Wilderness 101

My brother was supposed to meet us at the W101 and attempt his first hundred and Mike was supposed to race as well. Well, my brother decided he'd rather have a grade 5 shoulder separation than do the W101 and Mike crashed a couple of weeks ago and he wasn't going to be racing either. I was the only one. Kind of a bummer motivation wise. On the bright side, I now had a handler. Mike drove me to and fro, put up with my persnickety requests, unloaded my crap into the hotel, slept in a hotel room with the temp set to 'meat locker', reloaded my crap the next morning and had my bike set up and ready by the time I got out of the truck.

The Scooby Doo air at the start was so thick that you could cut it with a knife and eat it a la Shaggy and Scooby. The start was uneventful. It's paved road and then it's gravel road for miles so no one really got crazy. Plus, this had a lot smaller field. I dragged my body up the first climb at my own pace. My legs weren't as peppy feeling as I would have liked. They didn't hurt. They just felt dead. Gravel and more gravel with some fire roads and singletrack thrown in. In the first piece of singletrack I got a little excited because I was so happy to see singletrack. I barreled into the first rock garden like my tires and fork were set to squish. They weren't. I run everything a lot firmer for hundreds. My front tire glanced off the mossy, sharp, slippery, sweaty rocks and I went down. I left a hunk of flesh on that trail.

I let a little air out of my tires and softened my fork a bit and was on my way. Much better. What a dumbass. Although, there wasn't much singletrack, the little bit here and there was the best part. I didn't realize how much I was bleeding until my left ankle and foot felt really wet and I looked down and blood was running down my leg. Riders and volunteers kept commenting on it. It looked much worse than it was because of the bleeding. I got to the next aid station and a volunteer insisted that I wash it off. He told me I needed stitches when I'm done. Not happening. I threw some water on it, cleaned my leg off and he sprayed some antiseptic spray on it and I went on my way. Thank goodness I was wearing black socks.

It felt downright tropical it was so humid. It was the kind of day where you were soaking wet as soon as you stepped out of the car. Whenever I would look down sweat and moisture would dump out of my helmet. On certain sections it was so misty you couldn't see very far in front of you. I hate the humidity. Not to mention I feel all bloaty and swollie when it's humid. And chafing. Sweet Lord. The chafing. I've been lucky because I haven't had an issue all year with saddle sores or chafing. I wasn't the only one cursed with this issue. When I finished there were a lot of complaints about raw asses and not being able to sit down without whimpering. Thank you for relief, Boudreaux's Butt Paste. I love you.

I was riding okay at times. I felt like I could go faster, I just couldn't find the motivation to do so. That was pretty much my theme of the W101. Lacking motivation and apathy. I think it's safe to say that I'm a little burnt. I just felt and still feel dead, physically and mentally. I couldn't will myself to care. Usually I'll pick someone and try to stay with that person. If her or she drops off or I can't hold it without blowing up I'll pick someone else. Let's just say the W101 was very lonely .

It rained a few times. It washed away the blood and tears. About six hours in, I had just made it up one of the long climbs. I got to the top, soft pedaled and I started welling up with tears. I was sobbing. What the hell was that about? Crying, Jocelyn? Really? Tears started to roll down my face. I couldn't stop. I was full on balling at one point. I can't even say that anything hurt or that I was cracked. It was mental. Mentally, I had had it. I had a little talk with myself and FINALLY stopped crying. It took longer than expected to talk myself off that ledge. I then realized somewhere on the course my glasses had come off my helmet. Begin Round 2 of  the waterworks. Sonofabitch.

There were some long, fast downhills that caused the hands and arms to complain. Rocky fireroads and then some less rocky fire roads with gravel roads in between and then there were some kitty litter roads thrown in for fun. It's not one of my favorite hundreds, I will say that much. Maybe it's because of how I felt mentally. Maybe I'll want to come back next year for redemption. Right now, not so much. At the end there was a special kick in the teeth called Fisherman's Trail. Everyone walks. Hike-a-bike is all that stands in the way of a rail trail to the paved road into the finish. It was soul crushing at the time. As I rolled into the finish all I could think about was changing, tending to my raw ass and making the drive home to sleep in my own bed as soon as possible. Usually I like to mingle and trade war stories. I was ready to go. My handler found me and said he was starting to worry because he expected me sooner on that course. Yeah, me too. I couldn't get my shit together.

It was nice to sleep in my own bed the night after a hundred. Even better is that I didn't have to wake up at the crack of ass to make a 9+ hour drive home. It was unusual that I had zero appetite after the race yesterday. I did well to suck down some coke and water. I woke up craving weird things this morning and went down to the farmers market. Never go to a farmers market the day after a hundred. Big mistake. I spent some cash. First, I hit the pickle man's table hard and bought other random things for later (meat sticks and fresh fruit popsicles. Mmmm.). I ate a lot of the pickles, some spicy sweet potato salad, fresh fruit and coffee for breakfast. Hit the spot.

In three weeks, I had planned on doing the Hamshire 100. Now I don't think I can do it. In retrospect, this whole hundred goal I set for myself this year was a little bigger than expected. Two would have been good to get my feet wet and I could have gone for more next year. I'll be lucky to make it to Shen in Septemeber. I'll see how I come through this week. As I sit here holding down the couch, eating pickles and dissecting the table tennis serves of Olympians, I'm quite happy at the thought of staying home.