The Man Who Killed Hitler and Ten ORAMMs...

and a bottom bracket bearing... and a couple sets of brake pads...

Well, the weather forecast Thursday night looked promising enough to let my hotel reservation ride and commit to doing another ORAMM... you know, a weather forecast for a temperate rain forest, or as I like to think of it, a rain forest with a temper.

I got into town on Saturday in time to share a couple post-race beers with Bill Nye at Hillman Brewing to hear about his Jerdon Mountain Challenge earlier that day. From there, back to the Super 8 to sit next to what was a pool at one point but is now an oddly shaped pit of gravel for a few more beers to discuss where he and my Carborocket One-11 bottles would meet up with me on the course... 

and when we ran out of beers, a quick walk over the no-longer-safe-since-Helene bridge to Ole's Guacamoles for last call.

I got up way too early after a restless night's sleep and was headed over to the start long before I needed to be there.  I got kitted up and mounted my Jerdon Mountain number plate (they ran outta ORAMM plates at day-of registration)...

The price you pay for avoiding the inevitable.  It was, as George McFly would say, "my density."

Sitting in my car, I considered mounting my fender... but thought better of it.

And then the rain started to pour down.  Meh.

I didn't pack a rain jacket, so I waited it out... and then reluctantly mounted my fender... thinking the whole time, " I could just drive home now."

Seriously.  Fuck this.  I'm not a wealthy man, but I can afford writing this off as a loss.

At least it wasn't actively raining at the start, so there's that.

The new course had us on almost 5.5 miles of sorta flat road VS the OG course of 3 miles, so I knew I'd be dropping even further back in the main field before the meaty climbing started... which also means getting caught behind downhill traffic the first time we head descend Bernard.  As often happens, single speeders pushing similar gears end up close enough to work together but have no idea how to make it happen.  I was with Brad and Gabe going into the first climb, and then I decided it was time to make biscuits.  I got past quite a few riders, and it looked like I was gonna have a clean run down a baby diarrhea covered Bernard Trail without hitting heavy traffic. 

*sigh*

I got held up quite a bit, and concerned that Gabe or Brad might have had the chance to close the gap, I hit the climb up to Kitsuma like a piñata full of burritos.  I tried like nuts balls to drop one of the riders who stuffed me up a little bit going down Bernard, but damn if they didn't get past me on the little bit of road leading to the switchback climb.  More biscuits needed to be made to get around them, but then it was a clean run down a saturated Kitsuma.

All race images courtesy of Icon Media Asheville.

Fast forwarding a whole lot, Bill Nye was spot on with the bottle delivery on both sides of the forest (although I almost fell over from a foggy brain on handoff #2).  As the day wore on, I kept closing down gaps on riders that were really suffering with the conditions.  I only wrecked once and twisted my bars when I stupidly looked back to see what "feature" I'd just gone around.  It started actively raining on me for the first time ever in all my ORAMMs at a point where I really didn't wanna be rained on climbing up Camp Rock.

That trail can suck mine and all the other dicks that are available for sucking... at least in that direction

I came down into the Heckle Rock section with my flat tire from exactly here three weeks ago weighing heavily on my mind, not to mention this is where Gabe flatted at the Old Fort 50 '24, giving me his spot on the podium.  Risk a chance to get first place in my last ever ORAMM or satisfy the eager-for-carnage crowd?

I'm too old for peer pressure...

Safely down on my two feets and just one more big up/down and then the long road back to town.  I'll get another shot at it in a week at the Old Fort Fifty when the self-imposed stakes will be lower.  I flicked through the five hundred some odd photos, and at least their thirst for blood was slightly wetted.

Yeeeee-ouch.  That one hurt, but at least I felt like I earned "it," whatever "it" is.

6hr:39min, 1st SS, 25th overall, and dammit... two minutes behind the first place 50+ because I like to compare my efforts to my fellow humans with droopy elbow skin.

I've got no regrets about going for a tenth finish, and once I get my chain outta the sonic cleaner and replace the toasted bottom bracket bearing and brake pads, I'll be ready to put ORAMM behind me.

Again.

For now.