Pisgah 111k (but much less than)

I can say my weekend went off as planned, as in to say, there was hardly a plan, so there you have it.

I was getting off at 2:00 PM from work, and at 1:35 PM, a long distance run came in.  Southeast side of town.  My car is parked on the Southwest side.  I'd managed to dodge the rain all day, but of course, it started coming down on the way to my stop.  By the time I got to my car, my shorts were soaked.

At least I'd established a theme.

Start getting texts from my little friends about an hour from Brevard.

"Where we gonna eat?"

"What time we gonna eat?"

"We're just going to The Hub."

So, I get to The Hub about a half beer later than everyone else, drink a Sierra Nevada, head over to the start/finish so I can set up my Fit of Rage sleep system (the half-ass no platform taco shaped air mattress version).  My little friends register, and for the first time, we hear about course reroutes.  No more multiple creek crossings due to swollen creeks.  No more up and over Black Mountain to finish due to recent trail work (soft tread).  Interesting...

Off to El Chapala for sub-par Mexican food and a couple novelty-sized Dos Equis.  I get dropped off back at my car, and go hang out with Yuri and Eric and Erinna and... whoever else is sitting under the EZ Up to stay outta the rain.  Fluidly emboldened, I considering racing.  I get my number plate and think about what I have in the car that would that would allow me to make great bike race... and all that I don't.  Things like nutrition, a kit, my riding glasses... little things.  I could half-ass it, but I'd be paying the price over eight to nine hours.

Oh, and I've never ridden the JaBronSSOn in the Pisgah.  No idea if 32X19 is buenos or how well the tensioner will hold up to an onslaught of mud and wet sand.

Staring at the roof on the Fit of Rage, I contemplate and then sleep.  I wake up multiple times to the sound of rain pummeling the car throughout the night.

Meh.

Wake up for the last time... I'm not racing.  No way.

I remind myself that this was a sound decision based on everything I'd already decided before I had my first beer the night before.

8:00 AM, watch the race start.  I have to kill three hours before I can head out towards lower Pilot Rock.  I witness the less glamorous side of race promotion, watching promoters and volunteers... do things that look boring and business-like.  John and Randy show up to scoop the aid station four stuff, and I quickly realize they can save me the heavy lifting of carrying a pack load of beer up and over a few mountains.  Toss my pack in the truck and now I'm committed to go chase down all my shit I sent away.

The sun comes out and I get dressed and leave the start.  Mebbe ten minutes into the climb up Clawhammer, it starts to pour.

Well, okay.  Still better than being out in it for nine hours.

Up, up, up and get to the top. Reward myself with the half empty bottle of liquid I was smart enough to carry with me... my full bottle also waiting for me up ahead.  Run into Chris Tries coming the other way.  He's decided to bail.  Too much "fun" two weeks ago chasing Thomas Turner around at PMBAR.

Out Gauging Station Rd, see boaters dragging kayaks down the road (whuh?), get to the aid, grab my pack, head up Pilot Rock.  It's not long before I hear the heckle pit (okay, three guys from Florida, Josh's dad and Steve the photographer).  Excuse myself to get naked, put on my America eagle Speedos... one of the guys from Florida not only accuses me of being a roadie but also an accountant.  Warming up his heckles, I guess.

Eventually, the riders start coming through.  Much joy is had.  Also beer.  I was happy to be there.

photo cred: Icon Media Asheville

Guy rides through the Humvee section and initiates a high five 3/4 of the way through.  Very nice.

Mebbe the heckle video gets posted soon?

Hang out until Josh's dad is ready to leave and accept the offer of a ride back.  I've had enough beer and shivering to skip the long ride back to the finish.

Hang out the rest of the night until all the cows come home and happily crawl back into my car at 10:30 PM for one more night of moist sleep before heading home and back to reality.