This picture is a good representation of our different racing styles. Denny likes to hammer from the gun, I prefer to go all Zen on long events.
Now if you are unfamiliar with Michaux, let me bring you up to date with a quick synopsis of the events and area. Michaux is a mountain biker's race. Now, I don't just mean that you race Michaux on a mountain bike, but rather it takes a true mountain biker to genuinely enjoy the event. The trails are about the toughest you will find across the country, and the unforgiving undulations and geographic qualities of the area create many casualties of both flesh and metal alike. Forty miles of Michaux is guaranteed to beat you up proper, regardless of how your legs are feeling.
So, blah blah blah, these trails are freaking tough. You get the point? Good. Let's move on.
For the first time this year, I opted for a camelbak to accommodate my hydration needs. Denny made the same choice, though I poked fun at the obscene size of his camelbak by stuffing a crankset and bottom bracket in the back pocket before the race, "just in case." Little did I know, the joke would be on me later in the race. The temperature was supposed to reach 85 degrees that day, so our warm-up strategy was to drink a bottle of water and sit around until the race started. We knew it would be a long day on the bike, and the start of the race would do little to determine our finishing places, so warming up was decidedly overrated.
The race commences, and I casually move up the field as Denny hammers his way towards the front. I let him go after a few minutes, and would catch up with him shortly after as he stood on the side of the trail yelling some obscenities about how the race sucked. And it did. The first hour was brutal with the high temperatures, and the trails just kept shooting up and down the slopes of hills. I kept muscling along at a decent pace, and eventually made it to the first water station (approximately 10-ish miles into the race).
I took my time at the station; I had no idea where I was in the field of riders, and I wanted to make sure to refuel correctly before moving on. I felt fantastic leaving the water station, and proceeded to move at a good pace up some technical rollers/climbs. After that, we hit a fun [read: sketchy with loose rocks] descent which rattled me up, but I was still able to gain some time on riders. Unfortunately, one loose rock decided on a trajectory aimed at my crankset, and hit with enough force to snap the ring at the bolts and bend half of the ring at a 40 degree angle. I wasn't depending on the big ring for much in that event, but those parts are not cheap to replace. Even so, I was in a fantastic mood; the trails were amazing, and I was riding well. No complaints, yet.
I spent less time at the second water station, stopping only for a bottle refill and a banana. I learned that I was actually doing quite well in comparison to the riders in my field. In hindsight, it may have been better not to know his information, but the ego boost was helpful. I moved on through to the next section of trail only to be rewarded by an incredible ridge trail with a breathtaking view. From there, we cut into some fresh trail that quickly worked its way into my favorites. The leaves and ferns created an almost eerie green aura that immersed you as you hit a rocky, switchback trail descent. The atmosphere, along with the quality of trail, will stick in my mind for years to come. Unfortunately, I started to feel sluggish at the bottom of the descent, and realized I would have to lower my pace if I wanted to finish. Too little too late. I cramped hard toward the end of the single track.
Now, when I get cramps, they are no insignificant ordeal. My cramps are the ones that seize the entire leg in a death grip, immobilizing you for minutes at a time. Luckily, we were almost at a road section. Unluckily, this road section was a large climb that I was unable to ride due to the cramps. Even when the road leveled off, I was unable to push the pedal around without my muscles flaring up in anger. After a while of hiking up the road, Denny caught up and tried to offer some assistance, but there was little to be done at this point. We were told at the second aid station that the next water station was only nine miles ahead. According to my math, I should have reached the water station somewhere towards the top of this climb. I told Denny to go on ahead, and I continued my sluggish climb up the road. When nearing the top, I was greeted by a gentlemen with a radio informing me the next water station was another 8 miles ahead... or so. This distance was a severe miscalculation by the race promoters, and meant that the final water station came only three miles from the finish line. I couldn't pedal, and I lost an incredible amount of time walking up the climb. There was no way I was going to walk another 8 miles; my race was over. I waited for the sag wagon to pick me up, and returned to the registration area to shed the chamoix and relax before Denny finished his ride.
I spent a brief amount of time calculating my estimated finish position (had I not cramped of course). Based on the people I was riding with, and my initial pacing, it looked as if I could have put in a sub-five hour time. Man, that would have been awesome! Denny ended up coming in around 5 hours and 40 minutes, which is no small feat for how tough the course is, and how bad he was feeling. So, damn good job Denny!
Despite not finishing the race, I had an incredible time riding those trails and walked away with a smile [and a new T-shirt]. Back to regularly scheduled training for the month of May, as the Trans-Sylvania Epic is getting closer and closer by the day!
adieu.
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