ORAMM With a Reasonable Finish: What a Difference a Year Makes

I’ve participated in endurance bike races for about a year now and have just started to anniversary races. Last year, ORAMM was arguably a disaster, though not connected to any one mistake as much to a general lack of fitness- ‘simple fatigue’, as the Simrils call it- and a lack of experience. Since ORAMM last year I’ve completed 5 hundred milers, swank, and the snake trilogy. In the process I’ve learned a bit about balancing nutrition and gotten a little faster on the bike. I was still the slowest guy from the Chattanooga group to cross the line, but the margins are getting smaller.

I do not know if I will ever get to the point that I can hang on the long climbs but just to be in the mix offers a more enjoyable race experience, due mostly to one notable difference: The aid stations do not look like zombie apocalypse waste lands.

I did not realize how well organized the aid stations are before the ‘picnic tour’ crowd moves in. Let me tell you of this land the lies ahead of the hapless and hopeless.

I saw orange slices and Dixie cups full of trail mix lined up like little toy soldiers on clean tables. I had clean, cool, water to refill my pack, and even some ice! The aid workers were motivated to help and moved quickly to retrieve my aid bags. They did not condescend or scowl but offered encouragement to get me moving. They were bright eyed and even smiling. The experience gave me pause to think: Where were the bloated carcasses of middle aged men blocking the path, flies circling overhead? Where were the candy bar wrappers and potato chip bags, tumbling in the wind? Where was the look of death and regret on the faces of the wretched who thought their new race wheels and electrolyte drink might save them from their lack of training? The absence of gloom made this a wondrous place, indeed.

It is an entirely different experience to be among the group who know, more or less, what they are in for and have spent adequate time to prepare. For those of you who have been pushed into a race a like this, ill-prepared, and turned back in despair, let me tell you there is hope ahead. There is a road paved in golden delicious apples and tables full of Fig Newton’s. Take heart and ride hard: The Promised Land exists!