Let me just say that I'm pretty sure there was no way I had enough miles under my legs to finish a 101 mile mountain bike race with any kind of credible strength. I've been saying it for a month. Anyone that I told about the race, I also told that I was expecting at least a 10 hour finishing time.
So we flew down to Coburn, PA in the T-jet, err, drove in Taylor's Saab. We set up camp with the crew of Jake's friends from the Pittsburgh area, and after an adventure to find water we rolled out for a little spin on the bikes to check out the final few miles of the course. I'm glad we did, it rendered handy information during the race.
Upon returning from the ride we stopped by the campsite of some other people Jake knew from CT. After some arm twisting they convinced us to come back and help them finish off the food they'd made, chicken, pasta, and salad. I downed a bit of their food and had a healthy plateful of pasta and sauce that Jake's wife had sent along with us. I have to say, events that combine camping and mountain biking draw the most awesome people.
The Race:
We rolled out of the park and out of Coburn at about 7am and the riders immediately began to string out. We took advantage of space on the road and moved ourselves up, getting quite a bit closer to the front of the race, though not completely at the front. I saw Jake make the left hand turn at the bridge and figured it would the last I'd see him until the finish. Shortly there after, Lee, Chris, Taylor and I began ascending the first climb of the day. We held a comfortable pace over the top and proceeded into a dust cloud of a descent. I think I hit the max speed of the day bombing down that dirt road, my computer told me 38.5 mph. It was like one of those old racing games for Atari or early Nintendo, dodging from side to side of the road to work my way through groups of riders. Did I mention the dust fog?
The course was relatively unexciting for a little while, on the moderately rolling stuff we drafted with other groups of people, though I'm pretty sure our small posse ended up at the front doing most of the pulling in these groups. At one point, this one rider who I initially thought was a girl, but upon seeing them finish, may have actually been a guy, was messing with the feng shui of the group effort. I was a little annoyed with this rider and jumped to the front of the train and dropped some hammers in hopes of dropping them from the group. This wasn't level eight Bowser hammer throwing but enough that I thought shortly there after it may not have been such a good idea. I think we dropped the rider though, there were no more episodes of blasting up the middle of the group on a slight incline only to slow down and get in the way.
Anyhow, I digress. On the climbs we held a quick, but comfortable pace, and on flat to rolling stuff we did the drafting thing. Really groovy stuff, we were passing the miles pretty quickly. Aid station 1 came and went, we barely slowed for it, opting to start right into the climb leading out of the aid station. Then came the first major trail descent. It was an old jeep type road, wide, but the grass was so tall everywhere there was really only one line down the hill; where the trail was beat into the ground. I was ripping down this descent when I flew by Jake standing on the side of the trail, "Jake, WTF!?" I'm not really sure what he yelled back, I was too far gone and there was too much trail noise.
We popped out onto another dirt road climb. I pulled up to a singlespeeder and held pace as I checked back for my compatriots. They weren't too far back so I held my pace with this SS guy and had a little chat with him. Turns out he'd almost given up mountain biking after breaking too many derailleurs, but managed to stick with it after being introduced to the world of single speeds. Crazy. I was happy to make full use of my range of gears. Into another trail and a slow descent to the three bridges before yet another climb. At this point I didn't see the other three guys, but figured they weren't far behind. Following another ripping jeep road descent I latched onto two other guys until aid station 2.
In a short bit, Lee and Chris rolled in, then Taylor shortly after them. I just continued shoving food in my face while the took care of their needs. Once everyone was set we rolled out, 40-ish miles complete, and into possibly the longest climb of the day. We came upon a group of 3 or 4 guys on a small knoll before the real climb and I pulled in front of them as I stood up to stretch the legs, Lee, Chris, and Taylor just staying behind these guys. We got into the climb and I settled into a happy pace, swallowing up a rider from Sid's-NYC. Initially I just followed his wheel, but then he clearly pulled off to let me lead the effort. I obliged and continued on. Then I decided to check for my guys. I figured they were right behind me, but it turns out that the riders I heard behind were not them. I'd opened a gap by accident. After some thinking I decided to keep going with my pace, it was comfortable and I was passing riders, though Sid's-NYC kept hanging on my wheel. I sort pulled to the side once or twice to see if he'd pull through and lead the effort for a little while. No dice. Whatever man, I'm a climbing machine, at least for now. I figured I was going to blow up somewhere between aid station 3 and 4. So I didn't think too much of pulling away from my friends, they'd probably catch up after my implosion.
We finally crested the top of Greenlee Road, and I was thankful, or so I thought I was. It had been nearly 4 miles of constant climbing. I plunged into Croyle Run Trail. It was rougher than a corn cob. When I finally got to the bottom, I felt like I'd been thrown into a dryer for some tumbling action. Rarely is one so happy to be climbing again; at least climbing was smooth. More kidney beating followed down telephone trail. Peeling my fingers off the grips hurt like a son of a...
Into aid station 3. I still felt good, despite being roughed up. Coming Out of three was an immediate turn up Lower Sassafrass Trail, the long single track climb of the day. A little bit of a challenge, but really not that bad, at least when things are going well. Coming down the other side of the hill on Upper Sassafrass was steep, my butt was way behind the rear wheel. The rough and tumble was replaced with a dry, dusty, sandy trail which the rear wheel just skidded through with minimal slowing effect. At one point the trail turned right rather hard, followed by a hard left with a large tree in the apex of the left. I got around the right only to deem that I was headed for the tree. I turned hard into the side of the hill so I could stop. Standing there, it was clear that plenty of other people had been in a similar situation and just cut to the left of the tree in order to make the corner. On to the bottom and an extended section of cross country style singletrack, good stuff. I came across a berm in the trail that screamed jump, so I hit it since I was still feeling good and energized with about 60 miles out of the way.
My one and only cramp scare came when I popped out of the trail and turned up yet another hill. My right leg got all sorts of funny in various places in the quad and hamstring. I kind of shook the leg, rubbed it, and changed the gear into an easier cadence along with downing about half of my bottle of Gatorade. Luckily it went away within a minute or two without any need to stop pedaling.
Somewhere around mile 68 I popped out onto something that resembled civilization and some kind of major road. I say major since it had nice 5 or 6 foot shoulders on it. A half mile up that road was aid station 4. More food, a change of gloves, some lube onto the chain, and a little stretch of the hammies. Roll out of aid station 4 and into, wait for it, another long climb! Nearly the last major climb of the day though, so it was all good. Despite what seemed like a decent sized crowd at the aid station things were pretty thin climbing the hill. My stomach had been a little funky since about the same time the cramp scare came. I was still drinking but maybe not taking in the food as much as I'd been. I was still doing good though. Things changed over to rolling to slightly downhill just before mile 80, and this is where things got lonely so to speak. It was the last sighting I'd have of another rider for quite some time. As I worked my way down through yet more of a beating towards aid station 5, I was really starting to get a little annoyed with how many rocks were plastered all over the trail. Then I saw Kristy and Hollis standing off the trail, their cheers provided a little pick-me-up. I figured the aid station was close. I took a few more minutes of jackhammer torture and popped out onto a road. I then realize that aid station 5 was a few more miles down the road. "How the hell did they get that far up the trail," was all I could wonder the rest of the way into the aid station.
I arrived at the aid station, the lone rider for the volunteers to help. Despite a slightly irritated stomach I tried to put some snacks down the hatch. It was at this moment that I experienced a culinary mutant. In my effort to shovel food in my face, even as I jumped back on the bike, I had a bite of Snickers followed by a few wheat Pringles chips. What a flavor combination, I don't necessarily recommend it for your next dessert party. Trying to wash it down with fruit punch Gatorade added to the oddity.
So I'm leaving the final aid station, and the volunteers tell me, "Only 12 miles left." I replied, "Just a drop in the hat at this point." The real torture now began. The trail turned into boooooooooooooooooooring. Straight, flat rail trail nonsense. Easy on the body, but not nearly as entertaining. A couple miles of that finally ended as the road turned up into the final climb. I was doing good until the road turned steeper and kept torturing me with false summits. I was finally starting to crack. On the upside, once I got over this hill there wasn't far to go, I just had to keep the pedals turning. I finally pulled over the real summit, gave thanks and praise, and started down the other side.
I immediately started cursing again. Even though it was a dirt road and not ridiculous trail nonsense, it was still rough enough to really hurt after the beating that had already been handed down. The bottom finally arrived and there was much rejoicing. Angels sang and minstrels danced and played instruments. The short walk of hike-a-bike was less than cool, but I was close to the finish and I'd seen the trail from here on out, so it didn't bother me all that much. A little more rail trail ended with a super narrow foot bridge of which my handlebars barely squeezed between the railings. Despite my feeble state, I managed to not stuff my handlebars into the railing and send myself tumbling over the side. Off the bridge and into an old railroad tunnel. This was the second tunnel, actually. The first was longer and therefore much darker in the middle. I'd nearly come to a stop just because I couldn't see what I was riding, luckily it was smooth through the first tunnel. The second one had huge chunks of rock scattered about. It's a little difficult to see them in the dark with a blinding light coming from the other end of the tunnel. Luckily I managed to avoid any catastrophic collisions and came out of the tunnel unscathed.
I checked my watch. I had 4 to 6 minutes to make about a mile and a half back to town and still be sub-9 hours. If had hammers to throw, I'd have been throwing like Bowser in level 8, but there were none and I kept telling myself, "Pedal, pedal, pedal."
I pulled across the line, official finishing time, 8 hours, 57 minutes, 44 seconds. Way ahead of where I really thought I'd be. Granted, I walked around about as fast as the living dead and sat down like a rag doll for a solid two hours before I started to feel right, but I was happy to have held off cracking until 40 or 50 miles after I thought it would happen.
So to all those of whom I informed of my doubt, apparently less was more in this case. I'm pretty damn surprised myself to be honest. What'll happen next year? Eight and a half hours? Maybe I'll just quit while I'm ahead. Though, the thought of hanging out with some really great people again certainly has its draw. Who else would feed you food, ride some absurd distance in the woods with you, then party following the race with keg stands and all. Okay, I didn't witness the keg stands, and I only had about a half glass of the beer from the local brewery, I was somewhere close to passing out in my chair with most of the other people at our campsite.
