RACE REPORT: Southern Cross, Part 2

"...never failed to fail. It was the easiest thing to do."

-- CSN, "Southern Cross"

The climb up Winding Stair Gap starts with gradual climbs on a combination of hardpack and gravel and my thighs were thickening with the lactic acid. The real pain started about 3 miles from the top, when the grade started steepening in an area that MapMyRide marked as a Category 2 climb. I knew it was coming and realized I may have to walk a bit, but thought I'd pound through more than I did. I was down to my lightest gear, and still getting nowhere -- moving in the 4-5mph zone with the HR monitor beeping frantically. At 175bpm, I was spent and had to ascend by foot for a while. The average ascent on those few miles was more than 6%, with the steepest point being 13.9%. The random convoy of SUVs would come by and I'd move over and then walk some more.

I had downed a couple GU's and a bottle and a half of fluids and was calculating what it would take to make the 1pm cutoff at the SAG. I would get on and ride the more manageable ascents and then start walking again when my legs would give out. By this time, everytime I got off to walk I'd have massive cramping in both thighs and either or both the calves. And still I walked. Everything hurt and, to be quite honest, I was surprised that I just kept moving forward. It was pretty cool to just keep moving.I stopped at one point, where the grade had smoothed out for a moment, and looked around at the scenery. Part of me was calculating 'how much farther can I possibly have to go?!' while the other was just taking in the scene. I checked the time to make sure I was still on pace for making the SAG and realized I had phone service! So, I snapped a photo and shot it over the airwaves to the family. I think I just wrote "Hurts." I have a big, dumb grin and was likely drooling, but I was feeling good about getting close to the top.

The grade started to level again and a fellow named Matt rode up beside me and asked how I was doing. I said I'm just trying to hit the SAG in time and he said it was good, 'cause I was only about 200 yards away now and there was some downhill waiting for me.
Sure enough, there was a little tent and a couple guys and one shouted out "What can I get you?" and loaded my bike bottles for me. He asked if I was the one who helped with the flat tires and I said yep as I grabbed a protein bar and a handful of cashews. About that time, a series of 50mile riders start zooming by. I shout out thanks to the SAG folks and to Matt and am off -- just a couple minutes break in total.
A gentle downhill started and I decided to use that to work out the kinks in my legs and did as much spinning as I could get away with. Waylon's "Are You Sure Hank Done It This Way?" started up on the .mp3 and I sang along as I descended. I remember this because a) I was happy and b) it was the only time I felt good enough to sing along. Of course, what awaited was plenty of downhill with some rollers sprinkled within.
Specifically, there was a little Cat 5 climb out there and I made it up about mid way before I decided to hike-a-bike again. For the rest of the ride I would hop off on the bigger climbs and ride reasonably on the moderate ones. My mind was now focused more on the descents and what would it take to manage those safely. The descents started coming more often, and for longer, than the climbs and I was managing the brakes from the rear only. I realized that doing this wasn't working so well when I had them fully depressed and was still going 21mph. At that point, it became a combination of the rear brake with feathering the front ones. This made things less spine-tingling.
Lots of time had passed and I realized that Ian and his young son were waiting for me, no car, at the winery and my being so far behind might pose a problem. So, I checked my time and reception and shot a call to him. He was surprised and told me to get off the phone and back on the trail, he had brought the car and just get down the mountain safely. He did mention that Jaydin kept asking if each passing racer was Uncle Kristin and frustrated to realize I wasn't going to win the race. HA! A nature break, a snack break and the aforementioned phone call all navigated, I got back on the bike rode until I saw a Road Marshall waving me to the right. He asked if it had been hard climbing and shouted out I was in for a rewarding downhill. All of a sudden, it was time to take back that 14% grade -- both brakes were in heavy use and I was tooling down from Sassafras Mountain! It was lots of twists and turns and was, in fact, plenty of fun. It was still hardpack and gravel, so it took some thoughtful negotiation, but it was plenty cool. And some people were zipping by me -- absolutely flying. I did see two different racers by the side of the road with flats. One I remember, was from Bici Coop out of Alabama. I asked if they were alright and was waved on with smiles each time. Good deal. Also, the folks passing me are starting to comment on my All Hail the Blackmarket jersey. Getting shouts from passing racers like, "All Hail the Black Market!" and "Way to go, Stevil!" Nice.

Of course, the descent just flew by and it wasn't long until I was making a left at the entrance to the Ranger base and on the tarmac of Camp Wahsega Road. This was welcomed news and underlines the realization that I am much happier descending on tarmac than gravel. So, I decided I could zoom, too! That thrill was short lived as I saw the next Marshall waving riders to the right again and another steep series of climbs up Miles Berry Road. The Marshall smiled and called out, "About 6 miles to go!" I looked again at the climbs and thought, "Really? Again?" It wasn't the first or last time I thought I'd bitten off more than I could chew in undertaking this race.
Well, my legs just stopped. I started hiking the bike up the climbs. I was down to some Clif Rocks (which are really good!) and a bottle of water. My thighs and calves were cramping constantly to the point where I walked stiff legged until I could loosen them a bit. Still, kept moving. The 50 milers are starting to roll in now, but they're climbing slowly on their bikes. I'm getting slaps on the back and lots of "Are you okay?" I nodded and we all moved on. A couple guys were pulling out the "Almost done, sir!" and "Do you need anything, sir?" questions, which reminded me that I was riding Master's category. Lots of nice folks. Cool.
With the turn back to Hightower Church Road, the race was nearly done. There was gravel, yes. And a little more hike-a-bike, but the Vineyard quickly came back into sight. I removed the earbuds and got ready for what Eddie O'Dea had promised would be a tortuous CX finish.
The descent into Monteluce Vineyard meant that there would be climbs to follow and, sure enough, there was a MONSTER waiting for us.

I hated this climb

At the bottom of the climb was a guy offering free beer from a giant cooler and the guy ahead of me took one and started up. I was pissed. This was just so damn hard. As I came rolling in, the following exchange took place:

Me: "F*ck you all...and I mean that in the nicest way possible!"
Bystander (not the Beer guy): "It's cyclocross: there has to be a run up!"
Me: "That's not a run up! That's for Spiderman to climb!"
Bystander: "Belay On!"
ALL (including me): *Laughter*

And it was no minor climb. The first 8 - 10 feet were so steep folks had to throw their bikes over their shoulders and climb with arms and legs BEFORE you could start the hike-a-bike! Holy Croly! From that point on, it was a series of crazy ups and downs and most racers weren't riding the ups anymore, but walking them.

One guy just left the course and started walking up the road to the finish. The ups and downs were rough and I remember thinking that it was just hard for hard's sake. It had become less a walk than a death march for the racers around me. We all knew we were a couple hundred yards from the finish and just crossing the line mattered.
With the finish line tent in sight, I was able to ride a little before I heard a voice I knew shout out, "Come on, Old Goat! You've only 200 more yards to go!" Sure enough, it was Ian, with Jaydin in the car. I slapped hands as I saw my best pal in the world and smiled in at Jaydin, who looked more confused than anything else. I rolled passed Namrita as she called out my number and I said, "I think the 30 milers are all accounted for now." Race complete. 4 hours and 28 minutes later, it was done.

Post race discussions.

When it was all over, we ate, caught up with pals and told stories. I met some nice folks and we talked bikes. Jimmy Deane came and said he was one of the AHTBM well-wishers from the ride and he and I traded appreciation -- his All City single speed and my Steelman. Folks talked strategies and pain and laughed. Then, I headed off. I shed the mantle of cyclist or racer, or endurance enthusiast or lone wolf or whatever and went to visit the rest of Ian's family so I could be Uncle and friend.

Race stats:

4:28 time
32.40 miles
7.25 avg mph
28.40 mph max
156 avg HR
178 max HR
4262 KCAL

Now, interestingly enough, my bike computer tracked my movement time on the bike. Understanding that I stopped to take a photo (2 min), SAG (<5 min) and call Ian (2 min), the rest of my downtime was tied to helping with the tire -- a cool gig.
Those stats:

3:45:24 time
8.61 avg mph

Neither met my 10mph target. I was still beat by pretty much everyone, including, I would later find out, an 11 year old girl. That said, my ride time would've put me ahead of a few people. I know it doesn't matter, but it salves the wounds a bit. Moreover, I finished. I did something that was truly, for me at least, difficult. At times, I absolutely hated it. In talking it over with E, I explained that DFL is always better than DNF. So, I changed the header of this journal to read as much: DFL > DNF. So be it.