Wilderness 101

What if I could've gone harder?

What if I could've dug deeper?

What did I leave out on the trail?

These are all questions that went unasked early on Saturday morning as the Wilderness 101 MTB race became Reality 101 somewhere on the road to Mount Nittany Hospital while I followed an ambulance that contained, my pit support, my friend, my son.

 

Focus and intensity.

It's how an ordinary racer like me occasionally achieves extraordinary results.

It becomes quite easy to focus when only one thing in your life seems important.

The drop bags I had just put in the bins for aid station #2 and #4 didn't matter.

The elevation profile of the race I had taped to my top tube didn't matter.

The two iced-down water bottles I put on the bike filled with water and heed didn't matter.

The nutrition and supplements I filled my jersey with didn't matter.

My choice of tires and air pressure didn't matter.

After hours of some pretty serious concern on my part; prayers by me, friends and family, and a battery of tests and countless hospital staff's questions answered on my sons part, he was released from the hospital with no immediate danger but with some questions left unanswered.

No matter what happened on that day, some things remained unchanged:

  

I will trust in Him

 

I will live for His glory

It's what I was made for

I was made in His image

I will race for His glory

My God can do great things

With my God, I can do great things

...and so can you.

 

You can do great things

You were made in His image.

 
See you on the trails!
...but not this week.  I'm gonna mix it up with the roadies this week.

ORAMM

I didn't think I was going to be able to race ORAMM this year, so I missed out on getting an entry.  Once again I had to wait for someone willing to sell and transfer their entry.  I'm glad I got in for my 2nd year.  Last year I didn't fully realize how big of a deal ORAMM is.  The entry limit is capped at 500 and it's a goal event for an awful lot of riders - from those just starting out in endurance racing to professional MTB racers.

I wasn't sure how the legs would respond after yesterday's race.  I started somewhere near the middle of the 500 riders.  When the gun went off (early) for the 8:00am start I started passing riders at every opportunity.  I decided to keep an eye on the power meter and ride a little above threshold and see where I ended up going into the first single track section: Kitsuma.  For 7 miles I kept a steady pace and constantly passed people.  I wonder if the same people that are kind enough to let me by on the climb up old 70 are the same people that have to push their way to the front for the start?

I was far enough toward the pointy end of the field to be able to ride Kitsuma without having to wait on hike-a-bikers.  I did notice that yesterday I had taken a wrong turn onto a short walking trail.  I managed to avoid that mistake this time.  The bike trail was much more ride-able and I avoided yesterdays endo site.

I knew I would be missing a bit of yesterdays power, so my goal was to be smooth today.  I reminded myself of this while doing the Kitsuma and Jarrett Creek descents.  I didn't blow through any switchbacks today.

I only have one water bottle cage on my 26" bike, so it would be important to hit all the aid stations.  I had the help of #1 son at aid station 1,2 and 5.  I had drop bags at 3,4.  Aid station #3 was at the top of Curtis Creek.  Curtis Creek is a very long climb, and the miles slowly tick by.  It would be easy to go too hard early, or get impatient part-way thru the climb and get completely cooked before the top.  Again, I watch my power meter and try to ride a pace that is hard, but maintainable to the top.  It seems like half of the race is spent on this (and the next) climb.  But I reach the top feeling pretty good.  After a brief panic by the volunteers to find my drop bag, I reload and carry on down the Black Mountain fire road descent. 

The descent goes well, though I nearly hit an oncoming vehicle (Sorry, blue Element driver!) and it was a bit too short to be recovered for the Black Mountain climb to aid station 4.  I follow the same climbing protocol as Curtis Creek.  Watch the power and stay focused.  The stop at aid #4 goes well, but there is a bit more climbing up the Blue Ridge Parkway than what I remembered from last year.  Knowing that there is only one more big climb after this one, and two more sweet descents keeps me motivated to press on at that "uncomfortably difficult pace" that is endurance racing.

The hike-a-bike section from the Parkway up Heartbreak ridge is a bit of a struggle, but soon I'm back on my bike and headed down Heartbreak.  Last year's ORAMM was the first time I had seen this descent.  It really helped having seen it before for this year.  I stayed smooth, but the Rhododendron were way overgrown making it a somewhat stressful (but successful) descent.

Heartbreak is a looong descent.  It seems like I have just left aid station 4 when I pop out onto the road at aid station #5.  Number 1 son hooks me up, and I begin the climb up Mill Creek.  The first part of the climb is large, loose gravel, and for the first time I feel at a big disadvantage on 26" wheels.  But this section is short, and it's much more well-packed gravel the rest of the way back to Old 70.

I hit the Kitsuma trail with another rider, which is good because I probably would have try to go too hard up the steep, switchback climbs.  The climb goes well, and we hammer down the descent.  I feel pretty good on the descent.  But it's easy to feel that way when descending.

When we complete the descent (I actually passed a few people here) and pop onto the road I notice the fatigue had really started to set in.  I struggled to ride endurance pace.  The legs started to come back around and I pace-lined back toward Old Fort with another racer.

When we get to the final railroad crossing, just minutes from the finish, there are 4 other racers waiting for a train to pass by.  They had already been waiting 3 minutes by the time we got there.  Two or 3 minutes later the train finally passes and we hammer into town.  It didn't seem fair to attack the riders that had been waiting longer, and the legs were just fine with that decision.  I rolled in at 5:41.  19 minutes faster than my goal, 28 minutes faster than last year ...and exactly what my coach predicted.

It had been a great day, and a great weekend of racing.  It was nice not to have any issues and to have great weather and great pit support and to see so many of my racing friends.

I am very blessed.

See you on the trails!

Jerdon Mountain Challenge

This was the inaugural Jerdon Mountain Challenge, so there were no past results to help me predict my finish time.  It's basically 1/2 of ORAMM which I did in a little over 6 hours last year, so I figured 2:45 would be a reasonable goal.  My secret, fantasy, dream-world finish was, of course, to win the race and in doing so have the course record.  That lofty and fanciful dream was crushed when Jeremiah Bishop rolled onto the starting grid.  So I took a more realistic approach: Hang with JB as long as possible.  Hopefully, at least to the singletrack 7 miles up the road.

When the gun goes off I clip in and start working my way through the pack.  We started behind a pace vehicle through town before getting the go ahead to race up the first big climb on Old 70.  This climb suits me well and I'm able to hang with the lead pack even as the number of riders in the pack dwindles.  Of course there is a difference in my climbing and Jeremiah's.  He's riding pretty casual, and I'm pushing threshold.  No matter.  I'm in the same lead group he is.  We all blow thru the 1st (cheering) aid station at mile 7 and begin the climb up Kitsuma.  I entered the single track in 5th place.  So, pretty much no matter what happened the rest of the day, I've had a great race!

The first part of Kitsuma has some added water bars that are difficult for me on the 26", but the switch backs and descents went a bit better on this bike.  There is some confusion with some optional hiking trails that have been added on the climb.  JB is headed back towards me, certain that he is going the wrong way.  We get it straightened out and continue the climb.  On one of the descents I get a little crossed up and end up over the bars.  No big deal, except now my helmet retention system has come unhooked and I don't really wanna stop to fix it.  So, when I catch back up to 2 riders on the descent I decide to safely follow them rather then trust in my own (some times lacking) dare devil descending abilities and fix the helmet at the next aid station.

At aid station #2, I meet #1 son.  I fix my helmet, get another water bottle and hammer on.  More switchback climbing.  When we start the switchback descending I blow through the first switchback ending up deep in the rhododendron.  I decide I need to do a better job keeping my speed in check.  Three hundred yards later I find myself in the rhododendron again.  Just not quite as far.  OK, I need to do an even better job keeping my speed in check...

On a fire road climb I catch another rider.  He says he's not a racer and tells me that I'm in 6th, about 3 minutes back.  Cool.  I continue to push the pace.  This is gravelly fire road ascending and descending.  I miss the stability in the corners of my 29'er, but the fire road is smooth enough that I may be rolling faster on this bike.  At about mile 24 I catch 5th place.  He's got his bike upside down fixing a flat.  I certainly know that feeling.

I roll into the final aid station, getting a water bottle hand-up from #1 son, no stopping required.  From here I know that it is 4 miles to the finish.  All paved.  I hit time trial mode.  Fork locked, hands near the stem, tucked as much as possible, keeping an eye on my power - being sure to focus on the number I know I can maintain for the next 10 - 12 minutes.

I roll past the "Welcome to Old Fort" sign and start looking for the arrows that will guide me back to the Gateway Museum and the finish line.  There it is.  A policemen halts traffic and I make the left turn onto the museum property, over the bridge and around the final corner where the clock ticks 2:18.  Sweet.

When they post the results I'm listed as 2nd in Master's.  45 seconds behind the class winner and 8 minutes behind overall winner, Jeremiah Bishop.  A good day. 

ORAMM tomorrow.  Full recovery mode the rest of the day.

See you on the trails - but not today!

Iron Mountain 100K

I was probably the least prepared for a race of this magnitude as I've ever been.  Although my training has been going well, my work schedule had consumed most of my remaining waking hours.  I was hammer down at work all week doing what we call "half days".   You know, when you are at work 12 hours or more.  After working Saturday morning it was time for a break.  Me and the wife headed to Damascus, Va for the Iron Mountain 100K.

   We got there in time to register and do a pre-ride on the famed Virginia creeper trail.  It was a great place to just spin the legs and enjoy the outdoors, but it was nothing like what we were going to race on the next day.

  The race started on Sunday morning in the Damascus Town Park.  We had a vehicle escort us down the road to the creeper trail.  After a few miles of sorting out the racing order and dodging puddles, we were introduced to the first section of single track.  

  Normally I have an elevation profile taped to my top tube.  But, like I said earlier, I was not very prepared.  I had read that the trails were quite technical.  The elevation profile that I had seen was pretty stretched out and rather undaunting looking.  So, when we started to climb I really didn't know what to expect.  What I got was some steep, technical climbing.  It seemed like I was always on the verge of debating whether to hike or ride the slippery steep sections.  And while riding it was a constant struggle between fighting for rear grip and keeping the front end on the ground.  This was small ring technical climbing at it's finest (worst?).  Unfortunately, I am more of a big ring gravel road climber.  That would come later.

  After battling back and forth with 2 other riders we drop out of the single track onto the open road at aid station #1.  I decide to blow thru the aid station and drop my riding partners.  After traveling along the open road for a while I no longer see any arrows indicating that I am on the race course.  I have been diligently looking for them, so I'm pretty sure I didn't miss any, but still...

  There have been some options to turn off.  Normally these would be marked with arrows to go straight. They are not.  Maybe I am not on the course.  I blow by a guard shack with a little stop sign and some cones.  No arrows.  Apparently I am entering (or leaving?) a campground. Okay I am pretty sure I am off the course now.  I am too far along to turn back and salvage any kind of result.  No riders ahead.  None behind.  I pedal on at what can only be described as an awkward pace.

Finally, I can't take anymore.  I am about to turn around, but then I see the 2 riders I dropped at the aid station.  They have been working together to reel me in.  And then, to my amazement, I see the arrows indicating a right turn.  All 3 of us blow by the corner, turn back around and head up the single track.  Literally.  It's more of the steep, technical single track.  I find myself repeatedly spinning in the small ring - sometimes in the big cog.  Lowest gear.  Occasionally it seems more prudent to hike.  The mud gets in my shoes making it difficult to clip in sometimes.  This only adds to the complications of the on-again/off-again climbing.  Some of the trail reminds me of the trails in Trans-Sylvania where they called the rocks "tombstones" because they were embedded in the trail, but stuck through the surface significantly.  I bounce up the climb and am soon greeted to a very rocky fire road descent.  I am faced with a different kind of balancing act now.  How fast can I descend without flatting?  It's impossible to hop over all the rocks.  I stay off the brakes as much as possible and opt to hit only the smoothest looking rocks.  This seems to be working well.  I am looking for aid station #2 which, according to the mileage recorded on my Garmin, should be approaching soon.  And then I hit something.  I didn;t see it, but it was big.  Soon my rear tire deflates and I'm off the side of the trail installing a tube.  All goes well until the inflator won't inflate (I later found out this was operator error).  So I push my bike along the merry way.  I've pretty much decided that when I meet my wife at aid station #3, I'm just going to abandon.  Aid station #2 turned out to be only a little more than a mile away.

The volunteers ask what I need.  I tell them "air".  But the tube wouldn't hold air.  Perhaps it punctured on the push in.  They try a foam sealant in the tube to no avail.  Since I've made up my mind to abandon, I don't hurry the volunteers along.  I just stand back, relax, and let them do their job.  Eventually they give up on the sealant.  They don't have a 29'er tube, but I told them a 26" tube would do.  They struggle a bit getting the tube and tire back on, but the new tube holds air, though I would notice later the tire was mounted backwards.  They set my pressure and send me on my way.  In the mean time I've watched about a dozen riders roll by.

The next section of climbing is fire road and suits me better.  I can climb in the big ring.  I had ridden most of the race with no one in sight.  It was nice to have other racers to catch and pass.  I keep pedaling away.  I'm feeling pretty good.  There's no pressure now.  Just a day to enjoy riding my bike.  Before I know it, I find myself at aid station #3.  Which, my wife, on the other hand, did not find.  So there really isn't even an option to abandon now.  On to more climbing.

I really underestimated the amount of climbing in this race!  This section of trail had some sweet ridgeline descents.  It was only a short distance to aid station #4 (or maybe it just seemed that way?) where there was one volunteer with a racers' bike on the workstand.  I continue on.  I did know that this last leg was predominantly downhill.  I did not know how much climbing was left.  It turns out, there was quite a bit. On a long climb, I pass the leading SS racer.  He asks how far the next SS racer is behind him.  I told him he was comfortable and he told me to catch the 2 riders up ahead.  Which I did. 

  I hammered down a long descent, not really caring if I flatted or not.  I thought this may be the final descent to the finish line.  It was not.  One more climb.  And then the final descent.  The one with the time clock ticking away at the bottom.  It clicks off 5:38 when I roll thru.  Even with the flat, I beat my goal time of 6:00 and got some good training in for ORAMM next weekend.  I was provisionally scored 10th.  Final results would list me as 11th.

After an unbalanced week, it was good to find a bit of balance once again.

See you on the trails!

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!