The real deal Shenandoah Mountain 100 race report

Normally the start of the Shenandoah 100 is quite a chaotic event. Four hundred plus riders line up forty wide looking for a hole shot fifty yards away to a right hand turn on a one lane dirt road leading out of the campground. This year with six hundred plus riders they decided to have us line up in waves according to our estimated finish times. Someone told me they thought I was in the 8+ hour group, so I lined up in the second group back and awaited the colder than usual start.

Any way you look at it starting that many riders at once is gonna be a festival of asses and elbows. Once we made the mad dash through the initial turns out of the camp it was a full on race to get as close to the front as possible on the paved section before we hit the dirt. I did my best to stay towards the back of the fast group and when we hit the gravel I was surrounded by some familiar faces. My legs were responding well, and when the real climbing started the 33X18 gear really seemed to be working out better than I thought it would.

On the long climb/hike-a-bike around mile 17 I was feeling incredible. The group I was lingering in was hiking at a pace that I found to be a little too comfortable, so I ran around them and pushed as fast as I could to the descent. Coming down the rocky sections around mile 20 the morning light was being filtered in such a manner that it was like descending in a strobe filled disco. Since I've just bombed this section for the last three years without a worry I tried to go ahead and do it again.

The first time my tire bottomed out on the rim I figured it was a fluke. The second time it seemed like a possible trend, but the third time I knew it was the start of an all out flat front tire. I reminded myself that I can toss in a tube in the tire in less than four minutes, so this would only be a minor setback... as long as I remain calm. I removed my tube from the Awesome Strap, pulled out my Niner CO2 cartridge, mounted up the inflator, and went to work. Shortly after getting it all together I hit the valve with the CO2 and was promptly disappointed when there was no air in the tire. Thinking maybe I did something wrong I pulled my Mountain Pipe out of its mount and tried to put in some air manually, but that wasn't doing the trick either.

Hmmmm... remain calm. Nothing to see here.

Riders never cease to fly by me as I try to figure out what's going on.

Remain calm...

I pulled the tube out and tried to pump it up with the Mountain Pipe so I could find the hole IN MY BRAND NEW FREAKING TUBE and patch it, yes, the $10 tube I bought back in May, but I couldn't get air in it fast enough to find a leak.

Remain calm... remain calm... remain calm....


fuck it.

Riders continued to whiz by occasionally asking if I needed anything. I didn't bother to respond partly because I don't make a habit of asking for people's shit during a race and partly because they were fifty feet down the trail in three seconds after they asked in full Doppler effect. I put all my gear away, mounted up my front wheel, and started walking down the trail.

Walking down the trail proved to be quite difficult. With close to 550-600 riders behind me there were plenty of people who really didn't want me in the trail lollygagging through the woods. The side of the trail was thick with brush, so the best I could do was walk ten or so yards, get off the trail, wait for it to clear out, and then walk another ten or so yards more before jumping out of the way again.

Here was my plan. I figured I had seven or so miles to walk before I would get to aid station two where I had a preloaded Awesome Strap. I would walk the entire distance, fix my shit, and then find out which way I had to go to get back to the beer ASAP. There was no way I was going to walk that far and then try to get back into some kind of racing mode. It was a great plan, and I was determined to stick to it.

With this decisive plan in mind I continued playing my own version of singletrack Frogger for quite awhile. I'm not sure just how far I walked or how long I spent hanging out in the woods staying out of the way, but suddenly I became the blessed recipient of some sweet divine intervention. There, lying right in the middle of the trail, was a tube wrapped up in electrical tape with two 16 gram CO2 cartridges and a tire lever. I could only see this as a sign that I should not go quietly into that good keg, but ride, ride, ride into that glorious afternoon.

I threw my bike down and went to work utilizing my new found trail bounty. The tube was a 29'er to top it all off, and the flat repair was quick work what with 32 grams of CO2 goodness. It actually mounted the tire in a quite over inflated manner, but until I had time to analyze the situation fully I left it all in there for good measure.

When I ROLLED into the second aid station I made sure I took the time to get my shit straight before heading out. I left behind all the unwanted clothing, the "borrowed" CO2 canisters, the defective tube, and whatever else I didn't need. I grabbed my preloaded Awesome Strap, mounted it up, and grabbed some Pringles for the road. I wasn't going to get all the time I lost back, but I felt like I owed it to the mountain bike karma peddlers to do what I could with the gift I was given.

From that point on there were carrots aplenty up the road. Every time I got to an open climb I spent the entire time passing people. It felt great to be able to stand up and hammer at will, and it was a disappointing feeling and at the same time sorta exciting. I don't remember the last time I was able to keep the pace that high for so long. When I could see a single speeder riding in the distance it was all I could do to kick in like the race was gonna be over in sixty seconds. Chase, destroy, better than mid pack glory.

By the time I hit the big descent off Shenandoah Mountain I had to let some air out. Trying to descend like I was still tubeless at 18.5PSI when I was tubed at something more like 27PSI was taking it's toll, and I was willing to risk the chance of flatting in the name of some comfort and control. I had forgotten to tape my wrist and with the swelling and the watch banging around I'd had as much physical discomfort as I needed.

I finished in 9:30:38, hardly close to my best times of 8:43 and 8:46, but it was hard not to be happy with how my day went. I managed to fight back to 17th place single speed which is pretty cool since I recognized some of the folks that ended up in the 30's and 40's that I had to pass along the way. This was my only 100 miler in 2010, and it was a great feeling to be able to stay solid for over nine and a half hours. I just wish it woulda been something closer to eight and a half.

If you happen to be the guy who lost his shit that saved my day contact me at teamdicky at hotmail dot com and describe your lost bundle. I will return or replace everything I used (minus the electrical and duct tape) and mail it back to you.

To the folks rocking the Dicky Death March gear during and after the race...

You rock.