Two down, one to go...

So this weekend was my first Wilderness 101 in State College, PA and second time riding in State College...

Holly crap, rocks...

The weather was perfect, warm, but not hot, and cloudy. Anything hotter or sunnier with that much road would've been just brutal.

I traveled to this one again with my buddy Max with a plan to ride it together, giving each other moral support and to kill the monotony or riding the bike alone for 12 hours. It worked great last year at Shenandoah, but no so much at Mohican this year.

Right before the start, we got separated with a last second pre-start pit stop. But I positioned myself close to the front, knowing that at some point in the first couple of miles Max will be passing me and we'd regroup. It worked like a charm. He caught up to me on the first climb maybe a mile or two into the race. From then on we stayed together.

The first split flew by in no time. It was a short, 16 miles stage completely on paved and gravel roads. On the climbs we spun steadily, being happy for our decision to gear down for this race, unlike Mohican, on the flats we grumbled for the low gear, and on the downhills, Max wooped my behind using his weight advantage to do so. I tried to tuck in his draft and that way I could stay on his wheel coasting downhill, but my face was getting pelted by the gravel and I had to let him go, to catch up later when the road level off.

At the aid station #1, we quickly topped off camelbaks, downed few endurolite pills and were off to the first short section of single track. The second split had some little bit of singletrack, but again was mostly gravel, paved and fire roads. So we were very surprised when we suddenly got to the station #2 at 40 miles. Wow, that was one FAST 26 miles. At that point we felt good, and thought we were setting great pace for ourselves. I don't think we had gotten off the bikes to walk anything at that point, which was a great sign. Usually, in these 100-milers, we end up walking way more hills that we normally would on other rides, to save some energy for later in the race. Were we in for a rude awakening and surprise.

After refilling at station #2, we rolled on feeling pretty good. Unfortunately that did not last... The third split had the biggest and nastiest climbs. Some most brutal rocky punishing downhills... Right out of the station #2 it went from 1,000 to 2,100 in about 4 miles, then straight down back to 1,000 in about 2 miles, and back up from 1,000 to 2,400 in another 4 miles. First half of that climb, about 2 miles from 1,000 to 1,500 was not too bad, as it undulated between short steep and then more shallow sections. But the last 2 miles were straight up from 1,500 to 2,400 in 2 miles. That was a LONG hike for us. Not only it was extremely fatiguing, it was also demoralizing. When we finally got to the #3 at 60 miles it felt like the LONGEST 20 miles in my MTB riding experience, ever!

We got to #3 at 1:30, still not a bad pace, 6:30 for 60 miles. Considering the amount of walking we just did, not too bad. Slightly longer stop at #3 to fill up, down a cold coke, more endurolites, and off we went again. Right out of the #3 it went up again. So up a steep dirt trail we walked again. That was starting to get old and really depressing. When would it finally end. I recognised the trail we were on at that point. This section was the same trail as the course of Stoopid 50. And that was the section where I broke my frame last year and had to walk out to the road, so I knew it wasn't too long. We traded positions with few geared guys, when it would level off we would pass them, then it would point up and we would slow down or walk and they would catch up. Got out to the road finally and continued climbing to complete the third long accent from 1,000 at #3 to the last tall summit of the course at 2,400. After that it pointed down again, still on some trails of the Stoopid 50 course, this time in opposite direction, and after descending harrowing section (hike a bike in Stoopd 50, for those who know that course) it somewhat leveled off and then undulated with a bit of singletrack, all super rocky and punishing. Max started hading cramping problems at that point. I, on the other hand, by some magic, emerged from my mental fog and near bonking fatigue to suddenly find my legs again, and able to spin faster on the flat sections and even up the gravel climbs! After a little bit we briefly separated when Max walked for a little bit to recover from cramping, and I kept pedaling at moderate pace to keep the legs moving. I came across a lady on the side of the trail, who said she was cramping badly and to my question if she had any enduralites, she said, no. I stopped to share some of mine, and Max caught up to me again. We started rolling again together, but I slowly motored away again. I felt bad, but was afraid to slow down and loose the "good feeling", so I just kept moving, figuring he'd catch up to me on one of the downhills or at station #4. The second half of the split between #3 and #4 had probably nicest singletrack of the course, not to say it was great, but it was good, much better than rocky punishing downhills or gravel roads.

#4 was supposed to be only 14 miles from #3, and sure enough it appeared very soon. Nicely located under a bridge in a shade. I took my time refilling, taking on more endurolites, few hits of hammer gel. Asked for time, it was 3:20. Ok, not too bad, 8:20 for 74 miles. I kept looking back at the road but did not see Max. So in the spirit of our pre-race agreement, that if one of us would "feel the legs" he should go ahead to try to make it a decent time, and thinking that I only had 26 miles to go with 3:40 to be under 12 hours, I figured I should head out, which I did. After the finish Max and I compared times and at that point he was full 25 minutes behind.

Once again, straight out of the station it went up a steep hill. It was pretty steep and to my surprise I was able to climb the grade without much pain. But I didn't know how long the hill would last for. And at some point where it was straight, I got a glimpse of it continuing much further up than I could see and I realized that I wouldn't be able to stay on the bike to the summit, and there was no reason to blow up with so little to go. So another hike a bike took place. However, after that it turned into a mix of forest roads and singletrack, with shorter not too steep climbs, and short downhills and undulating trails. I was trading positions with a whole bunch of fully suspended gearies again. The #5 was supposed to be only 15 miles away. But it felt like longest 15 miles. One rocky trail was replaced by another, one rutted out rocky fire road by another. My hands and arms were getting pretty beat up by that point and I just wanted to see the #5 with only 12 miles to the finish. Somewhere half way between #4 and #5, my Perpeteum bottle decided to leave me, and from that point on I had no "fuel" so I continued on solely on HEED and Hammer gel. Which might've been good. Cos my stomach seemed to protest against having to digest Perpeteum for some reason.

There was some really sketchy super narrow and super rocky goat path type of the downhill. I took it fairly slowly, picking my line, making sure I did not tumble down the side, because it would've been a very very long and very very painful way down. I kept thinking about the top 5-10 guys really racing for time and position, having to FLY down that hill and taking real big risks. It scared me to just think about it... Then it leveled off, but didn't get any less rocky. I saw a guy on cross bike that we have been seeing on the course throughout the day, and I couldn't help but be impressed with him. Then the trail popped out on a gravel road and he was gone fro my site. Then there was another long flat fire road that seemed like it would never end, bu finally aid station appeared. And I heard someone call out my name. That was Nate, one of our local Philly riding buddies. He seemed pretty beat, and dejected. I got my camelbak re-filled, downed few endurolites, another swig of the gel, asked what the rest of the course was like, got "about 4-5 miles of flat rail trail, then a 3 mile climb, maybe 2.5, not too steep but definitely at the wrong time in the race, and then another 4-5 miles of flat rail trail with just a tad of fisherman trail and singletrack". That didn't sound bad, and I a chance to pass a local rider gave me a boost and I was off again.

After #5 there is only 12 miles left, so I threw everything at it without caution. The flat rail trail was painful, as it was hard to sustain stead high cadence spin at that point, and most not even because of the fatigue in the legs, but more of mental fatigue of the monotony of it. I wished for some false flats to give my some resistance on the pedals and make it easier to pedal. Does that make any sense?!?!? 90 miles in and I was wishing for harder resistance to make it easier?!?! Yeah, those 100-milers will mess with your head. But then the resistance came, that 2.5 mile climb! At this point it was all or nothing, hell with the caution and I was climbing, standing up, spinning hard sitting down, everything, but no walking!!! Passed several gearies crawling in granny gear or walking. Got to the top, and bombed down the straight super bumping fire road. I did not feel my hands or arms, I was taking chances. I did not care, I was close!!! At the bottom it made a sharp turn and dumped me into that fisherman trail. Holy crap!!! A fully suspended gearie passed me but could not stay on the bike, he kept trying to ride thru it, but kept falling. I decided it was better to just walk. Especially considering my legs and arms were like rubbery gel after the downhill. Soon enough the trail became a nicer singletrack, I hopped back on and was on the last section of rail trail in no time. Now the torture began... It was absolutely impossible to continue pedaling at decent clip, knowing that I was inside 4 miles of to the finish, yet not knowing how far exactly, the trail being tacky soft dirt and gravel, absolutely flat and me having 32X20 gearing and no legs left... I had some visions of maybe coming in inside 11:30, but I started loosing the hopes of that realizing how little I had in my legs.
Somewhere on that split there was a long pitch dark old railroad tunnel. Someone say there were no rocks in and it was ok to ride. So I stayed focused on the 10" sized light spot at the end and tried to ride straight not to bump into the walls.
Of note there was also a long skinny bridge. With heavy-duty big ass wooden railing right at the height of my handle bars. My bars are 26" wide, the opening between the railings must've been 27"... I rode the whole length, skimming my hands on each side and bouncing the bars from one side to the other. I have nice sanded off spots on my plastic bar end plugs... Just before that bridge I got passed by a gearie powering hard to the finish, but he fell on the bridge, and then in the following tunnel. So we started talking on the other side. I asked how far there was left, he said we were inside a mile!!! Also he recognized me! Turned out that 2 years ago when Lance and I went up to State College to ride with some locals, he was one of our guides! Small world! He also told me that we were 11:42 into the race, and from that moment it I knew I had to lay it all out to finish before 12 hours. I was questioning myself "can I do 18 minute mile?" Then I tried to do the math to figure out what speed that would translate into, and failed miserable, so I just rode.

The campsite showed up thru the trees... It was sooo close, but there was a creek and we had to go around. Oh what a long way to go around, the last 1/4 or so or that detour around the creek over the bridge and down the street to the finish was torturous...

In the end, it was 11:44:55.

I was beat. I'm done.

To tell you the truth, I don't think I will come back to this one. I probably will do some other 100-milers. I might come back again to Shenandoah, depending on how I feel after it this year. I'd like to redeem myself at Mohican. I would like to check out Lumber Jack 100. But Wilderness?... Neah... There was just now enough fun in it. Too much road. Too little flowing fun singletrack. Too much beating up on boring, straight down descents. Neah. This one, I'm done with.

40th out of 48 SS finishers and 60 starters. 172nd overall out of 251 finished and 321 starters.

The end.