Leadman Triathlon: Ski Boot Dash to Ski to Mountain Bike to Run

Check out info, on the Leadman Triathlon to see what you missed last Saturday in Kellogg, Idaho at Silver Mountain Resort. A Branchwhipped reader participated (and won podium bragging rights) gives us the run down. Thanks Logan!

Race Report: Leadman Triathlon, Kellogg, ID, April 30th 2011

An extreme sports triathlon, this Kellogg, ID based event combines one mile downhill skiing (or snowboarding), eight miles downhill mountain biking, and five miles running, with yearly variation based on conditions.

At Silver Mountain Ski Resort on a bonus last day of the ski season, the parking lots were packed, mostly with skiers and snowboarders anxious to go shred some freshies. Among them were a peculiar mix of about 250 oddly-dressed athletes in various combinations of skiing, biking, and running gear. One could spot, for example, guys in ski boots and running shorts, with bike helmet and ski goggles, bike gloves and a heavy ski jacket, riding a downhill bike to the registration booth.

Of course, all of these crazy outfits make perfect sense to a triathlete, as transitions are critical to the triathlete’s success. For example, just 30 seconds wasted removing extra clothing would increase your mile time on the run by six seconds. But, am I crazy enough to ride up the chairlift to the starting line in my nylon running shorts? No. In my dry-run the night before, it only took five seconds to remove my ski pants. More troublesome was the quick removal of my ski boots. I wanted them tightly buckled for optimum control on the icy slalom ski section, but easy enough to remove. I decided, though, that I could do without the Velcro racing strap.

Upon arrival at the top of Kellogg Peak, nearly 6000 feet elevation, my brother and I were greeted by a stiff, steady wind, heavy snow, and poor visibility. Clusters of scantily clad athletes huddled among the trees to stay warm. We made our way to the start of the slalom course, laid our skis down, then walked the 100 yards downhill to the “Le Mans” starting line. To my dismay, despite arriving 15 minutes early, I was 4 or 5 rows back from the starting line. My restless dreams of a podium finish seemed to be fading. I knew a good start would be crucial.

After some final words of advice and warnings of an unusually dangerous course, the official blew his whistle and we were off! We sprinted uphill in the soft snow, elbows and ski poles flying. I managed a decent start and tucked down the blue run, making no extra turns. The soft, freshly groomed snow soon degraded into hard ice and we chattered around the gates. Within just a few minutes of the start, we were already flying down the gravel road on mountain bikes, goggles still on. The snowstorm continued, now mixed with sleet. If they sold goggles with windshield wipers, I would have bought them just for this race. A few inches of wet snow covered our gravel road but as we descended, it became a thick, slippery mud that unavoidably entered my mouth as I gasped for air to fuel my churning legs.

Near the bottom of the bike course, cones directed us off the road onto a poorly maintained section of single track. Sections were rutted out by heavy rains, and berms of rock heaped up to divert the eroding streams sent us airborne. Good vision was crucial on this section, but the timing of when I let go of a handlebar to clear my goggles of mud was even more crucial. Memories of my rotation in trauma surgery as a medical student began to haunt me and I slowed, only to be passed by yet another triathlete.

This was my first year participating and I was quite impressed by the event staff’s thorough preparation and extensive race-day support. Such an event poses certain logistical challenges that require a massive amount of coordination and planning, because unlike most triathlons, the various transition zones are by necessity located on different areas of the mountain. And the variation in seasons and snowpack require course adjustments even up to the week before. Participants can expect new surprises each year to mix it up, while event staff must plan for new challenges year after year.

Efforts began many months in advance, keeping a gravel road plowed to allow a seamless transition from skiing to biking. On race day, our bikes and gear were trucked up the hill and sorted by number in the transition area. Running shoes were handed to participants as they came off the biking course. Gear frantically stripped and strewn about was carefully placed back into numbered bags and brought to the finish line. I absentmindedly left my mud-caked fleece jacket on as I started the run, then stripped it and tossed it to a bystander, yelling, “please put it in bag number 21!”

While the skiing and biking demanded ignorance of danger and mastery of treacherous speeds, the running leg simply required endurance. Here is where I made up for my timid and cautious side. The downhill portions were over; weight was no longer an advantage. Now it was finally time to sort contestants by aerobic fitness. I picked off runner after runner until finally we were greeted by the finish line crowds and one of those ubiquitous Red Bull arches. My efforts were awarded by a free shower at the Silver Rapids indoor water park, a relaxing barbecue with live band at the gondola village, and a nice bag of swag for my 2nd place finish in the men’s age 15-29 group, 5th place overall. What a wild ride!