2015 Shenandoah Mountain 100: Preamble and The Darkness

My plan was for us to ride our bikes as soon as we got to Stokesville.  Fifteen or twenty miles.  We pulled up to the campsite, got out of the car, noted the remarkable humidity, and decided Thai food would be even better.  Set up camp first though, and then the nicest person in the world who was hanging out with Paul (Robin?) offered us the beers she had left in her cooler.  Good beer.   Really good beer.

"Why are you letting us have this beer?"

"I'm leaving, and so I'm giving it away."

"I don't understand.  Beer won't go bad.  You could take it with you.  What's going on?"

"I'm trying to be nice."

"Oh.  I like that."

So that's how the beer started to be dranken at the 2015 Shenandoah Mountain 100.

Thai food, more beer, Bill Nye takes a nap and Colin and I hit the flow trail next to our campsite.

photo cred: Birdman

One lap of everything we could find (so sweet, except Colin stuck his chin in some fresh dirt once), and then back to the beer for awhile.

To the pavilion, where I then find Watts, also drinking beer.  We talk about goals and stuff and hang out with people who have a chance to do much better than us both.

photo cred: Thom/Dirt Wire TV

So... Watts and I observe all the single speeders milling about that either will most certainly crush us or at least have the potential to, and I tell him about my whole sub-9 hour "goal" thing.

"What difference does it make? Going sub-9 just means we'll be 6th, 7th, 8th, 9th, 10th, 11th... whatever. Who cares?"

"Does that mean you'd rather hang out and drink beer all night?"

"Yeth."

And so we did.

photo cred: Watts

Details get a little fuzzy from here.  Good times were had.  Food was forgotten to be eaten. 

photo cred: Watts

 Sad Hungry Dicky is sad and hungry.

A most pleasant evening was had in the company of good friends.  I end up at Buck's van to watch him pack his drop bags because he promised me a beer that was anything other than a Saison.  I tell him that I haven't eaten since Thai lunch, and he tells me that someone made him a plate of spaghetti a few hours ago that he never got around to eating.  Sounds perfect.  I scarf it down like a prisoner of war and then with the tiny flashlight Watts and Dorothy gave me, I stumble off to find my hammock.  

Not so surprisingly, all the things that I had planned on doing before I went to sleep were still not done.  I had thought I'd be back to camp... hours ago... in better shape.  I grab my sleeping bag and pad, put them in my hammock oriented in the opposite direction than I planned, and go right to sleep.

I wake up in the darkness to pee, crawl out of my hammock, get to the business, and because I wasn't pointed in the direction I thought I should have been due to my lack of planning, almost got lost trying to get back to my hammock.

A couple hours later, the gong was being gongified at 5:00AM.  I wake up, once again find myself facing the other direction, and I think to myself that I could just write off the $150 entry fee and go back to sleep.

No, I'd probably regret that.  Maybe not today, but a few days from now.  Time to get ready to ride.