A year ago, in a cozy cabin outside of Thayne, Wyoming, I met with a group of Bible study leaders to train them in some of the themes related to certain New Testament books.  Upon driving back to Idaho Falls, I admired the packs of bikers on the highway and the huge crowd in Alpine, Wyoming and wondered what was the big occasion.  Stopping in Alpine, I asked what this was all about.  A lady answered, “This is LotoJa, a bike race from Logan, Utah to Jackson Hole, Wyoming.”  And then beaming at the biker, chugging bottled water beside her, she proudly exclaimed, “This guy has biked 159 miles.  That is a lot.”   After surveying all the “roadies”, I thought to myself, “Wow, this would be fun to try.”

I had never participated in a bike race.  All I had in my garage was a 300 Rover Univega mountain bike that cost me $69 at the local Walmart.  So on January 1, 2007, I decided to buy a $100 E 60b Everlast stationary bike and exercise while I studied, prayed, or watched movies with my kids.  Eventually during early spring, at 3,156 miles on the odometer, the crazy contraption broke.  So I bought another one, but even a little cheaper, $89.  With this new one, I logged in another 200 miles.  But of course, stationary bikes are nothing compared to the training required for LotoJa.  I really needed a genuine road bike.

In browsing through our two bike stores in town, Bill’s Bike Shop and Alpine Cycle & Fitness, I tried to find the cheapest bike I could.  Looking at a low-end $650 dollar bike, a worker at Alpine told me, “That bike won’t last you through your training and the LotoJa course.”  So through the encouragement of a brother from my church family, Tobi Smith, who would also be biking with me, I ended up making an internet purchase through bikedirect.com.  It’s a great budget-biker web site.  For $450, I bought a Motobecane MiragePro, equipped with 16 gears.

When it came to me boxed (shipping free), I paid Alpine $50 to assemble it.  On the very next day, I took my very first ride ever with my Christian brother—a century ride from I.F. to Palisades Resevoir—on this nice, sport-level road bike.  I fell over three times because I just wasn’t thinking and unable to get out of my clips when stopped.

 

After that ride, I made two more big rides, another century ride (with my friend) and then a 150 miler solo.  And then to prepare myself mentally for a segment of the LotoJa course, I rode the saddle from Preston to the first high point near Strawberry pass and back.  Altogether, I think I put a measly 500 miles on my Motobecane before LotoJa.  Some say you need 7,000 miles on your bike before the race.  Others suggest 5 century rides and another 150 miles in addition per week in training throughout the summer.  Obviously, you can see where my stats fell short. (As a sidenote, my back tire, a Kenda Competition Kontender – 125 psi, showed the inner thread after just 500 miles.  No wonder.  They are made in Taiwan.  The Alpine store in I.F. replaced it with a Michelin Dynamic three days before the race.)

 

The week before LotoJa, my church friends, Tobi and Mike, joined me in climbing Mt. Borah (12,662 ft.), the highest mountain in Idaho – a 5700 foot ascent.  The next day, I could hardly get out of bed.  And for the whole week before Saturday, September 8 th, I stayed a cripple—everything but lissome.  So how is that for smart cross-training?

 

On Friday night, September 7 th, in Logan, Utah, we picked up our registration packets (included a LotoJa decal, waterbottle, and 2007 t-shirt with all the information) and ankle computer chips (www.milliseconds.com ) to clock our times.  Much of the LotoJa merchandise was already sold out.  But I did get to sample quite a variety of protein bars and energy gum drops.  Quite a kick, to say the least.  Gary, owner of Clif Bar & Co. has quite a monopoly.

 

After listening to Holly, chief official for this epic event, in the latest public session and asking several questions to her personally (finding her both friendly and helpful), we headed to our motel.

 

Oh, and before I forget, let me thank our own sponsors for the race, the owners of the North Hiway Café in Idaho Falls, Wes and Roxanne Smith.  They followed us throughout most of the LotoJa route.  Their words of encouragement were tremendous.

 

When I woke up on the day of the race, I regretted not going over to Denny’s for a nice omelet and hashbrowns breakfast or to McDonalds for a handful of egg McMuffins.  I should have feasted on some solid food, because bananas, protein bars (which I really don’t enjoy), and Gatorade don’t fill the growling void in the stomach.  All day, I was craving a big, juicy double cheeseburger, fries and shake.

 

We pulled up to the starting line and enjoyed watching the pros pull out in their particular packs, beginning crisply at 6:30 am.  At a little past 7:45, Tobi and I rolled past the starting line and at the very end of our non-competitive pact. Tobi was last.  I was second to last.  Yes, friends, when the lead vehicle pulled away from our pact, we alongside one other guy, were holding up the very rear of LotoJa 2007.  It felt exhilarating.  I just hoped I would be alive by the end of the day.

 Logan to Preston 

We had beautiful weather.  Thank you, Lord, for such a blessed gift.  The initial 34 mile ride from Logan to Preston was pleasant, except for two very troubling sites.  We saw one biker on an ambulance stretcher and another biker lying on the ground surrounded by others.  He looked unconscious.  I prayed for them and offer up a prayer, today, as well.

 

Tobi and I didn’t stop in Preston.  We looked like the pros, exchanging our empty water bottles for new ones and food stashed in musette bags handed off to us, while still on our moving wheels.  Stuffing the back pockets of our shirt jerseys, we then let go of our bags at the designated drop section.  I tell you—it was sweet poetry in motion—the only time in the whole race.  At all the other feed stations, I just collapsed.  (I’m laughing; it wasn’t that bad.)  To summarize a highlight, I loved crossing into Idaho, the land of my birth!

 Preston to Montpelier 

Now, we had a challenge . . . the slow . . . ever winding . . . upward climb . . . to the pass over Strawberry Mountain.  We stopped briefly at the top of the false summit just before the neutral feeding station situated in front of the real summit.  At the station, we parked our bikes; drank Red Bull; savored succulent peach slices; greedily devoured pretzels, cookies, and crackers; and stocked up on red licorice (my favorite).

 

When getting ready to go, I clipped one foot back on to my left pedal and lost my balance, falling over on my left leg.  All the LotoJa crew cried, “Are you alright?”  I immediately responded, “No problem,” and got up as quickly as I could untangle myself.  That is what you do when you embarrassed.  But on the ride out of there, I was thinking, “OUCH!  THAT HURT!”

 

Tobi and I flew down to Montpelier, Idaho and met our wives.  My wife was so concerned.  She lathered me with sunscreen, afraid I was going to get sunburned.  I smiled, telling her what I truly needed – a full body massage.

 Montpelier to Afton 

With 80 miles behind us, I knew we still had to truckle up two more mountains.  Powering our way up to Geneva pass and then down to the dozen or so buildings comprising the little village of Geneva, all I could think about was John Calvin of Geneva, Switzerland, and the famous Geneva Bible that I recently saw at the Ink & Blood exhibit at the Museum of Idaho in Idaho Falls.  Funny, huh?  Maybe, only preachers think of these things on LotoJa bike races.  Maybe LDS bikers meditate on the birthplace of past LDS prophet, Ezra Taft Benson, in the earlier town of Whitney, Idaho near Preston or the old beautiful tabernacle in Paris, Idaho near Montpelier.  And maybe some westerners reflect upon early emigrants on the pioneer byway, while others imagine Butch Cassidy’s escapades in these parts.  But perhaps in this segment of the race, most of the bikers could hardly think at all, because they felt like dying as they went from Geneva pass to the even higher and longer Salt River pass.  I just wonder how many dropped out when they were only half way through the race.

 

Tobi and I conquered the top of the third pass, LotoJa’s King Mountain, at the cut-off time around 4:00 pm.  I think we were the very last to be officially clocked at this point. Feeling happy, we cruised down the mountain, only to be pummeled by headwinds as we crawled towards Afton.  While we recuperated, my wife massaging my neck (praise God!).  I didn’t realize this till later, but another friend of mine, Jeff Setzer, three blocks away, was preparing for a week of ministry at Baptist Community Church.

 

Around 5:25 pm, Tobi told me we needed to get going.  Too bad, I could have sat there another hour with my beautiful wife rubbing my shoulders.

 Afton to Alpine 

This is a lovely stretch of 34 miles.  We were enjoying it so much in our steady, leisurely pace that very soon two female bikers roared past us.  This kicked in my competitive juices.  I had to pass them.  So we did.  Two thirds of the way, we saw our wives parked by the road and I just had to yell out in glee, “We passed the girls!”  And here is the humorous part, I didn’t realize this, but lo and behold, one of those girls was drafting directly behind us.  And about a mile down the road after my jubilant exclamation, she whizzed past me again.  So we drafted behind her all the way to Alpine.  I tip my hat to her, today, if she is reading this blog.  Good work.  That was a lot of fun.

 

I must share my favorite site along this stretch of road.  I enjoyed seeing Emmanuel Bible Church’s attractive building alongside the highway.  And I anticipate also the expansion of a brand new church plant, Friendship Baptist Church, in Thayne, Wyoming.

 

With the time now 7:30 pm, my good brother-in-Christ, Tobi, decided to stop for the day.  The cramps in his right leg were painfully pulsating from the top of his inner thigh down to his knee with every stroke.  But before he hopped into our support vehicle, he graciously hooked up my bike with front and rear lights.

 Alpine to Jackson Hole 

At 7:45 pm, I dawned a reflective vest, pulled off my ankle computer chip, and replaced it with an orange, white, and yellow ankle reflector.  Yee-haw, I was ready to roll into the canyon as the Snake River streamed downward in the other direction.  Passing the “Big Kahuna” and “Lunch Counter” rapids, I felt good in the cold, evening air.  My support vehicle patiently and carefully trudged directly behind me.  I appreciated them for that.  Somewhere around 10:00, after moving slowly up one of the last little hills before Jackson, I pulled over to the side.  I was now freezing.  My cheeks were so cold, I could hardly communicate.  The heater warmed me up as I gobbled down Cringles potato chips.  Just then, another biker in his support vehicle pulled up beside us.  He said a police trooper told him way back in the canyon that he could no longer bike there.  But he didn’t want to be a quitter, so he thought he would go find one of the public trails and make up his miles.  Warmed up, and now clothed in Tobi’s full leg gear for lower temperatures, I biked the last few minutes into Jackson Hole, finally stopping just before the corner intersection to Wilson.

 

After 14 hours and 40 minutes, I hung up my Motobecane on the Yahama rack of our support vehicle.  I know I was still 11 miles from the final finish line in Teton Village, but my patient wife was now growing weary.  Out of respect to her and Tobi’s wife who had helped us through this long day, I stopped.  Wow, what a good sense of accomplishment.  What a great day!  I couldn’t believe that I biked all the way from Logan, Utah to Jackson Hole, Wyoming.

 

I was glad to be one of the bikers in the race.  I had heard that 1200 registrations had been turned down because of no more space.  I was happy to be in Jackson Hole.  I had been told of one crash where a participant pulled right in front of another at a feed station, causing bodies to fly over handlebars and ending the race for both of them.  I also heard of another leader of a pack who took the wrong road and ending up falling far behind.  A lot of things could have happened that day to me, the naïve LotoJa beginner.

 

Most of all, I am thankful that our support crew could pass out some Gospels of John to others.  Praise the Lord.

 

After munching on chicken and potato wedges in Albertsons at 11:00 that night, my wife and I drove back to Idaho Falls, Idaho.  We hopped in our soft bed at 1:30 am on the Lord’s Day.  But with 9:30 am approaching, I could hardly wait to see all the gang at Berean Baptist Church who had been praying.

 

God is good in the corridor.