note: sorry no photos at this time. I still don't have a replacement camera. So be warned, long winded, run-on, grammatically incorrect and potentially partially coherent ramblings follow.
Edit: thanks to Jeanie for the photos.
Trans Iowa registration opens tomorrow (or today or opened yesterday, depending upon when I post this). I'm conflicted. I love the challenge, love the riders, their stories, and their humor while suffering. But some things from last year really left a sour taste in my mouth and I am having a tough time deciding whether I want to go back or not. The ride, the weather, the struggle, all of that was incredible, so that is driving me to want to head back. Some not race related but experience related items leaves me not wanting to invest the time, effort, and money to get up there. I can ride and suffer closer to home and not have to deal with the other garbage. But I do love the gravel roads...
This past weekend Keith, Scott, Mike, Jeanie and I headed to the holy land of Pisgah for the 10th Annual
Swank 65. I love this race. It's really an anti-race race being so laid back. Todd picks out some sweet singletrack, devilish climbs, and bone crunching descents to send you out on to experience the wonder that is Pisgah. It was Keith and Scott's first time, also Scott's first time experiencing any of what North Carolina has to offer cyclists. We met
old Greg and Beth out there, it was to be Greg's first time too. Derf,
industry racer boy Pills, Unkle E, and
Jut with his Pisgah Brew crew were also meeting us out there. Though we were the only ones who camped (the others partied in Asheville), which I think is the best way to experience the Swank. Clear night sky, nearly full moon, crisp 30 degrees at night and in the morning. Refreshing.
We were late to the lineup for the run start and ended up back of the pack of 150 racers/riders. We jogged, then walked, then jogged, walked, until it opened up a bit nearer to the bikes, hitting the singletrack on our slightly over-geared singlespeeds (me 34x18@26, Mike 34x19@29 due to the Zion's incredibly irritating short throw EBB he had my 19 leaving me with an 18, but matching us up closely in the pain cave) behind a long congo line of granny spinning full squishies. I've never seen so many Specialized bikes at one place before outside of a Specialized Concept store.
Keith, Scott, and Greg were all more adequately geared to be stuck behind the slow line. Mike and I were leg pressing, ratcheting, leg pressing, ratcheting until I couldn't take it anymore. I was about to blow up in the first 3 miles. As we waited while 10 or so riders got across a rock strewn creek crossing, I turned to the 20 or so riders behind me and joked "I know what you are all thinking, why or why didn't I run faster?". Shortly after that the trail widened enough to where we could safely pass. Mike and I took off passing groups of 3 or 4 riders at every opportunity until we were finally able to pedal a comfortable cadence and make our way to the top of the climb. Punching it on the fire road stretches and into the last bit of singletrack that took us down to aid station 1.
We had lost Scott and Keith and were debating on whether to wait or press on, but decided to press on thinking their 32x20 & 32x21 (both 29'er Niners) would have them keeping together, plus they couldn't have been more than a mile or so back from us and would probably catch us if we got stuck in another congo line. So we marched on. 34x18 for me really worked out well. It was one tooth taller than I ran last year and though it hurt a bit on some of the gravel stretches, it felt at home on the singletrack and the climbs, except for the really rutted rut part on Butters and some of the steep ups of the Farlow Gap descent. However, Mike and I were able to clean the Farlow climb without having to walk any of it. A high note.
A personal high note for me was the amount of the Farlow Gap descent I actually rode this year. Last year I walked a ton of it. This year (aside from the crazy rock hopping creek crossings) I rode most of it minus 2-3 sections I decided my teeth looked better in my face than in the leaves and hopped down them carrying my bike. Riding down Farlow on a rigid singlespeed and passing geared full suspension riders walking their bikes makes one wonder if they too shouldn't be walking, but it was a thrill to realize my skills have progressed from last year. I'm am not a strong technical descender usually picking the "chicken out" portion of my "when in doubt chicken out" descending motto. I owe most of that improvement to Ivory and Jut. Ivory is still the smoothest rider I've ever seen. He makes the gnarliest, rocky, is there even a line there, descents look like smooth pavement. You have to be careful when you ride with him because he makes stuff look so easy you end up trying it and barely escaping without catastrophe. Jut is the most bmx smooth hopping descender I know and following his wheel down a descent is a lesson in letting go and surfing the bike. At
ORAMM's past I'd set the pace up the climbs with him then hop on his wheel for the best line down. You don't even have to look where you're going, just lock onto his wheel and hang on.
Ivory took my suspension fork away. And pretty much my gears too. Telling me rigid would make me a better rider and in turn, make me faster. I don't know if any of that is true or has come to pass, but I do enjoy riding on a completely different level now thanks to him. Last year I was pretty torn up on the final descent off Cove Creek and even sore being rattled around on Danielson (? the rock strewn trail at the end of Farlow leading to the bridge). Lower back in agony, the jars killing my hands and triceps. This year I finished without pain, much happier, and enjoying the descents and the drops on the way down. Until I got Keithed that is.
Keith caught up to Mike and I on Farlow Gap. He caught Mike somewhere on the descent and found me waiting for Mike at the steps at the end of Farlow. Mike, having just started Police Academy training, had his employment status on the line and I wanted to make certain he made it down Farlow intact. Also, it's more fun to ride with friends than just be fast. Especially in Pisgah.
The 3 of us rolled along together past action photographer Jeanie, through aid station 3 and headed for the home stretch: Davidson river trail, rippin' along in all of it's flowy pumptrack-esque glory, to the 3-4 ish mile gravel climb back up to descend Cove Creek back into the campground. We dropped Keith on the climb due to the gear ratio differences, but knew he'd catch back up on the descent, which he did, a 1/4 mile from the finish. The jerk.
Never one to wear a watch, use a bike computer, or really be able to tell time, I figured at our leisurely pace we'd been riding had us at about 6 or so hours of riding when we hit the final gravel road climb. Mike told me it had been 4 hours and 30 minutes. That chippered me up and we spun up the climb anxious for the final descent. I had been torn with wanting to race and wanting to stay with friends. The choice was really easy, I just had to come to terms with that feeling of "letting down" until I realized the only person I would let down would be me and I was having the time of my life. In the weeks preceding, I hadn't wanted to really leave the house and had lost all excitement of even doing the race. It ended up being an even better experience than the last year and one I'm glad I didn't miss.
We all rolled across the line 5 hours and 9 ish minutes later. Keith 64th, Mike 66th, and me 65th. 30 ish minutes faster with much more of Farlow Gap ridden than I did last year and in a lot less physical agony too (Not even a blister on my hands). We grabbed some beer and burgers and waited to cheer on the others coming in. No mechanicals (aside from a few Zion and Niner chain drops), flats, or injured persons. Everyone seemed to have thoroughly enjoyed themselves, even me.
