Coal Country Roubaix 300 Mile

 

This race is in its 3rd year and takes place in Northeast Ohio, not too far from Pittsburgh, Pa.  There are mutiple distances:  50K, 100K, 100M, and the 300M.  I became interested in this race last fall when Dave Jolin mentioned it.  When I began to get some background information on Joe Lawhorn, the promoter, I knew I wanted to participate.  Joe is a retired marine veteran and RAAM solo Triple Crown finisher.  His values and principles also align with mine.  He puts on the CCR to showcase the town of Lisbon and the beautiful lumpy countryside of this "definitely not flat" part of Ohio.  And having never ridden 300 miles in one push, why not go for it?

I drove up to Dave's on Wednesday, spent Thursday finalizing my gear and drop bags (2 drops, mile 107 and mile 197), and then did a shake out ride on Dave's local rail trail.  Friday, we made the 2 hour drive to Lisbon and then did a short group ride to the covered bridge.  Along the way, my shifter battery died, despite my AXS app saying that it had a full charge. Upon attempting to change it out after the ride, I had a tense moment when it still didn't work when installing a new battery.  Problem solved several minutes later after realizing I had put it in upside down 😕

Saturday morning, we awoke to 60 degrees and rain.  I was prepared to ride and threw on my shower cap, rain jacket, and rain pants.  The race started at 9 am under a steady light rain.  200 racers were escorted through town and then hit the first (of a gazillion) pitchy climbs, the Steubenville Pike climb. For the first few miles, all distances rode together.  At the 5 mile mark, we parted with the shorter distance racers.  

It was hard to get in any sort of rhythm, due to the wet, slick conditions and the steepness of the climbs, most of which were 10-15% grade.  While this part of the country does not have mountains it has knobs from hell. It was also difficult to carry your momentum due to the twisty roads.  This gravel race was more like a road race with gravel sectors.  I would say equal amounts of pavement to gravel.  The paved sections were mostly tar and chip, as Joe kept us off the busier state roads and highways. I saw less than 1 car per mile of paved road.

I was really trying to keep my effort low, as I wanted to feel like the first 100 miles was too easy.  But that was hard to do given the nature of the climbs.  And there was no drafting off of Dave or Nick, the fat biker, because you would be water boarded.  So I wasted a lot of energy in those first few hours, fighting the rain, the muddy gravel roads, and the steep climbs.  My rain pants also became saturated and tended to migrate down my arse, gangsta-style, when I stood up to pedal.

The rain finally subsided around 11:30 am. We were 30 miles in at this point and Dave looked so strong and at ease on the climbs. I, on the other hand, was beginning to have doubts. Something did not just feel right.  I tried to ignore it and just focus on the beauty of the countryside, but red flags just kept popping up in my brain. By the time we hit a 100 miler aid station at mile 38, I seriously began to have doubts I could complete this race.  Hoping it was just a nutrition thing (deep down I knew it wasn't), I ate and drank 700 calories over the next couple of hours.

While the roads dried up, the gravel sectors were still quite muddy and sloppy.  And they were becoming more numerous and longer in length the further we rode, heading south.  During the next few hours, we saw 2 others come up from behind and then fly by us:  Jesse Stauffer, who took a wrong turn and Josh Ely, who had 2 punctures.

When I hit mile 60, each subsequent steep pitch, became increasingly more difficult.  I also started having a nagging pain in my left biceps femoris tendon.  If I had any doubts before about completing this race before, they grew exponentially as the miles ticked on and the pain did not let up, but only intensified.

At mile 70, I told Dave that I planned on bailing at the first bag drop (mile 107).  While I hated to see a DNF next to my name, I also did not want this soft tissue pain to turn into a lingering injury.

While the last 37 miles were a physical slog for me, mentally I was in a much better headspace, now that I had made my decision.  The gravel road were also beginning to dry out and firm up, allowing for some easier speed. While not the eye candy of my backyard gravel, the beauty was in the rolling green hills, the forested riding along the creeks and small river, and the smells of wild flowers and silage (big dairy country).

Rolling into Clark's Gas Station at mile 107 was a relief as my journey was almost done. My drop bag contained a fresh kit, some rice with butter and Parmesan, and my lights. I took my time getting ready for the final push home.  I notified Joe that my day was done.  He offered to come pick me up, but I declined.  I got myself into this mess, I will get myself out. I did not need to bother him, as I was sure he still had a ton of things to do after the shorter races finished.

Dave, being the gentleman that he is. was adamant about riding back to the start with me. It took some convincing, but I finally managed to get him to turn back on the course and proceed with the race. 

Night was falling and I still had an estimated 50 miles of riding back to the Start/Finish.  I was actually ok with that and thoroughly enjoyed the night riding.  I chose some state highways to get back; they were less pitchy than the course. And traffic was minimal.

I had plenty of time to gather my thoughts and determine what went wrong.  This race taught me that running and adventure racing miles don't quite prepare your legs for the hundred thousand times that they gotta turn the cranks over this distance. While I have a strong base, my tendons were not ready for that kind of relentless repetition.  

As I was heading back, Kenny and Corianne found me via my tracker and pulled up alongside me around 9 pm.  We both pulled off the road and had a short chat.  They had also wanted to see Dave, but his tracker was not working.  That interaction kept my spirits high ... all the way to the Stuebbenville Pike climb out of Irondale. That 3.5 mile climb made me a little grumpy.

I finished up my ride at 12:30 am, 154 miles and 17,500 feet of climbing.  I had no regrets as I hobbled around the truck, cleaning up.  No FOMO for me, only JOMO (joy of missing out).  This has been my 3rd DNF in 26 years of racing/riding.  The first one was at an XC race where I double flatted and the second being TNGA in 2011 where I had developed metatarsal foot pain. As much as I hate those 3 letters, sometimes it is necessary to pull out the DNF card.

I texted Dave, letting him know I got back safely.  I tried to curl up into a fetal position in the front seat of Dave's truck and sleep, but the aches and pains in my legs only allowed for a fitful 90 minutes. As I looked at my phone, Dave had texted back, "Call me when you wake up?"  WTF?!?  He should be on his bike.  So I called.  Apparently Dave had hooked up with Josh Ely, but around mile 150 decided to call it and get a motel room in St. Clairesville.  Josh was getting light headed on the climbs and Dave did not want to leave him.

Their idea was to sleep a few hours and then continue on course. I knew better; once you give in to creature comforts, there is a 95% chance of not continuing.  So when 6 am rolled around, I got the call to come pick them up.  While it is nice to hook up and find a buddy on course, some times it can end up biting you in the arse.  I know that if Dave had been riding by himself, he would have finished.  

The both of us have unfinished business.  If I can get the stars to align, I want to go back in 2027.  I already have a pre-game and game plan figured out.  For one, have more than 600 miles in your legs before you try and tackle a 300 miler 😂.  And two, St Clairesville is the mid way point in the race and a perfect place for a little resupply and power nap at a motel.

If you like low key grassroots events, with challenging countryside and low vehicular traffic, I encourage you to come out and give the Coal Country Roubaix a try next year. The course is a sweet mix of pavement and gravel, which is more dirt than gravel, and almost as fast as the pavement, when dry. There is also not much of a dog factor, as 90% of them were chained up or behind a fence.  I only got chased twice and both times the dogs were friendly.