The White Rim FKT

Watch the Film! https://youtu.be/vohBABimUoU

The night before the White Rim FKT I sat on the edge of the bed in the Airbnb looking at all of my notes, nutrition, and equipment laid out in front of me.

I looked up at Clayton and said, “I’m not sure if I’m ready.”

He responded, “We’ve been planning this for 3 years. How could you possibly not be ready?”

I sat there uncomfortably for a few moments wrestling with the feeling inside of me. If I was ready then what was it that I was feeling.

“I just wish it was easier,” I said having thought that I figured it out.

“No you don’t,” he emphatically said. “You do this because it’s hard.”

He was right. I wanted it to be hard. That’s what drew me to the challenge in the first place. The emotion I was feeling was my body reacting to the challenge ahead. You see, when you know something is going to be really, really hard, your body begins to prepare for it.

When I woke up on May 2^nd, this day was months (even years) in the making. We first came up with this idea shortly after The Whole Enchilada FKT in 2022, and while we didn’t hone in on the White Rim until after the Kokopelli was complete in 2024, it had been in the back of my mind for a long time.

I had watched the leaderboards change, monitored conditions, and even pre-rode the course earlier that year in March. And now, it was time.

One of the challenges of pursuing an FKT is that, unlike a race, everyone who attempts it, does not have the same conditions. Temperatures, terrain, winds, crowds, and more, can all directly impact your time and drastically change from one day, week, or month to the next.

The other challenging part is trying to document an FKT and fit it into a race season. Due to my busy race schedule I can’t just push the FKT a week if the weather doesn’t permit, and because I have a film crew documenting the experience I have to plan the day ahead of time and can’t just set out when the mood (or conditions) strike.

We agonize over weather, wind patterns, and trail conditions. I hold out on setting the exact date until I get the final email that says, “Hannah, it’s time to decide.”

As the days got closer I got on a call with the crew. They had just scouted the course and they told me with concern in their faces that it was sandy, very sandy. I immediately began scouting Strava and to my dismay I saw routes titled “I’ve never seen the White Rim so sandy.” It was time to put my mind in the box. Nothing could reach me. We had a job to do and I couldn’t think about the things that could stand in my way. Not anymore.

In the days leading up to the FKT I spoke with Enso Mental Performance to discuss how I could focus on a solo 6.5 hour effort. We discussed the use of headphones. I asked her if music helped as I know it’s known to ‘distract from the pain.’ She responded, “We aren’t trying to distract from the pain. We are trying to feel it and go aways.” I was bought in. No headphones, no music, no talking. 6.5 hours of me and my thoughts; complete and total focus.

My coach, Chris Mileski, gave me my pacing strategy and the numbers felt aggressive, but they were also confidence inspiring. I knew if I could do that, I could get the FKT. It was go time.

As I stood at the start of the White Rim FKT, my heart was pound, I was so nervous that my hands were numb. No start gun, no timing mats, just the silent hours of the sun rising.

“Ok. Here I go.”

I pushed off and accelerated into the distance. It’s almost funny how anti-climactic it is, while in my head it feels like the entire world stands still as I think, “This is it. This is the moment we’ve been preparing for.”

I hone in on my pedal stroke. I feel each and every one, my foot stomping on the pedal. “Faster, faster.” The pain set in almost immediately, but I greeted it with a smile, that’s how I knew I would knock on my limits today. When I hit the top range of my power targets, I settled in. The hours flew by.

When I reached the half way mark I had about 8 minutes on the record, but my body was whining. It was scary to feel so much suffering and to know how much further I had to go. I started to sort through my list of things I could do to ease the pain. Fluids. In an effort to ration the 3 liters I had that would need to last me the entire 6.5 hours, I had barely drank any in the darker, cooler hours of the morning. I couldn’t afford to just down a bunch, but I began to take a small sip every 5 minutes for the next hour. I felt my body reach equilibrium again. We were still on pace.

Over the course of the next few hours, I held my 8 minute lead, but the time didn’t really seem to move. I was holding steady on the pace, but I’m also aware of how quickly 8 minutes can dissolve during efforts like this.

The tension in my body was immense, and despite my heavy and labored breathing, I almost felt like I was holding my breath. The hardest part of the effort loomed ahead. On one hand when you reach the giant Shafer climb you know you’re almost done, on the other hand, it’s the hardest part of the entire effort and it comes when you’re hurting the most.

As I powered up Shafer I had two sips of water left. I took one at the bottom, and saved the other for the summit. As I climbed, I cherished every tiny shadow of shade from the canyon walls as I melted and felt my mouth go dry. There was no holding back now. This was all out.

I faced a head wind as I rounded the top and I took my last sip of water. The wind was forcing extra effort into the pedals, but I tried to thank it for cooling down my now boiling body. Every muscle hurt as I counted down the miles to the finish. My head was becoming foggy, my thought patterns no longer clear, my eyes glazed over, my legs and arms shakey. When I crossed the finish line, I planned to sit immediately to experience the relief I had been dream of, but when I moved to dismount my bike, my legs buckled and couldn’t unclip. I fell to the ground and laid there. We did it. We did it. We did it.

My final time 6:36:51. We beat the FKT by about 15 minutes.

The next day we returned to the White Rim. We had a few photos we still needed to get and a few shots we needed to pick up. As I got into position to take the photos, I was absolutely blown away. The sand was inches thick. I could barely ride it. I looked at the crew and asked if the sand was like this yesterday. To which they responded with an astounded “Yes.” And a mostly joking, “Do you just black out during these FKTs?”

I think I might. I hadn’t even noticed the sand the day before. It didn’t serve me. I was so focused on what I could control that I had no bandwidth to acknowledge the things in my way.

The White Rim FKT taught me focus and precision. The Kokopelli taught me patience, persistence, and how deeply I could really suffer. The Whole Enchilada stretched my technical abilities and taught me how to memorize line choices. Each of these FKTs has made me a better bike racer, and I would even say a better human being. They have stretched me, humbled me, challenged me, and spit me back out the other side stronger and braver that I’ve ever been.

When I selected these 3 routes it was knowing that they would stretch me in unique ways, that they would challenge me beyond any way I’ve been challenged me before, and they would take me places rarely seen outside of two wheels. That is how we got “The Triple Crown.” My encouragement is that everyone takes on this challenge, fast or slow, you’ll finish it loving your bike and the world you live in, a little more.

Be braver than you’ve ever been, because you’re stronger than you even know.