Playing Ahab at the Shenandoah Mountain 100

Chasing the White Whale
The last three years, chasing a PR (personal record) at the SM100 has had me feeling a bit like Captain Ahab. I’ve been chasing this dick of a whale down relentlessly, but each of the last three attempts, a good, clean, fast race has eluded me. I’ll blame my own botched nutrition strategies for the 2013 and 2014 efforts.

Dream a little dream
This year I had managed to get most everything sorted just after another classic SM100 dinner. I settled in, hoping for a good night’s sleep, and this year I actually got one. Well, sort of.

I was rolling out the race methodically, rallying on descents, and taking it all in, finally trading war stories and enjoying the satisfaction of a clean race.

Then I woke up. What a tease! I rolled over to catch a quick 30 more minutes of precious sleep. At least my breakfast burrito did not disappoint.

Never enough time
No matter how much I prepare, I always seem to run out of time getting to the start line.

I had just got my drops sorted and was ready to kit up when ole rumble gut demanded round two of number two. There was a ridiculous line for the port-a-potty complex, and unlike my gut, it seemed completely stagnant. Eventually I got it all sorted out, but it had cost me a good bit of time.

I scrambled into my kit, threw on sun tan lotion, and grabbed my glasses. Shit! They were still sweat stained from my pre-ride the evening before. Tires felt ok-ish, and I headed over to the staging area to find Chris delivering the pre-race talk.

It’s a festival, until race day
Climbing Festival is really not that hard, but it never fails to turn into a shit show during the SM100. There are some rocky sections that aren’t that difficult, but when the conga line starts moving more like a slinky, it’s easy to lose your momentum and spin out. Once that happens, you need to just push quickly to try and stay out the way. I was embarrassed to have spun out in front of Kyle from Harrisonburg. I’ve ridden this trail with ease on non-race days, but somehow it always seems to get fumbled at 6:45am.

I realized towards the top, that I was lacking a certain motivation to pedal hard enough to maintain my spot. Yeah, I was riding a bit lame. It just felt too early to embrace the burning legs that would be required to stomp the undulating bench cut and rock features.

Watts called me out for not riding the tech features. I laughed and tried to conjure a smart reply, but only managed some wheezing response before letting him by.

At least I managed to knock out and rock out the tech features. I traded places with Watts and dropped into the Tillman West descent with a renewed vigor. I was able to reel in the group I had lost touch with. The descent was way fun, but this trail always has a bit of a log jam of riders towards the bottom during the race.

Tillman transfer and the bitch called Lynne
The road spin over and up to the Lynne trail highlighted my fitness deficit, or maybe it was just a lack of will power. I was happy to see Wake steam by me while pulling a long train. He was having a great race and riding strong.

Lynne started out as a gut buster straight away. After burying myself on the road, Lynne offered me a game of Rochambeau, and then kicked me square in the nuts. Bitch.

Fresh trail work had re-rerouted a punchy little spot where a tree had fallen down and left a rocky hole. Chris and his crew of trail gnomes had done an awesome job getting the course ready.

A familiar voice began insulting my Richmond heritage and commented on the pressure I was running in my Thunder Burt on the rear. I should have payed more attention to the tire commentary from James and his State College knowledge.

Garth came storming by like the giant he is, and for a few moments was pushing my bike in a friendly gesture. Where does he get all that energy? Reggea Shark, him no wants to harm ya… him just wants your ganja.

Last year I rode almost all of Lynne with just a couple dabs, but I was hiking sooner than I had wanted to in this race. I rode a bit, stumbled some more, and watched more of my friends climb past.

A Dick called Moby, or The Whale
Redemption seemed in my grasp as Wolf Ridge unfolded, and I quickly set about regaining positions as I started hauling ass, making passes, and finally began having a good time. The Ahab in me had just got a glimpse of that white whale I had come to chase.

Then, it happened. The dick’s barnacles chewed through my rear tire on the first gnarly bit of Wolf Ridge. After what seemed an eternity fixing my rear flat, first attempting to plug and seal, then giving in to the reality of needing to tube it up, I set about the rest of the ridge. That’s when I realized the front tire wasn’t ship shape either. Damn it!

A constant parade of riders rolled by, all while I bent over my tire with my mini pump, furiously stroking away. I must have looked like a pervert in a dark corner of a park.

I started to give in to the inevitable. Once underway, I began slicing through the 10 hour pack. I was a solid card carrying journeyman in that group for my first 3 years of hundred mile bike racing, and I was soon reminded of the mixed bag of fitness and riding ability. On lower Wolf, the pace became agonizingly slow, as I turned into the caboose for a long train of riders. I might as well have turned into a pumpkin. At this point I knew it didn’t matter much, so I just settled in and stopped looking for the pass that would never come.

32 Teeth and the Chupacabra
In the weeks leading up to the race, my bike had started to feel heavy to me, so I looked for ways to lighten it up. I could have reduced my beer consumption, but that seemed dumb, so I switched to a 1x10 drivetrain with the help of OneUp Components and some elbow grease. I also swapped out my trail handlebars and grips and managed to knock about a pound off the bike while gaining the simplicity of a one by.

My chain ring was sporting the same amount of teeth as my grill. At least on my chain ring they are straight. Rolling back on Tillman, this felt inadequate as I spun out with 32/11 and got a taste of what my single speed brethren endure during this moderately descending section of road.

I was collecting my stash from Aid 2 where I happened upon Gordon and Wilson. Seems that Wadsworth had been attacked by the odd stomach Chupacabra. Or maybe it was the gods of single speed punishing him for that aero lid? I believe he ended up in the hospital later on with serious fever, a lasting gift from below the equator.

Fresh nutrition, renewed vigor, and another glimpse of the white whale, propelled me up Hankey Mountain. Howdy Ho!

Flat Out, No Brakes
I set about fixing my third flat with a relative calm, fully aware that I’d blown all chances of a PR out the window. Why did I decide to run such a shit rear tire for the SM100? Maybe my lack of proper inflation for a tire with such a modest amount of volume was to blame. That didn’t matter anymore. I pulled my last spare tube out, a 35c cross tube. Yeah, I know that seems like a stupid tube to keep as a spare. I installed it, fitted the bead back on, and inflated it to probably 35 or 40 PSI.

Riders trickled and zoomed by, heading into the first real technical bit of Dowels Draft. Another rider had pulled over where I was, and I mentioned the little known overlook that was just beyond the trail where we stood.

A calamitous racket approached and a guy was yelling “No Brakes!!!” as he careened down the single track past us with an understandably terrified expression, looking for a place to ditch. We watched him, mostly out of control and half off the bike, somehow manage to come to a stop in the brush and trees mostly unscathed. “I had no Brakes!!!” he said again. Yes, clearly you had no brakes.

You OK man? … “I lost both Brakes!!”

No shit. I said something like: “Wow, that was lucky. I’m glad you are OK buddy. Look out man, your bike is blocking the trail. You should probably walk the next section.”

We helped him readjust his brakes the best we could. I finished fixing my flat and set about dispatching Dowels Draft.

The descent was pretty uneventful for me. I was going at a fast pace and benefited from the good trail manners of the riders I caught. In my heart, I felt defeated, and I contemplated dropping out and riding back to Stokesville.

I was immediately overwhelmed by the friendly, eager, and uber efficient help of the volunteers at Aid 4. These folks hooked me up and really lifted my spirits. Thomas from SBC asked me what I needed, and set me up with a spare tube.

Right then I decided that I had to finish the race. I was not about to let down all the folks working so hard to help us all do the best we could. Besides, it was a beautiful day for riding, so I dialed it back some and watched the white whale slip away into the distance.

Yellow Jacket, Green Tunnel
I had heard stories of the Yellow Jacket’s nest towards the hike-a-bike stairs at the beginning of Road Hollow. The creek bed leading up to it was dry and pretty easy to ride across. I shouldered my bike and hoped for the best. There was no need to worry though, I’m pretty sure that nest had been cleared out. No one around me even mentioned bees and I never saw any signs.

Road Hollow is always a challenge during the race. Like the Lynne trail, it’s all ridable, but having sea legs from the road section can be a challenge for folks. I was pleased to clean all the rock gardens and only got hit by stinging nettle once in the leg. This climb is always a bit of a green tunnel with late summer growth and stagnant air.

Metro and I summited at the Bald Knob intersection, and I set to work on my favorite downhill out here. The trail was very dry, and some sections had gotten a little blown out. My bike bucked and skidded more than usual. No doubt my over inflated wheels were the main culprit. The 35c cross tube in back held up just fine and I worked my way over to Aid 4.

No PR today, just PBR
Several volunteers helped me with my drop bag and Wilson filled a bottle for me. Then I asked him, “Is there any beer?”

He had some PBR in his car, and this was great news, and I was giddy with anticipation. I took a few minutes to enjoy the best tasting Pabst I’ve had in a long time.

Ole shit road
I passed Steve from Richmond on the last little punch of a gravel climb that then leads downhill for a ways to the left turn towards West by god Virginia. Steve made some funny noises and confirmed he was cramping. Sucks.

I made my way to that left turn and started grinding up what I call “shit road”. The road is actually not bad at all, with a good gravel surface. However, the lack of shade and relentless succession of false flats wear you down with steeper grades than you realize.

Snake on the trail!
Sort of an inside joke for someone pissing on single track. Whenever there is actually a snake on the trail, someone blurting out “Snake on the trail!” elicits instant juvenile laughter from me.

I had just left Aid 5 and saw a minivan driving oddly on the fire road. They stopped and sort of backed up to the left side of the road. As I prepared to whizz by on the right, someone in the minivan blurted out, “There’s a snake on the road!”

You know that bionic action sound from the Six Million Dollar Man? Yeah, that sound!  It filled my head as I bunny hopped the shit out of that huge black snake. Then I just laughed as I turned right onto the fast, loose, and jump filled fire road connector towards Chesnutt Ridge.

Rowdy ridge and a tree hugger
Chesnutt was fun and a bit jiggy thanks to my overinflated and surly tires. I passed a few riders here and there. At one point I asked for a pass on a rolling up-ish section, and she said, “OK now, on my left” as she proceeded to stay directly in the middle of the narrow single track. Soooo, I bushwhacked around her and muttered something about making a little room when you are letting someone pass.

Then I caught another fellow at the lead-in to a fairly ripping downhill section, and he gave me a great pass opportunity as soon as he could. My gusto got the best of me and I found myself coming in too hot for the steep and dirty trail pulling hard to the left.

I was drifting to the outside and decided to put my weight heavy into the wheels and brake for all it was worth. I bounced and skittered right up to a tree and decided to sort of  dump the bike and hug the tree. It worked pretty good, but I got a nice bruise on my thigh from some unidentified part of my bike digging in. I laughed nervously and was relieved to not have wrecked any worse.

I got back on my sled and proceeded to charge down the hill to Aid 6 with a little more caution.

Five Lefts
Buck was just hanging out at Aid 6 and asked what had happened to me. Just one of those days brother. Then as we rolled out on the pavement, he told me how he had just ridden the Trimble Mountain loop for shits and giggles. Shut up.

There was a nice bouquet of wild flowers Buck had collected and placed on his stem somehow. I agreed that it was a sweet gesture his family would probably appreciate.

Years ago when I was having another one of “those days“ finishing the last climb, a rider started pestering me like a deer fly. I really did not want to talk the second time up Hankey. I was in a dark place.

Every left turn, he kept asking: “Is this the turn?”… “Where is the last turn!?” … “This turn?” Over and over, he kept trying to chat with me and asked the same pointless questions.

Shut the fuck up.
I don’t know how many god damn turns it is, but clearly it’s not this one. Grrr.

Thankfully, that did not happen this year, but I made it a point to count how many turns feel like they should be the last. The answer is, (drumroll)… Five Fucking Turns. So the next time you are climbing Hankey and agonizing over how many more turns are left… there are five.

Not so fast, but with a little grace
I was essentially solo rolling the last ridgeline and downhill. Hopefully, no one saw me walk that last little insulting punchy climb I call “bitch slap”.

Like all the riders, I was relieved to make that final right turn into single track at the top of the campground. There was some fresh flow trail mixed in, and I boosted a little jump for the cameras. I slammed the dropper and threw in a little mini whip over the last grassy hump and then rode a tired wheelie into the finish.

I found a quiet spot behind a tree and nursed on my last water bottle.

Not such a fast day for me, but I could not have asked for better weather, trails, volunteers, and companions.

Stardust
Cleaning up at the swimming hole felt great, and I didn’t even mind the little fish occasionally nibbling on my legs.

I ate dinner with Garth and seemed to be the only one enjoying the Saison on tap. Then I made a point catch up with fellow racers and friends. A lot of great stories from the day’s journey were swapped and the podiums were presented.

Then I heard through the grapevine that someone might have died during the race. That was very sad and sobering news. I had hoped it was a mistake, but the gravity of the words weighed upon me and hung heavy over the remaining conversations I had. I decided to call it a night.

Back at my car, I prepared to make the drive back to Staunton and a warm comfy bed at my in-laws. I paused and looked around to make sure I was not leaving anything behind. That’s when I noticed it, stretching across the sky in a faint band.

On the East Coast we rarely get a good look at the Milky Way because of the humid air and omnipresent light pollution. I remembered back to when I traveled out west in Arizona. I had made a point to get away from the cities and stop somewhere on a country road to look up at the night sky. I stopped the car, turned off the lights and waited a moment for my eyes to adjust before stepping outside. When I finally did, I was completely humbled by what I saw. Never before had I looked that vastness in the eye. Unpolluted, unfiltered, this is what our ancestors would have seen. It was sublime and overwhelming and I was part of all that impossible vastness.

Probably ten years have passed since I had that first reckoning with the Milky Way.

It had been a long day filled with emotions, struggle, and perseverance. I was wrestling with the seriousness of the news I had just heard, not knowing how to express the sadness I think we all felt.  I stood there gazing up, my mind was heavy and I was searching for something that would make sense. Then this song by Joni Mitchell started playing in my mind:

I came upon a child of God
He was walking along the road
And I asked him, where are you going
And this he told me

I'm going on down to Yasgur's farm
I'm going to join in a rock 'n' roll band
I'm going to camp out on the land
I'm going to try an' get my soul free

We are stardust
We are golden
And we've got to get ourselves
Back to the garden

Photo Credit: James Wheeler -  SouvenierPixels.com

2014 Wilderness 101 Race Report

This year’s Wilderness 101 was a tough one for me, but still loads of adventure.

 

For me, there seem to be 3 stages to any 100 miler.

“Stage 1”

Leaving early from work and racing from Richmond to Coburn. Getting registered, setting up camp, once over bike and drop bag prep, chow down, drink a couple of beers and tell questionable jokes. Whew, then try to settle down and sleep.

That evening, a few of our group chats about the forecast. Rain percentages for various times of the day are debated.One of my race buddies says I should run the 13 plate upside down, but I decide to mount it the way it's set up and not wory about superstition.

“Stage 2”

In the morning the next race starts. Get up just a bit before everyone else to eat, drink coffee, and bring systems online.

For me, I affectionately refer to it as the potty race. Yeah, that's right, the race to poop. 200+ people and maybe 12 porta potties... do the math. Now I'm not complaining, it's just a constrained resource, plain and simple. So if you can get it over with before demand exceeds supply, you are in good shape.

“Stage 3, the main event”

Ahemmm, with that out of the way, it's time to put on some kit, make sure the drop bags are complete, and well, dropped off. There has also been a light rain all morning and it’s chilly. I debate a base layer, but decide on arm warmers. I figured they gave me more thermal options.

Now onto the bike and check the tire pressure and last minute tweaks. As soon as Garth sees my number plate, he lends some sage advice in the soft way he often expresses himself... "Plassman, you got to run that shit upside down!" I don't have more zip ties, and don't want to mess with it so I defy cycling tradition and run it like I brung it.

The drizzling rain had pretty much stopped and we rolled out of the park onto the main road through town. Almost instantly, the real wetness for the day started as the peleton headed out of dodge on a soaked road with small standing puddles. It was like the road was rain up on us. Weird.

This year, I had decided to put in better effort on the 1st gravel climb and kept with the lead group for the 1st 2/3 of the climb and then just managed to keep them in sight for a while after. Following the initial climb, I put in a few hard efforts to settle in with the second main group. I worked toward the front and was trying to put some pulls in. 2 or 3 guys were pushing the pace fast, putting in hard pulls. I worked up to the front to contribute, and found it tough to pull hard enough to keep the hand full of riders setting the pace happy and got repassed. I'm not sure they realized the pace was intense enough to make it hard to get up there and take a turn. Oh well, I did manage to put in a few modest pulls, cranking near my limit.

We went under a tunnel to connect to more gravel and I was surprised to see us catching the A group. We had really been pushing a good pace. As our second group merged into the Peloton, we slowed to match the pace. I seized a rare opportunity to say hi to some folks I usually don't see after the first few miles.

Gordon asked me where my GoPro was and then I wished I had remembered to get it all set up before the race. Joe Fish said the pace was unusually chill and I agreed. I heard bits and pieces of a conversation about a bad crash that had occurred on the gravel a little while earlier.

When we hit Aid 1 I got a water hand up and was super stoked to hear that we were about 2 minutes back from the race leaders. Personally, I've never heard that in an NUE race before. It felt nice.

We hit the double track grass climb and I faded off the back of the main group. I was climbing the grass more aggressively than I normally do, but it was just not enough to keep them in sight. Still, I took out that climb faster than I think I have before and then bombed the downhill sections of double track, spun out in my 38/11 combo.

Eventually, the day's 1st single track was reached. I really liked this section because it's a nice mixture of flowing trail with some rocks and skinny bridges thrown in for fun. The morning's rain had for the most part left it nice and tacky. As always, Bob Popovich was on hand to grab some awesome photos of the racers on the last bridge before a pretty large rock garden.

Next up was what I consider the 'middle hump' part of this race. There are two combos of longish gravel climb + fall line descent. Sort of like the humps in a camel’s back. I could tell I had burned 1 too many matches on the first big climb and then discovered, my tire pressure was a bit high on the 1st descent. I made my way pass a few riders, but was having trouble really pinning it. I felt like I was getting knocked around a bit. Later I noticed my fork was only using about 60 of its 100mm. I stopped at the base of the next gravel climb and let some air out of both tires.

There was a nice rolling gravel section with some periods of pavement through a very scenic park. A large group of Amish were enjoying a nice Saturday morning. I caught a glimpse of all their horses and carriages in a grove of trees. That was a pretty cool alternate scene of transportation in this age of packed parking lots in the city.

As I made it to the top of the second climb, it was nice to enter the trail after dowsing my head with a water splash hand up. Whoever you were up there... Thanks!

This descent was a good bit steeper, but I felt the trail had a more agreeable soil to rock ratio. Plus, my tires were now tracking much better. Too bad my motor was still playing catch-up.

Aid 3 was a welcome sight and I got some much needed hand ups from my drop bag. Onto the next big climb!

At the top of the climb, I was all alone as I rolled into the rocky mountain top single track that for me marks the point where this race gets really fun. At first I was struggling a bit to keep my momentum, so I dropped my seat post an inch to force myself into a more attack focused position and started charging out of the saddle. Things were picking up and I was pleased to be riding all the rock features with a bit of grace and a lot of mojo. My core was starting to get tired just as the warp speed downhill section started.

Then after zooming down the fire road that followed, I turned left onto the rolling double track section. I was motoring along when all of a sudden my drive train just seized. Damn! I surveyed the damage and cursed loudly when I saw the two foot branch section with one end jammed into my cassette by the upper part of the derailleur, the other end of the stick was stuck between my big chain ring and chain. WTF? It took all the strength I had to pull it out of the cassette. Luckily it shifted halfway decent. Amazing, but quite annoying to have wasted 5 minutes.

I hammered my way to my favorite single track in the race. The fern floored forest trail is second to none and a welcome contrast to the rock fest from the top of the mountain. I rolled through this section well and had just passed a rider when I found myself Tarzanning off my bike and grabbing a tree with my left arm just in time to stop my fall from grace. It still hurts pretty go to launch off your bike and hug a tree. I guess I'm an aggressive tree hugger.

Following that awesome trail section is a pretty moderate gravel climb to the last long rocky trail. The flattish rock strewn single track that leads to the descent was beating me up more than usual and I finally realized I had all my bike’s squish locked out. Duh! Freshman move Plassman. I caught a rider on the descent, but was glad to slow down a touch because it's some damn rocky. Nearing the end, I eagerly anticipated the gravel/pavement section that leads to Aid 4, the last stop I usually make.

Once again the awesome force of aid station volunteers hooked me up and helped me on my way to the last major climb of the day.

At the base of this climb, there is a house just off the road that always seems to be burning trash when we ride by it. The climb is very long, has a rough road surface, and just when you think it's over... keeps on going. But at the top awaits a short section of sandy trail on the aptly named Sand Mountain. In the parking lot I spied a local rider laying on his back beside his car. I assumed he was taking in a nice relaxing break after his ride. I was so jealous!

Now, I knew there was my least favorite part of the race coming up. Panther mother fucking road. It starts out fine enough, but just gets progressively steeper and rockier as it wears on. Unlike an actual Panther, this predator slowly beats you into submission. I always find myself cussing this descent quite loudly. Panther run and I have a hate/hate relationship. You might as well hate the Panther road, because trust me...Panther Run Road already hates you.

The gravel road up to and past aid 5 is a blessing after the Panther. Even the goat path hiking is not as bad because it's over with pretty soon and turns into a really cool section of single track that leads to the infamous Fisherman's path.

The key to the fisherman's path is to know it. Here is where a pre-ride of this section comes in handy. It shows you where you can get back on your bike so you don't get lured into re-mounting to soon. The other key is to get your bike off the ground and just power hike through it. Not so easy with 95 miles or so on the body!

Once on the rails to trail, I spun out in the 38/11 combo and got passed by a rider just before the final narrow trestle bridge and tunnel. If you know the line to take in the old abandoned tunnel, it's cake. Again, this is a key pre-ride spot. I exited the tunnel with no dramatics and decided not to chase the other rider too much, though I did look over my shoulder more than once as I raced to the finish line.

I was a little disappointed with my 8:46 finish, but I was glad I could ride my bike all day!

2013 Wilderness 101

 

Descending down Spencer Trail was the 1^st taste of some new single track sections added to the Wilderness 101 this year. The initial lead in section of single track from the road seemed very similar to the day’s 1^st major technical descent on Croyle trail.

Soon however, the trail pitched downward more than I had expected… but in a good way! There were less rough sections of baby head rocks and more loam than the 1^st rough and tumble plunge. The trail surface allowed me to carry more speed because I could spot ahead and find good sections of loam to scrub speed before letting off the brakes and rolling through the next rough and rocky section.

As I pulled into Aid 3 I had a feeling the rest of the re-routes in this year’s course would be fun. How could trails named Sassafras, SassaPig, and PigPile not be?

Earlier that morning I woke up at the crack of dawn and shared in the prerace rituals all the racers undertake to saddle up and dish out the watts for the better part of a day. The temps were great and the forecast seemed in our favor. I lined up at the start with my crew of Design Physics racers. I've competed in many ultra-endurance races with my team mates Tom Haines, Joe Fish, and David Reid. These guys are all fierce competitors and it’s always nice to toe up the start line rocking out a strong team presence.

 

Climbing back up to the top of Rag Hollow Road for the next sections of re-routed single track I began to think back to some of the experiences from the 3 hours of riding before bombing down Spencer Trail to Aid 3…

Chris Scott was a welcome face filming riders near the entrance of the day’s first single track section. I really enjoyed this section of flowing single track that gives way to a nice technical section punctuated by three narrow plank bridges, a cool rock garden, and bunch of cheering race fans. As usual, Bob Popovich was there taking some awesome photos capturing the whole spectrum of rider’s expressions. Faces of triumph were mixed with surrender. Technical trails demand the truth in everyone’s mountain bike skills.

Soon after this section we rode through a beautiful section of PA forest. Morning sunlight washed through the high forest canopy and lit the emerald carpet of ferns covering the ground. Stunning.

As I started the next major climb, two more race fans cheered us on. One of them was rocking out Iron Man on the kazoo. Classic! There was also the traditional, yet unofficial beer station. Complete with color coded cups for beer or water.

My cramping quads would soon drag me back to reality as I worked my way back up the mountain on the gravel grind out of Aid 3. Near the top I stepped up to a tougher gear and charged into the long and rocky single track. This type of trail really suites me and I was able to gain a number of positions before starting the fast descent down to Barrville Road. The re-routed trails rock! Figuratively and literally.

A long section of double track finally yielded to my favorite trail in the race. Sasser X flows down through a section of forest where the ground is covered in ferns. The curve of the smile on my face probably matched the arcs of the dirt slalom my tires consumed. Then the trail tightened up into a very twisty section of trails over loam and roots.

As I popped out onto the fire road, I felt pretty confident I had put a solid gap on every one I passed in the re-routed section of trails. Fortunately, the earlier leg cramps had subsided and were now getting replaced by nutrition from all manner of gels and high octane goop. Tasty.

Up and up some gravel to the last long section of trail. The single track at Beautiful trail is fairly rocky and has a couple of spots that take a power move or two. I bobbled a bit on one as my legs transitioned from taught attack mode to spaghetti dinner. Oops, bad a foot and drag the bike over that one. Good, nobody was here to see it :)

The downhill that followed on Kikapoo trail is very rocky and fairly steep with only a modest bench cut. I think it’s fun, but this late in a 100 mile race it hurts a bit, even on a full squish 29er. Where’s my trail bike when I need it eh? I was glad to see the road.

Aid 4 was a welcome stop and I swapped supplies out of my drop bag for the remaining 23 miles. The climb right after this aid station is long and fairly steep. Fortunately it was not that hot. Also fortunate was not rolling over that yellow and brown rattle snack slithering off the road. The climb eased up at the top and continued on gravel to Sand Mountain. The sandy single track felt like it went up more than it went down and I knew I was ready to wrap up a big boy day of riding.

I rolled the final downhill on the now primitive road called Panther Run. It’s not that technical, but it is super rough and very, annoyingly long. I would describe my relationship with this section as ‘abusive’. It beat the hell out of me physically and I verbally assaulted it back.

As flew past Aid 5 I prepared myself for the day’s last reroute. The Goat Path. It was very rocky and I was soon bobbling across the rocks as I made my way to the Fisherman’s path. Soon the rocks gave way to a fun and tight trail that delivered me to the last of the day’s gnarl. The Fisherman’s Path is always a challenge to hike / ride with 95 miles under your belt. I had checked this section out the night before and recognized the decayed tree stump that marked the point where I could ride out the rest of the path.

The rail to trail grade clicked by nicely and I gingerly rode across the last bridge before entering the old spooky train tunnel. I rode through the tunnel with no dramatics and soon was rolling into Coburn with nobody on my tail. Nice.

I crossed the line and was excited to see 8:18 on the big digital clock. Hell Yeah!

What an awesome day of racing! Thanks so much Shenandoah Mountain Touring!!

 

 

 

 

 

2012 Wilderness 101

This year’s 101 used the same updated course as the 2011 race. Temps were not too hot, but the humidity was very high. I was drenched all day with an unpleasant amount of perspiration as my body attempted to get some evaporative cooling. Rain showers were a constant threat, but the weather held out for me until the last few miles.

W101 - Quick Stats for Plassman

Time: 8:44
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Hydro: 12 bottles consumed - about 2.1 gallons
Fuel: 9 scoops of magic go power, 1 cliff block pack, 2 gels, 10ozs coke
Electrolytes: 1 gel flask of pickle juice and about 12 enduralyte capsules
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Crashes: 1 (silly fall on small rock)
Mechanicals: 0
Cramping: minimal
Tunnels: 2
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Curses lobbed at Panther Run Jeep Trail: 10+ F-bombs
Equestrians encountered: 2
Little girls scared: 2 (not on purpose)

Ride the lightning

In a pre-race email, there was mention of the last section of rail to trail having been marked off with “no trespassing" signs as well as being blocked by some felled trees and such. The email also mentioned that the owner of this property would help make it clear for registered racers only.

My team mates and I ran into the owner while we pre-rode the final section of rail to trail and the last rock filled train tunnel. He was a serious looking man surrounded by serious tools and equipment. We probably looked silly to him in our race clothes as he worked to collect the freshly slaughtered remnants of the trail blockade. We asked if we could lend a hand. He gazed at us in a solemn, serious stare and paused slightly, almost dramatically, and said: “Shouldn’t you be worried about the lightning?”

It was such a sublime and effective statement that we all just basically said thanks and proceeded to turn around and ride back though the tunnel. Then, as if on queue from the property owner himself, a loud crack of thunder rang out and the wind kicked up ominously. We finished our pre-ride in a tempest brought on by a pop up thunderstorm. We all now had wet shoes for race morning.

Race Day

I was finally able to get a good night’s sleep before race day. I suspect that it was due in part to getting a lift to the race and not having to drive. The cold I had sensed developing in my sinuses was still present, but had not made it into my throat or lungs.

A sleepy and damp morning greeted us all with a thin fog. The race's road sections were a good start and I found a few pace-lines to settle in and knock out much of the early gravel. Soon, I got to enjoy the first real single track section and had a lot of fun dicing up the rock infested single track and fern lined trails. There was nice flow on this section and I did my best to look cool for Bob Popovich who is always on hand to make us look good in his photos. Unfortunately, my GoPro got fogged up a bunch due to the humidity, and I did not get a lot of usable footage.

The rest of the race went well. I tried out my pickle juice flask at aid #2 as my legs threatened to cramp. After aid #3 I got a good position into the single track and rode most of it in loc step with a single speeder who possessed good technical skills. During the rest of the technical sections I was able to make a lot of passes and regained many of the positions I gave up on the climb to aid #3. By the time I got to aid #4 I was rallying out of the slump of exhaustion that usually hits me between miles 40-50ish. Lots of technical rocky sections re-affirmed my love for my Anthem X 29er and stiff I-9 wheel set.

After getting completely rattled by the near cobblestone jeep trail called “Panther Run”, I passed aid #5 and got on the gas heading into the rails to trail sections. There are 2 tunnels in this race and the first tunnel is always long, absurdly dark, and super spooky to ride because all you can see in the middle is the tombstone of light at the other end… This time it was also full of people and 2 way traffic! Fortunately, someone had LED lights and lit the tunnel up. That was awesome! Next year I will bring a small light for sure.

I caught up with my friend James Burris, and another rider I’ve met before, and we rode a nice pace line to the final climb where I got off the back by just about 15 seconds. I was able to reel them back in on the last descent.  Then I pulled a small gap as I rode out the last 25% of the super rocky “Fisherman’s Path” while the rain set in. A missed turn on the rail/trail cost me about 1 minute and I had to charge hard to try and catch James. In the last half mile of road, I looked back to see another rider working very hard to chase me down. I churned hard in my biggest gear combo to fend him off. Luckily, I managed to keep a small 2 second gap rolling into the finish with a time of 8:44

2012 Mohican 100

The 2012 Mohican started early as usual about 5:15 am. I was glad to be well rested from a good night’s sleep that normally eludes me the night before a hundred. The weather looked good and I got ready to race. As my Design Physics Racing teammates and I got ready to roll, David got some interesting news on his batphone... there was a race story contest for the Cohutta 100 that I had entered. Turns out I got second place and won a cool hitch rack. The top 3 stories, including my "Cohutta Remixed" story are posted online: http://www.trailheadoutdoors.org/newsevents/

Rolling into downtown Loudonville, it seemed we were almost late and lined up on the sideline near the front of the huge gathering preparing to ride out of town. Churning up the hill leading to the city limits was tough but I was pleased to be holding the wheel of my nearby competitors.

I entered the woods in a good position and began the 1^st part of the race through the Mohican forest single-track. I found myself surrounded by single speed riders and enjoyed the steady and quick pace we were rolling. I was regretting not having my clear lenses on my riding glasses. The woods were pretty dark in the tinted lenses and it made picking out the troublesome parallel roots strewn about the course a real challenge.

I skipped the 1^st aid station and spent the remaining single track holding my position and focusing on smooth riding to keep my lead on the rider I could hear negotiating the trail a few turns behind me. Soon there was a ripping section that ended in hard left and a serious wall of washed out fall line trail. After hiking up this monster, I rode through the horse trail sections of the race, thankful that it was not a soaked as the last time I rode here in 2010.

Finally the trail gave way to road and gravel and it was a nice relief so I tried to drain my last bottle and realized that this freebie bottle I got at some race was terrible, I could barely get anything out!

After a bit I passed under a ranch style entrance to a farm and soon was at aid 2. Volunteers hooked me up and I was on my way in a flash. Next there was some fun double track that connected back to the country roads. At one point I passed a sign for a castle, odd. Back on the open road there were some strong winds and a steep gravel climb just after a farm had some strong smells to boot.

The single track just before aid 3 was a lot of fun, but tough because my legs were shot. I enjoyed some of the short techy bits that took my mind off pedaling. There are two hills in that single track section and I remembered from previous racing here that you see aid 3 only to plunge back into the woods for one more section of trails. At least aid three had cold coke and great volunteers. Then, just after aid 3 there is a green monster of a climb. It was not as bad as it looked, but the singe track afterwards was more up than down.

Back on rolling road and gravel, my legs were shot. Some friends catch up to me and I tell them I am “in the pain cave”. I rolled with them for a bit and climbed up and rode along a park that had Frisbee golf and horse stables. It was followed by some very nice single track rolling out to the road. After passing large barn with “chew mail pouch tobacco” painted on it, I got started on the long rails to trail passage. I came across a strange wedding group on the bridge, and kept on rolling. My knees started to hurt bad and I battled this problem until I finally popped back out into a small town and aid 4 where I scored some Motrin.

Following some single track there was a long suspension bridge that was a bit scary to tide across. Later, while rolling along the Mohican river I saw white water rafters and I knew I was getting close.

Finally I popped back out on the road and back into the state park. It was time to get busy and enjoy the last section of single track. The trails re-invigorated me and I gained a position motoring through the trail. I was surprised to take a left turn into the Mohican campground and I knew I was so close.  I weaved through the campsites and rode the last bit of downhill and crossed through the RV park to the last 1/2 mile or so of paved access road. I looked back just in time to see the racer I had gapped in the single track making an attack, I had a pretty solid lead on him but shifted in afterburner just in case. There was a big crowd on bleachers and I pulled a nose wheelie as I crossed the finish and was surprised to be handed a growler, instead of a pint glass. Sweet! Then I saw more friends and soon hear the cheer of "Assman!!"

I had a tough day of racing and really fought through the pain on the rails to trail, but in the end, it is always worth it. I was pretty happy with my finish time of 8:48, almost 2 hours faster than my previous best here at Mohican.

I also made a video from my GoPro footage: