Three Peaks USA

Three Peaks USA

   Although this would be my 4^th race since my crash and resultant surgery, I really felt like it was my first real race.  I rode the bike and set-up that I felt was best for the conditions instead of choosing a more comfort and “just get to the finish” approach.  I had raced the 72 mile Pisgah Monster Cross last weekend (on a MTB), so I knew I could go the distance.  I raced a training series race on my CX bike Thursday to be sure I could still ride a CX bike (actually, I doubled up and did 2 races just to be sure).  So when we all lined up behind the neutral roll-out vehicle – I knew that I was ready.

   The start was a bit chilly.  Most had jackets or arm warmers, many had leg or knee warmers.  We didn’t warm up much during the neutral start as we were braking more than pedaling down Beech Mountain.  As soon as the road turned upward on Peak One the race was on. 

   The first climb started at a brisk pace.  I had to really push to keep up. The overnight rain had made the first unpaved section very hard packed and very rideable.  I'm happy to be on my CX bike.  The fast rolling 35c tires I have picked are working well.  They have a tough sidewall and plenty of air, so I could pretty much ride with reckless abandon - except for the nagging pain in my side that keeps reminding that i still have some healing to do.

   The road from peak one to peak two is mostly paved, predominantly down hill.  The little group I am with swells as we catch smaller groups ahead and larger groups catch us from behind.  I feel like I should be going harder, but it's a trap. I would have to put in a lot more effort to go slightly faster by myself than I would just cruising along in our pace line.  Some people are chatting, indicating the pace isn't very hard.  Still, I press on, reminding myself to stay in the pack.  Determined to save some energy.

   Finally we get to some unpaved road and the pack starts to spread out.  This is my cue to up the pace.  We ride along the creek that we will soon have to cross.  At about mile 21 we get to the crossing.  I had enough foresight to dismount and carry my bike above water level to keep the chain dry. Others did not.  It's deep enough that it's cumbersome to run it, so most just walk.  I did.

   This section of the course is the lowest altitude of the day. It's also where the rain has collected into puddles. I'm leading a couple of other riders in and around the puddles. Sometimes we can go around them, sometimes we have to go through.  Sometimes they are deep, sometimes they are shallow. Sometimes there is soft mud, sometimes it's packed.  It's hard to tell the difference and I am getting tired of being the crash test dummy so I check up and let someone else test the waters for a while.  

   The puddles go away when we begin the climb up peak two. It's steep. My low gear is not really low enough, but standing is not a good option for me.  So I sit and churn the gears over.  This last half of the race has 2/3 of the climbing so I pace myself knowing that when it flattens out I'll be near my first planned stop - aid #2. 

   Soon the gravel turns to pavement. Gary Pflug, having stopped to fix a flat, blows by me on a steep switchback.  On his single speed...

   And then the pavement levels out and I meet my wife at the aid station. I get some nutrition and some encouraging words. It will be a 10(ish) mile "lollipop" loop back to the aid station.  The first half is mostly uphill to the top of peak two.  It starts out reasonable enough, mostly undulating, then gets steeper.  And then more and more sections have loose gravel.  My high pressure/speedy tires are struggling for grip.  I press on.  When I get to the steep, rutted, rocky, 4 wheeler trail section I hop off and hike it.  Some of it seems rideable.  Some, not so much,  but it seemed to be a waste of effort to try to ride it at what would be a walking pace anyway and I really didn't need to be crashing on any rocks.  So I hike.  And hike.

   The volunteer at the top says "it gets better from here".  Which it did, but it was still quite rocky and I was in constant fear of flatting until I got back onto the stem of the lollipop loop that would take me back (predominantly undulating downhill now) to what would now be aid #3.  There are still riders starting the loop from aid station #2.   As then road undulates up and down, the face and pace of the oncoming riders gives a good indication of the terrain ahead.

   After aid #3 there is a fast descent and I really want to drill it, but when I get to the bottom I know that it is one long climb to the finish so I am careful to keep some in reserve.  It's always better to go harder when the going is harder and easier when it's easier.

   When I start the climb up peak #3 I pace myself a bit conservative.  My PowerTap battery has long since died, but I'm watching my heart rate.  I start to get impatient but I know if I go hard now I'll have to pay for it all the way to the finish as there is no place to recover until the finish.  I get passed by 2 riders.  Another singlespeeder(!) and a rider from my class that I had passed on a descent.  Dang it.  Still, I keep to my pace, lifting it ever so slightly as I continue up the peak.  From the profile taped to my top tube, I have a pretty good idea how much climbing remains.

   When I get to a section that levels off for a bit, I keep the same intensity and go up thru the gears.  I catch an occasional rider, including a mtb in my class.  I pass him through one of my favorite parts of the course.  It's got lots of ruts and big, rideable rocks.  Barely rideable, that is.  A perfect balance of sketchiness and ride-ability.  I'm fatigued, but determined.  More determined than fatigued.  I ride the section clean.  Smooth.  I think to myself, "I can still ride a bike".  I smile and prepare for the last, steep part of the climb.  There is less than 5 miles to go and I intend to get all I can in that distance.

   Though I catch several riders, only one was in my class.  Still, I want to beat my goal time of 4:30 and at this slow pace of climbing the minutes are going by faster than the miles.

   By now it is easy to lose focus.  I tell myself to pedal.  Keep pushing.  Pedal.  Push.  Keep pushing.   Some of the gravel is loose and the road so ridiculously steep that it's hard to maintain traction, hard to keep the pedals turning over.  It's hard for everybody.  Keep pushing.  Pedal.  Finally, the last pavement section.  I can see the Pinnacle Resort Inn where the start/finish line awaits.  Pedal.  Smile.  Hammer out the finish.  Finish strong.  No rider ahead.  None behind.  Drive it home.  4:18.  Smile.  Recount blessings and relax.

   I can still ride a bike.  Joy.

   Everyone has strengths and limits.  I can't change my circumstances but I can choose my response.  I've worked hard to get back up to speed.  With the help and support of some awesome friends and family, I was able to make a speedy recovery.  My circumstances changed, but my priorities never did.  To be a healthy athlete, first you need to be a healthy person.

Thank you to all who have helped along recovery road!

See you on the trails!

Pisgah Monster Cross

My first race back after breaking a collar bone in 2 places and a few ribs was the 2nd annual 70 mile Pisgah Monster Cross Challenge.

I had done a little bit of riding on the road in the past week, but mostly I have been logging "miles" on my Computrainer.  So there was some trepidation on how I would hold up in real world race conditions.

I opted to race my Raleigh Talus 29'er hardtail with 700 x 40c CX tires.  I figured having the suspension fork and lower MTB gearing would be more rib-friendly.

We started from the Pisgah Ranger Station with a lengthy neutral roll out on a cool morning.  I managed to work my way nearer the front than usual for me.  I wanted to be sure I gave myself the best opportunity to hang on as long as possible.

When the racing starte in earnest we immediately begin the longest sustained climb of the race.  My Quarg power meter was not working, but my heart rate indicated I was putting forth a pretty hard effort.  ..and I was getting passed.  On a climb.  I set a goal: to not get passed by 10 riders on the climb.  I started to count them off:

Ok that's one. 

Another one.

Dang it.  Two more.

When I got to 6, things started going my way.  Downhill.  Suddenly me and my MTB passed all of the riders back that had just passed me and I gained some more spots.  As it turned out, I could still ride a bike.  Joy!

I kept a steady pace up the remainder of the climb.  When I got to the paved road that lead to the Blue Ridge Parkway I found myself pace-lining with another MTB and 2 cross bikes.  Until we got to Pisgah Point, or whatever the highest point on the BRP is called.  After that, those of us on MTB's couldn't hang with the CX bikes on the loooong paved descents.  I was pretty well spun out at 36mph, so I would pedal as fast as I could to get up to speed then tuck and coast at 36-42mph. 

So, after working like a dog on the places that I could pedal, it was kind of de-motivating to be caught by about 10 pace-lining CX bikes.  I fell in line with the group.  It wasn't long before we turned off the BRP and stopped at aid station #2 at mile 44.  I made a hasty water bottle refill and took off down the rocky/loose gravel Bent Creek descent.

By the time we hit pavement again, it was just me, one cx bike and the MTB from earlier on the BRP. 

From here on out I pushed hard.  It was clear I was able to maintain pace more than the others.  One by one I caught all of the riders I was around at the begining of the day that had gotten ahead of me.  The final descent is a rib rattler.  It's a bit painful on the ribs, but the frequent, tight, loose gravel corners keep the speeds reasonably low.  I know the finish is near, so I push hard with all I have. 

I catch one more rider on the road just before the finish.  He is riding a flat rear tire to the finish.  "Bummer", I say.  "It happens" he says, smiling. 

I do a pretty mediocre cx dismount before the only set of barriers placed in front of the finish line.  I crossed the line somewhere around 4:27, which translated into 20th overall.  After looking at the quality of riders that finished ahead of me, I felt a bit better about not being higher placed.  It was a good day back.  A good day on the bike.  The days mission: accomplished.

I'm not sure what the rest of the season will bring, but it's great to see everyone back at the races.

See you on the trails, or, maybe the gravel roads!

Recovery ride

Most of the spring season, my training was focused on doing well at MTB XC Nationals.  As explained in a previous blog, that didn't go well.  But the resultant form set me up for a very good effort at Wilderness 101 last Saturday.  It was probably a bit ambitious to try to do well at a 5 day criterium and road race series that started the Tuesday after Saturday's 101 mile MTB race.  So, after 2 days with lack-luster results I decided to take an uncharacteristic day off of racing to be more competitive for the final 3 days of racing.  It would be a perfect chance to do a recovery ride and familiarize myself with following courses on my new Garmin 810.

I loaded a familiar course into my 810 and headed out for an easy spin.  Twenty minutes later I was in Troutman.  I have to ride on Main Street for about 300 yards and then make a left turn, so I usually up the pace a bit to try not to disrupt vehicle traffic.  Today was easy.  No oncoming traffic.  I continued on my way toward Lake Norman State Park - thinking about wanting to try out my full suspension MTB that I had just converted to 650b and hadn't been able to ride it in the woods yet.  Oh well, plenty of time for that later.

And then it happens.  An angry brown dog comes running off his porch toward me at full speed with ill intent.  Now, I've been chased by dogs before.  Most just want to bark or chase behind.  The ones that want to bite usually go for the feet/pedals.  I've even had one get a mouthful of my rear brakes.  Usually a squirt from a water bottle or quick sprint takes care of the situation.

This dog was focused.  My Garmin data shows the impact occurred at 22.4mph.

Someone I don't know says something to me.  I want to get up, but I can barely breathe.  I look around and asses the situation.  My bike is on the ground near me, with the front wheel off.  There is a dog 100 yards up the road, whimpering, curled up in a ball.  There is a guy still talking to me.  I look at my bike again.  Both legs of the fork are broken and the top tube is cracked.  I'm going to need a ride home.  An SUV passing by asks if I need help.  I really didn't know, so I said I was fine.  I wasn't.  I reached for my phone, and after a bit of fumbling, I was able to actually use it as a phone to call my wife.  Fortunately she was nearby and quickly headed my way.

This is about where the damage assessment really started to take place.  I've crashed enough times that I am used to the scrapes and bruises.  To be sure, I had plenty of those.  But i could feel things moving inside of me that weren't supposed to be.  I still couldn't breathe well..  Collar bone.  Ribs.

I tell the guy, "Sorry about your dog." as I watch him drag himself back up the porch he had just come barreling down moments ago.  The owner didn't seem too concerned about his dog.  At this point my phone rings.  It's my wife wanting better directions to where I actually am.  After trying in vain to explain it, and still finding it hard to breathe and talk, I hand my phone to the guy standing nearby.

Pretty soon my wife's bright yellow Miata appears on the scene.  Somehow she manages to load me and the bike in the car.  She hands me my helmet.  I notice it is smashed on one side.

It was a slow day at the hospital.  They were able to do x-rays right away.  The doctor was impressed with the way I managed to break my collarbone in 2  places.  Broke/cracked some ribs, too...

They sent me on my way with a sling and some pain pills and instructions to follow up the next day.  Which I did.  Surgery for my collarbone is set for Tuesday.

It has been truly humbling to receive the amount of care and support that I have received from friends and family.  I appreciate everybody's offers to help out, for well wishes and prayers.  I am a very blessed individual.

Though I hate being off of the bike, I remind myself that things always go according to the plan.  It's just not always my plan.

I won't be seeing you on the trails in the near future, but I hope to be turning over the pedals on the trainer bike pretty soon.

  

Wilderness 101

I was really looking forward to racing Wilderness 101, having missed out at the very last minute last year.  I was already familiar with the trails from the two years that I did the Trans-Sylvania Epic Stage Race. I was (mostly) healed-up from my recent crashes and was on pretty good residual form because of attempting to peak for MTB XC Nationals.

The neutral start rolled off at 7:00 am on what looked to be a Goldilocks day - not too hot, not cold or rainy.  Just right.  ...with a chance of rain.  My favorite.

I try not to think of these NUE races as riding 100 miles (in this case, 101), but rather to ride from aid station to aid station.  In this case there were 5 aid stations.  #1 son was on hand to help out.  He would be aid stations #2 and #4.  My only planned stops.

The first segment is all gravel road or double track.  Even with the 5 mile initial climb, the pace was really quick.  Average pace to the first aid station was over 15mph.

Aid Station #2 comes up pretty quick as well.  There are a few short, rocky downhill single track sections, some flat sections where I have to pace line between climbs, and one really sweet, fast (smooth!) single track trail that ends too soon.  It's the section with the three narrow bridges that provide for an awesome photo op.  Sometimes I think the photographers are just there to distract you so you don't focus on the bidge and they get an awesome action shot of a rider plumetting to their demise.  Probably just me though...

The aid station #2 stop goes well, thanks to the quick work of my crew/son.  I may be a little off on my chronolgy, but on the way to aid #3 several things of note happened.  The best of which is that I am feeling good and passing riders.  The worst of which involved going over the handle bars in slow motion.  After MTB XC Nationals I was feeling pretty bad about my technical skills on the rocks.  But these rocks are different.  I can ride these rocks.  In fact, I think I would rather do 3 laps of Wilderness 101 then 3 laps of the Amateur Nationals course.  But that's another story... Anyway, I was riding well over the most highly-concentrated rocky trail when I came to what was essentially a quite rideable rock "bridge"  Unfortunately, I started to stray off line a bit, touched the rear brake a bit and lost enough momentous that my front wheel hit the next big rock and stopped abruptly.  So, of course I tried to ride out the nose wheelie and ended up over the bars.  Fortunately I landed on previously bruised/injured parts of me.

Somewhere around mile 50, on some gravel road, I got rattled at by a rattlesnake.  Later, I saw a huge eagle-shaped bird flying in the woods.  I was behind/under it, so I can't confirm it's eagle-ness.

Aid station #3 follows a rapid descent.  I blow thru at full gas, to the shouts of "We got a roller!"

An extra single track section was added between aid #3 and #4, pushing back my estimated arrival to aid #4.  I was a little concerned about running out of water, But, it's quite overcast with ocaasional very light rain and I would make it in good shape.  The additional single track section was less rocky then the surrounding trails, but very tight and twisty. 

At aid #4 I make my last stop.  Smooth and fast.  My final supplies to the finish.  This section of the course takes me near the Scout Camp where Trans-Sylvania is based, so I know most of the area pretty well.

Immediately after the aid #4 stop we do a long washed-out, rocky, double track climb.  I'm still feeling pretty good and I am able to climb it in the big ring.  Although I have been catching and passing racers all day, the thought occurs to me for my goal to be that whatever happens, not to get passed by more than 3 racers.  When we get to the similar-condition descent I hit it full gas.   I was doing really well, dodging all the large and pointy rocks.  And then I find it.  The rock with my name on it.  I feel the rear rim bottom out hard.  Followed shortly by a soft, squishy feeling rear tire.  Dang it.  I am racing tubeless, so I stop and blast it with CO2.  No hissing.  Hoping it will stay sealed, I carry on.  More squishy feeling.  So, I stop again.  Same result.  At this point I have only 1 Co2 cartridge left.  My choice is to keep blasting it and try to make it to at least aid #5, or to take the time to put a tube in it.  I chose to put a tube in it.  While stopped alongside the trail, three riders blow by me.  By the time I am back on the bike I am right in the middle of two teammates that would have been the 4th and 5th riders to pass me.  The single CO2 canister was not enough to fully fill my tube with as much pressure as I would like, plus now I have a tube that I have to be careful not to pinch flat.  There is still more rocky descent to go.  I started out gingerly at first, losing ground to the 2 teammates.  I couldn't hold back any longer...  I let off the brakes and tried to chose the smoothest lines, keeping my weight forward as much as possible.  Being recently invigorated by my brief time off the bike fixing the tire, it wasn't long before I dropped the two teammates. 

We crossed a bridge that was barely wider then my handlebars.  I rode it "chicken-wing stlye"  by putting both elbows out and just rubbing them agains both sides the whole way across. 

I blow through aid #5.  Five miles to go.  It's a contrast of smooth, flat rail trail and ridiculous rocky, river-side mostly hike-a-bike section.  Somewhere in there was the iconic train tunnel.  Soon I am back on the bike, cautiously riding over the remaining rocks and back on the road to Coburn.  Riding on pavement, I can really feel the squishy rear tire squirming around.  I wasn't sure if I was losing air, or if it was just that low because that is all the CO2 I had.  Regardless, it was motivtion to put the hammer down to the finish as quickly as possible. 

I beat my goal time of 8:00 hours, coming in at 7:50 something.  I think the announcer called me out as having finished 10th, which is pretty cool because I am not old enough to race the masters class in the NUE series, so I race the open class with all the big dogs.

A pretty good day.

See you on the trails!

Iron Mountain 100K

Advertised as a "Backcountry MTB Ride", Iron Mountain 100K does not disappoint.

The race starts in the cycling Mecca that is Damascus, VA.  The town is located at the intersection of the Appalachian Trail and the Virginia Creeper Trail.  The bike shops, outfitter stores and bike shops out number all other businesses.  Today, though, I think the race bikes out numbered the cushy-seat, raised handlebar variety.

We did ride on the Creeper Trail.  But not far.  After the neutral start in Damascus Town Park we rode for 4 or 5 miles on the Creeper Trail (at a pretty rapid rate) before hitting the single track and the first climb.  It was kinda steep and was technical enough to border on riding and hiking.  It was a pretty long climb and really separated the pack.  There was a bit of sketchy descending.  Not because of the steepness, but because it was side-of-the-mountain, mostly off camber and covered in dry leaves.  But it's not a long section and we soon roll into aid station #1 where my lovely wife is waiting with everything I need to get to aid #3 (I hope).

Immediately following the aid station is a long road gradual climb.  With no drafting help available behind me, I tuck my head and drill it at a pace I feel that I can maintain for the next few miles.  It was fast enough to catch another rider before making the hard right turn onto the next section of single track.  ...and more climbing.  This section included steep single track and fire road climbs, but most notable to me was a fast, rocky descent.  It was loose "baby head" rocks (i.e. the size of a baby's head) covering the width of the double track.  It was a constant choice of choosing the smoothest, least-likely-to-flat line and guessing how fast to go without flatting.  I guess I did OK because I felt my rear rim bottom out a few times, but all air remained intact.

Somewhere along the line I jettisoned a water bottle (full, of course).  Fortunately aid station #2 came up pretty quickly.  I grabbed another water bottle and hammered on.  Next up was a looong gravel road climb.  It's mostly packed-in pretty good - to the point where it's rather like a cobble stone street.  I normally excel on these kinds of climbs, and I did OK but apparently I bent my rear derailleur somewhere as I am now rather limited in gear selection.  The chain will only stay in a few of the lower gears and I now have the ability to shift right off the biggest cog and into the spokes.  Which I did a total of 3 times throughout the day...

While this section was a lot of climbing, there was some sweet, flowy descending that ended at aid #3.  I meet my wife and refuel and head into another single track section.  Uphill.  We actually doubled back onto the "baby head" rocky section.  However, this time it was a climb instead of a descent.  While the likelihood of a flat is somewhat diminished at the reduced climbing pace, there are riders still descending this section.  Fortunately it was wide enough not to cause any issues.  We soon turn off for more climbing.  A few muddy sections and a fast descent to aid #4.

From here, it's not far from the finish.  Feeling refreshed from recovering on the most recent descent I feel like I can push it hard to the end.  This motivation carries me the majority of the last long climb, but the constant shifting issues are starting to bother me.  I don't always have an appropriate gear for the constant-grade climbs leaving me to spin extra fast or grunt it out in a big gear.  When the gravel road climb turns into a single track climb there are sections I can't ride in my choice of gears, forcing me to hike.  Many sections are only cleared with a concentrated focus on just getting to the top.  But I know this is the last big climb, so I can afford to give it all I have left.

After some welcome, fast descending there is more steep single track climbing, which means a few more short hikes.  I don't really lose much time, it just zaps a little extra energy hopping on off the bike. 

And then, after the last hiking section, the final descent begins.  It's fast and it's hairy.  Some corners are banked and smooth enough to take full speed.  Others are not.  At one point I bounced over a rough, loose, rocky section which nearly bounced me over the side of the mountain.  I was just about to "assume crash position" when the tires catch and I make the corner.  The second time this happens I decide I need to slow a bit.  I enjoy the rest of the descent at a little more reasonable pace.  Near the bottom it is less steep and more undulating, crossing over several shallow, refreshingly cool streams.

At the bottom of the descent is the official time clock.  It clicks 5:24, good enough for 10th overall.  Not a bad day at all.

See you on the trails!

Tom Dula's Revenge

Tom Dula's Revenge was my second race of the weekend.  I hadn't planned to do it, but when it became a fund raiser for the Jon Clark Grab Life by the Handlebars Fondation I knew I had to go.

So, I arrived at the Wilkesboro drag strip a bit less than well rested with the intent of just riding how I felt.

Again the weather was awesome.  Warm, overcast, but no rain yet.  A bit of wind, giving a bigger advantage to riding in a group, but very nice weather indeed.

It takes my legs a bit to get wound up, having to recuperate for yesterdays efforts and crashes.  I lose the lead pack immediatlely.  But I would run many of them down as the race progressed and riders were flung out the back from fatigue or mechanicals.

It's kind of nice to be on a cyclocross bike.  The pace is higher over the rollling terrain and the miles click by rapidly.  There is one climb early that is a bit challenging on slick tires, but rideable (for many), followed by a deep stream crossing.  Everything else was quite rideable. 

I really enjoyed riding through the countryside on rolling terrain.  It was refreshing to know that there weren't any ridiculously steep descents or long hike-a-bike sections.  I could push myself to the limit on climbs, knowing I could recover a bit on the descents and still be able to make it to the finish.

The folks that elected for a more road going tire ended up going slowly on the gravel, or running out of tubes and having to be SAG-ed back.  I had a tough 25c tire on AC Hurricane wheels and actually enjoyed riding the gravel roads.

I finished in just under 3:00.  Good for 7th out of 16 in my age group.  Certainly yesterdays race knocked the edge off of my performance, but I was very pleased with that time.  It was a good day.  It served a worthy cause.  A fast, fun ride and well organized event!

A special thanks to Andrew Stackhouse and the volunteers from the Cool Breeze Cyclery team for putting forth the extra effort to make this a successful fund raiser as well as an awesome race.

See you on the trails!

Mohican 100

Saturday marked my first Mohican 100, and my first race of the weekend.  An ambitious plan, but more on that later.

I took the day off work Friday to make the drive to Loudonville, OH.  That way I could be there early enough to check-in and check out the trails at the Mohican State Forest. 

The majority of the single track that makes up Mohican are in the State Forest.  They are pretty sweet.  Fast rolling, hard pack with some roots, rocks and off camber mixed in.  The kind of trails you like to ride in an endurance event.  They actually make you feel like you are going somewhere instead of just twisting back and forth on itself.

Like Wildcat Epic, Mohican had a remote start in the local downtown - Loudonville, in this case.  Also, like Wildcat, my son made the drive from PA to help out with support.  It really makes a difference having a familiar face waiting for me at the aid stations.

The 100 mile and 100K riders rolled off together in one giant mass start.  I was reasonably near the front, so it never created a real bottleneck problem, but I think it kept the early pace pretty high as the 100K'ers could afford to push a bit harder early.

It had rained overnight, but I came prepared with a 2nd set of wheels for just such an occasion.  It proved to be the right choice as several racers slid off course in front of me while I was able to maintain grip.  Not big knobs by any means, but better than what I had for Wildcat!

The elevation profile of the Mohican course shows a lot of short to medium length steep climbs with no long, decisive climbs.  The climbs come quickly in the first 30 miles then spread out as the race goes along.

The 20 miles to the first aid station were almost all single track, so it took awhile to get there.  There was one notable ridiculously steep, straight up hike a bike section.  Everything else was quite rideable.  We would continue with rapid-fire climb-then-descent for another 10 miles in the Mohican forest before the climbs started to spread out a bit.

Aid stattion #2 came up at 34 miles.  So far everything is going smoothly, the weather is nice - overcast, warm, and no rain.  No bike mechanicals and I am enjoying the ride.

We ride with 100K'ers all the way to aid station #3 at mile 46.  We separate here, and I spend a lot of time riding solo in the woods with no one in sight.  It's kind of refreshing to ride my own pace.  This section would be the longest section between aid stations, but it is a fast segment.  There are a few short sections of more rugged trail, but mostly road, double track and rail trail.  It's a bit difficult tp  judge pace on a rail trail because if you go to hard you are completlely cooked for the upcoming climbs.  Too slow, and you just lose time.  I watch my power and maintain a high zone 2.

Aid station 4 finally arrives and I am starting to enter the finish-strong mode.  Using all my energy reserves and pushing the pace.  On a fast road descent, head down and digging, focusing on the climb ahead I fail to notice the signs indicating a left turn until I am right on top of it.  It's one of those "Y" intersections - for turning left or right, and I miss the first turn in, but I set up for the second one.  I let off the brakes, make the turn-in then slide out and hit the pavement hard.  As I skitter across the pavement I remember to roll to kind of evenly spread out the road rash.  I hit the road hard enough to brake a buckle on my shoe.  I hop back on the bike before any soreness has the opportunity to set-in and I hammer on.  Trying to focus on not focusing on the pain.  The extra adrenaline does add a bit of motivation to the pace

Five miles later there are a series of ridiculously steep single track descents.  I am pushing kind of hard (still), and I end up in a trap.  I am going too fast to slow on the loose descent, and with a loose shoe I couldn;t really weight my pedal like I needed to and I head right for a downed tree designed, I suppose, to keep fools like me on the trail.  To no avail.  I hit it.  Hard.  Over the bars.  I find myself sprawled out on the log with my bike hanging off of my leg by the seatpost.  It's all I can do to scramble out from the trap I'm in (resulting in my bike falling down the side of the hill), drag my bike out of the briers and back onto the trail, readjust my helmet, do a quick inventory and carry on.

I'm still in a bit of a daze as I come upon the longest swinging bridge I've ever seen.  It seems to narrow as I ride it.  But I manage to focus on the other end and traverse it safely, tho slowly.

As I roll into the final aid station, I am truly a sight to behold.  The mud has covered most of the road rash, but the most recent crash has added more places for blood to exit and my right calf is bruised, swollen and throbbing.  But I'm almost finished.  And that's reason enough to carry on.

I enter the familiar single track at the Mohican State Forest.  I quickly come upon mile marker 4, and I am heading towards the trail head, so I know there isn't much more than 4 miles to go.  With my shoe buckle whacking the crank every revolution and right calf throbbing I push on to the finish and ride through the very welcoming inflatable Kenda finish line.  Truly feeling like I'd accomplished something.  It's a great feeling.  It's probably why, as endurance racers, we do what we do.  I just hope that I do what I do in a way that will glorify God.

My finish time was about 8:17.  I didn't hang around for the results.  I had a 50 mile gravel/road race to do in North Carolina at 9:00am the next day.

See you on the trails!