Windrock. Rode: Middle Finger
Snake Rock 2 times
Windmill 2 times
Rail Yard
I may be going to hell in a bucket; but at least I am harvesting the ride.
Sunday, July 29, 2007
Monday, July 23, 2007
The Battle for Mt. Mitchell
The Off-Road Assault on Mt. Mitchell was a full on battle. Soldiers from all over the southeast and beyond showed up in big numbers. Team Yazoo and Team Harpers both had a big showing. I wore the Harpers jersey for the ride.
The anticipation of the race makes enjoying the weekend difficult, and as the troops arrived into town we had a big dinner in Asheville the night before the race. I was up and moving by 5:00am the morning of the race. With the experience from last year under my belt, I was confident in my ability to complete the ride, but I had forgotten the extreme anguish that awaited me.
I started off the ride moving at a descent clip, without expending too much energy early on, which was a wise move. We rolled out of downtown Old Fort past the geyser and into the mountains. I felt good until the climb up Curtis Creek nearly broke me in many ways. The 9-mile climb to the Parkway delivered a gut punch that almost sent me to the ground. But when we made it to the parkway, another 5-mile climb to Heartbreak Ridge lurked around the corner for the sucker punch that almost wiped me out. By this point my PMBAR partner, Eric, and I were working through it like a team. Which helped me to keep going strong.
Heartbreak Ridge is one of the best descents I have ridden. The race run was ridden in a severely depraved state, but an epic none the less. I made a pass on a few people early on, and as I was passing them I was stung by a bee. I was tagged, but couldn't stop so I kept rolling drop elevation so fast my ears didn't even have time to pop.
After the long descent there was only one last battle on Kitzuma, which would nearly break me. Intense leg and full body cramps plagued my every move by this stage, and making it the top was difficult, and making it down was brutal. I feel sorry for the fools on a rigid bike. No thanks.
I made in with a sprint to the finish, at approximately 7 hours and 30 minutes, and crawled into the creek to cool off. After that I pummeled several beers and slipped into a stupor before we went out to dinner at the Fiddle'N Pig. The END.
The anticipation of the race makes enjoying the weekend difficult, and as the troops arrived into town we had a big dinner in Asheville the night before the race. I was up and moving by 5:00am the morning of the race. With the experience from last year under my belt, I was confident in my ability to complete the ride, but I had forgotten the extreme anguish that awaited me.
I started off the ride moving at a descent clip, without expending too much energy early on, which was a wise move. We rolled out of downtown Old Fort past the geyser and into the mountains. I felt good until the climb up Curtis Creek nearly broke me in many ways. The 9-mile climb to the Parkway delivered a gut punch that almost sent me to the ground. But when we made it to the parkway, another 5-mile climb to Heartbreak Ridge lurked around the corner for the sucker punch that almost wiped me out. By this point my PMBAR partner, Eric, and I were working through it like a team. Which helped me to keep going strong.
Heartbreak Ridge is one of the best descents I have ridden. The race run was ridden in a severely depraved state, but an epic none the less. I made a pass on a few people early on, and as I was passing them I was stung by a bee. I was tagged, but couldn't stop so I kept rolling drop elevation so fast my ears didn't even have time to pop.
After the long descent there was only one last battle on Kitzuma, which would nearly break me. Intense leg and full body cramps plagued my every move by this stage, and making it the top was difficult, and making it down was brutal. I feel sorry for the fools on a rigid bike. No thanks.
I made in with a sprint to the finish, at approximately 7 hours and 30 minutes, and crawled into the creek to cool off. After that I pummeled several beers and slipped into a stupor before we went out to dinner at the Fiddle'N Pig. The END.
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
The Beast of the Southeast
ORAM is the word on the street. Tis' the season. The buzz is in the air.
This Sunday, Southeastern cities riders converge at the foot of the tallest mountain east of the Mississippi for a soul searching ride fraught with mind altering climbs. Last year I rode the 63 miles of trail and logging road through the Grandfather Ranger District of Pisgah National Forrest in 7 hours 59 minutes and a few seconds, just under my goal time of 8 hours. This years race has been extended to 70 miles, and we are rolling to the start line with a big posse again. Team Yazoo will be showing the big numbers with riders from Nashville, Knoxville and Chattanooga.
This Sunday, Southeastern cities riders converge at the foot of the tallest mountain east of the Mississippi for a soul searching ride fraught with mind altering climbs. Last year I rode the 63 miles of trail and logging road through the Grandfather Ranger District of Pisgah National Forrest in 7 hours 59 minutes and a few seconds, just under my goal time of 8 hours. This years race has been extended to 70 miles, and we are rolling to the start line with a big posse again. Team Yazoo will be showing the big numbers with riders from Nashville, Knoxville and Chattanooga.
Thursday, July 05, 2007
The definitive farmers tan suggest I have done something fun. I spent the better part of the 4th of July cleaning out my car and gear from a 4-day shred-fest in West Virginia. Like a sunshine day-dream, here I sit in the garage, drinking a beer and blasting the Grateful Dead, recounting memories of what can only be described as the perfect bike vacation.
I made it into Snowshoe village by early Saturday morning, after staying in Beaver, WV (outside of Beckley). It was a misty morning as the sun broke through the fog, but the trails were a long way from dry. I ran into the rest of the Knoxville crew as I geared up and I was on the trail just after 10:00am.
As I barreled into the race course, I had serious doubts of the trail and conditions. Sliding into steep turns knowing I had almost no control of where the bike went, I was just along for the ride. And after surviving the first trip down the mountain, I needed to make a tire swap and Ben Rams came through loaning me a better suited tire for the day.
Traveling light, and free to wander, I made it all over the mountain, meeting all kinds of people from all over. I made a run down Powerline with the Kona “Dude” and his dog Jake. The Canadians loved Powerline, they were stoked to find the flow trail that could be ridden after a few beers with lunch. I had a few good routes to Powerline, mostly I went Cupp Cake to Sport Course to STP to Ball-N-the-Jack to Powerline.
By mid day the trails were drying fast, and everyone was amped to realize this fact. The clouds moved out for good, and sun prevailed for the next few days. Race day was perfect and I had a blast hanging and riding.
I cranked out runs all morning leading up to my race run. I was a little worried I would wear myself out, but I was there to have fun not to win a race, so I kept pushing it. I was key'd up before my race, and I was talking to myself like Elvis would before a show. I was certain I was ready to kill it as I steeped into the starting gate, and came out in between gears and couldn't clip in. But I quickly pulled it together riding a perfect run, just trying to get a good flow going. It wasn’t until ¾ the way down that I was convinced I could win if I just kept riding smooth. That thought set off a series bad moves. I came into a drop that gave me no trouble in any practice runs, but managed to put my front wheel in a wash-out pitching me to the ground. I got up quick and jump back on the course but couldn’t gather my wits and hit a tree. At this point my run had fallen apart, and I rode sloppy all the way down from there. But as I crossed the finish line a huge weight was lifted, and I knew I had the rest of the day to hang out, drink beer and ride. And that what I did.
Fun in the sun continued in the perfect low 70’s day on Snowshoe mtn. I rolled down the mountain with Ben as he got his flow together for the race. Rapping on the way back up, I knew he was consumed with the mission. He pulled it together to stomp the road gap in his race run, pulling a fast time, but in the elite class it wasn’t enough to win. In the end, I think his goal was the same as mine: have fun and push yourself. I would say the goal was accomplished.
I stayed on the mountain for the next few days riding some big loops covering nearly every trail in the 11,000 + acres of Snowshoe. I also made it over to the Monongahela National Forest for a trip down Props Run trail.
Tuesday, July 03, 2007
Alleghany Gravity Research
Snowshoe, WVThe mountains breathe misty... The sun shines dusty.
The weather is always a gamble when heading to Snowshoe, but we sat plush with a royal flush, aces back to back. "It doesn't get any better than this."
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