Monday, June 6, 2016

I Left All My Tubes in Pennsylvania



 
Mike goes looking for pain…succeeds AGAIN.

 

WHY?  Yes.  This is the great unanswered question.  Why do I do this to myself?  I have nothing to prove.  I have no aspirations toward greatness.  I am perfectly satisfied being an average mountain biker living in a disadvantageous locale for that particular activity.  So…why travel 10 hours to punish myself on the hills and rocks of Central Pennsylvania?  Even when this race is over….I’m not sure I will have a solid answer, but I guess I’ll attempt some insight…if only to prevent future folly.  Maybe.

 

Catharsis.

 

Certainly one facet of this experience and my perceived necessity for its occurrence that I CAN actually put a finger on is the aforementioned 8th grade vocabulary word.  I am a person that gets brought low by monotony, the in’s and out’s of daily life, and the subterranean pressure of small business ownership.  I like to escape every day, so into the woods I go.  Local rides haven’t been cutting it of late, and my mentality has denigrated to the danger level this spring.  I like to think I’ve maintained a fairly even keel externally, but I know at least one person that is married to me has seen right through the veneer.  I guess I needed to do this…or at least SOMETHING.

 

Off With a Bang

 

No better way to start an adventure by getting in your first car accident, right?  Yeah…I could have sworn the traffic in my lane was at least MOVING…but it wasn’t.  By the time I threw out the anchor, it was too late.  7000 lbs of truck with a tiny popup camper behind it doesn’t stop very well, and the Honda Accord that was my victim certainly didn’t fare too well.  I’m extremely grateful that nobody was injured.  Total damage to my truck was literally Rodney Dangerfield-like “Hey…you scratched my anchor.”  The guy I hit actually said…damn…I’ve got to get a truck!

 

7 hours later, I stopped and grabbed a hotel and some grub, then finished up the remaining 2 hours the next morning, arriving at Singletrack Summer Camp and the Transylvania Epic around 11am.  I got my popup set up and camp established, then rolled over and said hello to my local contact, Russ, who I had met at Mohican 100 a few years ago and been Facebook friends with since.  Russ and his cohorts Joe and Jim are apparently very serious riders, with shaved legs and everything, so I had a feeling I wouldn’t be seeing much of them in the actual competition portion of this experience.  This has proven to be true, and I have undertaken the task of providing comic relief and a slower cheering section for them…as well as plying them with New Glarus beer.

 

The Gnat and the Elephant

 

The power around the PA boy’s campsite had some issues on the first night, and we were treated to a cautionary tale about power surges and popped breakers using the titular animals as examples from the camp caretaker.  For my part, I am referencing these animals in terms of how I felt at the end of the stage…like a gnat that was stepped on by an elephant.  I started and found my pace fairly quickly…but noticed after a couple miles, that I was ahead of the PA guys.  Not.  Good.  Jim had started in front of me, and I later learned he was a former age-group national champion, so….yeah I did NOT see him.  Russ and then Joe passed me, probably about 8 or 9 miles into the day, and so I felt better then…at least I was potentially riding within my meager abilities.  The climbs were largely on gravel roads, but gravel that was STEEP…like smallest-gear-I-have steep….and, that being the case, took forever.  Considering the longest sustained climb on my local trails is something under 2 minutes, the 20 minute grinders are a bit out of my element.  The singletrack was as rocky as promised, and it seems that you are either going good and bouncing along, or struggling to even roll a full rotation of a wheel, which can be somewhat frustrating.  Walking isn’t even a viable option, as the rocks are all loose and rounded off, so hard-soled mountain bike shoes don’t exactly grip with any alacrity.  Anyway…I actually felt decent, and made it up the 5 mile long climb at the end of the day…and then everything fell apart.  I bonked.  I could barely turn the pedals.  It wasn’t that any particular part of me hurt, it was just a general hurt, and the only way it stopped is if I stopped.  Which I could not do.  At one point there was a large rustling in the bushes to my left, and my thought was “I hope that is a bear and it would just eat me.”  That, my friends, is being crushed.

 

My confidence was at smashed-gnat level yesterday afternoon.  I was pretty sure that despite training all winter and spring, I just did not have the conditioning to finish this event.  I don’t remember feeling that way after Day One of the Pisgah Stage Race two years ago…and this race is 30 miles longer.  I went to bed feeling like a terribly sucky mountain biker.

 

Pedal ‘Til the Wheels Come Off

 

My legs actually felt alive this morning, despite their recent death.  I will attribute that to the rum.  That is my tactic and I am sticking to it.  I made it a point to ride a bit slower at the start, and succeeded on this count, which resulted in a much more pleasant experience at the end of the day.  Perhaps…I am learning?  Anyway, there was more grinding ascent, teeth-rattling rock gardens, and a couple of awesome downhills…the first fall-line trail we went down I actually smelled burning brakes, lol.  All was going swimmingly, I was riding within myself, and was not feeling bad when I started up the Tussey Ridge trail (the featured section of the day).  About 1/3 of the way through that extremely bumpy area, I hit a rock that stopped my front wheel, and when I went to pedal again…I got nothing.  A quick glance down revealed a VERY slack chain, and a dismount and further investigation showed that the lower pulley wheel on my derailleur had popped off.  Fortunately, all the parts were sitting just below their proper position…so, I was able to fix the problem despite streams of sweat literally pouring from my helmet.  A final tweak was necessary to tighten the torx head on the offending screw…and I didn’t have it.  Crap.  I did the best I could with an allen, but had a feeling it would not suffice.  A kind soul passing by asked if I needed anything, so I mentioned that, and BOOM…guy had one.  Awesome.  I haven’t mentioned it yet, but mountain bikers are a spectacular group of people.  With that fixed, I finished up the rest of the grind that is Tussey (and hell yeah it’s tough), and flew down the awesome flow trail to the second aid station.  Only 7 miles to go.  I’ve got this.  About a mile later, a rider was off the side of the road, so I asked if he needed anything…and he said “YES!  Do you have a 29-inch tube?”  I replied in the affirmative, and passed on the good karma that was given to me earlier.

 

The last 7 miles featured an inordinate amount of climbing…I plan on seeking out the race organizer and lodging an official complaint as soon as I’m done typing and drinking some rum.  I ALMOST made it without feeling that gutted pain of the first day…and then…stupid sharp climbs took all my likes away.  The proximity to the finish kept me rolling, though, and I finished with a bit more of a smile on my face.  Tomorrow, we Enduro, bro.

 

Never Go Full Enduro

 

For the uninitiated, “Enduro”-style mountain bike racing has gained rapidly in the popularity department over the past couple of years.  Essentially, it’s a ride out in the woods with your friends, and only the downhill “segments” are timed.  Thoughout the Pisgah Stage Race and the TSE, there are Enduro segments on each day, and a breakout competition with the champion being the person that can throw themselves and their bike downhill in the least amount of elapsed time.  Unique to the TSE, however, is an entire day devoted to Enduro.  While not an EASY day, (29 miles and 4,600 feet of climbing), it was a  very laid-back day.  People recovered from the previous two days by basically soft-pedaling up the climbs, then waiting in line for the segment starts…a clear course being a necessity to a good time.  The other really cool thing about this experience was that you were able to meet and ride with a ton of people you would not normally see on the race course…for instance, the last part of the day the PA crew and myself rode with Kaycee Armstrong, who is doing very well on GC (general classification, or, overall).  She won the women’s overall when I was at Pisgah a couple years ago and is an EXCELLENT rider, obviously.  Keeping the group together for the day was fun…and fortunate, as Russ had his chain fall apart twice, and Joe, who is an excellent mechanic and was dressed in a Batman shirt and cape, was able to fulfill his superhero role. 

 

As to the downhill segments…I make ZERO pretense about having any downhill ability (hell…these last couple days have me questioning whether I have ANY actual ability!).  I live in a flat place and don’t have a heck of a lot of experience with high-speed descent.  Sooo…this was eye-opening and ass-puckering.  Imagine hanging your butt off the back of the seat, over the rear wheel, hurtling down a hill littered with large pointy rocks, squeezing both brakes with all your might…and yet not slowing down.  The fourth segment, called Wildcat, featured me in just such a position.  I finally had to bail by just leaning hard left and sliding off into the leafy detritus on the side of the trail.  Problem solved, right?  I was stopped.  Buuuut…I had to start again, and the damned slope was so steep I could NOT, lol.  I literally ran downhill with the bike…covering 40 or 50 feet with like three steps…before the trail levelled off enough to remount and continue the horrific abuse they refer to as “mountain biking” in PA.  When I reached the bottom of that section (it took a seemingly interminable 3 minutes or so)…I just dropped the bike and said “That was literally the hardest trail I have ever ridden.”  Everyone laughed.

 

The day ended with me flatting on the way down to the parking area, and upon hearing I was running tubes at an event sponsored by Stan’s Tubeless technology, Joe deemed this to be utterly unacceptable.  So, now my bike is set up tubeless for the remainder of the race.

 

 

Finally!  Ridable trails…BUUUUUUT….

 

Day Four, and if you had asked me at the end of Day One if I’d still be here, I’d have answered pretty emphatically in the negative.  However, somehow I am still plugging away, and not only that, but I seem to be getting stronger.  Today was just over 35 miles at RB Winter State Forest, about a 40 minute drive from our campsite.  I had purchased transportation by bus from the TSE organization, but the PA boys came through for me yet again, and told me I could just ride with them.  This was pretty cool for me; taking the bus yesterday was fraught with the unexpected instance of a language barrier, as there is a pretty large contingent of Panamanians here…and they were all on the bus.  The PA boys mostly speak English and bicycle.

 

Anyway…this course was much more to my liking.  The rocks, while still fairly omnipresent, where not QUITE as large, and there was even a couple sections without them (some of the first sans-rock trails in over 100 miles).  I started pretty slowly up the 600 foot road/gravel climb, and found my rhythm on the first section of singletrack.  I rolled through the first Enduro feeling pretty good and riding within myself.

Then…adversity reared its ugly stupid face again…this time in the form of rain.  The temperature dropped, and after riding the past three days with temps in the mid/upper 80s, 70s and extreme wetness had me very concerned.  As did the rocks.  Because what is harder to ride than dry rocks?  WET ROCKS.  Yay.  Nonetheless…somehow, some way…I started to feel GOOD for the first time all week.  I was powering up the gravel climbs pretty well, and despite the soul-crushing experience that was walking up a flooded-out, slippery, muddy, rocky incline too steep to ride while being Biblically poured upon…I persevered.

 

One more day to go, and Russ is kicking serious butt in the 30+ age group…he has a chance to take the win tomorrow.  Joe is doing well in 40 plus as well.  Jim had a rough day today and DNF-d due to vision issues (glasses don’t work very well in pouring rain and flinging mud).  I am still hoping my legs can carry me another 35 miles and 5000 feet upward.

 

 

This One Goes to Eleven

 

This entire week was challenging.  Not that I thought it wouldn’t be, but I guess I underestimated the level of challenge that I would be facing.  In retrospect, I can’t really fault myself in that regard, as there are not 10 feet of local trail that have anything even remotely close to the level of difficulty experienced here.  At least on the last day of Pisgah, the mileage was lower and there was a downhill finish…TSE featured a 35 mile day…and the most climbing of any day of the week…5466 feet of vertical.  When I say I started the last day still wondering if I had the ability to finish this event…I am being very truthful.

 

Rain and cool temps preceded the start, and I added a base layer to my kit and also carried a light rain jacket in my CamelBak, as the forecast called for more of the same.  I can stand being wet and miserable, but COLD, wet and miserable is where I draw the line.  All 150 or so remaining riders in the event were bussed out to a remote start line in the Rothrock Forest, and upon disembarking…the sun came out.  And the humidity went WAY up.  So the 1400 foot climb right out of the gate was more than a bit of a burn on the legs and the lungs.  Much of the climbing has been (mercifully) on forest roads and two-tracks, but this one was mostly singletrack, interspersed with occasional rocky sections and a couple of decent rock gardens…one of which contained THE rock with my name on it that sent me over the handlebars for my first completely out-of-control crash of the week.  I didn’t hurt myself or the bike, fortunately, and was able to finish off the climb feeling pretty good…at least relative to the situation.  We had been warned repeatedly about the opening Enduro downhill…the fact that I was barely able to WALK down it (largely in the name of finishing the event, but, my desire for self-preservation did factor in highly) had me shaking my head in disbelief at the talent of those who rolled it.  Conditions were wet, rocky, and extremely straight down.  The ensuing portion of the ride was punctuated by some muddy and rooty singletrack next to a stream flowing from the morning rains…it PROBABLY should have been fast and smooth, but instead it was slow and a bit frustrating.  I wound up with a guy from Vermont, and we rolled together through that and the second nearly 1000 foot climb of the day…sharing the pain made it somehow a bit easier.  I gapped him after the third big climb, and was alone on top of a ridge slicing and dicing some nice trail when the heavens once again opened.  Unfortunately for me, this deluge hit just as I was about to descend the third Enduro section, which was a very narrow benchcut trail that was literally running like a river.  I could not see the trail under the water, which was ok, because I couldn’t see my handlebars either from the rain coming off my helmet.  All that while descending at 20 mph and hoping my brake pads lasted the day.  This…is Epic, I guess.

 

After barely surviving yet another madhouse downhill (YES…I had to stop and rest my hands because I was braking so hard), it was time to climb again.  The aforementioned torrents were still flowing on the trail, only now, I was going against the stream.  I yelled “I’ve never felt so much like a salmon in my life!”  A couple riders in earshot laughed.  I was thinking that a salmon has like the worst fish-life ever, and if I were to choose to be a fish, I’d choose something much lazier.  Fortunately, all the fish-thoughts came to an end with the return of the sun, and the knowledge that I was at the second aid stop, which meant only 10 miles and ONE CLIMB to go!  The last Enduro segment of the race again nearly killed me, featuring even more ridiculous rocks and a grade so steep I needed to stop three times to rest my hands.  Things went worse for the women’s leader, Vicki Barclay, who was walking back to the aid station up the hill, having snapped her handlebar.

 

A nice long downhill road section led me to the bottom of THE FINAL CLIMB.  This needs to be capitalized, because I had been hearing about THE FINAL CLIMB all week…and none of the comments were particularly pleasing to the ear.  “Save some energy for Stillhouse.”  “Oh…wait til you see Stillhouse.”  “I’m looking forward to hearing about your experience on Stillhouse.” “Try not to die on Stillhouse.”  “Stillhouse climb will kill your family and everyone you know and make you watch a slide show of it happening.”  That kind of thing.  So, at least I was mentally prepared.  It was not the worst climb of the week, for sure, but with 160+ miles of difficult riding on the legs, the 20 minute gravel ascent at an unrelenting grade did put me through my paces.  Like the previous day, however, I was finding some good energy and by alternating seated pedaling with some hard standing efforts, I made it up without pause and even passed three riders.  One more final leg-screaming uphill and a mile or so of peanut-butter mud/ice-slick singletrack, and I was descending into the camp and crossing the finish line. 

 

Man, that was hard.

 

 

Post-script:

 

What an awesome and well-organized event this is.  The TSE guys have it DOWN…from location to courses to support…there was nothing for us to do but suffer and ride and have fun.  Nightly meetings featuring photo slide shows from the day and even video were awesome, as was Wednesday night’s wheelie, skidding, bunny hop, and foot-down competitions.  Everyone I met was just great, and a special shoutout to Russ (who WON the 30+ Category…amazing job my friend!), Jim and Joe for letting me hang with you guys and providing insight into each stage.  Talk about a diverse crowd….I was keeping track of where people I spoke to were from…and here’s the list:

Pennsylvania

New Hampshire

Connecticut

New York (The Long Island Boys!)

Maryland

Michigan

Vermont

Oregon

New Jersey

North Carolina

Florida

Virginia

Nova Scotia

Quebec

Panama

Barcelona, Spain

New Zealand

And “anywhere there is mountains”

 

Will I do it again?  I’m not sure…but after driving home yesterday, the first thing I did this morning was go ride my bike.

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