'25 King and Queen of the Watershed

Wow, my fifth run at the King and Queen of the Watershed.  The last six years have flown by.  Its one more of those events that I just don't know if I'll ever tire of it.  It's a unique format, five full-gas stages over twenty five miles, an excuse to see my frand Watts, and an excellent post-race hang with super awesome food stuffs and beer. 

Oh, and that we turn it all into a fifty five mile all day affair is all the buenos.

I can't say the wisest decisions were made Friday night, but I don't think Watts and I have had the pleasure of each other's company since... early June?  There was a fair amount of catching up to do after he closed up the shop, so that allotted enough time for Watts to transition from beer to bourbon... and then beer.  

Wake up at 8:00am, force some processed food squares into my maw, and head out the door for the thirteen miles of spinning 32X18 to the first trail head.

Checking in at the start and whadda I see?

99% sure that is my OG custom Dean titanium Meatplow that this blerhg started with, the last mountain bike frame I'd ever buy...

The new owner had no idea that I was the first person to ride that bike or any of its storied history.  Originally purchased in early 2004 (or '05?), I rode it at my first stage race, the '04 La Ruta de los Conquistadores (or was that the Spicer prolly?).  I know it went up to the '05 Trans Rockies... 

and '06 Trans Rockies...

and also did the first year of the NUE Series and got third SS (don't tell Ryan O'dell the year was 2006).

I won the first Cohutta 100 on it in '06, and took the fixed gear win at the Shenandoah Mountain 100 (yeth, we had enough people that stupid to have a category back then).  Oh, and I won my 24 Hour Solo Single Speed World Championship on it as well.

Club fit "World Champ" jersey for a guy with club fit fitness.

If 29ers had never been invented, I might still be riding it.  The writing was on the wall back in '06 tho, as I watched my fellow but more forwarded thinking single speeders rolling over the chunk with aplomb.  The Meatplow V.1 was sold to Tommawicki, who then sold it to Moni (pretty sure those wheels were Bill Fehr's R.I.P.).

So... that was strange and neat.

After a gentle thirteen mile commute to the start, the first stage is a super eye opener.  I can't remember the last time I spent a decent duration of time well above my lactate threshold and bumping all up into my maximum heart rate.  Mebbe somewhere at the Trans Sylvania Epic, but who knows?  My Wahoo data acquisition device was throwing garbage numbers at me all week in May.

It only takes a little rolling along before I'm shooting through the 170s and then remaining in the 180s (touching 189 once), so I guess my 56 year old hummingbird heart still works like it used to.  The trails couldn't have been in better condition, and I finished like I gave it my all... that is, I finished the first three mile stage like I gave it my all.  The second stage was more of the same, and I was feeling like mebbe I could do this all day.

Nope.

I'm almost immediately gassed on Stage Three.  My breakfast has been fully burned off, and the self-doubting thoughts are creeping in.  Mebbe I've bitten off more than I should be chewing these past couple months?  Watts starts to catch up to me, and I don't know that he didn't have the full one minute delay between our TT starts, so I think he's just closed down a full minute.  Sads.  I pass a turtle on the trail that I almost didn't see in time and screamed "TURTLE."  Knowing Watts's empathetic approach to living creatures (non-human), I realize he will stop to halp the turtle.

I appreciate this.

He does stop for the turtle... and still catches me.

"You moved the turtle, didn't you?"

"Yeth."

And then he passes me.

FWIW, I finally take the time to put some more nutrition inside me and add a little Coke to my system.  Being that the last two stages are climb-heavy, I take a short break to sort myself out before hitting the trails that should lean towards the minor advantages of being a tiny man.  It musta done the trick, because I felt more like myself again, albeit an on-the-edge-of-cramping version of myself.

At the finish, beer, foods, frands... wait for the results to slowly come in.  They can't be posted until they get all the riders through each stage.

Anyhoo...
 

Bruce, my occasional single speed nemesis won this time.  Watts and I just did what we do, get on a podium sometimes looking up those who have bested us on the day.  Watts did try to get a round of "WE HATE BRUCE" going, but the crowd would not join in.

Once again, Watts and I rolled around in the grass and accepted free and/or leftover beer until we were the last ones there.

Yeth, it hurt.  A lot.

Yeth, I will be back.  A lot.

Now... I gotta deal with the hot mess of a backyard party I have planned this weekend.