Tree Shaker 8 hour

One for the w column!

Completing an ultra endurance is a mixed bag.  First is the relief that it's finally over.  Followed by an overwhelming feeling of accomplishment.  But then your body shifts into recovery mode.  It starts to remind you how dehydrated it is, how under nourished it is, how that little rub is now a bothersome blister and the reason you can't move your finger is that you broke it on lap 6.  More on that later...

Tree shaker was an 8 hour race this year. I've never raced an 8 hour race before. I've raced for 8 hours in 100 mile NUE races.  There is a difference.  In a "Hundy", the faster you go, the sooner you are finished.  It's very motivational over the waning miles.  In a timed race, the faster you go, the further you have to go.  Which is exactly what happened to me yesterday.  Here's how it went down:

Lap 1
I'm racing truly solo. No pit support today, so I took the time to lay out, tag and bag everything I would need for each lap. I even wrote out the lap times on my top tube required to do 8 laps before the 7 1/2 hour cutoff.
The mass start up a gravel road goes well.  I'm placed near the folks I'll be racing for the win.
The first sharp single track corner claims the first casualty.  One of the guys I am usually racing for a win has an incident and is checking out his bike alongside the trail. He didn't need anything so I continue on.
It's mostly hard to pass at Anne Springs and riders are a bit reluctant to move out of the way on lap 1.  It would get easier lap by lap though.
I've got new tires on the bike from last weeks pre-ride and I am hooked up!
There is a swinging bridge near the end of the lap.  The support cables and beams are barely handlebar width apart.  I clear them and call out "one" to signify the accomplishment on lap 1

Lap 2
I blow thru the aid station as planned.  This puts me in a little better position on the trails with less riders around.  I check my lap time - about 12 minutes ahead of schedule.  Good. I clear the bridge. "Two."

Lap 3
I'm catching lap traffic now, but they are pretty willing to yield.  I'm feeling good.  Heart rate is good.  The bike is rolling fast.  A rider lets me pass just before the swinging bridge.  I manage to get lined up in time and clear it. "Three."

Lap 4
The laps are clicking by a lot faster than anticipated.  I'm over a half an hour ahead of schedule.  Good.  I'm starting to know the trail pretty good by now.  I know all the fastest, smoothest lines by now.  I know where I can best put the power down to make time and where it's better to just chill, stay off the brakes and roll and recover a bit.  I clear the bridge. "Four."

Lap 5
At the end of lap 5 I hear the announcer say "5 minutes until the four hour cutoff".  I'm not even halfway.  And then it dawns on me that their is a very real chance I will have to do ten laps.  All of my pacing and nutrition is setup for 9 laps...

Lap 6
In a nice, wide, flat, smooth, fast pine needle covered part of the trail at the beginning of the lap I manage to veer off course, slide the front wheel and slam the ground. I gather everything up again.  The bike seems fine and I hop on and get back on pace as soon as I can to try and avoid my body from telling me I really need to stop and recover a while.  I'm a little scraped and bruised but all seems fine until I hit the front brake.  A sharp pain shoots thru my finger.  So from then on I have to brake with my middle finger.
Later that lap I clipped my left pedal so hard that it unclipped my foot and sent it into my rear wheel.  The one I just had trued.  I clear the bridge and resolve to ride smoother and more focused. "Six."

Lap 7
No denying it now.  Looks like its gonna be a 10 lap race.  "Seven."

Lap 8
People are so willing to move out of the way by now that they often pull over before I even catch them. "Eight."

Lap 9
This was my planned final lap.  Now it's the one to go lap.  Every section of trail I complete I think to myself "just one more time over this part". My legs have that end-of-the-race feel.  I can still maintain a good endurance pace, but they aren't very interested in putting out much more power than that.  As I complete lap 9 several people yell "go get him".  I was pretty sure I was leading my class.  Did I miss someone?  Am I 2nd?

Lap 10
Then I see my Trans-sylvania buddy, Luke. I blew thru the aid station so we are now riding together.  Apparently he is leading the solo open class.  So it's not a position for me, but a chance to be the first in solo overall.  Which doesn't really effect anything for either of us.  Still, someone has to be first... I go around Luke and hammer the first flat, smooth section.  I've been faster than most people wanna go thru this section all day.  Luke's having nothing to do with it and hangs on my wheel.  We continue on at a bit faster pace than my 2 previous laps.  Partly to see if I could drop Luke, but mostly just to be done. The extra unplanned lap is taking its toll.  I'm starting to bonk.  I back off the pace. Luke doesn't seem interested in going by so I just resolve to maintain a reasonable pace to the end.
Near the end of the lap we (thankfully) pass the cutoff time for the last lap.  11 laps would have been ugly.
We clear the bridge for the last time.  "ten!"
When we get to the final end of the lap gravel road climb the inevitable happens.  Luke takes off. I really can't seem to go any faster. I roll in at 7:36.

I finally won one of these things!

See you on the trails!

Trans-Sylvania Stage 7: Final Day

The final stage of Trans-Sylvania was a relatively short 26 mile loop from the camp.   The air of intensity that preceded the previous stages has been replaced by an  atmosphere of relief as the riders sign-in for the final time and circle around to warm-up.  It's a chilly PA morning, with occasional glimpses of the sun.  The trails have been pounded by overnight rain.  I see tires with more knobs on many of the bikes, arm warmers and jackets on many of the riders.

TSE promoter Mike's now-familiar morning announcement includes the usual sign-in reminnder but also requests that those racing move to the front, and those "just riding" move to the rear for the start.  TSE tradition has some of the classes where the GC order has been decided riding a "truce" stage at a more relaxed pace.  I'm 12 minutes out of 6th, 6 minutes ahead of 8th on GC.  I move towards the front.

For the final time, we roll off.  The pace lacks a bit of the snap from the previous days, but is quite brisk.  I'm feeling good, but my legs are very stiff.  I remind myself that my legs don't have to feel good to have a good day and I manage to keep the pedals turning and the bike moving forward.

The first section of singletrack is familiar.  We rode it the opposite direction in the prologue.  The rider in front of me is struggling on the rocks (more so than me).  The rider I'm chasing for 6th on GC passes me.  My legs are complaining about the bursts of power to clear the rocks, but recover when it's too technical to pedal.

When we get out of the singletrack, we start a steep climb.  My legs like this much better and I start to reel the riders in front of back in.  When the climb levels out it is rockier with lots of large water puddles.  Puddles are maybe not a good choice of words.  Most of them cover the entire fire road and some are quite deep.  Some have slip-slidey mud underneath, some are smooth and grippy under the water.  Regardless, it's an added concern not knowing how deep the water is before blindly barreling into them.  Fortunately I have some riders in view ahead of me and I can usually tell what line to take - or avoid.  And then it's a long descent.  It's not super steep, but it's rocky in spots, really rocky in others.  Mostly I can hammer it, sometimes I hit the brakes when the rocks are extra big or pointy.  Whatever I'm doing - it's working because I'm dropping the riders behind me and running down the riders ahead of me.

As usual, after the biggest descent is the biggest climb of the day.  It actually feels kind of good to climb, or maybe it's just knowing that I'm on the last big climb.  I decide to push the pace a bit.  I feel good and catch a few riders on the climb.  At the top of the fire road section of the climb is the final aid station of the week.  It's a short day, so I don't need to stock-up on a lot of extra stuff.  After a brief stop I make the left turn up the steepest part of the climb.  It's rocky, washed out, steep, single track.  Did I mention steep?  It's rocky, but ride-able.  Well, for me, it was maybe ride-able a day or two ago.  Today I ride until the effort required to pedal is greater than that required to hike.  The pace is roughly equal.  I feel bad about hiking when I have to move out of the way for two riders, but, for me I think the wiser thing was to save my legs.  It's still 10 miles to the finish.

Next up is some overgrown, rugged singletrack.  This turns into the moto section of the trail (yes, as in: motorcycle).  It's loose rocky, downhill, and bermed with the added bonus of fallen trees to bunny hop.  It kinda hurts to power over the rocks and trees, but there are enough downhills to go with the sharp uphills that I can recover and feel like going again.  This section has been mostly downhill.  So, of course, it's soon time for more climbing.  The first part is on very large, loose gravel that keeps the bike moving around underneath me as the rocks give way, but there is grip and where there is grip there is forward progress.  I plod on.  The rocks become fewer and soon we are back onto gravel road.  Still climbing.  But these are familiar roads.  Almost back to the camp.

The gravel road flattens, then undulates up and down.  The familiar yellow arrows I have been following for a week direct me onto the sandy, large rock, wide single track (single-track-and-a-half?) trail that we've ridden on several times before.  This leads to the snowmobile parking lot, down the road a bit and onto the trails at the camp.  This time there is a twist - we take a sharp right up a steep climb.  I coax my legs into spinning up this last climb.  I push, with all the energy I have left, past the swimming pool, over the bridge, around the pond and, for the last time, through the Red Bull finish arch.

It's a relief, an accomplishment, a conclusion to a good week.  I'm happy that it's over because my body is quite ready for a break, but it also signifies the end of what has been a very good week.  I'll miss the routine I have been in.  But on Monday morning I'll have to return to reality.

I finished 5th on the day, clawing back enough time today to move up to 6th in GC.

What have I learned?  Challenge yourself.  Step out of your comfort zone.  You were designed to do great things!

See you on the trails!   ...after a bit of recovery.

Trans-Sylvania Stage 6. Rothrock Tussey Mtn

Today was billed as the Queen Stage of the Trans-Sylvania Epic.

I started the day feeling a little sniffly and achy.  You know - the way you feel before you come down with some kind of illness.  For whatever reason, I usually ride at my best feeling this way.  So I'm in good spirits 6 minutes prior to roll off time when my mechanic/son tells me I have a tire leaking air.  I figure that's one less thing to worry about.  Got the flat out of the way before the race even started.  We changed the wheel and I rolled off to the start.

The skies were overcast, the weather was cool and rain was in the forecast.  It's always a bit of inspiration for me when rain is imminent.  It keeps me pushing the pace knowing that the further I ride before the rain, the less I have to ride in the rain.

The start was a little over 3 miles from the Scout camp.  We had a neutral roll off to the actual start line.  As soon as everyone arrived (and went pee) we get the official start.  Oh, and we are informed that the 3.5 miles we just covered do not make-up any of the 38 miles of the days' stage.  Of course not.  There weren't enough rocks.

This first section is primarily gravel and fire road climbing.  Judging by the people I'm riding with, the day seems to be going well.  I bridge from group to group trying to make up positions and get to a clear spot for the fast double track descent that I know is approaching.  When we get there I hammer and tuck, hammer and tuck.  I'm on the 29'er hardtail today, with some fast rolling tires. Other riders are having a tough time hanging with me.

As every mountain biker knows, every descent is followed by an equal and opposite ascent.  This one is quite steep, but I'm feeling OK.  I choose a gear I can spin and ride a pace I know I can sustain.  It's going to be a long day and the rocks are coming.

When I get to the first rocky single track section I am able to get into a decent rhythm.  It's challenging, but rideable and I feel like I'm making pretty good time until I hear "local coming through".  He goes by me and I can't keep up with him - showing me just how much time I could gain if I could ride the rocks better.  But, just like all the other sections, this one ends and we begin the long climb to the first aid station.

The aid station stop goes well and I'm off again.  It's not long before we make a sharp corner into the woods for more rocks.  These sections of rocks are a bit different than the others.  It's a little more open with more choices of lines.  It still takes a lot of power to ride through them, but I am able to choose rocks to ride on that keep me pointed on the trail.  I have noticed that my rim occasionally bottoms out.  I am running tubeless, so I'm not going to pinch flat.  But I have an easy feeling that I may be leaking air.  And then I have a new concern.  Powering through a rock section my left shoe buckle rips.  I've already passed the only supported aid station of the day, so the only choice is to hammer on.  Pretty soon the rocks ease up and it's on to a narrow, buttery smooth section of singletrack with sweeping corners and gentle ups and downs.  There are laurel bushes (I think - I'm not a botanist...) bordering both sides of the trail.  It's really sweet trail.  But of course this part ends as well.  It's book-ended with more rocks before dumping us out onto the road for more climbing.

This a long climb, but the grade is not too steep and it's all smooth.  I find a nice rhythm and pick a target heart rate to stay above.  The miles seem to click by easily.  Maybe it's just because it's smooth, but it feels like I'm just floating up this climb.  I'm careful not to ride myself into the ground just jet.  There are still more rocks and a climb at the end.

Next up is Tussey Ridge.  The going is slow at first.  Steep and rocky.  Then just rocky.  When I get to the ridge, it's just amazing.  It's hard to describe.  There is not a lot of climbing.  There are long technical rocky sections, but the rocks are big and easier to deal with.  The scenery is just incredible.  The burned out trees contrast with the lush greenery all around.  It's eerie, but also beautiful.  We are high on the ridge and there are trees and mountains for miles and miles in all directions.  I feel like I'm a million miles from anywhere.  Well, I do until I see Dracula doing beer hand-ups.  He didn't have a tie wrap to fix my shoes....

And then this section ends as well.  After bouncing over, around and down some more rocky sections, crossing 3 narrow bridges (with potential consequences if you happened to not make it across) we drop out onto some gravel road.

This looked like a hammer to the finish section.  It was not.  It was hammer the remaining descent, then make a turn and climb, make a turn and climb then head down a fire road that, again, looks like a hammer to the finish section.  It was not.  We turn onto some double track for a steep climb.  As the grade descends a bit it looks the finish is approaching.  It was not.  Back onto the fire road for more hammering to the finish.  Right.  It wasn't.  We turn sharp right up a steep, rocky section.  The grade lessens, the rocks do not.  Finally, this section leads onto a grassy overgrown double track section that does, in fact lead to the finish.  I am so blown up from doing all the efforts that I thought were finishing efforts that I couldn't mount any type of sprint finish so I just pedal through as best as I can.

The wife and son are there to greet me.  By there best estimation I came in 3rd today, which would be awesome because I really, really wanted to get on the podium for one of these stages.  I had been 9th in GC before today, but within 10 minutes of picking up 2 spots.  We'll see where this effort puts me when they post the results tonight.

For a day that began with a flat tire, imminent rain, followed by a broken shoe and a leaking tire, it comes to a happy end.  The rain begins as we head back to the Hotel.  God is good.

Final stage tomorrow.  26 miles.  Those of us fighting for position will be hammer down again.  Those who aren't - not so much.  Weather forecast: severe clear.  Hard to believe the week is almost over.

See you on the trails!

Trans-Sylvania stage 5: RB Winter State Park

Today's stage was billed as a "26 mile XC with steady climbs, hair raising descents, and plenty of technical challenges.  Trails are rocky, challenging, and fun!"  I think the fun factor depends on how you feel about riding on rocks.

It was another remote start today - not far down the road at RB Winter State Park.  We drove by endless Amish farms on the way to the park for the 11:00am start.  I knew this stage wasn't really going to suit me well, but I didn't realize how not-well that was going to be.

I rode the 26" bike today hoping the full suspension would provide an advantage on the descents.  When we roll up for the start, I notice Jeremy Bishop has opted for a 29'er FS instead of his usual 26" weapon of choice.  Hmmmm....

And then we're off.  A nice paved climb to start the day.  I'm already struggling to keep up with the folks I can usually ride with.  I have a Quarq power meter on this bike, and the numbers look good, but I'm really not feeling so good.  I try to focus on getting to the top of the climb to recover on the descent.  But something odd keeps happening.  People keep passing me.  Usually I start toward the rear and work my forward.  I don't really like this being passed thing so much.  I just FEEL slow.

We are pretty well sorted when we get to the first part of the single track.  It's rocky, but mostly down hill.  I've managed to build a gap on the riders behind me, but just can't seem to catch the rider in front of me.   It looks like I can just roll up to the rider ahead, but the rocks suck the momentum right out of me.  So I patiently bounce along the rocks until the next section.

Finally a change.  Grassy double track.  With rocks.  Apparently, there will always be rocks today.  This section is mostly uphill and all I can seem to do is just drag along.  Instead of catching and passing people, I seem to be the one making way for others to go by.   I ride on, but I just can't seem to up the pace.  I start to think about how miserable I'm going to be on the long stage tomorrow, but quickly change my focus back to getting all I can out of this stage.

I am relieved to reach the much anticipated mile 10 hair raising descent.  It's very steep and loose, but rideable.  Well it would be if there weren't people off of there bikes all along the trail.  So when I have to dismount because everyone is stopped I notice my saddle bag has come undone and dumped it's contents somewhere along the first 10 miles of the trail leaving me with no spares.  My strategy now becomes one of getting down the descent without flatting.

I take it a bit cautiously, walking some parts I would have rather ridden, but still passing some folks.  But, every time I have to get off I have to make room for those riding.  I feel so far behind...

The last part of the descent goes well, and when we bottom out onto some double track and then gravel road I start to feel better.  I'm not sure why, but as the grade goes up I feel better and better.  The group I was going to draft up the climb suddenly feels slow and I quickly leave them all behind.  This is the biggest ascent of the day and peaks at the aid station where I get my nutrition  but opt to continue on without replenishing my saddle bag.  I had a reassuring feeling that I wouldn't need it today.

The next section of trail was really quite brutal.  Some of the time I made up on the open road climb I start to lose bouncing over the rocks.  These rocks are large and closer together than the previous sections.  It's like taking 3 steps forward and 2 steps back.  Sometimes the rocks are big enough to stop a bike wheel and sucks the power right off of my legs as I power the bike forward.  But then the rocks would let up a little.  A little.  It was still bumping and bashing along.  I'm starting to get the feel of working the bike over the rocks, but it is still power robbing rock section after power robbing rock section.  I have noticed that I am no longer being passed.  I am actually catching a rider here and there and going on by them.

I reach a super fast descent.  It's got rocks and washed-out ruts but by now I am ready to go so I keep off the brakes and let the bike fly.  At the bottom of the trail I am directed down a gravel road and the corner worker says "lots of fire road ahead."  I resolve to gain as much time back as I can.  I lock the fork and hit time trial mode.  I pace myself with the power meter, hammering the climbs and spinning out then tucking for the descents.  I catch another rider and we work together until we are directed onto the final short section of trail that leads to the finish.  I hammer it in and finish strong.

There are already quite a few people hanging out at the pavilion by the Red Bull finish arch indicating a less-than-stellar result.  But after how I was feeling at the beginning of the day I was pleased with my effort.  I'll be in max recovery mode for tomorrow's long stage.  Hopefully picking up where I left off today.

See you on the trails!

Trans-Sylvania stage 4

Stage 4 was a remote start at Raystown Lake - about a 1:00 drive from the Scout camp.  This is a super fun stage, and perfect for a middle of the week boost.

Most of the course is on machine cut, fast, flowy roller coaster single track.  With the over night storms (again) there was the added complication of some very slick spots.  Some would say muddy.

Since passing was a bit more difficult today, they started us in groups.  The pro's rolled off first then all of us solo masters racers.  We started up a short paved climb then immediately into fast single track.  It was kind of unnerving going fast on some treacherous trails following so closely behind other riders.  So when we get to a short but steep double track climb I put forth the extra effort to clear the group I'm riding with. 

...and the white-knuckle riding begins.  Many of the corners are slick, but bermed.  I would roll into the corner, the whole bike would drift wide then gain grip at the edge and I could rail the corner.  Usually.  The descents were an amazing roller coaster ride.  It seems every downhill was designed to get air on.  Often they required a precise balance of speed and control to ensure landing in time to make the next potentially slick corner.  It was probably the most intense riding I have done.  With the trees whizzing by on either side I really had to stay focused on the trail ahead.

When I got to the aid station at the start/finish line it seemed like everything was going in slow motion because of the previous high speed intense riding.  I kind of botched the stop, but manged to get everything I needed and headed back up the road for lap 2.  I'm riding solo now, so it's hard to know how I'm doing.  I try to hammer the climbs until I feel like I can't continue, but then I roll the descents, recovering as I go and I feel energized for the next climb.  The cycle continues from feeling completely cooked to full of energy.  As I start the final descent to the finish line I see a rider in my class ahead of me.   ...and he sees me.  I have enough energy left to hammer it to the finish.  ...so does he.  And he's got a head start.  So he comes in 4th and I come in 5th.

A good day today.  I pulled back some time on several competitors and moved up a couple of spots on GC - into 8th.   It'll take a pretty heroic effort to make top 5 in GC, but I didn't come here to ride tempo.

I am so thankful for the opportunity I have to be here and for all the support I have received from friends and family.  Truly Blessed am I.

See you on the trails!

Trans-Sylvania stage 3: A better day

Stage 3 was a much better day for me.

Lots of double track, fire and gravel road and climbing were scheduled for the 47 mile stage today.  All parts of a race where I seem to be at my best.

The neutral rollout starts at a pretty brisk pace from the scout camp.  Or perhaps it's just me.  I hate fast starts.  Things get reasonably sorted before the first single track descent.  I get behind some people that don't really want to descend too rapidly so we fall behind the lead group a bit.  A small group of us work together to catch back onto the lead group.  ...Just in time to get dropped on the next climb.  I thought it would be a long day of going solo, but soon a group of 5 us form and we begin to paceline.  It's kind of odd riding 20+ mph on the open road on a MTB but our group works together well.  A couple of big guys hammer the flats and I come to the front for the climbs.

At the pace we are going it only takes a little over an hour to get to the first aid station at mile 17.5.  This was a water-only aid station.  It turned out to be mostly just a place to screw water bottles all over the road because out of the 5 us, I think there were only 2 successful hand-ups.  Oh well, on to the climb.

The group breaks-up a bit on the climb, but a smooth descent and some more flat road caused us all to group back together again.  The same thing happens on the next big climb:  build a gap, bunch back up.  Next up is a short section of "singletrack" - well it starts out like singletrack then becomes large slippery rocks through the trees.  It's mostly unride-able, some of it barely hike-able.  But we all make it through.

Then onto a railroad grade.  We encounter some deep standing water, but mostly it's 2 lanes of smooth, fast rolling, gently-climbing sweetness.   Nobody seems very interested in pushing the pace knowing the biggest climb of the day is rapidly approaching so I spend extra time pulling at the front of the train.

I had some issues going through the infamous train tunnel last year, so when the tunnel comes up I make sure I'm at the back of our paceline, take my sunglasses off and follow the rider in front of me through.  It doesn't sound difficult to ride through a tunnel, but it can be a bit of a challenge to balance a bike when it's completely dark.  Plus Dracula was there, and some photographers and there "may" have been beer hand-ups.

So, after we all successfully get through the tunnel the biggest climb of the day starts.  It's rocky and steep, but it's wide.  I spend most of the time zig-zagging back and forth in search of the smoothest line.  It must've paid off because I've managed to drop all but one of the riders from the pace line.

At the top of the climb is the only fully supported aid station of the day.  The wife is there and we carry out our prearranged plan to refuel.  All goes well and I'm off rolling with one other rider.  We pace together on the gravel roads for a while.  But as the road  goes up and down, he begins to not be able to maintain contact and I'm riding in solo.  Every now then I see a rider up ahead and use them as motivation to keep pushing the pace.

Finally the yellow arrows point into the woods for a short section of sandy (and rocky - there are always rocks) singletrack, through the familiar snowmobile parking lot (this is Pennsylvania) and through the trails at the scout camp.  Another stage is completed as I roll thru the Red Bull arch.  Today there are lot less people hanging out at the finish.  Always a good sign of a respectable time.

There are some uber-fast guys in my class this year, but I felt good about my effort today.  Tomorrow is another day that should suit me well: 2 laps at Raystown Lake.  It's super-fast and super-flowy.  The big strong guys usually go a bit faster then us smaller climber types, but it's still a really fun day.

See you on the trails!

Two flats. One tube. GC hopes dwindling.

Lots of over night rain made for some slippery conditions for stage 2 today.  The riders assembled at the scout camp for a 9:30am mass start.  The 40 mile day began with a brief climb up the road then a fast double track descent.  Soon we get to a sharp single track climb which is mostly ride-able.  But as the grade increases, the moss covering increases and more and more riders become hikers.  The trail keeps bordering between ride-able and not-so-ride-able.  In the end, I decide to stick to hiking for a while to avoid all the on and off bike scrambling.  The hiking trail soon becomes a riding trail again and the trail is really pretty sweet and flowy.

Next up is the most challenging part of the trail for me today.  A very long rocky section where the rocks seem to want to keep pointing your front wheel off the trail.  I keep making mistakes - clipping pedals and bouncing off the trail.  Eventually I settle into a rhythm, work the bike, and remember to be smooth.  It's still tough going, but it's tough for everybody.  I patiently bounce through the rocks.

I arrive at the mile 11 aid station feeling OK about my placing and looking forward to making up some time on the rest of the trail.  We keep climbing up a gravel road and then onto some trail with more pleasantly spaced rocks.  The speeds are pretty high, putting caution at a premium - knowing that somewhere on the trail is a rock with your name on it.  My rock finally finds me on a fast descent and I hear the familiar hiss-hiss-hiss as sealant and air spew out as the wheel goes round and round.  No problem.  I find room to pull off the trail to do the repairs.  After being instantly covered in ants, I move a little farther down the trail.  The repairs don't go really well.  The tube installs fine but the CO2 inflator head is kinda screwed up causing most of the CO2 to end up the atmosphere and precious little to fill the tire.  Out of CO2 cartridges, I cautiously head out on the trail with precariously low pressure.  I keep my weight forward and make it out onto the open road.  Which happens to be downhill and I can't bring myself to slow down, so when the inevitable pinch flat happens I become a hiker.

Thus begins a 30 minute dialog with various riders which mostly goes like this:

Passing rider: "You OK?  Need anything?"
Me: "A 26 inch tube and some air."
Passing rider: "Sorry, 29'er"

Eventually, a kind rider of a 26" bike offers his only tube and inflation kit and continues on.  I install the tube and ready the inflator.  Unfortunately, the valve stem is too short to activate the inflator.  So now I have a flat tire that will at least hold air.

And then another very kind rider stops with a minipump that has enough thread engagement to be able to inflate the tire.  So I pump and pump and pump (there's a reason they call them minipumps) and eventually get to a safe air pressure.  I thank the rider and I'm back on the bike.  Joy!

So now I get to decide if I should just ride in at an easy pace, abandoning all hopes of GC placement, but saving energy that could help win a stage, or to hammer to the finish trying to regain as much lost time as possible.  I didn't really have to think about it too long.  The trail is pretty sweet here and begs to be ridden fast.  With the pressure off for a top finish today it becomes easy to be relaxed and flow with the trail. 

When I finally get to the mile 28 aid station my wife has wheels waiting for me, having heard that I had a mechanical.  I decide to stick it out with what I had and continue on.  The worst part of the singletrack was yet to come...

What would've been rocky, rooty and technical becomes rocky, rooty, technical, muddy and treacherous with the recent water added.  The mud tries to slide you off the rocks and also conceals the rocks hidden below.  Sometimes you sink in the mud and continue thru, sometimes you sink in the mud, hit a rock and the bike stops.  Sometimes the rider stops, sometimes the rider gets back up and hops back on the bike to go again.  After a while it becomes nearly a fun game of chance.  I got so good at going over the bars that occasionally I could go over the bars and land on my feet, unscathed.  Occasionally.

But this section comes to an end and it's 8 miles of gravel road back to the scout camp.  This goes pretty well, as I'm aided by Charlotte local, Luke Sagur, who missed a corner and added about 10 miles to his day (and I thought I had a bad day).  We draft back and forth for a while.  Sometimes we  paceline with riders we catch.  And then it's under the Rte. 322 bridge, up the paved road climb and back down to the scout camp for a trip around the pond, over the bridge and thru the Red Bull arch.  Not a pretty day, but mission accomplished.

After some time spent recovering, we get the bikes ready for tomorrow's stage.  Close the trailer and head to the hotel to eat and relax.  We'll be back at the scout camp for the daily awards and the stage 3 preview.

See you on the trails!