Southern fried miles

COHUTTA RACE REPORT

Its 12:00 o’clock and I’m standing on top of a mountain off a forest service road next to a tent shivering and eating peanut m&m’s, they are the greatest tasting thing I have ever had! There is a guy cleaning and lubing my chain which had been crying out in agony as I climbed the last few thousand feet to get here. It’s freezing up here but at least the rain has stopped. I have mentally and physically turned a corner. I remount and head back up the road. Up being critical word. If in doubt of course direction head up!

The family saddled up and headed south on Thursday am. The drive was as uneventful as a drive with two 7 year olds can be. I actually slept a couple of hours on the way down which is odd for me as I usually am a pretty alert shotgun rider. We arrived in Alabama at about 8:00 and proceeded to get to relaxing!

Friday am I was up at 7:30 or so with the kids and hung out a bit while they played. We all had breakfast and I started pacing around the house, checking bike stuff and directions to the whitewater center. After about an hour of this Michele told me to just get going and be back later. So I saddled up to make the ride up to the Ocoee whitewater center. I wanted to pace it out to see just how far I would be driving in the am to get to the start. The ride once off the highway was pretty cool as it ran along the Ocoee river and offered up some cool scenic vistas. I arrived and picked up my race packet, maps, t-shirt and three one gallon zip lock drop bags. After loading up the drop bags I started to see some of the heavy hitters arriving. Rich Dillon of bad idea racing fame was hanging out and Harlan Price and his gang from Philly pulled in a couple cars down from me. I dropped my bags and chatted with Harlan, Topher, Elk, and Chris about the race course and them coming up for some Darkhorse events this summer. They left to pre-ride and I left to drive back to home base.

The rain started sometime in the middle of the night and I was awake listening to it hit the roof for a while. Sleep, well it was fitful at best when it did come. The alarm went off at 3:30 and I was already awake. Clothes on, breakfast eaten and in the car and on the road by 4, they had said the lot fills up fast and I didn’t want to end up in overflow parking. It rained on and off on the drive. It was probably a mix of the rain and the early hour that caused that little voice in the back of my head to start saying, “turn around, go back to bed”. In the lot in the dark misty rain I had to find a flashlight to be able to find the bathrooms. That business taken care of and suiting up it was tough to decide on what to wear. Some guys from North Carolina next to me were debating tights, tights? Tights were out for me but I layered up good knowing that I could drop clothes along the way.

I found myself at the start line next to Matt Davies, Christian Baks, and Chris Wurster. Chris took the edge off by telling us about drinking beers with Floyd that night. They called the big boys up to the line and eventually off we went up the paved climb. I rolled up on Ryan Heerschap from Campmor/Team bulldog and we chatted as we climbed. The road tilted downhill and I let him ride off as I spun out my single ring. I fell in line and rode the first 20 miles or so with a group of about seven riders. This was smooth fast flowing singletrack that just rocked. Of course it was muddy and raining on and off so it made things a little more interesting. The pace was good and I was pleased with how I felt. My stomach was a little off but I chalked it up to nerves although my brain started doing the math and came up with the fact that I had been real tired on the ride down and couldn’t shake the butterflies for the last couple days so it might be more than nerves.

We hit aid station 1 and I refilled my bottles and headed out onto the gravel road section of the course. This cuts a large loop thru the big frog wilderness area and lasts for roughly 65 miles. Talking to Elk the day before he, very appropriately as I would find out soon, described this section as a real mindf@@k. This also started the big climbs of the day. I rode along with a couple of guys who chatted about average speed and such and from the numbers they were talking all looked good. I didn’t let myself look at elapsed time or mileage. I only looked at speed and at the clock. It was here that the stomach began to say bad things to me. I found myself coughing into dry heaves on one of the climbs. That was exciting! I just kept turning the pedals and moving forward. I dug into a pocket and pulled out an oatmeal raisin clif bar. These are one of my favorite snacks. However, shortly after putting it in my mouth it turned to pasty concrete mix! I washed it down with some perpetuem and tried not to throw up.

At aid station 2 I shed a long sleeve base layer and left that and my jacket in a drop bag. Reloaded my bottles, grabbed another clif bar and kept going. I was not feeling great and just wanted to keep going. I kept telling myself to make it till noon. Then make a decision what you’re going to do. The road went up, and up and up and up. I rode a lot of climbs and walked some as well. The last little push up to aid 3 was steep and hard. It was just after 12 and I had 50 miles under my belt. The volunteers at the aid stations were super nice, very helpful and really made things much easier. I dropped my bike and handed off my bottles for a refill. When I turned around a guy asked if he could clean and lube my chain. Sure! Thanks, man did it ever need it. I saw a number of mechanicals due to the conditions. While struggling up one of the climbs I passed a rider who looked over and said, “hey at least you don’t have chainsuck!”

Maybe it was the peanut m&m’s, maybe it was turning the corner on 50 miles. I left aid 3 feeling better about this whole adventure. The ride from there to aid 4 was up and down and up and down. I rode most of it and walked some of the steeper climbs. The legs were feeling it. Before aid 4 there was a long gravel decent. These gravel forest service roads were no joy. They contained a mix of compacted wet gravel, sand, mud and loose gravel. Yeah had to watch your line and they had some sweet stutter bumps that if you weren’t attentive would send you over the edge and out into oblivion! I basicly cooked my front brake on the way down. But hey, the rain had stopped! It was even warming up!

Aid station 4 comes up out of nowhere! Sweet! I drop the bike and a volunteer hand me my drop bag. Awesome! She takes my bottles and asked what I would like. Another volunteer asks if I need anything on the bike. “can you check out the front brake? I think I cooked the pads.” Before I can even unwrap a clif bar it is in the stand and adjusted. “Here try this” he says as he hand it back to me. I squeeze the lever and its perfect! Sweet! “Dude, if you were a chick I would kiss you on the mouth!” he laughs and I ride off in delusional excitement.

It’s supposedly 10 miles to aid 5 and then 10 more to aid 6 where its all downhill singletrack. Yeah, well over the last 7 or so hours I have learned that in the south they apparently tabulate mileage differently. Because lots of 15’s became closer to 20’s and 10’s well they were a little longer as well. 6 false flat miles later and we start to climb again. Its steep and I walk. Some geared guys walk to. One says to me, “singlespeed eh?” “yeah I’m dumb like that. It’s just how I roll I guess.” We laugh. It is around this point that I realize I am going to finish this thing. It makes me a little giddy. I think I may have even yelled out into the mountain silence. I push on to aid 5.

Aid 5 I hook up with another Mike who is riding a niner singlespeed and a guy on a seven sola who's name I apologize for forgetting. We ride and chat and walk and eventually Mike falls back a bit as the two boys aboard seven’s, his geared, mine single ride on. We get to aid station 6 and I am fired up. 10 miles of downhill singletrack to go! Lets rock! Mike catches us at the aid station and heads straight for the woods. We follow.

Downhill is apparently all relative as well. We ride some singletrack and then climb more busted up doubletrack. Argh. Legs are toast now. I lose Mike and the seven rider. They maybe have a minute on me but I can’t get into the rhythm. After so many miles spinning and climbing the gravel the legs are having a hard time adjusting back to singletrack. About 6 or so miles from the finish I case a rock thru a turn and hear the hiss. “Seal up, come on, seal up.” No joy. Flat. I have to say that for as completely blown as I was it was the easiest flat change ever. Back on the bike and now finally that downhill singletrack. It’s rooty, rocky, and after so many miles just downright hard. Make it thru and onto the forest service road, past the TVA station and into the home stretch. Spin as hard as I can along the road and thru the lot over the bridge and see the finish and the clock. 11:11 and some seconds, done, really wanted sub 11 but hey that’s what next year is for.

What a great time. Epic riding with a whole bunch of great people, everybody who worked the event was great and all the other riders were all really great people. I have to give much respect to any body that finished.

I got back to home base and looked like a zombie. I showered, ate everything put in front of me and fell asleep in a chair. Yeah, it was a good day!