Survival in... Pennsylvania!

An amazing story of travel in the wilds of Pennsylvania! A story of amazement and fear, pain and suffering, and ultimate survival. Travel along and read firsthand the horrors our brave adventurers endured...

In the two days before the start of the race it rained. Then it decided to rain some more. When did it stop? Oh, sometime in small hours of Sunday morning. I had been somewhat apprehensive about the race for the last two weeks, having ridden it three weeks earlier just to scout it out. The new singlespeed wasn't finished then and I was riding my faithful steed of the last 5 years, the Trek Fuel, really a wonderful full suspension bike. On that it didn't seem too hard... it was a nice day, dry trail, lots of gnarly technical stuff that put a big smile on my face, and I didn't get out of the middle ring for the 4 hours we were out. And yet... we were just loligagging. In a race situation I knew it was going to be a very tough course even without being wet and slippery, with very little opportunity for resting. As it happens I wasn't mistaken.

I got up early and hit the road at 7:05 AM. It was a pleasant drive with little traffic and I was feeling quite calm, much more calm than I usually am on race morning. I must have made a decision some time in the night about which category to race. Last year I made the jump to expert in the last race that actually had separate categories, and at the time I expected I would be racing expert from that point forward. The tough course which I was certain all along was going to be wet come race day (has it ever not rained before or during the Michaux Maximus?) had me nervously thinking that, maybe it would be okay to race sport one last time -- after all, I had never raced singlespeed before and that's what I was bringing with me. Frankly I was wondering if I would even be able to complete the expert course (about 25 miles) on a singlespeed, but by Sunday morning I found myself in more of a "what the hell" mindset.

I made it to the parking lot at 8:30 AM and pulled up behind Mike and Tris, my good friends and constant companions in racing all of last year, and I hope all of this one and many more. First things first, hit the porta-johns and the registration table. I made a good show of not knowing what category I was going to race, but in the end I circled "Expert" and "Veteran". Back at the car I went through the motions of getting ready. Lube chain, chat with Mike and Tris, put the water bladder in the Camelbak... uh... oh. Crap! It took me just a second to realize the water bladder, and my two bottles of Hammer Gel, were still sitting in the fridge! Not good. And the new water bottle cage I had purchased just the evening before was sitting on the livingroom floor. Hmmmph. There was no way I would get through even half the race without water and food. Luckily Tris had an extra 24 oz. water bottle, and an empty 20 oz. Dasani water container, and even an extra packet of PowerGel she was willing to part with, and Mike had an extra Clif Builder Bar he let me have. Having good friends race with you is a good thing; not only are they great company, but they can help you out in a jamb. Thanks guys! It wasn't the best situation -- having to stop and pull a water bottle out of my jersey pocket every time I needed a drink and fishing behind my back for food that was never where I thought it should be -- but it got me through the race.

The race itself... was fully as tough as I had expected. (Read Mike's story of it.) The start was a little odd for me. I made sure to start at the back of the Veteran class, not wanting to hold anyone up in my first race on a singlespeed and knowing I was going to be slower. But when the starter said, "Go!" and we went up that first 1/2 mile or so of road it seemed like everyone was moving in slow motion. It was a race, wasn't it? Maybe it was just all that time on the road bike, but after half the climb I stopped holding back and just let my legs dictate my pace and passed a good number of the Veteran class. I passed probably 3 or 4 more in the first section of trail (Shake and Bake), which is just one long, long rock garden, and did quite well for the first hour and a half while my legs were fresh.

Let's talk about rocks for a bit. You have your Gambrill type rocks, which are often described as catheads. They can be kind of annoying sometimes, but aren't really too bad, being often times rounded, or flat. They're not too big and have a kind of bulk to them that makes them not that difficult to navigate. Watershed rocks can be a little more exciting, and there are some really good technical rock gardens out there that are a lot of fun, but they're really just bigger versions of Gambrill rocks. Michaux type rocks are quite different. While you're riding them, and especially so if they're wet, you would swear that every single one of them is a flat blade of rock sticking up at a 45 degree angle from the ground and placed to cause the most difficulty in getting through them. And there's nothing small about them. They make for one really tough, punishing race... or a really fun ride. It depends on your point of view. Sometimes they coincide, as they did for me a few times Sunday. There is one ridge in particular that came just before where the expert and sport courses split that made me want to shout in joy, even wet as they were. In the last hour of the race however I would have been overjoyed not to see another rock for a good long time.

The race course was really in quite good shape considering the amount of precipitation -- all of the rain before the race, and a good 40 minutes of it an hour into the race. I can't recall any boggy mud, just some deep water puddles in those sections of trail the ATV's regularly tear up. The rocks weren't covered in slippery mud, though they were plenty slippery enough to make it more interesting than normal. There weren't any big climbs, just big climbs for a virgin singlespeeder. The one big doubletrack climb (Dead Woman's Hollow I think, maybe a mile plus, certainly not more than two) killed me on the singlespeed, but I wouldn't have thought that much of it had I been on the geared bike -- it would have been an easy spin right up to the top. A great one loop short course, it's not terrain I'd ever want to do an entire 100 miler on. I was pummeled enough in 25 miles.

It was that climb up Dead Woman's Hollow that made me start wishing the finish line was near. My legs, unused to the singlespeed way, were beginning to cramp and every turn of the pedals seemed to take all of my strength, all of my will, and all of my determination to continue. Unfortunately the race was to go on for another hour and a half! I ended up walking up most of the last half of that long climb, and quite a bit of the climbs that followed. Hammer Endurolytes (great stuff!) managed to keep the cramps at bay. I took one pill before the race and I think three during.

Nothing of any real significance happened during the race. The bike worked without a hitch, which you would expect from a hardtail singlespeed (ain't it great?!), even after I ended up going through the middle of some of those deep water holes that must have had the guys on geared bikes cringing. Mike's travails are evidence of what can happen in bad conditions on a geared bike. A minor thing, I had to start using two fingers on the right brake lever, as it started coming in too close to the bar and was hitting my middle finger; but I knew the rear brake needed to be bled again. There were many times when something significant definitely could have gone wrong, had I braked at the wrong time, had less confidence in my ability to downhill some of those sections with large rocks and panicked, or had tires that didn't work as well. I really think it's that confidence to barrel through the tricky sections and let the bike work, to stay loose and focused and not falsely think going slowly will save my bacon (it will do just the opposite) that has so far kept me from having a nasty fall in the rough stuff. Looking ahead and knowing what is coming up is probably also key.

So, the last hour and a half was one long suffer-fest. Determination is what kept me going more than anything, my legs having been spent long before the finish. I somehow managed to pass a few people on the last fire road climb, not really realizing just how close I was to the finish. Total time: 3 hours, 38 minutes, 25 seconds. Somewhere about 9th place (unofficial until tomorrow) out of maybe 13 that finished in the expert veteran (ages 35-44) class. Seems like there were more than that that started, but I'm not sure. As I gain my singlespeed legs I hope to do better in the future -- the unofficial first place expert racer (senior age group) finished almost an entire hour ahead of me. For some reason I'm not discouraged by that. :) It's quite amazing though.

Time for bed. I'll have to edit this post tomorrow. I can't wait for the next race! :-D