I have never forgotten the pain of childbirth, but apparently I had forgotten the pain of the February 2013 edition ... 22 degrees at the start, riding through 2 feet of water at the Dry Creek crossing when there was no bridge, and the snow/ice that accumulated during the second half of the race. Because here I was, lining up at the start, knowing it had rained 4 inches in the last 2 days and now was snowing flakes the size of chicken feathers.
DJ was in da house, so there was no way to bail from this one. David had driven down from Ohio, with the snow in tow. Since we were signed up for The Appalachian Journey in April, we both decided to race The Snake together. With these conditions, it would be a true test of our abilities to ride as one.
My toes and fingers are my Achilles' heel when it comes to cold weather racing. Because I have Reynaud's Disease, I put a set of chemical warmers in my shoes and duct taped them. And in between two layers of gloves, I inserted 2 more sets of chemical warmers. My core was quite toasty with my wool baselayer and thermal bibs.
Apparently I am gonna have to give David a lesson in poopin' in da woods, as I waited on him to use the restroom. Meanwhile, all the 34 mile racers departed, leaving me to do deep squats and jumping jacks to stay warm. We finally took off and soon came to realize that starting so late left us with a clear trail ahead. We deftly dodged the mud holes, which had doubled/tripled in size compared to last month.
Approaching the bridge across Dry Creek, I noticed a handful of racers off to the side. Becoming a little nervous, I watched one roll up on the bridge and upon exiting it, being completely swallowed up by the creek (now river). Before I could have any second thoughts, I hit the bridge with some speed. F = ma was repeating in my head. Unfortunately the m part of my equation is not enough to overcome the 2 1/2 foot depth of the creek on the far side. I stalled out and both feet ended up in the drink.
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| Dry Creek not so dry after 4 inches of rain |
Whelp, there went all hopes of my toes staying alive. Pedaling up the watery fire road, my feet slowly froze and felt like blocks of concrete. David was feeling good and so kept a spicy pace up to the single track. Despite my poor toes, my core was warm and my spirits were still good.
The snow really started coming down as we hit the single track. Soon, we began to pick up the end of the race and conservatively made our way around them. Rolling down the fire road covered in snow, an ice cream headache attacked me with a vengeance. Snowflakes began piling up on my glasses like a team of rugby players in a scrum. Are you kidding me?!? Now I couldn't see shit and my forehead felt like I had been hit with a hammer. It was at this point, I knew it was gonna be a long and arduous day.
Even the climb up Pine Needle Hill could not rekindle the fire. My core temp began to smolder, and my fingers froze. I really need to design a pair of chemical warmers in the shape of a hand and that you can put on like a glove. I fared the second creek crossing well, and slip n slided my way to the muddy HAB climb. During the four pitchy climbs along Horn Mountain, my mental game began to slide away into the depths of hell.
I was thinking of every way to pull the plug at the SAG:
You don't have to prove anything to anyone.
Better to DNF than to risk an injury.
You are not going to improve on last month's time.
Don't lose a finger or toe over a silly race.
You don't want to do anymore damage to your bike's bearings.
You have enough buckles.
Then a memory of Grace Ragland washed over me. It was during the 2015 running of The Snake, when we rode together along this section where I was now wallowing in self pity. Believe me, she was having a hard time of convincing me NOT to hop into a warm vehicle at the SAG stop. But I could not get out of my mind how much she had suffered over the thousands of miles during the Tour Divide. And here I was, with only 20 miles left. She and the monkey on my back got into a WWE style wrestling match for a few miles. But as Grace had done many times in her life, she booted that monkey off in the end.
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| 2015 Edition of The Snake |
As I pulled into the aid station, I told Grace I would tough out these next 17 miles. But first, I stood by that heater to semi-thaw out my fingers and toes while the volunteers cleaned my glasses and filled up my bottle. I ate a frozen banana and squeezed my flask of frozen gel until I was able to get a couple swallows of it.
David asked how I was doing, to which I could only respond with slurred speech. I was too cold to even form words! He led the charge up Mill Creek Mountain. I doggedly followed. My bike felt so heavy on this climb. I looked down to see nothing but a block of ice encasing my rear triangle, crank, and derailleur. No wonder my shifting was less than optimal!
The snowfall began to slow a bit. I noticed that there were less tracks this half of the race. Hmmm ... I suppose quite a few had bailed at the halfway point. I didn't have to worry about line options because there was only one. If you got off track, the snow would ball up on your tires and stop you dead in your tracks.
Funny, but the second half was surreal. With 3 inches of snow, nothing looked familiar. It didn't even seem like I was on The Snake. My thought processes were in slow motion due to me being so cold. This must have been a protective measure on my body's part, because before I knew it I was descending down to Swamp Creek. The road up to the last section of single track was a slog! Now instead of snow on my glasses, I had red mud droplets. I stopped at the aid station briefly for a bananasicle. I had not drunk anything since the halfway point, so forced myself to take a few gulps.
About 2 miles into the single track, I began to feel my fingers again. And I noticed that the snow was melting a little, what with big chunks of it falling from the trees and hitting me in the face and head. I had plenty in the tank to propel me through the techy bits and the climbs, but the trail conditions began to deteriorate with the melting snow. I ended up HAB'ing more than usual and then trying to clip back in with snow/ice/leaf debris packing into my cleats, well it made for some interesting expletive runs. I began to say Larry the Cable Guy's famous words in my head, "Lord I apologize." That made me smile and the day began to get a little bit better. With Grace in my heart and David offering words of encouragement, I could finally smell the barn.
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| So happy to see that banner! |
Today I definitely got my money's worth, with a finishing time of 5:00. Longest 34 mile Snake ever! But I am grateful to have had DJ by my side the whole time. I think we are gonna do aite come April.
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