Vague Idea Racing: PMBAR '22 (part three of some more)

I considered Ohio Josh and Kenny to be "competition." They seemed to be the types of guys who become quickly familiar with new trails (they've both frequented Pisgah in the past). Wherein, I'm the guy doing his nineteenth PMBAR and still making rookie mistakes. They give me the piece of data that I didn't wanna know. They're 24 miles and 2 CPs into their day, and Watts and I are just a couple tenths of a mile short of 30 with the same amount of CPs.

We had done 5-6 too many miles, and as Watts would unfortunately realize later, those weren't just "miles," they were "Pisgah miles." There is a harsh conversion there.

At least we're now both on the same page. Let's just ride, eat, drink, try and have "fun," get all the checkpoints, and mebbe next year is "our year." Fuck this year.

1206 garvel and passing more and more people that are like "what are you guys doing here?" They should know by now what we're doing here. I'm an idiot. Bathroom to fill water bottles that should be completely empty four and a half hours in but aren't. Up Wash Creek, up Spencer, checkpoint three, down Spencer... I think Watts says something sad about his sprained sometime ago but not healed wrist. Down to Fletcher and scratch my head about what "something something yards down Fletcher from something something" means and here comes the single speeders Harper and Henderson coming down from Fletcher(da fuq?). They tell us there's a single speed team just ahead, which is everything Watts and I don't wanna hear. We stopped "racing" hours ago.

Now we're all up in it with those two and headed back outta North Mills.

"What's faster, all gravel out or Lower Trace?"

I'd already crunched those numbers, and the best bet for Watts and I was the gravel by a skosh, but the real advantage is that you can drink on the way back down to the bathrooms for a refill.

"Faster and more efficient to take the gravel, but Watts and I are going down Trace for more fun."

They end up at the bathrooms about thirty seconds behind us. So much for my research.

I've barely drank a half bottle since the last time we were here an hour and a half ago. Nothing unusual for me. Unhealthy? Yeth, but unusual, no. Scott Harper is asking me whether or not it's worth it to do the Pilot Cove checkpoint for the two hour time bonus.

Our "competition" is asking me for advice? As a friend, sure... but as someone who has spent the last eighteen years doing this race and earning what I know about PMBAR with blood, sweat, and tears?

♪ I ain't saying you're a gold digger... ♪

"Ummmm... I dunno. After looking at the map and seeing that it's moved from where it normally is, I think mebbe."

♪ Eighteen years... eighteen years. ♪

"Hey, what's the best way to get back to Pressley Gap to the finish?"

♪ Eighteen years... eighteen years. ♪

I know the Kanye song is not really applicable here, but at least it replaced whatever annoying earwig I had at the time.

So, now we're climbing up 1206 with these two ding dongs (I mean that affectionately), and near the top, I can see the familiar sight of a single speeder doing the "dead man walking" cadence. In a manner of minutes, I can see that we caught Nico and his partner (Nico, is a local now, and I've got him pegged for the SS podium).

Great. Now we're three teams of single speeders fighting for mebbe the last step on the podium but prolly more like 4, 5, and 6, but who really knows? I've decided Watts and I are doing this CP as a loop, and either the other two teams decide the same or they just follow the guy who's already fucked up big time once today (and so many times in the past).

When Watts and I hit the steeps going up Pilot Cove, each team had one rider far ahead of us and one far behind. We're just moving along at a happy place.

"Hey, Watts. Good news..."

I figure if we gotta be at least a couple hours and two climbs from the finish. With each team having a weaker link and plenty of the day to get weaker, we just have to maintain and eat and stuff on the last two climbs to...

To what?

Preserve our precious fourth place? Who cares?

I guess we do.

Gauging Station Rd to the Advanced Wheelchair Ramp to Clawhammer (mostly) back down to the climb up to Hot Dog Gap that I'm now all too familiar with (from the total time to the turn by turn to the views to the three ouchy parts) to the final descent.

We're not a minute into the last trail before Watts reminds me that his wrist is "owweee." I can't imagine how bad it's been all day to ride a stupid turgid fork in Pisgah for... a bunch of hours? Dunno. I turned my Wahoo to just display nothing but the map hours ago after I fucked up. Let's just say a lot of hours. I checked up on Watts every few minutes and pointed out the wrist-friendlier lines when I could, just hoping the other two teams wouldn't catch us. The whole time, I'm still focused on the "clack-clack-clack" noise and thinking that whatever it was that was about to fail on my bike was waiting for the moment when we would be at the height of our revelries, when our joy is at its zenith, when all is most right with the world, that is when the most unthinkable disasters would descend upon us.* Vividly picturing a snapped handlebar or fork and my face sliding down the mountain into a pile of rocks oh so close to the finish of my 19th PMBAR...

But nothing untoward happens. We finish... and there's a whole lotta people already at the finish line, at least in my mind.

Chris Joice walks up and congratulates us on our finish.

"Second place single speed."

Huh and also what?