Swank 65 is 40 miles (65k) over some of the most technical trails in Pisgah: Finish times range from 3 ½ hours to 7 ½ hours. I was hoping for a respectable ‘front-middle’ time of sub 5 hours.
Pre-race warm-up was a little tricky. The race is a Le Mans style start consisting of a ¼ mile run over uneven terrain with a hard left turn over roots before getting to our bikes and diving immediately into tight singletrack. I had been stressing about it all week.
My left ankle was still a little swollen from a fall into a creek bed some 4 weeks ago and squawked at me a few times on my warm up over the rooted hill in the start loop. I worked out that my ankle would behave a little better if I ran on my toes so I got in line and said a little prayer that I wouldn’t roll it again or get stepped on and put me out of the race before I got to my bike.
Starting gun goes off and all 190 of us take off together in a mass field sprint of hairy legs and camelbaks. We were going to war; not with each other but within ourselves and our common enemy, the Pisgah Mountains. The energy of a foot race sprint is more palpable than any endurance event. I think it does good to get your juices flowing and looking back on my first experience; I think I prefer the le mans start.
I managed somewhere around the first 20 or 30 on the bike into the woods and settled in for a nice train ride up the three mile climb of singletrack. 1st creek crossing is a mandatory dismount and walk across a two log bridge about 10 feet long. I only had to wait for 2 people before I could cross and counted my blessings as I looked back and saw the line stacking up. On creek crossings 2 and 3, there is a sketchy ride option through the creek and I went for both, passing several each time. I admit I was feeling pretty good about myself by this point and put my head down to bridge a small gap created between me and the riders in front. A lesson I refuse to learn is to never get cocky or relax, especially with a course this complex and full of turns. I rounded a turn and down a short descent to a creek crossing I was unfamiliar with. I stopped, looked back, and saw that no one was behind me. In my zeal, I missed the turn arrow and blew right past a “WRONG WAY” sign. I estimated my mistake cost me about 3-4 minutes (and about 20+ spots) as I dug my way back up the climb. “Idiot” I told myself over and over as I threaded back into line on course. Once on the fire road, I tried to maintain pressure to the pedals to catch up but, honestly, my heart wasn’t in it after taking the wrong turn. I know it was a small error in the big picture but it was enough to break my will. It was slow going for about 10 minutes before engaging a respectable effort on my way to the top of the first big descent, Daniel Ridge.
The leaves are in full bloom in Chattanooga right now but Pisgah, not to be bested, decided to make leave watching even easier on us racing this weekend by putting all of the pretty colors on the ground. They were pretty but hard to appreciate while trying desperately to stay upright in a rocky, loose, descent with surprise 2 foot drop offs and rutted blind turns(that are all covered with pretty orange leaves). I tend to treat my descending like I do my religion; I take it on faith. If I have good run-out, I just let it ride and believe the wheels want to stay upright more than I do. Unfortunately, when tight turns are involved, my faith gets tested. All was going peachy as I gained about 10 spots until I got to the last rocky switch back. In an attempt to cut the already tight corner and pass an overly cautious mcgoo navigating the turn on the outside, my wheel caught and slammed me to the ground with the fervor similar to a pro wrestling DDT. I saved my face (the money maker) but my hip took the brunt on a sharp rock which punched a nickel sized hole in my skin and subcutaneous fat over my left hip flexor. I managed to get back up but thought the ref might call a technical when I saw the damage. It was exceedingly gross but the bleeding was minimal and I was able to ride limply down to Aid 1. The aid worker was eager to help until she saw my wound and visibly went pale as she went off to find someone with a stronger stomach. I didn’t know what to think of the gunshot wound shaped hole in my side and wondered if my race was over. I was already thinking about the tasty protein bar I had in my bike bag in the truck and how nice a day it would be to sit out in my crazy creek while the wife raced. About that time she decides to roll up and ruin everything. She’s a nurse anesthetist and has seen real trauma so I trust her judgment when she tells the aid worker to tape it up and for me to suck it up and get back in the race (she is a great wife but not the most sympathetic to my injuries).
I began the second to longest gravel road climb of the day with a nice sharp pain my side and the nagging image of a hole in my hip but somehow manage to get back into some semblance of race mode. I had given up at least another 25-30 spots standing around feeling sorry for myself to put me somewhere around 70th place. After the fire road climb was the Butter Gap trail which starts as a climb but quickly turns into a descending trail that lives up to its name for it was covered in slick and gooey mud for about 3 miles. After that followed the longest climb of the day with about 3 miles of single track, 2 miles of moderate fire road, and about 3 more miles of steep fire road that required liberal use of my 22/34 climbing gear before getting to the infamous Farlow Gap downhill. Consisting mostly of roots and rocks, Farlow is basically a trail that drops directly down the fall line of Pilot Mountain with little courtesy to traverse you on your way. It tends to take you right out of race mode and straight into ‘don’t die mode’ with a healthy dose of freshly forgotten Halloween terror on your way down a 250 yard scree field of baby head rocks covered by pretty yellow and orange leaves hiding the danger beneath. A sole spectator with a vuvuzela manned the scree field that claimed at least 20 endoes and half as many twisted ankles from those that chose to hike/fall down the trail. I fared a little better (with special thanks to my dropper post) and enjoyed the vuvuzela requiem as I made good gains on some of the positions I gave up earlier. 4 creek crossings and multiple hike-a-bike sections later brought me back to where I started with one last loop consisting of a moderate fire road climb and a bombing descent to the finish. My computer had stopped somewhere along the way and I had no idea how I did until I crossed the finish line at 4:38 in 54th, besting my goal by 22 minutes.
The rest of the Motor Mile crew had a great turn out and special congrats to John Meek for letting me talk him into this and for his ability to do so well.
Brad Cobb: 3:51 10th
Justin Mace: 4:07
Tab Tollet 4:56
Bill Hartley 5:38
John Meek 5:47
Til next time; thanks for reading.
Brad Cobb: 3:51 10th
Justin Mace: 4:07
Tab Tollet 4:56
Bill Hartley 5:38
John Meek 5:47
Til next time; thanks for reading.
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