Leadville 100 MTB 2026 Race Report Pt. 2: I’m Not Giving Up Yet!

Dear Reader, quick tip: This entire tale is told through my inner dialogue, so italics represent spoken words by me or others. If you haven’t yet, check out Part 1!

1:35 pm Columbine Descent Continued Mile 55-ish

This is nice. I have the switchbacks to myself. That’s the beauty of not being up front. I’m flying. WOOHOO!! Be careful. There are still folks climbing up, even though they know their fate: getting pulled when they get back to Twin Lakes. Mad respect. Been there. 

What was it Bill said? Be safe, ride fast, have fun. Or at least two out of three. Well, there has to be a way to have all three. Hmm. How about... Safe is fast, fast is fun. I mean, there’s nothing slower than a crash or a mechanical. So safe is indeed fast, and we all know fast is fun.

Safe is fast, fast is fun!   

These punchy rollers seem uphill both ways. Ah, this flat section feels nice. Such a straight road. Reminds me of Kansas, except for those mountains. A group to work with would be really nice. Oh well. Where is the brutal crosswind? It’s oddly still. This is so weird. My lucky day!

1:58 pm Twin Lakes Aid Inbound Mile 61

OK, keep your eyes open…Where is Cheryl? There! She's wearing that WVU poncho; it must’ve rained down here.

Vicky! Vicky! Do you want some flat Coke? Some pickle juice? Coffee? 

Wow, she’s so organized! Sure, I would love a coffee and a massage...

Nope, just more salt in the bottle. And my jacket! I helped a guy with a flat! (secret’s out) Cramped all the way up Columbine. Look at these gel flasks. I have not been eating enough! Thank you, THANK YOU!!

I love this thick air. I’ve dropped over 3,000 feet since the top. I should feel like Wonder Woman right now. I don’t. Let’s climb this pavement out of here. There are still people cheering. Lots of kids. They have so much energy. I’ll take some, thank you very, very much. Sweet, a little descent; I can stand. Really hurts down there. Right up that road is my favorite campsite. Look at that view of Mt. Elbert. So spectacular. This road is still sandy despite the rain. Could be worse, though. Did I just pass someone? Someone else? Am I feeling better? Focus on this climb; don’t spin out. I’ll pee at the top. Oh great, here comes someone. Male voice: Do you need anything? I’m squatting behind a tree; how about some privacy?

Just a p____.  (I’ll let you use your imagination).

At least I made him laugh. 

I’m going to be late to Pipeline Aid. I hope Ed and Becky aren’t worried about me. This vest is so tight right now. I’m so bloated. I don’t understand this gut revolt. I worked so hard on this plan. Well, maybe it’s the willy-nilly sodium and all the mustard and apparently too much water, and I really should eat something, but I just can't. What did they say at the athlete meeting about plans? Was it Cole or Ken? Something about the plan being all well and good until it kicks you in the mouth. This is what I get for thinking that means the plan wasn’t that good to start with. Kicked in the gut.

Pedaling this pipeline feels so good. My legs are actually working! That’s because they’re not climbing, haha. Stay positive, have some gratitude. Lock down that suspension; don’t lose a single watt to comfort right now. 

3:06 pm Pipeline Aid Mile 73.9

Yay! Ed and Becky, and look, there’s Michelle! I hope they’re having fun. Requests are tumbling out of my mouth; they are handing me stuff I’ve completely forgotten to ask for; I’m stuffing my face while I’m stopped; I can’t stay here long, or I’ll cramp. 

Thank you! I love you guys! See you at the finish line!!

Oops. Forgot to ask for a caffeine gel. That’s right! The kids are next. They have some caffeine gum, random gels, and flat Coke, just in case. I wonder if they made it down from Denver? It will be so good to see them. This grassy section is full of prairie dog holes; what a potential disaster. 

Whoa…oh…living on a prairie, take my hand, and we'll make it, I swearie…

Can’t help but smile…I can just hear London belting that out with me. Prairie dogs are so cute. Not as cute as London (my six-year-old niece).

3:22 pm Outward Bound Aid Inbound Mile 77

Just keep pedaling through the timing mat, don’t stop! You have eight minutes!

Why is that volunteer saying that? The timing mat is in sight; it won't take eight minutes to get there. Maybe 30 seconds. Weird. But also weird that I’m chasing cutoffs like this. I had no idea I’d lost so much time. Well, I’m stopping.

Where are the kids? There! Ty…he is so tall! London: Aunt Vicky, Aunt Vicky! I have a surprise for you!

Like a buckle, haha? Let’s unload these arm warmers. Quick leg down…and there it is…shooting up my right calf all the way to the groin. Entire right leg recruitment of pain. This is the worst one yet. Arghh!!! CRAMP!!

More mustard. God, not again. There’s Angela, the Weeks family crew chief on a mission. What do you need? Coke? Gels? 

I need the gum! Please!

My brother Matt to the rescue, grabbing the bike to steady me.

How much? Here…take two!

Choking on mustard…now this spearmint-flavored gum is going in. What a combo.

Here, just take the bag!

I have to get back in the saddle. Can I even pedal? This is ridiculous. I’m not giving up yet. Never give up. 

GO GO GO!! I hear what seems like more than just my family cheering behind me; I guess I made a bit of a scene with that last one. I have to pedal through this cramp. It’s the only way. Check out all those people lining the little pitch back up to the pavement. So much cheering, and I’m not even their rider. Holding back tears…pain…gratitude…fear…all mixed together like this palate-pleasing mustard-gum combo. Being human is just plain work sometimes.

I have about 12 miles to Carter Summit and the next course cutoff. Almost 1,600 feet of climbing between here and there. Can I make it? I need to finish by 5:30 according to my cheat sheet. Something is off with these split projections. Am I on track for the buckle or not? How the heck am I chasing cutoffs? Why do I insist on doing math at this point in the race? Just pedal. Here’s the rain. Nice and cool. It’s really coming down now. Drat. I should put on this jacket. Are you kidding me? I can’t even zip it. The immaculate conception of a salty mustard carb baby. What can I name her? Pretzel? Focus. Pedal. Here we are; the climb out begins. It’s no Powerline, but it’s gonna hurt. Never give up. At least I can pedal up this thing. Flap flap flap goes my open jacket in the wind. Why am I even wearing it? The sun is back. I really have to pee again. Or do I? How much time am I wasting on this decision? I could just get off and do it. This jacket is now hot. I need to ditch it. And freshen up this gum. OK. This is my last stop. Pee. Jacket off. Blinky on. Gum. That’s it till the finish line. I don’t know if I’ll make the buckle, but I can’t know right now. Math isn’t working. The only thing working is that earworm. I don’t know how I’ll get there, but I’m not giving up yet. Keep the heart rate above 160. Don’t let it go below that. Last time, I couldn’t push above 150 at this point. So this is progress. 

Keep it up! You’re doing great! You have a couple of minutes to get to Carter if you want to make the buckle! 

Who is this person walking down the middle of the road saying this? A bored volunteer who wanted to break loose from the aid station to cheer people on? What an angel; she must’ve walked miles. And why is she talking about the buckle? I wonder how she’s getting back up to Carter? Maybe the sag wagon will pick her up. At least I won’t be in that God-forsaken sag wagon this year. 

Wait…there’s Carter! What? No way! Once again, my mangled math pays off in a surprise reveal. I can still make the buckle! What?? This is crazy. I have until 6:00 to finish, not 5:30, you idiot! I can’t believe I messed up the split sheet this badly. I have an hour and ten minutes to get home. I rode this section the other day in an hour and three, and that wasn’t race pace. I wasn’t at mile 88, though, either. Still, I can totally do this. My chain won't drop five times on the way back like in 2024, thanks to Margie (my new bike). Time to earn your keep, girl; let’s go!

The climbing isn’t over yet. So many pitches until we finally descend. All this logging makes for a sketchy surface. Oh well, let her rip. Finally! We’re descending. Nope. One more climb. At least.

5:06 pm Course Error Mile 90 

Check out that jersey. He must be a veteran. Thank you for your service!

          -I did it for you. 

Thank you, sir!  I ride by him and smile. Gratitude.

          -Look at you go, girl! Climb that thing!

Why am I feeling like I can climb? My legs only hurt when they’re cramping, and they’re not cramping right now!

Yeehaw, baby!

Wait. Why is my bike computer beeping at me? Am I going the wrong way? This can’t be right. I have to check. Prepare for the pain. Leg down. Pull out the phone. Settings. Turn off airplane mode. RideWithGPS. Lucky me, the route pulls right up. There’s my blue dot. Shoot!!!

We’re off course!!

          -What? Are you sure?

Yes. I’m sure. I’m turning around. It’s your call, but I’m turning around. 

The vet and his buddy seem to trust me. They also turn around. My computer chirps out an approval. We’re back on course, but we have to do the same climb, just on a different road. Ugh. A lady in front of me is getting back on her bike. She looks at me:

Did you just make a wrong turn?

          -Yup. I am trying to accept it; no sense in getting upset. 

Me too. 

Wow. Now I don’t feel so bad. We weren’t the only ones.

But now…now I’m in hot water. My four- or five-minute buffer just evaporated. Poof. Pedal. Faster. Never give up. Finally, the long descent down St. Kevin’s. Keep it together, Weeks. Safe is fast, fast is fun.  

Focus. Can’t afford any mistakes. Tiny walk here on these babyheads leading into the Boulevard of Broken Dreams. Never give up. Let’s hear it. Phone speaker will do:  I don’t know how I’ll get there, but I’m not giving up yet; I’m not giving up yet. 

Amen. Three miles. I can do anything for three miles. God, this hurts. The only way to get this over with is to pedal faster. This constant clock-watching could be wasting energy, but I can’t help myself. 5:56. Here’s my turn. Well, lookie there, the finish line. I have to go faster. I can’t believe I have to sprint up a paved hill on a mountain bike after a hundred miles. Why is it coming down to this? Shift down just one gear. No! Don’t do it! Is this where you want to lose the buckle? Really? Less than half a mile from the finish? Just pedal. Faster! 5:59… This is coming down to seconds. My lungs are on fire. This is absurd. I’m not giving up yet!

The clock strikes 6:00. 

No way. Guess I can let off the gas. The finish line is right…there. I’m over it. I can barely stand over this bike. Did I just miss the buckle by a few seconds? I don’t know what’s worse, that or the heart attack I feel coming on. I can’t believe this. What is this lesson supposed to be? I’ll have to figure it out later. Oh look, a finisher’s medal. Well, there’s that. Oh, now a rose. Just what I need to manage right now: thorns. Where’s my #$%ing buckle? I can’t believe it. I actually botched it by seconds.

Is that my name? Who is calling my name? Coming from the right side. 

Vicky! Vicky!! Vicky! You did it! You did it! Congratulations, great job! Way to go! 

There’s…well…everybody. I mean everybody. Matt, Becky, Preston, Ty, London, Angela. Ed, Cheryl, and Michelle are coming around from the other side.

I’m still dazed and confused. I can’t smile. I can’t cry. What did I do? Miss the buckle by seconds? Why is everyone so happy about that?

My sister, Becky, is now holding her phone over the barriers, vying for my attention. 

YOU DID IT! 11:14:53! You did it! You got the buckle! 

Seven seconds to spare! What?! My chip and I crossed the start line at 6:45:15 am, so I had 15 seconds past 6:00 pm to make the 11-hour-and-15-minute cutoff for the buckle.

YES!!!! WOOHOO!!!!  

I finally throw my arms up in a victory V. Hugs, tears, more hugs. We did it!

A few minutes later...

Where are the buckles?

My sister guides me through the crowd to the secret buckle hideaway; a man with an iPad blocks my entrance to the pearly gates. 

What’s your number?

         -2393.

Victoria Weeks?

          -Yup.

Congratulations! You did it! By seven seconds. Wow! That’s amazing. Congratulations!

Someone is handing me a little brown box. My hands aren't 100 percent functional; nothing is. I don’t want to drop it. There’s a little black bag. I pull it out of the bag and feel its weight. The silver and gold gleam brighter than anything around it. 

Holy S!*#, there it is. 

Dear Reader, thank you for sticking with me until the finish line! The next piece will revisit my nail-biting finish, from the perspective of my superstar crew at the finish line and fans at home tracking my race, and I’ll explore the valuable life lessons I’m taking with me from this adventure. So stay tuned, and if you haven't, please subscribe!