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I have said it countless times, but it always bears repeating, we have the world’s greatest group of cycling friends. In our 20+ years of being in the cycling world, we’ve passed through zillions of phases from newbies to serious racers to washed up has-beens. Through the process we’ve cycled through our fair share of riding groups and none can compare to our current family, our BOD family.
I find it refreshing that such a diverse group of people can be brought together by the single bond of cycling. We have parents, students, professionals, young, old, and everything in between, but we all share that same passion for mountain biking AND laughter. Perhaps that’s what makes this group stand out for me from all the others. Not only do we love to ride, but we love to laugh. It’s not just about performance and training. It’s about enjoying being with each other while having fun on our bikes.
Race venues are a dime a dozen. The scenario never changes. Believe me, we’ve done it long enough to know. Your time in the sun will eventually pass and then what do you have? Where did all those cyclists go? I want folks that will stick by my side through the thick and thin whether I’m on my bike or not. Thanks to this great family, I’ve had just that.
It is hard to find a group of cyclists that can come together regardless of abilities and still be able to have fun together. Throw this crew together anywhere, anytime, with or without our bikes, and we WILL have fun. My life basically fell apart last August and my time on the bike has been rare, but the worst part has been not riding with my BOD family as much as I’d like. Through it all they have been there for me, and we hold onto the hope that 2010 will be better and full of more laughter filled biking adventures.
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to my beloved Family! I love you all!
 The freezing cold temps seemed appropriate to usher in St Nicholas Day this weekend, but it wasn’t necessary to put us in the mood for the holidays. I would have been just as merry had it been 50 degrees, in fact, I would have been a whole lot merrier! Despite the bitter chill that cut to the bone, we managed to squeeze in rides both Saturday and Sunday. 
I am still on the “ride once a week” program, so getting in two rides back to back was a shock to the system. Neither ride was stellar for me performance-wise. My fitness is non existent and my pathetic attempt to keep up with anyone makes me wonder why I even bother. Deep down I know exactly why I bother. Regularjoe reminded me as well. I’ll go crazy if I don’t ride. It is the only connection I have right now to keep me grounded. If I don’t, I might do something rash, like….become a shopaholic or a couch potato. Oh the horror of the thought.
If it wasn’t for a good network of friends, I would probably never surface between the months of November and March. Thanks to a little peer pressure, though, I can be coaxed into braving the elements for some two wheeled fun. However, the fun is limited to smaller time increments than our summer fun. Yes, friends make the miserable weather more tolerable, but once my core starts freezing, no amount of laughter can keep me on the bike. When I’m cold, I’m cold and I gotta stop.
Last Saturday at 1:00 it was 38 degrees and dropping for our Blankets ride with Robb, The Captain, and Regularjoe. Our original ride plans started out slightly earlier. At 7am we were driving north for the Snake Creek Time Trial preride. It was 101 degrees below zero and raining lightly.
I must have still been asleep when I got in the car which impaired my ability to make a rational judgment on pursuing this ride. As Raja drove I silently wondered, “what in the %#*& are we doing?” I did not want to do this. Sure the woods would be pretty covered in snow, but the trail would be wet and I was in about the worst shape physically I have been in 6 years. It would be a miracle for me to complete the course if it were dry and 70 degrees let alone these horrible conditions.
Several decades of countless epic winter adventures on bikes in snow, ice, and mud have more than satisfied my desire for adding anymore to the list. I’ve been there, done that. The novelty and allure are long gone for me. I’m old, tired, and grumpy and do not want to buy another drivetrain. Like I always say, “ain’t nobody paying me to ride my bike.” I do it for fun. Back to my original thoughts, “Why the H-E-double hockey sticks are we doing this?”
As we drove through Cartersville, Raja must have had an epiphany as he announced, “We’re not going, I’m turning around.” I said nothing in reply, but inside shouted, “Hallelujah, Whoohoo, He’s come to his senses!!!!” I could not have been more proud of him than I was at that moment.
Back home we saw pictures Ony and Mark had posted of the trail. Just as we suspected, it was snowy, wet, and cold. I was so proud of Ony for hanging tough and going for it. I can appreciate that he’s in the beginning of his journey, and he needs to experience that feeling of accomplishment over conquering such a ride.
We were very pleased with our decision, but this still left us rideless. Surprisingly, Blankets was still open for the day, so Raja made the call for a 1:00 Blankets ride.
Sunday was suppose to be slightly warmer, but it did not feel that way AT ALL. The sun was out, but it wasn’t doing a good job of warming! Tempted to stay bundled up in bed, more friends came to the rescue. Thankfully, Martina was in town. That’s my whirling dervish friend, a nonstop bundle of energy not affected by the cold. She and Cam rode over and Raja took us on one of his “routes in the hood.”
Dec 6th happened to be St Nicholas Day, or Samichlaustag as the Swiss call it. It was extra special to have my Swiss Sis in town with which to celebrate. Cycling is not the customary method of observing Smichlaus Day, but I’m never one to pass up on a reason to make a ride fun and festive. Martina and I are truly sisters in that we share the same passion to make a game out of everything. (We did get in a proper St Nicholas Dinner that evening.)
Again, my ride was pathetic from a fitness standpoint, but I enjoyed being out and playing. It was freezing cold, so I was grateful to have the motivation of friends to get me out there.
With the challenge of this long cold winter looming ahead, I need to get creative in ways to keep my body active. Cue the entrance of Martina. Our friendship could not have come at a better time in my life. Like a tornado, she has blasted onto the scene with her never ending energy, and I feel like her old pet dog trying to learn new tricks as I trail along behind.
Janusz could not have been more pleased when I told him I went swimming with Martina. He supports me in whatever activity I do, but is not overly thrilled with my cycling because of the constant abuse to which my body is subjected. He likes the idea of swimming because it stretches the body and he’s a big fan of stretching. A valid point, indeed. Exercises are constantly contracting the muscles and rarely do we stretch our muscles. They need the counteraction to contraction to work optimally, but nobody wants to stretch. That’s boring and too easy.
On the contrary. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from Janusz it is the massive benefit from stretching my muscles. He taught me a nice routine that I try to implement on a daily basis that I sure wish I had learned 10-15 yrs ago. He’s also constantly adding these wicked abdominal exercises to my routine in order to make me as strong as Martina. I made the mistake of telling him I wanted to learn to do all her acrobatic tricks, so now he has me in training for that. He can do all the same moves with his eyes closed and cannot understand why I cannot do them too. Why didn’t I start learning all this stuff when I was in my 20’s?????? Can an old dog learn new tricks? You betcha!
I barely survived my first swim workout in over 10 yrs and am going back for more this wkd. It was brutal, but this did not surprise me. I have the utmost respect for swimmers and truly enjoyed observing Martina in her element. As a competitive swimmer growing up, she has an impressive base from which she can draw at any moment to knock your socks off.
My other new trick to learn is rock climbing. I know that swimming might help me with my endurance for cycling, but I’m not so sure how climbing will transfer to the bike. In fact, it probably won’t at all, but at least it will keep me off the sofa eating bon bons and getting fat.
With Martina in town for the week, I had the rare pleasure of climbing with her tonight. My first experience ever climbing was with her in Switzerland at the DisneyLand of rock climbing gyms and it scared the crap out of me. I vowed I’d never do it again.
Atlanta Rocks is much less daunting to a beginner like myself and I have been going on a weekly basis with Cam. I learned so much from Martina on tonight’s climb! So many pointers and tips that made perfect sense. Perfect for me to understand, but not so perfectly easy to apply. I watched as Martina gracefully and skillfully scaled up the wall and ceiling like spider man. Then I would try. Hmmmmmm. Not so graceful and skillful!
The teacher and student rolls have been reversed in my life. Now I know how it feels for people when I’m trying to teach them skills on a mtn bike. For me, nothing could be easier. I should hope so, after 20 years I better have something to show for it. I have forgotten that it takes time for the verbal understanding of instruction to click and manifest itself through action. I understood exactly what she was telling me to do, but was having a hard time making the practical coincide with the theory.
With constant updates from my friends abroad, I’m in awe of all the crazy tricks they do. It makes me wonder what have I been doing all this time? Riding my bike. That’s all I’ve been doing. Fiola has been racing in the Abu Dhabi Adventure, Jeff ran the Ultra Trail du Mont Blanc, and Kate constantly climbs and runs up the Alps.
I need to take a clue from all my highly motivated friends to get off my butt and learn a few things. There will be loads of time to practice my new tricks, because it looks like it’s going to be long winter. A long cold one. My Life on a Bike may be limited, but that will make me all the hungrier for it in the Spring. It’s going to be tough to weather the next 3 months, but fortunately, I have some good friends on which to lean. So, please, keep poking me and make me get out there on my bike, in the pool, or up a wall. No matter how much I kick and scream (and I may bite), keep dragging me out there. If you make promises of hot chocolate I will come willing! Cheers! Here’s to learning new tricks!
(Joe showing off one of his new tricks)
Tucked up in the western edge of North Carolina not far from the Georgia border is a jewel of singletrack fun called the Jackrabbit Trail. Having heard various reports of fellow cyclists riding there this summer, we finally got our chance to check it out this weekend. SABA, along with some other Sorba chapters, called a group ride to show off their handiwork.
We were greeted in the parking lot by Joanna of the Saba chapter, and she showed us the recent article in Dirt Rag about the trails. Check it out! So instead of me butchering all the facts, click on that link to read Joanna’s article.
I’ve been catching alot of slack lately for not updating the blog. Truth is, I’ve been going through an extremely difficult season right now and the blog has been put on the back burner. I have not been doing much riding at all, once a week at best, and almost did not go on this ride. Thankfully, Roger talked some sense into me and got my sleepy head in the car for the 2 hr drive up this morning. Despite the fact that my legs were weak and I suffered greatly the entire ride, I’m glad I went. The Jackrabbit trails are great fun!
We had a big crew and the weather was absolutely perfect. After a month of almost non stop rain, we were all thrilled with the prospect of sunny skies and warm temperatures.
There is not much climbing to speak of on Jackrabbit, but don’t let that fool you into thinking you will not get a workout. It made me think of Florida riding where you never get a break from pedaling. It will work you. The trail is smooth and has fantastic flow so you can go fast, fast, fast!
Mike Riter did a superb job building the 15 mile labyrinth of singletrack that uses every inch of land designated. Skirting the edge of Lake Chatuge will remind one of the trails of Tsali around Lake Fontana. At one point, the trail leads out to the “beach” where you can enjoy picture perfect views of the mountains all the way to the top of Brasstown Bald.
After riding all the trails, we were still ready for more. Roger and I had been chasing the wheel of Brian all morning, a young energetic racer. Being local, he knew all these trails as well as some more that weren’t in the Tour Brochure. A few us took him up on his offer to take us on a bonus ride, and we followed behind him like little ducklings.
This excursion reminded me of our early mtn biking days when the trails were merely faint tracks that went up long climbs and twisted through the trees. Thick leaves covered the trail enough that it was almost a challenge to find the way, so we kept a close lock on Brian lest we lose our way. We finally hooked into the beaten path that climbed up up up and up some more.
We all know how Al feels about hill repeats, so you can imagine what he thought about the climbs. I try to keep my blog G rated, so use your imagination, or you can go to YouTube and see the video he did, “Hitler wants to ride his mtn bike.”
The Captain and Robin were both on singlespeeds, so they had their work cut out for them on this section. The good news is that at the top of every climb a downhill is waiting on the other side. Flying down was fun, if not tricky through all the leaves, but I enjoyed the thrill and for a moment in time forgot all my cares. Thanks, Brian, for the bonus ride! Well worth it!
If you like smooth fast flowy singletrack, then look no more. Jackrabbit fits the bill! Thanks, SABA for another excellent trail system to add to the list! See you on the trails.
The extent of my mountain biking in Europe has been limited to the Trentino/Alto Adige region of Italy. Not to say we do not want to explore other areas, but the opportunity has yet to present itself. Therefore, when Martina offered to show me the fatty tread side of riding in her home country of Switzerland this summer, I jumped at the chance. What could be better than a trip to Switzerland?…..A trip with a native Swiss friend that can do all the thinking, planning, and guiding. All I had to do was show up.
Despite the fact that Cam has an aversion to mountain biking, I coaxed him to come along as my escort. Since I am accustom to traveling with my personal sherpaman, Cam could be my Roger fill-in to carry all my crap. Everyone was convinced we would be at each other’s throats by the end of the 10 days. They were wrong. We got along like dark chocolate and hazelnuts, and Cam discovered that riding on dirt is not all that bad.
Martina dubbed our trip, Camp MountainFinder, and crammed a month’s worth of adventure into a week. Not only were we mtn biking, but also on the agenda was rock climbing, hiking, and road riding. It was like the Swiss Sampler Platter, and it gave me a hunger for more. We took a 3 day trip to the Engadin area of Switzerland for the mountain biking. I could have easily spent the entire week there. The 3 rides we did were enough to whet my appetite and I am already dreaming of a return trip in 2010.
We took the train from Dietikon to St Moritz where we set up base camp at the hostel complete with a huge ski storage room perfect for storing our bikes. Martina and Cam were riding sweet Specialized bikes courtesy of a good friend from Chlösterli Bike Shop, while I had my old trusty Santa Cruz Juliana. Roger dusted off the cobwebs to get it up and running for this very trip. Riding a small bike has its advantages. By removing the swingarm, Roger was able to pack the entire bike, sans wheels, into a regular suitcase. That meant I did not have to pay Delta’s exorbitant bike fee, and if Delta decided to lose or destroy it, at least I wouldn’t be out a super nice bike. The tricky part was finding wheels to use once the bike arrived in Zürich. Lucky for me, I happen to have some generous friends in that neck of the woods kind enough to loan me a set.
The hardest part of a cycling trip is dealing with the bikes themselves. Do you rent or take your own? While it costs a fortune to fly with a bike now, it is also difficult to find and rent bikes locally. Each option presents its own challenges and hassles. However, I have to say that Delta has gone too far these days in regards to flying with a bike. Charging $300 per bike per flight (international) is simply outrageous and has certainly influenced our decision to no longer fly with them. Not to mention, Delta employees have the worst attitudes and customer service of any airline we have experienced as of late. I was astonished at how pleasant our experience was with KLM airlines compared to Delta. Remember to take all these things into consideration when planning your next overseas trip.
With only 3 days to explore the area, there was no time to waste getting settled into our luxurious accommodations. Dumping our packs and changing clothes, we were ready in no time to get in an afternoon ride. Riding on a pleasant tame path that skirted the peripheral of a placid blue lake, we meandered our way off to a doubletrack dirt path.
The lake disappeared over our shoulders as we worked our way to the paved road leading up through the Fex Valley. If ever there was a perfect valley, this was it. A rushing river, majestic snow peaked mountains, and lush green hills rolled out before us like a movie set. It did not matter that we were riding on pavement because the scenery more than made up for the lack of time spent riding on dirt.
Just as I spied a narrow trail cut into the side of the hill disappearing into the trees, Martina directed us to turn that way. Finally, singletrack! It was perfect. It was like riding the fun singletrack of Raccoon Mountain in Chattanooga, Tennessee, only that, well, it was different! Smooth, fun and zippy, my senses let me know I was a long way from the hills of Tennessee. Having way too much fun, I rode ahead of my companions and enjoyed the ride.
Funny how trails can be so similar and yet yield completely different rides. This trail could be a stunt double for many of the ones we have in GA, which goes to show it’s not just the trail itself that contributes to one’s experience. Granted, some trails in the world cannot be replicated. There’s no mistaking a trail in Moab, Crested Butte or Vancouver’s North Shore. However, for the most part, a trail is compromised of dirt, varying degrees of rocks and roots, some twists, turns, and drop offs. Just change the scenery and you can be anywhere you want to be. So, you see, it’s really all the same, just different! Make sense?!
I soaked it all in; the fresh alpine air, the rich shades of green, and expansive views of lakes and mountains peeking through the trees. It wasn’t too technical, just a few techy spots here and there to add some flavor. A lone cow stood off to the side in the grass staring at me as if she were bored out of her mind. Anything but bored, I pedaled on by enjoying the thrill of racing through the trees.
The trails we’ve ridden in Italy are so laden with rocks, that you have to stop periodically to keep your teeth from falling out. I am sure those same trails exist here in Chocolate Land as well, but for today it was smooth sailing. Our brief 3 hr tour was topped off with a hike to investigate a rather impressive waterfall we had passed. Casually mentioning how neat it would be to “see” the waterfall, Chris took me up on it and led us straight up the hillside for an up close and personal look.
In sensory overload from the day’s introductory tour, I collapsed into bed for tomorrow’s big day. Summertime in Switzerland means the sun goes to bed late and comes up early. Morning light was already showing by 6am, but the sun still needed to do some warming up before we hit the trail. What a nice relief from an August morning in Hotlanta where one needs to finish a ride by 9am in order to escape the sun and heat of the day.
It was odd to be donning arm and leg warmers in the summer, but I knew enough about mountains that you always need to be prepared. Alpine riding should never been taken lightly, and being at the mercy of Mother Nature can make for a miserable ride. With my camelbak stuffed to the brim with clothes, food, tubes, and more clothing, there was no room for my camera. The little compact would have to do for our second adventure.
My brain had been working overtime since the moment my feet landed in Zürich, and it was getting crowded in my head. Therefore whenever camp director, Martina, gave our daily activity debriefing, the information got stuck in the backlog falling away, never getting a chance to even enter my ears let alone register in my head. I had no idea what or where we were going to for the day. I just knew we were riding mountain bikes and that was good enough for me. Anything else would be considered a bonus.
Straight from the backdoor of our hostel was a dirt road leading to a labyrinth of paths marked with signs. We followed Martina through the woods in the cool brisk morning air. Making our way to the town of Pontresina, we took a lovely trail that climbed gently upward. Again, it was one of those “could be anywhere” smooth delightful singletrack trails, except for the fact that through the thick Alpine trees, a view through the valley led the eyes up to one of the most dramatic vistas I have ever beheld. A huge glacier wedged snugly in the embrace of snow covered jagged mountain peaks stood boldly in the distance. The immensity of it made it appear as though I could reach out and touch it. Little did I realize, this was the same glacier we had ridden our road bikes right by only a few weeks earlier when we did the Engadin Radmarathon. Only, we did not see it because we had done the descent that day. This time, we were doing the ascent, and you could not help but be mesmerized by the majesty of this sight.
The trail ended in a switchback of the road climb up the Bernina Pass. Stopping to savor the incredible view, we took pictures and gawked along with motorcyclists and motorists. A slim roadie decked out in his colorful kit came cycling by climbing the pass alone on the road. Making a quick glance over to Cam, I could see the longing in his eyes as he watched the cyclist pedaling in a rhythmic cadence. He wanted to be right there with that cyclist riding his road bike and not a mtn bike. He would have his chance soon enough. In a few more days our camp would include 2 days of skinny tire riding. Right now I was right where I wanted to be and feeling quite at ease. Whether I’m in Switzerland, Utah, or North Georgia, mountain biking gives me that contented at-home feeling.
Following the road up, we took a right turn over a bridge to connect back to the trail system. Basically, the trail paralleled the road climb allowing us the same gorgeous views just without the nuisance of traffic. Now we were out in the open with the terrain more barren and rocky. A little river was to the left of the trail, and eventually we crossed a small bridge as the trail climbed bringing us closer to the mountains. The rocks made for fun navigating, not too crazy, but enough to make me appreciate my full suspension.
Random groups of grazing cows were trailside completely unimpressed with our efforts. The obligatory Swiss cowbells, which no doubt annoy the heck out of the cows, provided me and Cam with delightful entertainment. In retrospect, it’s not unheard of to pass cows on a ride back home, but there is something so exciting about hearing that “clankity clank” of a cowbell. Acting like complete nerds, we stopped to take pictures and pet the unamused animals. Apparently, Swiss cows are taught as calves to tolerate tourists and they completely indulged our silliness. I’m quite sure at home we would be stampeded by a Southern herd if we exhibited such ridiculous behavior. That thought made it all the more special.
The trail passed by the Diavolezza cable car then turning to doubletrack and passing underneath a rail bridge where we waved to passengers riding by on a Swiss red train. We were nearing the reservoir and Lago Bianco which lies in a long plateau about 4 km in length at the top of the Bernina Pass. Views of glaciers and craggy mountain tops definitely gave one the feeling of high Alps and all I could do was stare in disbelief as we rode bumpity bump around the lake.
Our companion, Chris, did a good job of hiding his irritation over our continual stops for photo taking. It would appear to an onlooker that this was our first time to ever step foot out of Georgia. It was Cam’s first visit to Switzerland and I was reveling in his delight as well. I can only hope that I never grow weary or bored with the beauty of this land. Each time is like the first time for me and I did not feel the least bit of remorse for holding up our ride over taking pictures.
Passing by the reservoir, views to the south opened up to the expanse of the Bergamo Alps in so many different shades of blue and green that my eyes had a hard time comprehending it all. With the Palü glacier looming over us to the west, this spot just begged for a sit and savor moment. Fortunately, the Belvedere Inn had been placed strategically at the best vantage point from which we could soak it all in while enjoying some heart warming food.
With our appetites satisfied, Martina told me we were about to ride some really fun singletrack that I would really like. Heading down some smooth singletrack through pine and firs, the trail was super fast and I had to keep my speed under check lest I take out any innocent hikers. In the thick woods, gorgeous views no longer vied for my attention and I could focus completely on flying downhill.
Each time the trail passed through a town or crossed the railroad track, it got better and better. Large rocks embedded in the loamy earth stretched out forever down the now very technical trail that took tight switchbacks through thick lush forest. If I did not know any better, I could be riding the rocky techy trails of Pisgah Nat’l Forest in North Carolina.
This was my favorite part of the ride and it seemed to go on forever. Keeping my weight back and down, I let my bike do all the work and found a nice flow. This trail was great fun! Martina was right. I loved it!
As the trail smoothed out a bit more, it popped out to an opening with a stunning view of the town of Poschiavo below. Bittersweet to behold, I knew this meant the blessed downhill was coming to an end.
Down in Poschiavo, we refilled our camelbaks and discussed our options on getting back up the other side of Bernina Pass. We could take the train back to the top of the Pass or ride the road up the Pass. Martina knew her limits (thanks to a year in grad school and little time for riding) and was taking the train, but Chris wanted to tackle the pass. Never one to be outdone, I figured why not add Bernina Pass to my list of Alpine Passes. It would be long and arduous, complicated by the fact that we were on mountain bikes, but I was up for the challenge.
Two long hours later, we neared the top of the Pass. I remembered this last little bit of the climb where it joins in from Livigno since we had done it with Jeff, Becky, Chris, and Heather a few weeks ago. This time seemed a bit slower. Could my fat 2″ wide knobby tires have anything to do with that?
Martina was waiting near the top at one of the last switchbacks, and I could hear her hollering down to us. By now, the 8+ hours of being out were beginning to take their toll and we were tired. We quickly snagged a victory shot with the Bernina Pass sign (btw, the Bernina is the fifth most prominent peak in the Alps and highest mountain of the Eastern Alps). We should have taken the trail back down that we had ridden up this morning, but our stomachs were saying otherwise. The quickest way down was the road and that was the vote that won.
Tucking in single file, we flew down the road passing by Lago Bianco now over our left shoulder. With thoughts of food racing through our head, we almost missed the turn off for Pontresina. In the switchback of the road, we veered off to the right on the trail we had ridden up earlier that morning. It was still just as fun as I remembered it; smooth and zippy with the perfect flow.
Reaching the town of Pontresina, we weaved through narrow streets to the house where SMuP were waiting for us. Thanks to Swiss Mami, we enjoyed a delicious meal outside with a magical view of the mountains and were rejuvenated enough to make it back to St Moritz before nightfall.
The sun had already set as we made our way on the maze of gravel paths leading through the woods and by a small lake. The last light of dusk cast a magical glow on the backdrop of mountains as we rode through the cool night air. Finally, I had experienced my first full on all day mountain bike ride in Switzerland, and we still had one more day left to ride!
I had not known what to expect and found myself surprised that the trails are somewhat the same as those we ride at home. The same, only different; the views, the smells, the sounds, the people, the food, the expanse, the endless opportunities, all the little things that make it special and different.
Every day I find myself daydreaming about that ride. I know there is so much more out there, so many different trails that we’ve yet to explore. We merely scratched the surface.
It was all so wonderfully different. I cannot wait to do it again. Thank you, Martina, for taking me mountain biking in Switzerland!
Take a peek at my slideshow:
Life for the past 5 weeks for me has been anything but Life on a Bike. It has gone from one extreme to the other. Returning home high on adventure from 10 incredible days at Camp MountainFinder in Switzerland, my life was immediately thrust into the throws of one of Life’s Suddenlys.
Suddenly life was hanging by a thread. All priorities shifted and my time on a bike was no longer a focus, but merely a once a week outlet from the darkness that hung over my family like a heavy blanket. I hung onto what little shred of fitness that remained and managed to eek out a few good rides. With each passing week, I could sit and watch as my legs wasted away.
Now finally having made it through our dark valley, I have more time to ride, but less strength with which to do it. To add to my frustration, we experienced record rainfall like never before…..non stop rain, torrential rains, causing floods and mayhem while my bike collected dust in the corner. In regards to cycling fitness, my outlook was not looking good, at all. Time for the ole shock therapy treatment.
The weekend fast approaching, I was going to ride my bike regardless of the weather. Saturday’s forecast was for rain. Taking a lesson in motivation from my Swiss friends, I worked on a positive attitude and resigned myself to a ride in the rain. Getting up at 0:darkhundred was hard enough. Knowing I was going to go ride in a downpour while getting my legs ripped off was even harder to stomach. One last turn of the Attitude Wrench, I tightened down my resolve to do this thang.
Damyankee, Greg, Chris, TomA, and Rich were the only toughies in the parking lot. The rest of my friends were scared off by the threat of rain. We rolled out on our ride, totally convincing ourselves that we would beat the storms.
Our route was Taylorsville, a flat course through dog infested back country roads. Absolutely terrified of dogs, I was highly motivated to keep up with the group. Otherwise, I would meet my fate at the jaws of a pack of redneck pitbulls and a 3 legged mutt on attack from a doublewide trailer up on a hill. These Polk County roads are beautiful, but the dog to rider ratio is out of control!
Trying my best to conserve energy, I drafted every wheel and kept my pedaling light. Tomorrow was suppose to be a perfect day and I had plans to go ride in the gaps. Therefore, I did not need to be blowing out my legs today. I was not happy with how much effort was required just to hang on to Keith’s wheel. My hopes of having some reserve fitness hidden deep down were dashed to the pavement. Riding in the gaps was going to hurt. Heck, today hurt, and we weren’t going all out.
We made it to the store stop at mile 32 on dry ground, but a quick glance at the sky told us things were about to change. There would be no avoiding the rain on this ride. Oh well, like Jeff says, “build a bridge and get over it.” Or in this case, “put on your rain jacket and ride through it.”
The next 25 miles were through varying degrees of downpour, drizzle, and rain. Rooster tails blinded me in the eye and I did not get to take as much advantage of the draft. I was seriously questioning my sanity at riding for 3 hours the day before a hard ride in the mountains on already weak legs. Viewing it all as training, I tried not to worry about it. It is what it is.
You know what? I survived the ride and didn’t melt in the rain. It felt good and I am glad I did it. Time in the saddle, that’s what I need. Now, time to stretch, hit the sauna, and do everything possible to get the legs ready for some real riding tomorrow. 5 am is going to come early.
Sunday was the official Six Gap Century. If I was going to do the century, I would have had to been there long before my 7:30 meet time with Robb, Michael, and Rlaz. Having done Six Gap a number times in my deep dark past, I had no desire for a repeat. I did, however, want to take advantage of a beautiful day on my bike. All I could think of was how all my Swiss counterparts do rides like Six Gap every other day. I was so behind, it wasn’t even funny. Time for me to suck it up and ride like we do in Switzerland. With 2,000 participants for Six Gap, it would be a great place to ride while being motivated by other cyclists.
We started at Turners Corner, about 12 miles out from the Century start. Even though it was foggy and cool, the promise of sunny blue skies could be felt in the air. For over 20 years I have been a baby when it comes to cooler temps, and either Switzerland has toughened me up or I just don’t care anymore. While Michael and rlaz layered up, I didn’t bother with arm warmers, but used my jersey pockets for extra water bottles and food. We would have to do everything self supported and don’t have quaint little village water fountains for water refills here in the North Georgia mountains.
We started the climb up Neels immediately with roads still wet from the night before. Michael vowed to ride with me and not push the pace, but I knew not to hold him to it. I understand what it’s like to have to hold back for someone, and I didn’t want to cramp his style. He’s riding like a pro right now, just a few weeks away from the Xterra Worlds in Maui and I’m placing my bets on him to win. I was happy to have Robb along to give Michael some entertainment. I just wanted the peace of mind of having some riders around me in case I ran into any trouble. I didn’t need a babysitter today. I’m a big girl now.
Seven miles later we reached the top and passed the Century Sag stop already manned with volunteers. Time to blast down the other side. The guys were tentative with the wet roads, but I know this descent well and wasn’t afraid. My legs had made the climb unpleasant, so I at least wanted the pleasure of a descent. Descents are sacred ground. Bye, see ya!
Surprised that we had not been caught by the lead group by now, we made the turn to climb up Jacks. The morning was spectacular and I was happy to be soaking it in since I was not caught up in a race pace focus had I been in the century. Hints of color from changing leaves dotted the trees up the climb. The fog and mist wisped in and out teasing us with views of the blue sky. The rolling pastureland looked as though it had just been carpeted with vibrant green turf, thanks to all the rain, and cows grazing in the fields made me feel like I was indeed in Switzerland.
We passed by the turn to Hogpen as I told myself that all too soon I would be on the other side and the pain would be over. For now though, I had still had to get up Jacks. One by one, the guys dropped me and my legs could not deliver any power. I refused to get mad or frustrated and focused on making the pedals turn over. Jacks bites almost as much as Hogpen because the rough pavement goes straight up. No switchbacks, just UP.
At the top, we pulled off to the entrance of Brasstown Bald as I stretched my hamstrings. Not 5 minutes later, here comes the pack making my climbing pace look like a snail. Faces grimaced and blank stares greeted me as I cheered them on and they began the descent. Taking advantage of a break between groups, we hopped on our bikes for the long ride down to our next gap.
Jacks is another easy long descent without any tight turns, but you have to work a little on it because it is not terribly steep. A lean machine came zooming by me with another skinny dude on his wheel. This was my chance and I was taking it. If you want to catch the draft on a downhill, you cannot hesitate for even one nano second. I jumped on their train and caught the express line.
All the pain from the climb was quickly forgotten as we booked down the road. I could read the fatigue in the guy in front of me and related all to well to how he felt. Usually at this point in the century, I never have the luxury of a draft for this descent and it seems like more work than a downhill should be. Shaking his head, he pulled out and I hollered at him to hang in there. He got on my wheel and we continued on pedaling hard. The guy in front then gave me the elbow signaling for me to pull through. Okay, no problem. I can do this, dude. I haven’t been laboring at race pace like you have.
I felt fantastic and pulled through keeping the train going at high speed. Fully expecting one of the guys to get impatient after a minute, I was surprised that no one came around me. At 5′2″ and 115lbs, I’m not the best person to draft down a descent. I looked over my shoulder quickly. “Oh, crap,” I muttered under my breath at the sight of a train of guys behind me. I resumed my position, tucked every part of my body in to get as narrow as I could and pedaled like mad.
Michael came by eventually, and I waited for someone to jump on his wheel, but no one did. The front pack was within sight and he was going to bridge us up. I did not think it wise to follow his lead, but then thought better of it as some of our group took the bait. Mission accomplished, we joined the pack and took a right turn together for the climb up Unicoi.
I wanted so badly to stay with the pack up the climb. It’s not a bad climb and I could feel that rhythm being pounded out. It was so real to me that I could practically taste it. I love that feeling, sitting in the pack, powering along steadily up the climb, marking a wheel, matching the accelerations, staying relaxed, playing the game, in control…….ah man, I wanted it so bad. Wanting and Doing, ain’t the same thing.
Watching them slowly pull away, they disappeared around the corner through a canopy of trees shrouded in fog. Focusing on finding my own rhythm, I told Michael to go ahead and not to worry about me.
Knowing now that I’d be continually picked off by all the stronger riders on the climb, I had to keep myself from being defeated mentally. Cheery hellos and greetings from various friends coming by encouraged me to keep it steady. FarmerG hollered out to me as he came from behind, so I got out my camera to snag his pic. Funny, we’ve been riding together for almost 20 years and he’s still got it. He deserves it because he works much harder at it than I do.
Robb and rlaz caught and passed me and another pack came by to swoop me up to the top of the climb. Quickly sizing up the situation, I realized I had a decision to make. My buddies were waiting for me at the top, but there was also a huge pack getting ready to make the very long descent down Unicoi. Not wanting to get stuck in the throngs of riders to mess up the downhill for me, I disregarded my riding partners and made the jump to get to the front of the group of cyclists as they started downhill. Sorry guys, but today when it comes to the descents, it is all about me.
Unicoi descent is long, fast and fun. Guys were giving me the double take and I knew what they were thinking, “why are you worming your way up here little girl, this is going to be too fast for you, don’t get in my way.“ I was in full on confident aggressive mode and did not let anybody bully me. In my mind I was thinking, “don’t worry about me dude, I’m faster than you and you better get outta my way.” Cocky little girl I was, but I sure was enjoying it.
As terrible as my climbing was for the day, the downhills more than made up for it. Everything was jiving and I had no fears. Our pack of about 9 riders sliced and diced it out with perfect flow. I felt like I had gone back 12-14 years ago and was in the middle of a race. Savoring every second, I ate it up.
The adrenaline buffet soon came to an end and we made the right turn over the bridge towards my doom; Hogpen. I quietly slipped to the back of the pack, unhooking from the train. Looking back for a glimpse of my buddies, I saw no one. Knowing they would catch me soon enough, I tried to recover from the jolt of coming back to reality.
Michael finally came by and carried on to catch up with the pack. Making the turn to start Hogpen, volunteers were ringing bells and cheering me on. I sheepishly slid by, but was in dire need of the motivation.
Seven miles began of torture. It was not torture for Michael, he was long gone. Robb caught up to me and loomed just ahead of me for miles like a carrot. His gearing was not suitable for this climb and I could see him labor. I had my triple, but decided to save it for the worst parts between miles 4 and 6.
Guys came by slowly grinding away, but still passing me. I could not match anyone’s rhythm and continued to mash it out while keeping beat to my breathing. Some riders responded to my hellos while a few were a bit too focused to have my voice register.
Every time I climb Hogpen I feel different. I prefer feeling stronger than I did today. Although it felt like I was going backwards, my speed still registered above 4mph. I have recollection of going 3 mph at times in the past, so at least I wasn’t setting a new record for slowness. Refusing again to focus on my weakness, I thought about my position, my legs, my cadence, tried to relax, look ahead, and so on.
“Oh, thank God, the top is just around the corner,” I told myself. I know this climb all too well, so my mind was not playing tricks. Cheers and the sound of ringing bells let me know for sure I was not hallucinating. Waiting for me at the sag stop, Michael sat propped up against his bike as if he had just done an easy 5 mile spin.
I happily welcomed the break and stood with Michael as we watched for the rest of our crew. More of my friends came by waving and saying hello. What a different experience this was for me and I enjoyed soaking in the atmosphere and cheering folks on as they topped the infamous climb.
Regrouped and rest time over, we began our descent of Hogpen. This side is steep and you can easily get to 50 mph if you don’t watch yourself. Going that fast is not a wise thing to do, and I lose my confidence anywhere above 45mph. At the bottom the road undulates more and the legs scream in protest at the slightest rise. I hooked in with a small group of guys and once again happened upon another longtime friend. Scott and I chatted as best we could in the paceline, finally having to give up the small talk to focus on our riding.
Now the course was working steadily up to Wolfpen. This is where the century riders would peel off and we continued straight on back up and over Neels Gap. Closing in on 4 hrs, I needed to be back to the car by 1:30 in order to head to the airport to pick up Roger. Thank goodness I had that valid excuse to get me out of doing Wolfpen!
The climb up Neels usually seems easy to me, but it did not this time. My legs and back were killing me and I just wanted to be done. The descent is fun enough, but the rush was slightly interrupted when we passed by a motorcycle accident in one of the tight turns. The rest of the way down the pass, emergency vehicles with blaring sirens raced by us coming up the road to the scene. Unfortunately, that happens every weekend up here.
You know you’re cooked when you’re ready for the downhill to just be over! Back at the cars, Robb and I could barely get off our bikes while Michael was still ready for more. Rlaz was last seen fighting off leg cramps, so we sent Michael off in the truck to retrieve him.
Yes, there was a lot of suffering and pain involved, but I would not have had it any other way. The satisfaction of knowing you made it up 7,500′ of mountain roads by the power of your own 2 legs more than makes up for the temporary anguish. Hogpen was every bit of the challenge as I remember and continues to earn the name Buggy calls it, HawgPain.
What a joy it was to be back on my bike for a real ride. My head is back in the game and my heart is no longer heavy. I’ve missed my bike and I’ve missed all my friends! I am looking forward to some more great rides and good ole fashion side splitting laughter that we all share on our adventures. That’s the joy that makes me forget the pain! See ya’ll out there!
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