Bro...do you even #endurance?

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 40^th, 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 13^th 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…