Mohican

Rank. That's how I would describe myself the morning of Mohican. Rank and surly. I hated life. I didn't want to touch my bike. I woke up at 5 am and felt less than stellar to say the least. I didn't feel great on Friday, but attributed it to being in the car for 9 hours. The thought of being on my bike all day on Saturday really caused some consternation and loathing. I had pretty much already decided when I left the cabin that I was either going to ride to the start and ride right back to the cabin or do the singletrack right up until the point when it dumps onto the bike path and I can ride back to the cabin. There's no way I was riding 100 miles.

I got to the start late because of all my flip flopping and bitching and moaning, so that put me way at the back of the start. Not like I need or have the right to be anywhere near the front, but the start at Mohican can really suck if you're too far off the rear. By the time you get to the top of the starting hill and get to the end of farm road you are met with a huge bottleneck of riders, clipped out, waiting to get into singletrack. It's no fun. It also did not improve my experience. Inch by inch in the singletrack I wanted to quit more. Within the first 20 minutes I had pulled over, decided that I was going to ride out backwards and go back. I had  told my brother and all of his friends that I was calling it. I waited and waited and didn't see a way out backwards because of the traffic coming at me so I jumped back in line and moved forward. Slowly. Really slowly. Being bunged up on a ss in flowy singletrack is no fun and takes a toll because I waste so much energy track standing, pedaling, track standing, pushing, waiting....riders were falling everywhere and clogging the flow. Once again, this did not add to my Mohican experience. Usually, I can work through these things and laugh about it or the mere thought of finishing drives me. Wasn't happening. I felt sickly hot and weak. I kept plugging away and told myself  that I can quit at Aid Station One. I saw Sandie and she gave me a pep talk and encouraged me not to quit. I rode a little more. I rode to Aid Station 1, paused, looked around for my family, saw no one, clipped back in and kept pedaling. I didn't even take fluids, as I really didn't plan on being out there much longer.

I glanced at my top tube and really thought hard what Batman would do. He would quit, go back to the Batcave, have Albert fix him a snack, play with some gadgets and regroup. Right? Flash forward a a mile or two and I came upon my brother, who had just crashed. I gave him shit for crashing and we jabbered back and forth for a bit and we rode together. I jumped ahead of him and he told me if I take the right at the hike a bike I will end up at the cabin. So tempting. I took the left and trudged up the hill. Ended up riding with my brother for a while. I ran out of fluids and he gave me an extra bottle until we made it to the next aid station. At Aid Station 2 I caught up with Shoogs from Something Wicked Events.  The next aid station my brother turned off at the 100k loop. I decided my fate. I was still struggling. My dad, niece and nephew were there. My niece was trying to push me to the 100k because I think she was worried I didn't feel well. She also was worried that she didn't see Mike and was certain he had quit or something tragic and/or spectacular had happened to him in the woods. I took the 100 mile route up the steep grassy hill. My dad took pictures of me walking up it. I will surely savor burn delete those. I just kept plugging away and watched the miles tick away until my computer died/came back to life/then died again. I have to thank Shoogs because he kept me going the rest of the race.

At one point, we went through a ropes course and people were zip lining through the woods. I was bugging out at first because I couldn't figure out what was happening.  They looked like they were having a lot more fun than me.

Can we talk about the wedding? Some rutters (southeast Ohio term, but I'm pretty sure you can grasp the meaning) had attempted to close the covered bridge on the rail trail for a wedding. They were trying to divert the race. The goon guarding the bridge would not let anyone pass. I heard later he even tried to grab one girl's bike because she tried to cross. There was a pack of us and we were not riding around. We finally got through, congratulated the scary, platinum, heavily cleavage-tattooed bride and were on our way. I'm confident in saying there was no permit for that. That was the Redneck Mafia at it's finest hour.

Made it through the last couple of stops and then saw the family at the last one before I went into the final single track. No need to stop. Just waved and pedaled through. The final piece of singletrack flowed. Relief came when I crossed the final bridge and knew the end was just around the corner. Crossed the line and still can't believe I sucked it up and finished. Working through demons that appear during the race is one thing, having them ride with you all day is quite another. Despite my issues of the day (both real and imagined), I still pulled a better time than expected. I have Charlie to thank for that.

Hopefully, my attitude will have had an overhaul for the next one: Lumberjack. That's right. Somehow I got talked into it (it didn't take much) and in 2 weeks I'll be doing this again. It's a tall order for my body so I need to stay well the next two weeks and get it together or it's gonna be another miserable day in the saddle. After last year, I'm looking for redemption. As I write this I'm getting excited to go back to MI and give it another whirl. This is a good thing.