucky. And these are the things I want to pass on to our little guy as he’s loving the biking community at only 3 years old.
So if you’re reading this and training for Iceman yourself, take a second. Think about what you’re asking of your body, then realize it said “yes.” You’re going to absolutely crush this year – when you hit Woodchip and Icebreaker, the pain is only temporary. You get to be out there, and that’s something to remember not to take for granted. Get movin!
Thank you to Mark Daisy @markdaisymusic for being our 2025 Iceman Trailblazer!