Me-1 Michaux-1

Saturday morning I snuck into my friend Tim’s house and crept up behind him with a rag full of chloroform with which I proceeded to use to block both of his air passages. In retrospect, I suppose I should have at least waited for him to come downstairs in order to make the process of dragging his limp body to the still-running vehicle a little less painstaking. I wasn’t going into this alone. True, I would be there with TJ, but I wanted someone who I might at least catch a glimpse of during the race. I knew the last time I would see TJ is when the dirt bike took off to lead us out to certain doom.

Once Tim woke up and I informed him of what exactly was happening, he was surprisingly ok with it. He told me he was ready for it, I disagreed. He wasn’t, and I wasn’t, and you’re not. I wasn’t ready for the last one either, but faired pretty well considering.

After a group dinner at Applebee’s and a half pint of sorbet, we were snoozing to CNN’s coverage of Hurricane Ike. Up and out at 7:30 to make the 9:05 start. After the pre-race meeting my day began to fall apart.

On the one mile trip down a dirt road towards the start I realized I forgot my extra derailleur hanger; not something you want to forget at Michaux. I figured since the first aid station at mile 12 is actually at the parking lot, I could swing by my car and grab it. It was a minor inconvenience, but my lack of preparedness really upset me. It was then I remembered that I also forgot my gel flask and endurolytes. How is that even possible? So in summary, before I even made it to the start I knew this wasn’t going to be the best day ever on the bike.

Mile 0- We’re lead out by a dirt bike after the pre-start warning that this would be the hardest race we’ll ever do. The only laughs are those mustered by the few who are stepping into virgin territory; Michaux is no joke. The start was pretty quick and TJ, Harlan, Topher, Chris Beck, Cheryl Sornson and all the other immortals were gone. I settled into the mortal group and tried to keep my spirits up till mile 12.

Mile 2.9- I look down to see how far we’ve gone as it feels like at least 6 miles. No HR monitor this time as I knew it would just scare me. The first mile and a half was all downhill which is nice, but doesn’t do a whole lot to warm you up for the eventual climbing.

Mile 4- I’ve already been off the bike at least once to push. The pack is still pretty jammed up with gears and single-speeds all jockeying for a spot. The ground is wet, but it’s already getting pretty warm. Losing traction causes a domino effect of unclipping and pushing to the next ride-able section.

Mile 6- We start the climbing that we owe after the initial descent.

Mile 12- “Can I run to my car and get all the things I irresponsibly left behind before the start of the race?” Yes. A part of me wanted to pull out my camping chair and wait for the winners to come through, but I found my stuff and new sense of purpose. Back out.

Mile 16- Rocks, rocks, and more rocks. I stopped to let a little air out of the tires in hopes they would stick to these wet roots a little better.

Mile 20- We start this hellish climb at the end of a long fireroad. I pushed the last part of it to find Buddy sitting at the top. I stopped to say hi and he offered me the rest of his Sly Fox. I’m not a huge beer drinker, but when a connoisseur like Buddy offers you a drink, you accept it with a smile and humility. Thanks again Bro, it was delicious given the circumstances and did a wonderful job settling my tummy. We all left together before Buddy broke loose and took off like a rabid dog.

Mile 24- Aid station 2. Someone was nice enough to lube my chain while another cut a banana in half for me. Thanks guys. I started to feel better and for the first time in 24 miles, I had positive thoughts about actually finishing. From the word go, I felt like it wasn’t going to happen today.

Mile 26- I felt pretty bad. It’s amazing how fast that course can flip your mental outlook. It took a lot of energy to keep even a half positive attitude. The iPod starts spitting out the Hold Steady's "Don't Let Me Explode." Irony hits like a brick.

Mile 32- I noticed my headset was loose, so I stopped to try and tighten it up. After snugging up the star nut, I went to torque down my stem bolts and completely cracked the threaded part of the stem. Great. No it wasn’t a Thompson. I gave it a safety test which consisted of shake and lean on the handlebars before passing it and taking off down hill.

Mile 32.5- At the bottom the hill there was a sweeping turn and surprise, a few rocks. Here’s a math problem for you. 25 mph + wet roots + wet rocks + plus tired and beaten rider = x. In this problem x is equal to a smashed carbon seat stay and a 4 mile walk.

Mile 34- Walking. Slowly coasting the flats hoping I’m not doing further damage to the frame of my HiFi. I did the math in my head and realized that in order to finish at my 3 mph rate, I would be out for another 7 hours. I came up to a crazy steep downhill which would have been super fun to ride, but alas I had to walk it and hope I didn’t see any snakes in the thick grass.

Mile 35- I see a guy loading a bike into the back of a pickup truck along side the road. This isn’t the aid station, but I decide to hop in. I’m broke and he’s broken; had enough. We swing to aid station 3 as there are a few more to grab.

Mile 36- Aid station 3. Tim is there after going out a little too hard. “You broke your bike and I broke my legs,” he says as I help him hoist his bicycle into the truck. 10 minutes later we pull into the parking lot and begin the “unload of shame.” The questions followed, “What happened?” All I really had to do was point.

Fin- Harlan won it, and TJ took second. TJ also won the overall; super excited for him. Topher won single speed and also took the overall. It was nice to see TJ take it; I know how much it meant to him. Special thanks to him and TOP for all the help. Maximus in 7 months; I’ll be there with bells on.