I make the 400'ish mile drive up to Mountain View, Arkansas on May 02, 2008 for the 2008 Syllamo's Revenge which will be on Saturday, May 03, 2008.
I make it to the race site Saturday morning about 7:00am for the 8:00am start. It is about 48 degrees with a high expected around 70. As I start getting my bike ready, someone yells at me from across the way and I then see Jersey and Stuart, still in Jersey's car. I make my way over and talk to them for a bit. I then get back over to my bike and get it and myself ready. I meet Brady Kendall for the first time, who is parked across from me. I see Ray Porter a few minutes before the race meeting and we talk a bit. About 7:45, they have the pre-race meeting with the riders and I am pretty cold with just a short sleeve jersey on. About 8:00, the race is off.
The race starts off for about 1/5 of a mile on a paved park road and then makes a hard right turn onto a 1 mile dirt road climb at a 11 percent incline. I inspected the first hundred yards or so of the climb the previous day and found it to be washed out and rutted very bad due to flooding rains that Mt. View has experienced this spring. I knew issues would be forthcoming when 300 bikers tried to squeeze onto the climb and find their spots on the only smooth sections going up.
As we enter the very beginning of the climb, folks are hitting the ruts and washouts and wrecking, dismounting, crashing. I enter the sketchy beginning clean, just ahead of Jersey and Stuart. As I make it about 100 yards and about to pass a female rider just to my right, she hits a rut, wobbles and wrecks to her left, which happens to be where I am. She takes my front wheel out but I get my left foot down and don't fall. We get untangled with riders going every which way around us. I am now in a washout and it takes me about 50 yards of so or pushing before I can find a break in the moving congo bike line before I can jump my bike back onto the smoother line. Jersey and then Stuart passed while I was trying to get back on my bike. It is much harder to get started on a 11 percent grade that is all washed out than I realized. Anyways, I get rolling again and go at the task of climbing the road. I then feel something running down my right leg and look down to see that a package of gu I had stuck in my lycra just above my knee had busted when the female hit me. At least it wasn't blood, which I was expecting. I catch back up to Stuart and we enter the single track within a couple of bikes of each other. Jersey is gone and I think Porter is already at the first check.
Immediately, mud starts making its presence known. There are mud bogs every couple hundred yards or so. It is rideable, but soupy and muddy. On top of the mud and water, the next 33 miles or so are littered with 12 billion rocks. Big boulders, lots of large flat rocks, baby head rocks, small boulders, pea sized rocks, bowling bowl sized rocks, golf ball sized rocks. IDB is a paved highway compared to Syllamos. The rocks, every last one of them, are slick as heck. Rubber tires caked in mud and muddy wet rocks don't mix at all. Anywho, Stuart and I ride together with a group of 10 or so. I stop and help some racer looking dude out who is pushing his bike, wheelie style, along the trail. He says that he had burped his front tire flat two times already and is out of co2. I give him my inflator, he inflates his tire, thanks me and is off in a quickness. A few miles later, I ride up on racer looking dude pushing his bike wheelie style again. I ask him if he wants the inflator again, and he declines. I tell him I have 4 more cartridges plus a hand pump, and no i'm not wearing a camel of any type. He declines. again and says he is just going to make the first check and see what he can do there. Stuart and I then ride out the first leg which is about 15 miles. It took well over 2 hours to make the first check. I get a colored mark on my number plate, fill my bottles, eat some banana and orange, lube my chain, which is caked solid with mud along with my rear derailleur and roll out just ahead of Stuart. The next check point is at mile 25.
The trail is again more of the same. Lots of mud, rocks and muddy, slippery, rocky, hike a bike sections. At about mile 18 or so, I see Ray Porter coming back down the trail. I ask him whats wrong and he tells me he is finished, pulled the cleat mount out of the bottom of his shoe. He asks me why I am way back here, referring to my stellar placement at the moment, and I tell him. Anyone who might read this will have to wait for my excuse. Anyway, I head my way, slowly, and he heads his. I am now doing the math in my head and wondering if I will make the 35 mile check point. The cutoff time at check point 3 is 2:30pm. I am averaging a little over 6 pathetic miles and hour. 6 miles an hour in 4 hours will get me about 24 miles. I continue on, still drinking and eating like I should. I make check point 2 at mile 25 right around noon and get my second colored mark on my number plate. Still on my 6 mph pace. I fill my bottles, eat some fruit. Lube my mud caked chain again and roll out. I have a little over 2 hours to make check point 3 at 35 miles before the cutoff time. In my mind, I am thinking it is not going to happen.
I take off and enter what is probably the most difficult portion of the trail. Lots of mud, lots of rocks and lots of hiking for me and a group of 5 or 6 that I am riding with. We ride a little, hike a lot. After almost 2 hours of hiking and a little riding, I make check point 3 at about 1:50pm, a whopping 40 minutes before the cutoff time and get my third colored mark on my number plate. I eat some fruit, fill my bottles, lube my muddy chain, clean some mud off of the mud caked rear derailleur and take off on the next loop which is 12 miles of single track bliss.
In this section, all of the large nasty rock sections are gone as well as the mud. The trail is covered in rocks, but they are pretty much pea sized to marble sized. It has lots of rollers, that are fun to ride and nothing that is too steep. I stop and help another rider with a flat who is out of co2. I think he said this was his third of the day. I give him my inflator, he airs up and rolls off after several thanks. I continue on, which seems for ever and roll into check point 4 at around 3:50pm. It took me almost 2 hours to ride 12 miles of some of the finest single track I have ever seen. Man I was killing it.
I am now off on the last 2 miles, the first mile is some easy single track and the last mile includes going down the 1 mile climb that started this day of reckoning. As I get up over 30 mph on the downhill, I hit one of the washouts, it bounces me way left into more washouts. Somehow, I am able to slow without wrecking, gain some control and continue on. Once I get to the bottom and try to pedal, I find my chain wrapped around my pedal and crank arm. It takes me a couple minutes to get it un-twisted, remounted and then I roll on thru the finish line right at 8 hours.
Once I make it over to my car, Porter comes over and chats with me a bit and leaves. Jersey then comes over, showered, looking relaxed and beer cup in hand and tells me he knocked it out in 6:20. He studded up. He tells me the overall winner did it on a ss in 4:30 and beat the second place, who was on a ss too, by 20 minutes. I believe the third place finisher was on a ss as well. Stuart then rolls thru the finish at about 8:30.
As far as my finish and time, really don't know what happened or went wrong. I did have the flu really bad for two weeks in April and it hung around for a third week just for giggles. So much for the flu shot working. I didn't touch my bike for almost two weeks after the OC, due to being flu'ed out. I did ride a couple easy hours during the third week of April and a few hours the fourth week of April, but no intensity.
Without a doubt, this was my worst day ever on a bike, and I had a bad one at ORAMM last year. I was out almost from the beginning. I never cramped, never bonked, just did not have it. I had no power, not that I have much anyway. I spent most of the day in the middle chain ring and 34 cog or the granny and 34 cog because it was about all I could muster. Every pedal stroke required way too much effort. I suffered in a way that I have never known on a bike. In 8 hours, lots of things went thru my mind about the problem. Maybe it was the flu. Maybe I am in the wrong sport. Maybe I am not riding enough. Maybe I should take up roller blading. Maybe I should sell my bikes, not. I never thought about quitting, but thinking that I wasn't going to make the cutoff was very humbling.
All in all, it was still a good day. I never wrecked, except for falling over one time while at a dead stop around the 5 hour mark. Looked like a complete tard, but nobody was around to see. The bike did not fail me, not even the shifting, which is a miracle in its self due to all of the mud.
Later this week, I will be back on the steeds to get ready for the next round.
Peace,
s
Sunday, May 4, 2008
Monday, April 7, 2008
Ouachita Challenge 2008
I arrive in Oden, Arkansas on Saturday afternoon for the 2008 Ouachita Challenge Race which is on Sunday, April 06. I was still undecided if I was going to ride the singlespeed, as I did last year, or gears. I had both with me. If it was going to be a mudfest, the singlespeed it would be. If it was mainly dry, gears it would be. As I looked around the Oden school grounds, I see some muddy tour riders, but not overly muddy. I make it to the registration table to pickup my packet and ask the people if they have any idea how muddy the trail is. I am told that it is not too bad. I had registered in the singlespeed class back in December, but something has crept into my not so distant future and it dictates that I do some long rides on a geared mountain bike. Ugh. The lady at the registration finds my packet, which has me down in the singlespeed class. I look at it, think, and tell her I am going to do it on gears. She marks out the singlespeed on my number plate, changes something in the paperwork and it is done. I am down with gears.
My mom, who is retired and likes to travel to some of these torture events with me, is having a seat in the cafeteria where many folks are having their fill of the meal provided with the price of admission. I give mom my packet and make my way out to the finish line and bump into some familiar faces. I find Sparky, Cope, Ryan, Bgreen, all of the Chops, Purly and others that I am currently not remembering. I chat with all for a bit and then make my way back to the cafeteria for the meal. I grab a tray of spaghetti, some salad and a drink. Brad has a seat with me as well as Ferguson. We eat a little and talk a little. ICUJeremy and Racer99 come thru the cafeteria and I speak with them for a second. Solo comes down and has a seat for a moment. It is now time to get back to the lodge on Rich Mountain near Mena and get my stuff ready for Sunday.
On Sunday, I get up about 6:15 am, gather up a few things and head out to the car around 6:30 am where I find the fog so dense that I can only see about 100 feet. The lodge on Rich Mountain sits around 3000 feet elevation and it is about 14 miles from Mena. I take off down the mountain, a little faster than I probably should and now realize I need gas. It is about 54 miles to Oden, it is foggy, I need gas, and I have an hour and a half before the start. About halfway down the mountain, most of the fog lifts and I make it to Mena. I gas up and drive on. I make it to Oden about 7:30 am and it is around 48 degrees . I do the pre-ride bike ready, get dressed, which includes only a short sleeve jersey because that is all I packed, make it over to the starting line with about 5 minutes to go. I meet up with Chop. Icu is right in front of us. Further up in the crowd I see Coz. Cope, who rode the day before, walks over to us, says a bit, and heads off to get some video of the start, or so he says.
The race is off. About 200 of us head out of the parking lot with a truck leading the way, we make a left onto the road, go a couple hundred yards and make a right onto another two lane road. At this point I am in the back quarter of the field and the leaders and pace truck look to be three or four hundred yards in front of me. I ease to the far left of the road. Knowing that I am stone cold, my heart, lungs and legs, I am taking it easy since it takes me about 15 minutes or even longer, to get the diesel engine firing. We travel on the paved highway for what seems like 4 or 5 miles and then make a right turn onto a dirt road. By now, I am probably in the top 50 or so. I am riding in a group of about 10 riders, one of which is a female decked out in hammer gear. This rolling dirt road has the group of us see-sawing back in forth for some reason. A group of 3 or 4 singlespeeders, decked out in cute matching gear, pass, get in front of me and hammer girl, slow down, and then we pass them at the next hill. This idiotness continues for the about 4 miles or so until we enter the single track. About now, I am pretty much warmed up, or as much as a 42 year old body can be. I haven't even noticed the cool morning air.
Right away, the mud starts making its presence known. The trail is littered with muddy sections, some have standing water and some are just plain mud. A group of about 10 of us are making pretty good time, with me being near the back. This section of the trail, which I believe is the Womble, is considered by most to be some of the best riding on the entire course. But today, it is a muddy mess. This section, which is around 12 miles or so, has a minimum of 10 to 20 muddy spots per mile, and probably alot more. There is hardly any climbing, or rocks, to speak of, but has many small creek crossings. Within the first few miles, my feet are already soaked and my black bike is already splattered with mud. I make it out of the Womble with no problems and make it to the first aid station to refill my two bottles. I do have a camel on my back, but no drink in it. It is only packed with a couple tubes, co2 inflator, small pump, some chain and links, my gels, hammer mix and a few tools. I water up, grab a few cytomax gels, geez they are awful, and roll out.
As I head onto this paved road section, I see Sparky. She yells at me, I yell back and she says something about taking a picture as I roll by. Since I am already passing her, she says she will get a picture of my backside. I am thinking yeah, that is what you want. Not. I think I get my first colored zip tie about now. I am rolling along on this section and come along side a youngster on a Karate Monkey, ss style. I make some small talk with him. He says he is from Plano and he is wearing a Baylor jersey. I ask him if he is "bui" from the Dorba forum and he says he is. He is rolling along at a good clip. He says that ICU is behind us somewhere. I ask him where racer99/Steve is and he tells me in front of us a few minutes. I tell him that he never passed me after I passed him at the start. Bui then says racer99 did not pit at the aid station. I end up leaving bui behind on this section, which I am guessing was 5 or 6 miles long. If my memory serves me, we turn onto another dirt road section for a bit, and then enter the single track again. Somehow, bui caught me and entered the singletrack ahead of me. Damn young'uns on those one geared big wheeled bikes.
I think we are now entering Blowout Mountain territory. I am feeling really good and strong, but my measuring stick is kinda low. Been eating and drinking on schedule, no wrecks or bike mishaps. After about 20 minutes or so, I am riding with a couple other dudes and we are making decent time. My goal going in was 6 hours and I feel I am right on schedule and I am now around the 2.5 hour mark, if I remember. Who knows, I coulda been way optimistic in my goal, but I felt I was on track. I then see bui coasting back down the trail towards me on his bike. I ask him what's up, and he says he needs a chain. I assume that he has lost his chain on a downhill and could not find it. I am thinking dang, in almost 3 years, I have never broken a chain on a ss. Geared bikes yes, singleton's no. I am not carrying a chain, only some 9 speed links. Anywho, bui continues in his direction and I continue on mine. I end up riding by myself for the next 20 or 30 minutes or so. I think I passed the couple dudes I was riding with but they could of ridden away from me, which is the more likely scenario. For those not in he know, Blowout Mountain has lots of short steep climbs and lots and lots and lots of rock gardens with lots and lots of rocks. Gosh, IDB, which is a rocky trail in the Dallas metromess area, on steroids. Those who know me, know I love IDB. Those who don't, the previous sentence is my lame attempt to be sarcastic.
Anywho, I am still feeling good, hardly winded or tired. I am riding some of the rock gardens and dismounting for some. On about the 20th dismount, I am pushing my bike thru one of the rock gardens and I hear the always pleasant sound of air rushing out of my rear tire and then see stans sealant blowing out and the tire goes flat, instantly. I cut my tire pushing thru a rock garden. What are the odds? Man, this is why I love IDB and rocks. I get my bike out of the rock garden, inspect the rear tire, and see I have a cut in the sidewall that is about 3/4 of an inch on my tubeless 29'er tire setup. I get my rear wheel off, get my camel off and go to work. I get the tire off, dump most of the remaining sealant out and remove the stans strip. I get one side of the tire back on, put a tube in, take an empty cytomax gel pack out of my pocket and place it as make-shift boot inside the tire at the site of the cut. I get the tire aired up and all looks good. I get the wheel back on and ready to roll again. During this down time, which I guess to be 20 to 25 minutes, about 2o or so riders pass me, including ICU and hammer girl. Just about all offered assistance while I was working which I politely declined since I had everything I needed. Thanks to all who offered up. As if they will ever read this mess. I finally get rolling again. After 10 minutes or so, I start catching some of those who passed me. On one of the short descents, while trying to slow, I go into a rock garden "hot" and end up riding a nose wheelie about 10 or 15 feet thru the garden. How I did not endo and smash my melon on one of the Yugo sized rocks, I will never know. I finally make it thru Blowout Mountain and on to the next dirt road.
I pull up to the aid station, water up, eat some banana and some cytomax gu, yuck again. I hear a volunteer tell another rider that we have about 6 miles up Brushy Creek, I think that is the name, and then it is all road to the finish. As I pedal out, I see Solo chilling at the station. I yell at him and continue on. I ride the dirt road for a bit and then enter the single track again. I pedal on for about 15 minutes or so and then ask myself why did I not inspect my homemade tire boot at the last aid station. I decide that I probably should stop and inspect the boot. I find that the empty cytomax boot has slipped and the tube is visible thru the cut, and partially protruding. Not good. I again go to work on the rear wheel. Remove it. Let the air out. Un-seat the tire bead on the side of the wheel that the tire is cut on. I then un-wrap about 20 inches of duct tape that I had wrapped around my hand pump. I tear the strips into about 5 inch segments, press them all together. Place the duct tape, along with the cytomax pack, on the inside of the tire against the cut. Get the tire on, air it up and all looks good, for a second time. I get the wheel on and I am ready to pedal out again. During this stop, I spent another 20 minutes or so repairing the tire and getting passed by another 20 or so riders, many of whom offered up assistance and I politely declined, again.
I start rolling again and soon start catching some of the folks who passed me during my second mechanical. I am now stuck behind a group of about 10 riders who are stopping frequently to hike up steep sections of the trail. During one of these hikes, I hear someone behind me say rider up. I turn around and see jjay grinding up the steep climb that we are all walking. I think to myself that he is doing really well and me, not so well, since he was doing the 80 miler and myself the 60 miler. Jjay passes me and I tell him to "get it" or something along those lines. I tell the other guys in this group, including a 15 year old kid and his father, that jjay is doing the 80 miler and they all kinda freak out. I then tell them that he is a real bad ass and that we should not feel too terrible for him passing us. During the next 30 minutes or so that it takes me to get over Brushy Creek, about 4 or 5 more 80 milers pass me. I then make it out of the last single track and onto the final stretch of dirt road.
As I pull out onto the dirt road and hang a left, I am by myself. No sooner than I start pedaling, bui pulls up beside me. He tells me that he got a chain from Solo, I believe. I am amazed. This youngster on a singlespeed has caught me twice, passed me once going the right direction and once going the wrong direction, and now dead even with me with about 7 or 8 miles to go to the finish. Anywho, we take off and have some good down hill ahead of us. We talk for a bit and then, feeling like I am cheating, tell him I am going to cruise on and will see him in a bit. I then set my sights on about 3 riders that are about 5 or 6 hundred yards in front of me. I am bombing down the downhills and flying up some of the climbs. I then see that one of the riders is hammer girl, whom I had ridden with at the very beginning of the race. I finally catch her. I believe we pass one of the other riders and the other rider has ridden away. She and I ride side by side for a bit, I pull for a bit, she pulls for a bit. She tells me that her legs cannot take another climb. I probably pull away from her about a mile from the paved highway. I make it to the highway and the volunteer tells me I have about 1.5 miles to the finish. I turn left onto the highway and start rolling. I get passed by one dude who went by me like he had a rocket on his bike. I continue on for another few minutes and cross the finish line right at 7 hours.
All in all, a good day of riding. No wrecks, no body damage and felt really good at the end. Did I meet my 6 hour goal? No. Would I have met my 6 hour goal had I not cut a tire? Who knows. Did I enjoy the ride? You better know it.
Thanks for wasting your time,
Steven
My mom, who is retired and likes to travel to some of these torture events with me, is having a seat in the cafeteria where many folks are having their fill of the meal provided with the price of admission. I give mom my packet and make my way out to the finish line and bump into some familiar faces. I find Sparky, Cope, Ryan, Bgreen, all of the Chops, Purly and others that I am currently not remembering. I chat with all for a bit and then make my way back to the cafeteria for the meal. I grab a tray of spaghetti, some salad and a drink. Brad has a seat with me as well as Ferguson. We eat a little and talk a little. ICUJeremy and Racer99 come thru the cafeteria and I speak with them for a second. Solo comes down and has a seat for a moment. It is now time to get back to the lodge on Rich Mountain near Mena and get my stuff ready for Sunday.
On Sunday, I get up about 6:15 am, gather up a few things and head out to the car around 6:30 am where I find the fog so dense that I can only see about 100 feet. The lodge on Rich Mountain sits around 3000 feet elevation and it is about 14 miles from Mena. I take off down the mountain, a little faster than I probably should and now realize I need gas. It is about 54 miles to Oden, it is foggy, I need gas, and I have an hour and a half before the start. About halfway down the mountain, most of the fog lifts and I make it to Mena. I gas up and drive on. I make it to Oden about 7:30 am and it is around 48 degrees . I do the pre-ride bike ready, get dressed, which includes only a short sleeve jersey because that is all I packed, make it over to the starting line with about 5 minutes to go. I meet up with Chop. Icu is right in front of us. Further up in the crowd I see Coz. Cope, who rode the day before, walks over to us, says a bit, and heads off to get some video of the start, or so he says.
The race is off. About 200 of us head out of the parking lot with a truck leading the way, we make a left onto the road, go a couple hundred yards and make a right onto another two lane road. At this point I am in the back quarter of the field and the leaders and pace truck look to be three or four hundred yards in front of me. I ease to the far left of the road. Knowing that I am stone cold, my heart, lungs and legs, I am taking it easy since it takes me about 15 minutes or even longer, to get the diesel engine firing. We travel on the paved highway for what seems like 4 or 5 miles and then make a right turn onto a dirt road. By now, I am probably in the top 50 or so. I am riding in a group of about 10 riders, one of which is a female decked out in hammer gear. This rolling dirt road has the group of us see-sawing back in forth for some reason. A group of 3 or 4 singlespeeders, decked out in cute matching gear, pass, get in front of me and hammer girl, slow down, and then we pass them at the next hill. This idiotness continues for the about 4 miles or so until we enter the single track. About now, I am pretty much warmed up, or as much as a 42 year old body can be. I haven't even noticed the cool morning air.
Right away, the mud starts making its presence known. The trail is littered with muddy sections, some have standing water and some are just plain mud. A group of about 10 of us are making pretty good time, with me being near the back. This section of the trail, which I believe is the Womble, is considered by most to be some of the best riding on the entire course. But today, it is a muddy mess. This section, which is around 12 miles or so, has a minimum of 10 to 20 muddy spots per mile, and probably alot more. There is hardly any climbing, or rocks, to speak of, but has many small creek crossings. Within the first few miles, my feet are already soaked and my black bike is already splattered with mud. I make it out of the Womble with no problems and make it to the first aid station to refill my two bottles. I do have a camel on my back, but no drink in it. It is only packed with a couple tubes, co2 inflator, small pump, some chain and links, my gels, hammer mix and a few tools. I water up, grab a few cytomax gels, geez they are awful, and roll out.
As I head onto this paved road section, I see Sparky. She yells at me, I yell back and she says something about taking a picture as I roll by. Since I am already passing her, she says she will get a picture of my backside. I am thinking yeah, that is what you want. Not. I think I get my first colored zip tie about now. I am rolling along on this section and come along side a youngster on a Karate Monkey, ss style. I make some small talk with him. He says he is from Plano and he is wearing a Baylor jersey. I ask him if he is "bui" from the Dorba forum and he says he is. He is rolling along at a good clip. He says that ICU is behind us somewhere. I ask him where racer99/Steve is and he tells me in front of us a few minutes. I tell him that he never passed me after I passed him at the start. Bui then says racer99 did not pit at the aid station. I end up leaving bui behind on this section, which I am guessing was 5 or 6 miles long. If my memory serves me, we turn onto another dirt road section for a bit, and then enter the single track again. Somehow, bui caught me and entered the singletrack ahead of me. Damn young'uns on those one geared big wheeled bikes.
I think we are now entering Blowout Mountain territory. I am feeling really good and strong, but my measuring stick is kinda low. Been eating and drinking on schedule, no wrecks or bike mishaps. After about 20 minutes or so, I am riding with a couple other dudes and we are making decent time. My goal going in was 6 hours and I feel I am right on schedule and I am now around the 2.5 hour mark, if I remember. Who knows, I coulda been way optimistic in my goal, but I felt I was on track. I then see bui coasting back down the trail towards me on his bike. I ask him what's up, and he says he needs a chain. I assume that he has lost his chain on a downhill and could not find it. I am thinking dang, in almost 3 years, I have never broken a chain on a ss. Geared bikes yes, singleton's no. I am not carrying a chain, only some 9 speed links. Anywho, bui continues in his direction and I continue on mine. I end up riding by myself for the next 20 or 30 minutes or so. I think I passed the couple dudes I was riding with but they could of ridden away from me, which is the more likely scenario. For those not in he know, Blowout Mountain has lots of short steep climbs and lots and lots and lots of rock gardens with lots and lots of rocks. Gosh, IDB, which is a rocky trail in the Dallas metromess area, on steroids. Those who know me, know I love IDB. Those who don't, the previous sentence is my lame attempt to be sarcastic.
Anywho, I am still feeling good, hardly winded or tired. I am riding some of the rock gardens and dismounting for some. On about the 20th dismount, I am pushing my bike thru one of the rock gardens and I hear the always pleasant sound of air rushing out of my rear tire and then see stans sealant blowing out and the tire goes flat, instantly. I cut my tire pushing thru a rock garden. What are the odds? Man, this is why I love IDB and rocks. I get my bike out of the rock garden, inspect the rear tire, and see I have a cut in the sidewall that is about 3/4 of an inch on my tubeless 29'er tire setup. I get my rear wheel off, get my camel off and go to work. I get the tire off, dump most of the remaining sealant out and remove the stans strip. I get one side of the tire back on, put a tube in, take an empty cytomax gel pack out of my pocket and place it as make-shift boot inside the tire at the site of the cut. I get the tire aired up and all looks good. I get the wheel back on and ready to roll again. During this down time, which I guess to be 20 to 25 minutes, about 2o or so riders pass me, including ICU and hammer girl. Just about all offered assistance while I was working which I politely declined since I had everything I needed. Thanks to all who offered up. As if they will ever read this mess. I finally get rolling again. After 10 minutes or so, I start catching some of those who passed me. On one of the short descents, while trying to slow, I go into a rock garden "hot" and end up riding a nose wheelie about 10 or 15 feet thru the garden. How I did not endo and smash my melon on one of the Yugo sized rocks, I will never know. I finally make it thru Blowout Mountain and on to the next dirt road.
I pull up to the aid station, water up, eat some banana and some cytomax gu, yuck again. I hear a volunteer tell another rider that we have about 6 miles up Brushy Creek, I think that is the name, and then it is all road to the finish. As I pedal out, I see Solo chilling at the station. I yell at him and continue on. I ride the dirt road for a bit and then enter the single track again. I pedal on for about 15 minutes or so and then ask myself why did I not inspect my homemade tire boot at the last aid station. I decide that I probably should stop and inspect the boot. I find that the empty cytomax boot has slipped and the tube is visible thru the cut, and partially protruding. Not good. I again go to work on the rear wheel. Remove it. Let the air out. Un-seat the tire bead on the side of the wheel that the tire is cut on. I then un-wrap about 20 inches of duct tape that I had wrapped around my hand pump. I tear the strips into about 5 inch segments, press them all together. Place the duct tape, along with the cytomax pack, on the inside of the tire against the cut. Get the tire on, air it up and all looks good, for a second time. I get the wheel on and I am ready to pedal out again. During this stop, I spent another 20 minutes or so repairing the tire and getting passed by another 20 or so riders, many of whom offered up assistance and I politely declined, again.
I start rolling again and soon start catching some of the folks who passed me during my second mechanical. I am now stuck behind a group of about 10 riders who are stopping frequently to hike up steep sections of the trail. During one of these hikes, I hear someone behind me say rider up. I turn around and see jjay grinding up the steep climb that we are all walking. I think to myself that he is doing really well and me, not so well, since he was doing the 80 miler and myself the 60 miler. Jjay passes me and I tell him to "get it" or something along those lines. I tell the other guys in this group, including a 15 year old kid and his father, that jjay is doing the 80 miler and they all kinda freak out. I then tell them that he is a real bad ass and that we should not feel too terrible for him passing us. During the next 30 minutes or so that it takes me to get over Brushy Creek, about 4 or 5 more 80 milers pass me. I then make it out of the last single track and onto the final stretch of dirt road.
As I pull out onto the dirt road and hang a left, I am by myself. No sooner than I start pedaling, bui pulls up beside me. He tells me that he got a chain from Solo, I believe. I am amazed. This youngster on a singlespeed has caught me twice, passed me once going the right direction and once going the wrong direction, and now dead even with me with about 7 or 8 miles to go to the finish. Anywho, we take off and have some good down hill ahead of us. We talk for a bit and then, feeling like I am cheating, tell him I am going to cruise on and will see him in a bit. I then set my sights on about 3 riders that are about 5 or 6 hundred yards in front of me. I am bombing down the downhills and flying up some of the climbs. I then see that one of the riders is hammer girl, whom I had ridden with at the very beginning of the race. I finally catch her. I believe we pass one of the other riders and the other rider has ridden away. She and I ride side by side for a bit, I pull for a bit, she pulls for a bit. She tells me that her legs cannot take another climb. I probably pull away from her about a mile from the paved highway. I make it to the highway and the volunteer tells me I have about 1.5 miles to the finish. I turn left onto the highway and start rolling. I get passed by one dude who went by me like he had a rocket on his bike. I continue on for another few minutes and cross the finish line right at 7 hours.
All in all, a good day of riding. No wrecks, no body damage and felt really good at the end. Did I meet my 6 hour goal? No. Would I have met my 6 hour goal had I not cut a tire? Who knows. Did I enjoy the ride? You better know it.
Thanks for wasting your time,
Steven
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