Preamble.
I am in North Carolina.
Pisgah Forest near Brevard, to be more specific. I ended up here as the culmination of yet
another parasitic idea that wormed its way into my mind, laid its eggs, and
eventually took over the thoughts and ideas of its host and convinced him that,
not only was a possibility, but it would be a SPECTACULAR experience that MUST
BE DONE. Sometimes I wish there was some
kind of vaccine against such things, because I seem to be awfully susceptible
to this process. Anyway…the part that
“sealed the deal” was that I turned 40 this summer, so what better way to
celebrate but to ride my mountain bike 141 miles over 5 days while climbing
over 26,000 feet? So here I am.
Infection…and
treatment
My symptoms began almost one year ago while on a ride. I thought about doing something big for my 40th,
and something stupid, because that’s what I do.
It had to have the elements of physical difficulty bordering on the
insane, but also have the penchant for fun…because, despite the fact that I
like to challenge my body, my mind INSISTS on fun. I had read about the Transylvania Stage Race
and the BC Epic recently, and the Pisgah Stage Race some time before, and liked
the idea of a multi-day event. Pisgah
was someplace I’d always wanted to visit and ride, so, after a painfully short
thought process (at this juncture, I am considering it almost impulsive), I
decided it was a goal worth attempting.
So, I began to ride.
As a past participant in many regimented training programs, I currently
adhere to one simple rule…no training programs.
This means no watch, no set schedule, no cycle-computer, no Strava, no
GPS…just the ride. That is what I am
looking for here at PSR..the ride…so that is what I trained for. A big turning point for me came on
Thanksgiving morning. I left the house
on my new fatbike, headed for two trail systems and eventually my parent’s
house for dinner. It was 16 degrees, and
my Camelback hose was frozen before I was 5 miles in, but 5 hours later, I
arrived. I was cold, I was exhausted,
but DAMN I was happy. I hadn’t really
“trained” for a ride like that, but I knocked it out without a thought. I figured for PSR, I would really just rely
on the fact that somehow, my legs can do this kind of thing, lol. Just to hedge the bet, however, I’ve spent
the last 10 months or so riding and running almost every day that I could. That included a winter that was one of the
coldest and snowiest on record in Chicago, a winter that saw me riding through
6 inches of fresh powder (well…mostly pushing the bike), and post-holing
through knee-deep snow in the woods…product plug here for Brooks Adrenaline ASR
with GoreTex…my feet were never cold!
Also…major product plug for Kati Pritchett’s pogies (protective sleeves
that fit over bike grips)…they are the BOMB!
About 1 month prior to the race start, we had just returned
from a vacation in Florida, and I knew I was really going to have to hit it
hard. Instead, I got sick. I rarely get sick, and usually, it’s a couple
day thing and I’m done. Not this
time…two trips to doctors, a misdiagnosis of bronchitis followed by a week
later being diagnosed with enterovirus that “just has to run its course” meant
a severe compromise to my training program.
I still rode, but I was ravaged.
2-1/2 or 3 hour rides were nightmarish in their difficulty…and I began
to seriously doubt my ability to even do the race. Even a 5 day course of steroids didn’t
exactly knock it out of my system, but by the time I left last Sunday, I was breathing
almost normally and my snot-level was approaching normal for the first time in
a month. Throw in a recurrence of
patellar tendonitis in my left knee, and my confidence level wasn’t exactly
high…especially considering that the more information I gathered about the
race, the more I realized that it would likely be the most difficult thing I’ve
ever attempted.
Nerves.
Well, the time came to say goodbye to my lovely and extremely
understanding wife, and on Sunday morning, I hooked up our trusty popup camper
and headed in a southeasterly direction.
About 10 hours later, I arrived at Davidson River campground, which,
conveniently, is the location for the start and finish of Stage 1 and 2 of the
race. My friends Marty and Omar were
down here “working” on the house Marty is building over in Etowah…I use quotes
here because “working” looked a LOT like drinking beer and occasionally
mountain biking. Anyway, they were good
enough to snag me an electric site, which are only available on a first-come,
first-serve basis, so that worked out very well for me. After I finished setting up, they showed up,
and we went out for dinner and a couple beers.
I had been feeling increasingly freaked out about this race possibly
resulting in either my death, or, worse yet, a DNF, and my fears were not
exactly allayed when I showed Marty the course profiles, and he alternately
said things like “Oh my God, THAT is going to be hard” and “You can do it,
though.” We ate a great meal at Blue
Ridge Pizza, and I enjoyed a couple Yeunglings, before heading back to the
camper for the night. We made a
tentative plan to go for a short ride on Monday, so I could loosen up the legs
and get a feel for what Pisgah had to offer.
I was up early, and made myself a hearty breakfast of eggs and
sausage, then shot Marty a text (my only means of communication out here…no
cell service), and I headed up to his homesite, which is spectacular…he has his
own 13 acres on top of a mountain. We
headed out to Bent Creek trailhead, and Marty, Omar, and Jenna the Amazing
Trail Dog did about 1-1/2 hours of nice flowy, but very climby,
singletrack. It was a small window into
what I would be in for…and I liked it.
We followed that up with a great lunch at 12 Bones BBQ, then headed back
to Marty’s, where I picked up my truck and bid them farewell.
I headed back down to camp, grabbed a shower, and, like a
wave…the nerves showed up again in force.
I know from years of competition that burning nervous energy is just
about the worst thing you can do, but my lack of confidence in my abilities was
pretty much trumping my rational thought.
I headed off to the meet and greet dinner with an unhealthly amount of
apprehension, which wasn’t helped when the other races began showing up. These guys and girls looked GOOD. And…there was only going to be 57 of us. Yikes.
I immediately set my goal to be a top 50 finisher. And that was hopeful. I met and talked to a couple other riders,
and found out that there was at least a couple guys that were in the same boat
as me…first time riding here…first time stage racers…and not super-serious
athletes. This bolstered my confidence a
LITTLE bit. Lee was from Birmingham, AL,
Charlie from Raleigh, North Carolina, and Jesse from New Jersey were at my
table. Lee and Charlie were first time
stage racers like myself, Jesse had done the BC Epic 7 or 8 years ago, and had
also done the La Ruta De Los Conquistadors in Costa Rica. Damn.
Confidence lowered. I exchanged
some texts with Michelle that night, describing the competition. Some guys were so skinny it looked like a
strong wind might blow them into the next county, then there was the requisite
dreadlock guy (hey, it’s a mountain bike race!), long-hair guy (same), very
tattooed guy (well…lots of them), and a chick with a Mohawk and a LOT of
tattoos. Michelle asked where this left
me…I said…towards the back, I think.
Lol. I didn’t stick around long
after dinner, wanting to get off my feet.
I retired to my camper, and hearkened back to my old high school
cross-country technique of watching the movie “Bloodsport” prior to an
event. I went to bed nervous.
Stage One: Looking Glass Loop 28 miles, 6678 feet of
climbing
I woke up nervous, too.
And cold. Temps dropped into the
upper 40s at night. I resisted firing up
the heat in the camper for a while, but finally gave in…placing my shoes in
front of the warm air to at least start my feet in a warm place. Two big bowls of Cocoa Krispies, a banana,
and a Honey Stinger waffle later, I was ready to go. And, suddenly, I had a thought. I have done a harder day than this on a
bike…the Mohican 100 was 100 miles and 11,000 feet of climbing in one day…and I
survived that. There was no real reason
that this was going to kill me.
Right? Right?!? Well, that calmed me down a bit, and I rode a
little warmup around the campground, stopping to meet fellow racer Rhonda, who,
with her husband Rick, are here from NEW ZEALAND! I think that‘s the first Kiwi I’ve ever
met. I ran into Lee, Charlie, and Jesse
from the night before, and I could see in their faces that I wasn’t alone in my
nervousness, but the vibe at that starting line was SOOOO relaxed, it was,
well, a mountain bike ride. Rhonda was
there with a friend from Australia, I spoke to a guy from Virginia, and another
from Maryland that had grandkids in Chicago.
Just a lot of nice people out for a day on the bike. Excellent.
And then the gun went off.
I had been nervous about the start, because on the course
profile, there was to be a 6 mile rollout on the roads. My trusty Salsa Spearfish is a lot of things,
but it is decidedly NOT fast on the pavement.
I was worried that I was going to be on the rivet through the entire six
miles just to keep up with the pack.
Fortunately, everyone seemed to be more concerned with just keeping a nice
easy pace…almost neutral…nobody attacked….and I just sat in and pedaled along
nicely. The road kicked up a bit, and a
gap formed with about 20 riders…and I wasn’t one of them. I ended up in no-mans land right away, with
one girl and a guy on a Specialized. We
tailed the lead group by about 150 feet for a while, and I was pretty happy
just keeping visual contact, when the Specialized guy says “Let’s bridge up to
the group.” Well, I’m a nice guy and
couldn’t say “Go f#$% yourself,” so I jumped on his wheel, then put in a hard
effort and we managed to rejoin the leaders, just as we turned onto a gravel
road, and began to CLIMB. I knew from studying the profile that
this initial climb was going to be about 4 miles long, so I settled in at a
comfortable pace, and kept telling myself to ride my own race. A couple guys went by me, but for the most
part, I held my ground.
At the “summit” of the climb, we dropped into the first
singletrack of the race. What a wake up
call…a steep descent featuring a couple of three-foot drops formed by water
bars…totally gnarly rootbeds, babyhead rocks…it was anything BUT relaxing. Eventually, it started to kick upwards
again…with a vengeance. We were headed
up the Mullinax trail to Squirrel Gap, which I had been warned about by a
multitude of people. The Mullinax climb
was pretty brutal, but far from the worst thing I would see all day. Squirrel Gap was as advertised…rocks and
roots that required getting off the bike about every 2-300 feet…seriously
unridable stuff…and it lasted about 4 miles.
Just when I thought things were getting better (the end of SG is a bit
more tame), we ended up at Horse Cove, where myself, a couple singlespeeders
from Maryland (one on a Surly Pugsley fatbike!) and Jesse from New Jersey (also
on a fatbike, a carbon Boreas Yampa) spent the next 10 or 15 minute HIKING and
pushing our bikes due to the insane grade and washed-out roots. When that finally relented past Funnel Top,
we had a nice doubletrack downhill to the aid station at mile 18. I was super stoked to hit that point and
still feel pretty good…breathing was normal, legs felt good…and only 10 miles
to go! Could it be that I’ve got this in
the bag? Not so fast. I only stopped at the aid station long enough
to suck down an energy gel, and pedaled off slowly on a gravel road…kind of a
“moving rest.” I knew there was another
four mile climb ahead, and it started mildly.
I passed a couple guys, then got passed by Jesse and a girl that was
seriously putting down the power. This
was the second chick that passed me…the first was on Squirrel Gap…she went by
me like she was on a flat trail!) I
stayed with them until the climb turned into a walk, and then kept up for
another 5 minutes or so before they got away.
I ended up with yet another guy from Maryland walking uphill, and
eventually gapped him. Now, when I say
walking “uphill,” I mean climbing up stuff that would have been difficult
WITHOUT trying to push/carry a 26-lb bike. (authors note: just had to pause in my writing as a walking
stick insect is climbing my laptop!)
After about ½ hour of hiking and pushing, it became pretty apparent that
this would NOT be an easy last couple miles.
I was quite literally just trying to keep one foot in front of the other
and not trip, and had to keep picking up the bike to clear roots, downed trees,
and huge rocks. At one point, I was
faced with what could only be described as a wall about 6 or 7 feet tall. Apparently, this place puts the MOUNTAIN in
mountain biking. A couple times I
thought I was at the top, only to be confronted with even MORE 20% grade and
hiking. After an eternity, the trail
turned downward. Only, rather than being
relieved, I went from exhausted hiking to ass-puckering descent! The trail was totally washed out, and in the
interest of self-preservation, more than a few times, I had to stop and
gingerly make my way around huge ruts and waterbars. On more than one occasion, I lost control,
and was lucky to keep the rubber side down.
Falling in this area would have had SEVERE consequence. It lasted about a mile or so, and when it
finished, I hit the start of the “enduro” section that is built into every
stage. For the unfamiliar, this is a
“race within the race” that basically times a MOSTLY downhill section, with an
award going to the best descender in the race.
Well, this particular enduro was two miles long…and the end was the
finish line. However, it began with
about ½ mile of UPHILL, that again had me off the bike and walking. When I DID start going downhill, the pucker-factor
was right up in the 90% region, and I again had to stop a couple times and
shimmy down some of the worst of it.
After about a mile, it turned into beautiful, machine-made trail with
big launchable waterbars…I was going so fast my arms and wrists were
SCREAMING…I actually had to stop and let them rest. Resting on the downhill was NOT part of the
race program, lol.
I blasted out of the woods and across the finish line,
noting that my time was 3 hours and 31 minutes, but I haven’t yet seen what
place I’m in…not that it matters much to me.
I am just happy to have survived!
After a great lunch (leftover meatball grinder from Sunday night) and a
Zombie Killer cyser, I’m feeling pretty good right now. Of course, I haven’t stood up since I started
typing…so that could change rapidly!
Heading to the nightly awards at 6, which gives me time for another
drink and a washing of the bike. Laters
until tomorrow.
Stage 2: White Squirrel Loop 29 miles, 5118 feet of
climbing
The more I looked at the profile for today’s stage, the more
the nerves started to kick in. Whereas
yesterday was one mile shorter and had a LOT more climbing, this one certainly
looked to be no picnic, with 5 big climbs on the menu. I took solace in the fact that a couple of
the climbs were on gravel roads, as opposed to the insanely steep singletrack
that is so prevalent in these parts.
Once again, Cocoa Krispies were the morning fare (why mess with a good
thing?), a couple bananas and some apple juice, and I was ready to go. It was slightly warmer this morning…yesterday
was 49 degrees…I could see my breath… but I still ended up kicking on the
heater in the popup to dry my arm warmers and gloves, and give my shoes a
little heat. With a high temp forecast
in the lower 70s, and a LOT of elevation change as well as some serious canopy
in what they refer to as a temperate rain forest, I again went with a wicking
base layer and arm warmers (even if, for the second day in a row, they lasted
about 5 minutes, lol). We started on a
short loop of doubletrack that, unlike yesterday’s relatively flat road start,
kicked up immediately. And
painfully. I am running a 2 x 10 setup
on my bike (2 rings in front, 10 gears on the cassette in the rear), and while
my ENTIRE time training was spent in the big ring up front, pretty much 90% of
this race has seen me in the small ring.
I felt pretty good…my legs were a little sluggish, but I did well to
find a rhythm and even passed a few people who really seemed to be struggling. We went back through the Start/Finish area
and hit the road for a bit, before climbing again on the Thrift Cove
doubletrack, which ended up on some pretty severe singletrack featuring yet
another hike-a-bike up Black Mountain. I
survived it pretty well, with the notable exception of my right shoe rubbing
all of the skin off my heel (we will probably be wearing two socks tomorrow!). The descent off the mountain was SUPER fun,
and I ended up with the couple that is leading the team competition. She leads, and he follows. She passed me just as the downhill started,
and I followed her down…I asked her partner if he wanted by, but he said no, so
I just tried like hell to stay on her wheel.
When the trail turned up again, I got by her and left them on the
ensuing gravel climb. At this point, I
ran into the guys on singlespeeds from Maryland (including the guy winning the
ss part of the race). I passed one, and
hung on to the wheel of the other as we bombed down Buckhorn Gap, on the way
splashing through about 5 refreshing mountain streams…and apparently past a
nest of yellowjackets that scored on almost every rider in the race! I was lucky and escaped a stinging. We hit the first rest stop at Mile 14, and I
grabbed an energy gel and ½ of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and started
up a 4-mile-long gravel road climb. At
least I wasn’t alone for the whole thing…I met my first local...he was 52 years
old. He left me after about 2 miles and
I never saw him again…damn I hope I’m that strong in 12 years! The road flattened out at the 18 mile mark,
then turned into a screaming descent which I was thoroughly enjoying…until the
hard right turn that sent us STRAIGHT up for about another mile. It was so steep that about 80% of it had to
be walked…at least by me…but once we hit the summit, there was a 2.22 mile
descent at Avery Creek that was the day’s enduro segment. I almost crashed about 5 times at the top,
and finally had to rest my poor wrists and arms for about 10 seconds, and two
guys got past me…one of which was Jesse on the fatbike. We splashed through a good sized stream at
the bottom, then had to balance and shuffle across a log bridge while carrying
our bikes over a larger stream. Jesse
was GONE, but I ended up climbing the next three miles with a guy named Kasper
from Brooklyn, NY. We exchanged mutual
feelings about not having ANYTHING like these trails in our respective areas of
the country, and eventually I dropped him.
At the 27 mile mark, I was again off the bike and climbing ridiculously
steep trail…I found myself wondering for the umpteenth time if anyone I ride
with back home would even consider this as part of their ride…I’m thinking
NO. Right at the top, I was passed by a
girl from Australia, who is leading the women’s enduro, so I knew I wouldn’t
see her again. For some reason, when I
looked at the race profile, I was thinking that I had another big hike-a-bike
coming, and the same NASTY downhill that finished yesterday’s stage. What a pleasant surprise when, after a few
minutes of descent, I realized that this was going to be the runout to the
finish. Of course, it wasn’t easy, as I
slammed into the SAME wall I hit the day before and just took a little more
skin off my left elbow, but mostly it was super flowy, and I was launching
waterbars like crazy, mostly out of excitement that I had knocked another stage
down.
Finish time was 3 hours, 45 minutes, and I seem to be
finishing just outside of the top half of the Open racers. Funny, when I signed in on Monday night, I
was asked for the first time if I wanted to be in the Masters competition or
the Open! There are an equal amount of
guys in each section, and I figured I have the rest of my life to compete in
Masters, so I entered Open. I am the
oldest guy in the Open, lol, but my placing would only be SLIGHTLY better had I
entered Masters.
Now I’ve got my feet up, some Dylan on the radio, an Angry
Orchard in the cupholder, some Wheat Thins to snack on, and I’m enjoying
myself. Tomorrow is supposed to be a
little easier, but most people have been saying “Stage races start on Day 3,”
so we will see if my legs answer the bell.
Stage 3: Promised Land Loop 28.5 miles, 3241 feet of
climbing
Three down, two to go.
I’m tempted to call it ½ down, BUT tomorrow is supposed to be the longest
and toughest stage, featuring a 12 mile climb that I can’t really say I’m
terribly excited about. That said, I am
still here, and I still have motor control over my legs, so I guess I’ll be
giving it a go.
I’ve mentioned before that Pisgah is a temperate rain
forest…well…rain it did…ALL NIGHT LONG.
And I think I heard every solitary drop as it hit the camper. I barely slept…we’ll call it 3 or 4
hours…but, when 6:30 rolled around and my alarm was to go off, I was wide awake
and ready to go. It was to be an early
day…the previous stages had started at 9 am pretty much across the street from
my site…for this one, and tomorrow’s, I had to be up the road about 10 miles to
the Cradle of Forestry (the very first school of forestry in the US) by 8am to load
myself and my bike into the shuttle that would take us about an hour up into
the woods for the start. It was a long
and bumpy ride, but my buddy Lee and I were talking with a dude named Garth
(previously referred to as “dreadlock guy”), and it passed fairly quickly with
him relating tales from the front of the pack, as he currently sits in second
in the Master’s category. He has done
the Leadville 100 14 times, including a 13th place finish, and
regularly finished in 8 hours or under, which pretty much puts him in
supernatural territory as far as I’m concerned.
He rides for Specialized, and lives in Columbus, OH, and travels the
country as a medical consultant and bike racer.
Cool deal.
We got out of the bus and rode about 1-1/2 miles up to the
starting area, and when the gun went off, we were treated to a FAST 4 mile
downhill on gravel. I started
conservatively, but ended up with a good group that included the women’s
leader. As soon as we turned into the
singletrack, I figured I’d get dropped, but my legs responded nicely, and I
kept with the fast moving line through the wet, rooty trail. We climbed a bit, and as soon as we hooked
left and began to descend, I fell into the STUNG category along with about everyone
else in the race. A bee got me on the
right quad…I couldn’t even take my hands off the bar to swat at it…it still
hurts pretty good right now. Another guy
got stung on the lip or cheek, and the whole side of his face is pretty
grotesquely swollen. We funneled out
onto a gravel section, then an actual FLAT section of singletrack (first one in
almost 90 miles!), and I stayed with the fast movers, finally easing up a bit
when we started a 4 mile gravel climb.
Mad style points to the guy that passed me and the rest of the group
when we hit the road whilst doing a wheelie, lol. I have been telling myself pretty much the
entire time to just ride my race, so even though I ended up with the same
couple that I did yesterday plus another guy who was an Asheville local, I
didn’t push myself to keep their pace, and they rode away from me
gradually. The rest stop at 13 came VERY
quickly, and I was amazed that we were almost ½ done already. I grabbed a banana and started uphill, again
enjoying the not-so-steep ramps on gravel, which continued straight into the
enduro segment. Today’s enduro was
pretty brutal after about ½ mile, with a ton of rooty drops, some mud holes,
and a few very sketchy log bridges across rivers that I chose to just walk. Apparently another gentleman didn’t make that
choice, and came walking back up the trail yelling and swearing, and clearly in
a lot of pain. Word is he either broke
an arm or dislocated his elbow…yeesh.
Anyway, the enduro stuff doesn’t really mean anything to me other than a
mostly downhill section, so I cautiously picked my way through the techy stuff
and rode through to the end. On the next
gravel uphill, I knew the climb was about 3 miles, and turned to singletrack
after about 1 mile, and I was thinking how glad I was that there wasn’t a lot
of hike-a-bike today. Yeah……..shouldn’t
have done that. I’ll bet I walked over a
mile of that singletrack, and for the first time, my legs were screaming for
mercy. I stopped a couple times, but
only for a second or two, but it was a rough go. When the terrain did flatten out enough for
me to get on and pedal, the wet rootbeds and wooden bridges on the trail kept
me on my toes, and more than occasionally out of my pedals, as they gave an
entirely new meaning to the word “slippery.”
Just as I was getting to what turned out to be the top, I had a little
piece of deja-vu, as Claire from Australia pedaled past, same as
yesterday. Today, however, I managed to
hang on to her wheel, and we both ripped down some SWEET singletrack off Daniel
Ridge…probably the best trail I’ve yet ridden.
That gave way to more gravel, and at aid station two, I stopped and
grabbed a PB & J while Claire kept rolling.
I ended up about 20 seconds behind her due to my stop, and basically
stayed at that distance for the remaining 5 miles of rolling gravel road.
My finish time for the “rest stage” was 2 hours, 41 minutes
and change, and despite the pain my legs went through at the top of the
singletrack, they recovered nicely, and I really metered my effort at the end
to leave some in the tank for tomorrow.
I also finished ahead of a couple of the guys that beat me the last two
days…so maybe I’m getting better? Or
maybe they took it easier than me? We’re
getting dinner tonight at the nightly awards presentation, so I will be showing
up hungry. Time for a drink and some
nachos.
Day 4: Carl Schenck Loop 34 Miles, 5178 feet of climbing
Well, today’s stage was as advertised…toughest one yet. We started climbing right out of the gate,
and I hit the Club Gap singletrack in a decent group that included some of the
other people I’ve been encountering all week…Brenda and Lee of the duo
competition, Kasper from Brooklyn, Claire from Australia, and a guy I’ve seen a
few times, Dick, from St. Maarten, among others. The descent off Black Mountain was a blast,
dropping us down the S. Mills River trail, with some nice, flowy singletrack
bench cut into a ridge. Wetness again
was the order of the day…its perpetually damp down here, and there were more
than a few roots and rocks that required constant attention…one little slip…and
boom, you are down. A rider in my
category had to leave the race today as he slipped one time and opened up his
knee pretty good. Just as we hit Squirrel
Gap and its 4 miles of treacherous roots, Brenda went off trail and down a
rocky area…ending up about 6 feet down.
Talk about hard core…she might have a broken rib…but not only did she
just respond “I’m fine” to every query regarding her status, but she finished
the day…passing me again about 3 miles later.
I wound up with Kasper, and we picked our way through Squirrel Gap and
the following descent to Laurel Creek.
Just as we hit the bottom, Dick from St. Maarten apparently did so as
well, hitting his head on a rock. He
insisted he was fine, and correctly gave us his name and where he was from, so
we rode on without concern. We were
about 16 miles in when the climb began on a grassy doubletrack, and although
Dick rode away from me, I dumped Kasper and also passed two other guys…one of which
was Matt from Memphis, who is the guy right in front of me in the overall. I climbed fairly conservatively, but, as I
said before, I have a talent for turning off my brain and knocking out long
uphills, so I was moving pretty good. I
went through the first rest stop at about 20 miles, and then hit the
singletrack up Laurel Mountain. I had
caught Dick by the rest stop, but he rode away again on the single, and I wound
up with Mike from Maryland, who is leading the singlespeed competition. He led for a while, but has a REALLY hard
time on the wet roots, as the best way to get over them is to stay in the
saddle and pedal…something that is next to impossible on a singlespeed going
uphill. I got by him, and stayed
conservative on my pedaling even though the grade was really not that bad…but I
knew it kicked up severely at the end.
When it DID kick up, it was after about 10 miles of constant uphill, and
talk about twisting the proverbial knife in the back! The next 2 miles were absolutely brutal…we
probably walked well over a mile of it…and it only got steeper the higher you
got. I actually was receiving text
messages when we got to the top! I can
only describe it as literally pushing the handlebars above my head and taking
tiny footsteps, while having to steer around roots that sometimes required
lifting the entire bike to get over…all the while trying like hell to not slip
and fall backwards. If mountain biking
has a nightmare scenario, this has to be it!
When I finally hit the enduro segment, I was both happy to be near the
top, and concerned, as the night before, the race organizer Todd had promised
an uphill section to start it that would “make you bleed out your
eyeballs.” And…he was pretty correct in
that assessment. Another ½ mile or so of
hike-a-bike, and FINALLY the downhill started.
Now, I had just climbed about 12 miles or so, but this downhill actually
made me want to go up instead. Never
have I ridden anything quite like it…huge slabs of rock, boulders everywhere,
drops, roots…and killer switchbacks that had me getting familiar with the local
flora on more than one occasion. I would
LOVE to see somebody good go down Pilot Rock…because I am NOT good at it, and
proved it by losing my position in front of Memphis Matt. I did discover ½ way down that my fork was
still locked out, and that my rear shock was still in “climb” mode, but I’m
really not sure that would have made much difference. When I finally finished the two mile
downhill, I rolled past aid station #2, and a girl there asked how I was
feeling. I answered quite honestly that
I felt like I’d just been hit by a mountain.
Fortunately, what followed was a nice rolling 4 mile gravel road
section, and a short bit of pavement to the finish line. 4 hours and 28 minutes…which was pretty much
exactly what I had guessed it would take me.
Only two big climbs tomorrow, then a long downhill to the FINISH.
I guess I should take an opportunity to say what has been
carrying me along on this adventure, at least for the bike geeks in the crowd,
anyway. I am rolling a 2013 Salsa Spearfish
with a Rock Shox SID up front and a Fox Float CTD in the back. That gives me 100mm of travel up front and
about 80mm in the back. Power to the
ground is through a SRAM 2 x 10 drivetrain, with an X.7 front derailleur and an
XX rear derailleur, with XX shifters and a carbon XX crankset. I’m attached to the bike (at least most of
the time) by Time ATAC pedals, and Bontrager grips. SRAM is also supplying the stopping, with
some new Guide hydraulic brakes and 160mm rotors. Bontrager RXL carbon bars and a carbon
seatpost, an aluminum Bonty 90mm stem, and a Bonty seat complete the frame
componentry. As for the rolling parts,
Mavic Crossmax SLR wheels shod with Geax Saguaro 29” x 2.2” tires seem to be
getting the job done. So far, its been
pretty bulletproof, and I have flogged this thing like no other bike I’ve ever
owned!
Stage 5: Land of
Waterfalls Loop 25.5 miles, 3186 feet of climbing
With everything I’ve dealt with this week as far as
unexpected circumstances in terms of expectations for what this race would be
like, you’d would think that I would take NOTHING for granted. Even though everyone said the last day would
be a cake walk, it’s the shortest, the climbing is all on gravel, etc,
etc. I didn’t completely ease off in my
intensity, but, to be honest, mentally, I was thinking “just get through the
first 10 miles, and the race is over.”
That sentiment was pretty much echoed at the pre-race festivities the
prior evening by the race organizer Todd…although he DID say something about
the second climb of the day that my brain kind of glossed over.
I had made an executive decision after seeing the forecast
was for rain to come in overnight and then all day Sunday that I was going to
pack up the camper and roll out in the afternoon, foregoing the final
party. It had been a long week already,
and I had been having a hard time sleeping, so I really wanted a real bed. I figured I’d finish up the race and be back
in time to break down camp and roll before the 2 pm checkout time, then put a
few hours on the road so as to lessen my drive on Sunday. Again, maybe it was this kind of forward
thinking that may have lessened my focus on the task at hand just a bit, but
hey…it WAS the last day.
We got another early start, loading bikes onto a trailer (I
would LOVE to have a total dollar amount of the bikes in this race…rough
numbers…I’d guess an average of $4000 per bike(and that is probably low)…50+
bikes…so above $200,000 in two-wheeled machinery and not a motor to be
found!). We loaded ourselves onto a
school bus for a bumpy 1 hour ride, and I am guessing that when I placed my
Camelback on the floor in front of me, it must have been sitting on the bite
valve and leaked out about ½ my water…and I didn’t notice. That circumstance paled in comparison to
another guy who showed up at the line prior to boarding the bus and couldn’t
find his helmet…fortunately, I had a spare which I gladly lent him for the
day. Yet another dude had an issue when
we were out in the woods at the starting line…his lock-on grip came off, and
with no solution available…he was made to ride the entire day hanging on to a
bare carbon bar.
People were pretty relaxed for this start, and when the gun
went off, I found myself with a group of riders that had pretty consistently
finished ahead of me. I felt strong,
though, so I wasn’t too concerned. Also,
in the back of my mind, I knew that the racer closest to me on overall time was
still Matt, only 4 minutes in front of me.
I knew he was a great descender, and that we were facing the toughest
and most dangerous descent of the entire race after the first climb, so I
wanted to see if I could put some time on him and maybe make a race of it. It was a gravel climb, and pretty steeply
pitched, and it was also 3 miles long. I
was riding on the wheel of a local guy that said it would probably last between
30 and 40 minutes, so I settled in, and pushed hard to the top. I had elected to wear glasses with clear
lenses because of the difficulty of the upcoming downhill (I had problems on
Pilot Rock with my eyes tearing on the way down), but they fogged up so badly
at the top, I had to ditch them and hope for the best. The descent we were headed towards was called
Farlow Gap, and it was known as “the most dangerous” in Pisgah…and supposedly
the most fun. I do not equate these two
terms in a downhill situation, so it should be no surprise that I was in the
line of guys walking down the steepest and rockiest sections. About ½ way down, in the gnarliest rideable
area, a huge rock garden with a barely definable line, the top women and Matt,
my chosen competitor for the day, came BLAZING by, just amazing, and definitely
beyond my capabilities. I had noted on
the course profile that there was a significant gain in elevation after the
initial killer drop, and it turned out to be yet another hike-a-bike, even
featuring a waterfall crossing that left me on my ass. It’s just not easy to walk on wet, mossy
rocks with solid plastic soles…and try to carry a bike while doing it. I faired pretty well on the ensuing Daniel
Ridge downhill, staying with a couple guys and passing a couple others, then
crossed a final river at the bottom and enjoyed the HECK out of like 2 miles of
flat singletrack…the only thing in 140+ that I was used to! Then…it was the second and final climb of the
day…and of the race. The part that my
brain had “glossed over” the previous evening was that it was 7 miles
long. I started off like a house on
fire, cranking up the first ramps and setting a good pace on the flatter
sections, but about 15 minutes in, I started to feel it in my legs…and it
hurt. I dialed back, began drinking my
Gatorade, and pretty much suffered for about the next 45 minutes, running out
of water about 30 minutes in. This was
the most pain I had been in all week, but to call it pain wouldn’t exactly ring
true, as my legs were pretty much numb.
The vision of crossing that finish line was the bright spark at the end
of the tunnel, and I suffered like a dog until the climb finally relented and
the multitrack turned into a beautiful machine-made flow trail. Had I been fresh, this would easily have been
the most enjoyable trail of the entire week, but as it did have slight
increases in grade on occasion, I was oblivious to the fun factor. The final enduro segment of the race was on
this trail, and upon reaching it, I knew there was only 5.5 miles to go…yes…5.5
MILES of mostly DOWN Bracken Mountain. I
turned down the whiskey shot I was offered at the top, figuring I don’t have
the stomach for that stuff on the best of circumstances, and headed off,
launching off waterbars when possible, but mostly grabbing copious amounts of
brake to make sure I didn’t finish the race with any more dirt on me than was
necessary…and also with bones intact.
The descent was not especially easy, and even featured a couple
switchback climbs that elicited a bit of obscenity, and when I saw I was
getting to the bottom, I was pretty happy.
In fact, crossing that final finish line was pretty damn pleasurable,
the culmination of almost a year of hard work, training, and time
commitment. I had left it all on the mountain,
I had nothing left. Time for the final
stage was just under 3 hours.
I high-fived with a couple other competitors, including
Matt, who was so worried about me beating him that he chased me all day even
though I was behind him (lmao), then headed over to the truck and had a
celebratory beer with Lee, before heading off to the campground to break down
the popup. I skipped lunch in order to
beat the deadline and avoid getting charged for another night, and was on the
road by 2:08 local…not bad considering I had only just finished the race at
like 12:30. After a stop at McDonalds
for some sustenance, I was rolling fast, and the hours went by quickly. I wasn’t tired for some reason even by the
time I hit Indiana, so I decided to shoot for my OWN bed. I arrived at 11:30 central, after about 10
hours, and thus ended a REALLY long day with a nice shower and hit the pillow
like a piledriver.
Epilogue
Probably the hardest part about explaining to people what
this adventure was like is the lack of an adequate frame of reference. Some people just think I’m nuts to begin with,
some who have a background of competition wonder how it compares to other
things I’ve done, and some who thought I was nuts to begin with are pretty
certain that they were absolutely correct in their assessment after listening
to me. Of course, “Would you do it
again?” is the most common question, and, per usual, my answer is no. Not because of the difficulty, but because I
am a “one-and-done” kind of person when it comes to this…there are a TON of
events out there, and I like to try different stuff. I WOULD highly recommend this event, however,
to anyone interested in such a thing.
The organization is top-notch, and the promoters are clearly passionate
about both their trails and the riding/racing experience. Blue Ridge Adventures is amazing in this
regard, and really allowed every competitor to concentrate exclusively on the
race itself rather than logistics, something that is extremely important in a
multi-day event like this. The next most
common question is “Did you have fun?”
And that answer is YES, yes I did.
Sure, there were moments when a pretty decent stream of expletives left
my lips, mostly as a reaction to the incredible terrain, and there was a few
moments of weakness in my mentality on the final day, but for the most part, I
was super excited to be finishing each day.
I couldn’t quite believe it when I finished on the fourth day and was
still feeling pretty damn good, and when I crossed that final finish line, the
satisfaction I felt with having completed what certainly did turn out to be the
most difficult athletic endeavor I have yet undertaken was incalculable. I worked long and hard for that feeling, and
it was worth it.
So what’s next? I’m
not sure right now…but I am looking for ideas…
