If you're not interested in reading a very long post about a non-finish, I suggest you go elsewheres.
Get to the parking lot earlier than I needed to, because I worry about things like finding a spot for my car and also finding some chamois cream to borrow. Find Watts's Adventure Wagon, say hello, ask for a dollop of taint-do-well. I take note of how most everyone else is dressed for the day, and I'm immediately filled with doubts. I convince myself that my GORE Shake Dry jacket will be too much for a 41-50° day, head back to the Honda Fit of Rage, put a second sleeveless base layer under my sleeveless jersey... stick the Shake Dry in my jersey pocket... just in case.
Left behind in my car:
GORE TEX cycling cap
Long sleeve GORE Wear base layer
HandUp cold weather gloves
GORE Shake Dry jacket with a hood
GORE Wear C5 All Mountain baggy shorts
Roll up to the line, say hello to little friends... more clothing analysis. As per the usual, answer the "I thought you didn't race gravel" queries lobbed my direction.
photo cred: Steve B/Icon Media Asheville
Go.Head outta town, I see Garth "Sideshow Bob" Prosser up ahead. I pin myself to close the gap, knowing full well it's not in my best interest. Pull past Kelly P, but I'm too outta breath to say a word. Get up on Garth's wheel, blurt out a "Hello, Garth," and begin my drift back into the pack. Goodbye, Garth, Kelly... everyone...
What a drift backwards it is. At first, it's a tidal wave crashing around me. Eventually, it becomes packs of riders, probably two to ten at a time. Finally, Gardner pulls up next to me and tells me to hop on his wheel. I explain to him just how detrimental it would be for him to slow down to the maximum speed I can maintain on the mostly flat ride outta town on my 32X18. I knew I'd be alone for most of the day, and I'd already made my peace with that when I decided to do this race.
"It's okay, I'm not really in a hurry."
So we ride side by side and chat.
A loud noise comes up from behind, and then a fat bike passes us.
Fuck me.
I tell Gardner to just leave me in my own filth.
"I know what's coming... big climb."
Gardner also tells me about the weather forecast during our conversationally paced group ride.
"A lot of people only looked at the weather down in Lenoir, but there's a good chance of a wintery mix up on the Parkway."
I'm in that "lot of people" group.
Fuck me twice.
photo cred: Steve B/Icon Media Asheville
The course does finally turn up, and I say my goodbyes to Gardner. I knew it would go like that, but it doesn't make me any happier once having company and now losing it with something like a million miles to go.Hitting the first really significant climb around mile twenty, I catch up to fellow single speeder Gabor. I pass him, wait a minute or so... look back... he's stuck on my wheel.
"You don't mind if I stay with you, do you?"
Fuck me thrice.
*in my head... of course I don't want you on my wheel, I wanna be left alone and never see anyone else in the single speed class the rest of the day so I can just focus on finishing and not placing*
Out of my mouth, "Sure. C'mon."
And there he is, a man much larger than me, sticking to my wheel up the climb. I was just getting ready to turn on my music and tune out... and he pulls alongside me and starts chatting.
And it was actually nice. I've raced against him quite a few times in the past, so it was pleasant to talk to him for once IRL and not just on FaceBook. We get over the top, and on the backside, I'm able to put a small gap on him in the more technical parts of the descent. I paid a small price tho, as my hands got too cold, my thumbs went numb, and my core felt the chill.
Gabor catches up to me on the following flat road. I see a smart person stop to put on a jacket...
"I think I need to put my jacket on."
"If you stop to put on a jacket, I could stop with you and pee."
I commence to pull out my jacket and put it on while rolling. Dick move? Well, I have a decision to make soon, and I'd like to make it alone.
We'll be riding up to the split in the course for the 60 and 100 miler. I'm thinking if I roll up to it alone, see most of the people in front of me splitting short, mebbe I join them. I'm already fantasizing about getting home early, going to the Spoke Easy 4/20 Party... hitting the Backyard Trails on Sunday with fresh legs.
But Gabor is still with me when we get there. I explain to him my dilemma.
"What else are you going to do today?"
So, I figure that he's been keeping with me on the climbs, so mebbe we'll get through this whole thing together.
It's about a ten mile climb, some of it just plain stupid steep. We're riding up into the mist, and I'm glad I still have my jacket on, despite the effort being put in.
Gabor is right there with me... until he isn't. I don't know when it happened. It just did. I could no longer see him anywhere behind me back in the misty air. Meh.
Fuck me for an amount of times that I've lost track of.
Up at the Parkway aid station, grab some vittles, zip up the jacket, and go. The Parkway section is gentle, but the weather is not. A drizzle, a mist... a little bit of hail?
Fuck me infinity.
I bang the left turn on to a gravel road, and I know what's coming because of everything Gardner had told me earlier. Something like a fifteen mile descent, the longest of the day. Mebbe this will be fun?
It is the total ass opposite. First, the hand pain from the cold. Then my thumbs go numb, to the point that I can't feel my drooper lever... I take turns with my right thumb to give its compatriot a break. The shivering starts... also the out loud swearing. I feel muscles in my back start to lock up. My head starts to shake back and forth like a bobble head doll. I'm having trouble hitting the brakes s-o-f-t-l-y and controlling my bike is now difficult. I'm a human Shake Weight tossed off a cliff.
And I still have a long way to go down.
I see another rider pulled over, blowing into her bare hands.
Is she smart for stopping for self-care, or am I smart for trying to get this over with as fast as possible. I'd bet my money on the former, but I'm more familiar with the latter, so whatever.
My knees feel like blocks of ice, and I'm wondering if I'll be able to turn my legs over when this descent is done.
Finally, the road levels out... sorta. It's still slanted downwards, but I stand up and pedal frantically in an attempt to get my blood pumping. Wrenching the bars back and forth, exaggerating every movement.
I finally coast into the aid station at the Mortimer general store. There's only a couple other riders there... I'm too delirious to notice all the bikes lying around. I grab some tiny potatoes, try to drink a cup of Coke without pouring it all over my face, my hand shaking out of anything close to control.
I hear the aid station volunteer tell another rider that going straight will put them on the rest of the 60 mile course, short cutting back to Lenoir. Still, town is about 25 miles away. Take a right turn, and you have the rest of the 100(7) mile course, about 50 miles to go. I don't even know what to do. In theory, I'll get warmer?
But that last decent, that was dangerous. I was very unsafe, and the only way I coulda made it safer would have been to walk? Down gravel? 50 or 25 to quit? I can't decide.
And then Watts pops his head outta the general store.
"What th-th-the f-f-fuck are you d-d-doing here?" I stammer.
"Quitting."
I quickly realize that if I go on and finish now, I should be in third... assuming I can keep Gabor away AND live through the rest of the day. Still... fifty miles... four more hours? I have no clue what I'd be in for.
I watch as Watts tries to pour a Coke into a cup. He's in bad shape, the cup and the can violently dancing around in the air.
Watts tells me that he was able to reach out to Dorothy, and his van was on the way.
"I quit t-t-too."
We head into the general store... and it's packed with shivering bodies. It's a strangely comical and scary sight. There's a whole lotta people in bad shape, obviously all victims of our own lack of preparedness for the deteriorating conditions. Some are laughing at the sad state of affairs, while others are just shivering, soulless husks sitting and shaking in silence.
Oh, and Garth is in there... and our new friend Lucas... who happened to have a phone on him, thus allowing Watts to reach out to Dorothy to arrange our timely evacuation. After much shivering and seeing people with no such option come and sadly go either back out to finish or fail, Dorothy arrives and we commence our long drive of shame back to Lenoir.
That was hard. I'm not thrilled with quitting, because I know I've done harder things in the past. That said, I was unprepared, and I paid the price. Going on might have been dangerous, so I'm stupid but not that stupid.
Interesting enough, we got back in time to see the winners finish the 100. Nick Bragg came in third wearing just a kit. I talked to him... and yeah. The fastest riders got up and over the Parkway before the weather went to shit. Us mortals and slightly faster than mortals got unlucky... well, the kind of unlucky associated with not carrying some warmer clothes just in case.
Oh well.
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