Front Squish, 34x22
Front: Schwalbe Racing Ralph 2.4, 32 psi
Rear: Maxxis Ikon 3C/EXO/TR 2.2, 35 psi
Course Condition: Rocks, as is always the case in PA
Well this is what all the training was supposed to be for, that is if I had kept it up. Going into the W101 I knew that I could ride my bike for 12-14 hours. What I didn't know is if I could ride it fast enough to make the cutoff. The last time I rode a century was in college on a road bike.
My plan was to stick to liquid nutrition in 2 bottles and a third bottle of water, plus I carried a couple gels and mustard packs in case the nutrition didn't work. I carried the tools and tubes on me and the bike with the drop bags consisting of 5 baggies of nutrition and some mustard to aid station #2, and the same plus lights and a Honey Stinger gel to aid station #4.
The plan: drink nutrition every 15 minutes (at least), keep moving, and take what the course gives you (thanks James).
The drive up was terrible and I was exhausted when I arrived. I was pretty bummed out that I didn't have anybody with me. The original plan was for wife and daughter to come along and visit family in Johnstown over a long weekend. Instead I drove by myself with ample time to dwell on negative thoughts.
The morning came and I really wasn't hungry. I managed to force down a banana and a couple strawberry pop tarts before getting ready to ride. I lined up near the back and watched everyone take off in front of me while my poor wittle wegs spun as fast as they could to hit 12 mph. Reality set in and I dropped into a more comfortable pace.
I stayed fairly strong for the first 20 miles to aid station #1 and topped off my bottles, mixing my nutrition from the baggies in my jersey pocket. I set out on a long climb again slowly picking off the people trying to spin it out. I've ridden the area once before and as chance would have it, 30 miles in and the first singletrack of the race would be trail I knew. I hit the bottle one more time, opened up the Manitou Tower Pro and dropped the guy trying to catch me as well as passed about 5 other people that weren't ready for the rocks at the top of Kettle & Lonberger. I cleaned everything including the Three Bridges until I rounded the corner to the massive rocks. I told the girl cheering me on that she ruined it for me and my first dab of the day was in front of her. Laughter resulted and I was on my way up yet another long gravel climb.
Hit aid station #2 and was feeling pretty good after 40 miles. Somewhere around mile 45 I got into a very dark place filled with self doubt. I've been here before. It sucks. Somehow, and I don't know how, I picked myself up by the bootstraps and toughed it out. At noon I realized I had gone 50 miles in 5 hours and was well ahead of my goal pace of 7.5 mph. I knew that I'd be able to finish as long as I didn't screw anything up. I had felt the twinges of hinting cramps throughout the day, so with "plenty" of time I was more inclined to walk to save the legs. Besides, I realized that I pushed the bike 2.4 mph, so anytime I saw my speed get to 2.5, off the bike I went.
My overall pace coincidentally dramatically dropped off once adopting this walk mentality, but I was okay with that. I'd never been on any of the trails or roads on the back half of the course, and I started questioning if the Garmin speed sensor was working. I didn't have a good idea what mileage I was at and there were last minute course changes that caused me to not remember distance between the last aid stations.
The trails were rough, as expected, and some 60 year old guy with a prosthetic thumb kept complaining about them, claiming that he was going to write a strongly worded email to the race director that someone might get hurt. I was unfortunately near him quite a bit for the race as his gears allowed him to catch back up to me on the gravel roads. Whenever near him, I made it a point to get pretty aggressive and go for technical sections, mainly to show that it is indeed possible to ride the trail. I had cleared him and was riding with a PA local on a bench cut trail with LOTS of rock. The local had warned me that it was sketchy and that a lot of people walk it. I made it through the first bit, saw what was coming up, and started to wonder if I should walk it. Then I bit it. I remember seeing my bottle fly though the air as I hit the ground and I realized that it was the first time the Lezyne cage didn't hold the bottle.
My knee hurt. Blood was running down my shin. The 60 year old guy with a prosthetic thumb pulled up and started whining again. The local made sure my bike and I were okay (in that order), and then took off. Then I gingerly made my way through the rocks before I got irritated enough with the whining that I took off too.
I started realizing that I had a good shot at finishing in the daylight, maybe even sub-12 hour time. This made me happy, though not really motivated to hammer out any climbs. My knee bothered me a little when I got out of the saddle to put some power out, so it was a convenient excuse to walk the remainder of the climbs.
I was so happy coming around the corner towards the finish line. I have never finished a big race with so many people still hanging out and cheering on the finishers. I can't wait to see the photos.
