The Whole Enchilada '20: THE RACE

Breakfast?  Who was in charge of procuring food stuffs while The Pie was outta town?

*looks at dog*

Oh, me.

I don't have much to eat around the house, so I throw an egg and a veggie buffalo chicken patty between a couple slices of bread.  Good enough.

As soon as I pull into the parking lot, I see Dung Le on his geared bike.  Good.  Last year he was first 40+, 4th overall... riding a single speed.  He crushed me by 23 minutes, so there goes one concern.  Then Niko parks next to me... with his single speed... a guy that's my son's age.

"I'm only doing the Half Enchilada."

Another potential nemesis eliminated.

They tell me when I pick up my number plate that the 8:30 AM or later start time was flexible.  The timing mats were up and running, so if you wanna start early, by all means.  Since it wasn't raining yet, it only made sense to make hay while the sun shines.  Back to the Honda Fit of Rage, get ready, head down... start my individual time trail at 8:28 AM...

Sprint directly down the gravel access road with people coming up at me all over the place on their way to the start line, not realizing they were on a live course... and immediately miss a turn because it kinda wasn't really a turn but there weren't any arrows... and remember what I said about the USNWC never taping off intersections because they don't "close" the trails for races and the leaders going off course right from the start last year (different start location, so don't laugh too hard at me).

Anyways, sort myself out and get into the first easy trails.

Since it's a time trial, I figure I'll do my best to keep my heart rate in check.  Stay away from the high 170s, try not to dip into the 180s... but I slowly start gaining on two guys riding together, and I don't wanna be behind them when things get technical on Academy so I giver 'er... and I see 187 BPM.

Doh.  Match burned.

Okay.  Calm down.

The course is slick.  Like "watch your ass" slick.  The bridges?  Goose shit.  Even tho I'm approaching them dead on, no brakes, no acceleration, I still feel my ass break loose and get a little sideways.  Hmmmm.

There's not a whole lotta passing going on.  The fast guys ahead of me are pretty much staying there.  The faster guys behind me... I let them know "I'm left, you're right" or whatever.  The slower riders in front of me aren't all as accommodating.  I wish everyone understood how time trials work, but some people think masks work when they're worn under their nose parts.

Mebbe I risked my biscuits getting onto North Main to appease the disorderly crowd cheering at the rooty entrance, but for the most part, I'm trying to minimize my risks.  Running up slick technical climbs is better than tipping over or getting a cramp tryna throw a last-minute foot down.  I've already seen my shares of skid marks going off the bridges and bloody bodies today.

Niko (doing the Half) catches me, passes me, and then I catch him back as he's limping across a wet bridge.

"Cramps."

Something I don't wanna think about.  While I was wandering about getting ready for the race Friday night, the only thing I forgot was my mustard packs.  I can't afford to cramp.  I also didn't bring my Shuffle for distraction, but that's because it was supposed to rain.  Now for some unknown reason, Don Henley's "All She Wants To Do Is Dance" is playing on repeat in my head.  No real reason for this.  I was jamming to Charlotte Talks on NPR on the drive here.  I don't like that song.  I don't own that song.

But there it is.  In my head.  It won't leave.

I shoulda risked it and brought my Shuffle.

Okay, off North Main and now we're on the latter half of the course. 

As you can see, the real kicks in the dick are in the last half.  So many hurty climbs.  Eat the elephant one bite at a time tho.

It starts with some of my favorite trails actually.  The older ones that predate the USNWC ownership of the property.  My stoke would be higher, but I miscalculated my liquids.  Just after mile 30, I had to pull over, unscrew the lids, and pour the couple ounces that will just sit in the lid if you try to squirt them out of the nozzle.  It's probably another six to seven miles to the last (my first) aid station fill.

And then I almost miss the Toilet Bowl loop... partially because I almost always skip it on regular rides, partially because some nice course tape woulda kept me on course, mostly because I had my head down.  U-turn and make my way correctly onto the loop.

Don't cramp, shit head.

Okay.  Lake Loop.  Beginner trail.  Can't really go fast on a 32X19 here.  Enjoy the break before the hardest and longest trails of the day.  Come up on a jogger (who's going the wrong way on this shared use trail which tells runners/hikers to go opposite direction of riders) who's wearing bone conduction earphones... surely he can hear my LOUD Spur Cycle bell?

No... at least not until it's too late and he stops in the middle of a short steep up and brings me to a complete halt causing me to almost loop out.

"Gawdammit."

That's not what I said, but it wasn't nice either.  Not terrible, but definitely something about earphones and common courtesy.  Yeth, I wear earphones often, but I also keep it low and keep an eye out so fight me.

Off the Lake Loop, ambiguously following the arrows through the parking lot... see an arrow, make a right turn...

"Not that right, this right!" someone yells.

I look up and there's a second arrow and a second, more trail-looking right turn.  Of course?

Get to the aid station, and I'm not dead yet.  Fill one bottle with what the volunteer called "Gatorade," have a second thought, grab the other bottle and half fill it with water.  Doubtful I'd need that much to make ten miles, but who knows?

Get a chance to take a swig, go for the beverage which probably has electrolytes and calories and such...

"What in Dog's name is this sweet hell?"

It tastes like high fructose corn syrup mixed with Skittles.  I'd say it's undrinkable to anyone who can't stomach regular Pepsi mixed with lime Kool Aid.

Commence with trying to squirt the extra weight outta the bottle, because I'm not carrying this around for another minute.

So, a half bottle of water.  Fine.

I really have a love/hate relationship with this part of the course.  I don't generally ride the Tributary and East Main (locals call it East Pain) loops because I don't prefer them over a lot of the other trails.  Punchy.  Never ending.  Homogeneous yet random torture.

But to its credit, I can direct my hate very well here.  With every pedal stroke, I feel like I'm punching the trail in the face.  Well, I guess that would be kicking it in the face.  I'm sure most of you would say I'm too short and my age has made me too inflexible to kick anything in the face.  I'd argue that I could kick a toddler in the face, and I'd be willing to prove it, but then I'll be canceled for kicking a toddler in the face.

Out of East Pain, randomly across another parking lot... into the final piece of North Main and Jack Rabbit.  I'm in the final miles.  The only thought going through my head...

"Dump everything you've got left on my pos. I say again, expend all remaining in my perimeter. It's a lovely fucking war."

I don't wanna see a heart rate below 170 now.  There's nothing to save my matches for anymore.

Jack Rabbit to the gravel road around the whitewater channel to...

I hear the clamor of my idiot friends banging bike parts together.  I'm coming in hot...  but I don't see an arrow or a finish line.  Just my idiot friends.

"WHICH WAY DO I GO?"

"RIGHT RIGHT RIGHT!"

Look right and obviously there's the finish line at the top of the hill.  I say "obviously," but I've only been on this part of the property once, nineteen months ago.  There's no beer or good trails over here, so how would I know where the hell I am... and I live here?

Put everything into that final hundred yards, hear the beep... roll past the finish with a foot and a half stream of drool hanging off my chin.

How'd I do?

Check back tomorrow.