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The night before the race, my friend Brent was cool enough to pick me up after work to head straight down to Mohican. We decided to just grab some quick dinner at Subway on the way. We arrived and checked in at Mohican Adventures campground, and found our friend Brandon, who had already checked in and got set up at our site.
The packet pick-up was supposed to close at 7pm, but luckily, a couple of volunteers were still hanging around later at the race check-in desk, so we were able to get that out of the way and not have to worry about it in the morning. I got my number plate attached to my Mongoose Teocali Super, and gave the bike a quick once-over to make sure it was ready to ride.
The weather was predicted to be pleasant and cool for race day. That evening before, it got even cooler than expected, and I was worried that I didn’t bring enough clothes both for a night of sleeping in a tent, as well as for the race itself. We spent a little while sitting around the campfire trying to stay warm until we turned into our tents. I did shiver a bit in my sleeping bag, but still managed to get a decent amount of sleep.
In the morning, I ate of couple of bacon pancakes that I had packed up frozen the day before. Fortunately, they were just thawed out enough to eat, and wash down with some orange juice. Brent shared some of his camp coffee as well.
I put on the only cycling clothes that I had brought, which I planned based on the weather forecast: bib shorts, sleeveless liner shirt, short-sleeve jersey, SmartWool socks, Buff bandana, Sidi shoes, and full-finger gloves. I also wore my Pearl Izumi Sun Sleeves and Sun Knees, aka “arm coolers” and “knee coolers.” These have been working great for riding in warm weather to keep the sun off. Now, I hoped they were sufficient to keep the morning chill off. I also put on my jacket, figuring I could stash it in my hydration pack during the race. I stood there shivering while waiting to leave for the starting line, wishing that I had brought real arm warmers and legs warmers, and maybe even a wool jersey.
The starting line was in downtown Loudonville, and it was a short 10-minute ride there mostly along a paved bike path. Once I finally got moving, I warmed up much more than I expected, and was quite comfortable. It was a good thing that I hadn’t brought more warm clothing, because then I would have ended up over-dressed. I realized even before starting that I wouldn’t need my jacket at all. Luckily, I noticed a woman from a neighboring campsite helping her husband get ready to race, and she graciously agreed to drop my jacket off back at the campground so I wouldn’t have to carry it needlessly through the whole race.
We timed our arrival at the starting line pretty well, and only had to wait a few minutes before the starting horn. My goal for the race was just to finish in less than 8 hours, and hope to stay out of trouble and avoid mechanical issues. So, I settled into a spot about three-quarters of the way to the back of the mass starting group.
Once we were off, we headed straight through the main street of town, which as it left the downtown area, became a steep uphill, which helped to break up the pack. I passed a pretty good number of lesser climbers, plus one poor guy who was already sitting on the side of the road trying to look at some bike issue; I wonder if that was a bad sign of how the rest of his day went?
A mile or two outside of town, we turned onto a gravel road, which led to the first turn-off onto singletrack through the woods. There was were a ton of racers backed up at the entrance, and it was like a signaled freeway on-ramp. A handful of riders made their way onto the trail, the rest of us would take a few steps forward and wait some more. I finally got onto the trail after what may have been about 5 minutes or more.
Although the weather was dry this day, the trails were kind of slick from the rain of the previous couple of days. In a few spots, it was thick like peanut butter. I picked my way through a couple of sketchy downhills pretty slowly and managed to keep both wheels on the ground and my feet on the pedals.
There were more sections of paved roads and gravel roads, and then more trail as we climbed a long, steep series of dirt switchbacks. At around the 5-mile mark, we joined the trail near the beginning of the Mohican State Park mountain bike trail loop. Finally familiar territory! I tried to settle into a rhythm and make some good time, but it was a challenge passing numerous other riders. There were a few rough sections that I normally clear with no problem when I ride this trail, but I got hung up now just from being caught behind other who weren’t clearing them. When I’d flail, people that I had managed to pass before passed me up again, and the whole process would start over. All part of racing; that will teach me to be more aggressive and try to keep to the front of the pack more from the start.
At the covered bridge on the road over the Mohican River, I passed a large group of riders, probably for the third time for many of them, but flailed again at the re-entry to the singletrack. Once I passed a handful more riders around the steep switchbacks climbs in this area, the pack seemed to spread out quite a bit more, and I was able to get more into my normal groove for the rest of the long climb to the top of the hill above the covered bridge.
The first aid station was located in the parking lot at the top of the hill, at the 20-mile mark, or what is normally the 15-mile mark of the state park loop. I scarfed a couple of snacks, chugged a cup of Heed drink, and topped off the water in my hydration pack. I thought I had been drinking a fair amount along the way, but was surprised when it only took about a large cupful of water to refill the pack. Mental note: drink more. I was going to use the porta-potty, but there were a couple of other guys waiting in line, so I decided it wasn’t an emergency for me.
Continuing on the state park trail, there was more passing to be done, but I found myself having to do less flailing and wasn’t getting passed by very many others. I didn’t clear the infamous steep climb at the 21-mile marker of the state park trail, so I took advantage of that opportunity to duck behind a tree for an impromptu porta-potty break. Luckily, the pale color of the result indicated that I’d been taking in sufficient fluids while riding.
I was looking forward to one of my favorite sections of the trail, around the 22-mile marker where you descend a series of fast, swoopy curves. Just after the beginning of this section, a volunteer was posted at the apex of the second of one of those curves, directing us to make a hard left off the trail. As I made this turn, I saw the horror that awaited us–The Wall–a trail of loose dirt that went straight up so steeply that, I promise you, NOBODY was pedaling it. My feet felt like bricks as I trudged up, pushing my bike at nearly a crawl. The toe spikes in my shoes came in handy to avoid slipping, and even potentially rolling back down the hill.
When I finally reached the top, the course opened up onto a gravel road. Then it led back onto a wide dirt trail that’s normally a hiking-only trail. Along a downhill section, there were wooden planks installed across the trail as water bars. With the mud and my wet tires, I knew it could mean a treacherous ride. I saw one rider walking his way down, but I determined that my mountain biking skills were up to. I took each water bar as head-on as I could, rather than at an angle, and managed to clear all but one, which was placed at a nearly impossible angle. It grabbed my rear tire and yanked it out from under me, forcing me to put a foot down almost into an unintentional split, but I managed to keep it all together otherwise, re-mount, and keep going.
The course alternated between more some paved roads, gravel roads, and dirt trails with a couple more hike-a-bike sections. The roads weren’t much relief, as they usually involved climbs that were steep enough to be just barely ride-able. At around the 28-mile mark, it started to feel like work instead of fun. I had to force the thought out of my brain that I was not even halfway done yet.
The second aid station came at the 35-mile mark, and was located at the Buckhaven Learning Center, a hunting camp. I downed some snacks, topped off the water again, and used the (thankfully) inside restroom.
The course from this point followed what looked like a dirt four-wheeler trail for a couple of miles, with a few ups and downs, but nothing too steep. Then more alternating mind-numbing steep climbs and descents on gravel and pavement. Fortunately, no particular body parts nagged me with any pain; I just struggled with overall fatigue. Pedaling the long climbs while in the saddle did make me a little more sore in that area than I usually get, but nothing too extreme. I was ready to just be done, but I just had to try not to think about how much further I had to go. I knew that my entry fee included all the Great Lakes Brewing Company beer that I could drink at the finish line, but I couldn’t even imagine myself enjoying that. All I could picture was collapsing in a heap as soon as I could after I cross the line.
Eventually, the course turned back onto some singletrack, which I surmised (correctly) was the Mohican Wilderness mountain bike trail. At first I thought, “Finally!” until I realized that I was so cooked that I had neither physical nor mental wherewithal to navigate the trail, which is considerably rougher compared to the Mohican State Park trail. I flailed and dabbed a bit, and took it slow where necessary. On two occasions, in the middle of tight hairpin turns, I miscalculated, took a bad line, and failed to recover, which sent me hard into the dirt on my face and arms.
Finally, the course opened up through some grass along the edge of a large, open field, which led to aid station number 3 at mile 58. The usual routine: eat, drink, pee; this time eat and drink a little more. The 100-mile course split off at this point. I didn’t want to head off in the wrong direction, so I asked a volunteer which way the 100k course went. He pointed out the LARGE banner indicating such just across the road.
I headed on down the road, thankfully flat for the first mile or so, but then it got back to more of the same as before–up, down, up, down. The first was Valley Stream Road, which has several “humps,” which make you think you’re done when you’re not. I passed a female racer on this climb, and the two of us ended up leap-frogging each other for much of the rest of the course.
A flat road ran alongside the Mohican River and led to State Route 3 just outside of Loudonville, the usual start/end point of the Mohican State Park trail. With 4 miles to go to the finish line, the aid station number 4 that was set up here almost seem superfluous. I almost skipped it, but stopped for a quick chug of a cup of Heed.
The course here went straight back onto the state park trail, what is usually the final mile of it, but in reverse of the usual direction. Then it turn uphill and on some unfamiliar singletrack. After a while, the singletrack started to look vaguely familiar again, and I realized that I was back on the beginning section of the state park trail, also in reverse of the usual direction. A couple of fast, presumably expert-class riders passed me in this area, but the rest of the field was so spread out that I saw no other riders for the rest of the course.
Soon I was able to see the Mohican Adventures campground, where the finish line was located. Friends who had done the race in past years had warned me about one final hike-a-bike climb up a steep dirt trail that was thrown in only about a half-mile before the finish. Turns out, this hill was removed for this year’s course, and before I knew it, the finish line was right in front of me, almost anti-climatically.
I crossed the line and a volunteer handed me an empty pint glass. I did not feel as completely spent and ready to collapse as I had expected. I set my bike down in the grass, and looked around for any familiar faces. Seeing none, I walked over the Great Lakes beer trailer and filled my glass with a Dortmunder. It was refreshing, delicious, and altogether welcome, contrary to my fears during the race. I looked around a bit more, and I asked somebody what time it was to try to get an idea of my finish time. It was 10 minutes before 3:00pm, and I figured I had been wandering around for about 10 minutes. Based on the 7:00am start time, that put me at an overall time of about 7 hours and 40 minutes, safely and happily within my goal.
I ran into Brent and Brandon, and we commiserated about our respective race experiences. I got some lunch at the barbecue buffet, which included ribs, chicken, and an assortment of sides. Brent had dinner plans at home, so we didn’t waste much more time before packing up our camping gear and hitting the road.
Checking the final results at home later, I ended up with an official time of 7:39:02, placing me at 161 out of 276 finishers (322 total if you count the DNF’s) in the Men’s Open 100k division.