Terror of Teaberry: Fail

I started to think the universe was telling me not to go to PA:

1. Pulled out and realized I forgot my wallet 15 minutes later and had to go back to the house.
2. I was in a dazed state and took the wrong way on 78 and drove to Newark. Ummm...I've driven 78 west about a gazillion times. Tack on 45 minutes to the trip.
3. Had to pee so badly and every time I got off an exit the gas station or McDonald's was 3+ miles away. They should have to tell you this while on the highway so you can make an educated decision, but I digress. I ended up peeing behind a dumpster of a bank. Twice.
4. While opening up a bag of almonds, they exploded and scattered across the truck.
5. The little truck does not have Sirius. Once in PA, all I could get on the radio were Jesus stations. When I found a decent station, the Jesus stations kept coming through. Creepy.
6. Got to hotel, was unpacking stuff, bag fell off arm and I grabbed it to catch it and there was an open safety pin on the strap and it went through the webbing between my thumb and index finger. That felt lovely.
7. Somehow the skewer bolt and spring worked its way off my wheel in the bed of the truck. I was crawling around with a cell phone light like an asshole in the parking lot trying to find them. A senior couple was perplexed by my behavior and did chat me up in the parking lot and asked me to go to the Bonanza buffet with them. I declined. Not sure how a buffet would feel on the bike. Gag.
8. In the morning, I made my coffee in the room and proceeded to drop the full glass carafe on the bathroom floor. Coffee and glass everywhere. That required some clean up.
9. The check engine light came on as soon as I pulled into the venue.
10. Put on my riding shoes and realized something was in the toe of my left one. It was an almond and the evil safety pin.

I felt good at the start. Michaux is raw and technical to say the least. It's hard to do it justice in a blog post.  I knew I had the fitness and technically I have been riding well. I was confident I would finish. In the first 20 minutes I saw 7+ guys with flats. I shook my head and secretly judged them. Poor guys. How does one flat in the first 20 minutes? Maybe if you wouldn't ride like an out of control idiot down baby head and razor-rock down hills that wouldn't happen. As soon as I got all judgy and stuff it happened. Karma's a bitch. Pssssssss. I kept riding and pretended the noise was a leaf stuck between the fork and tire. It wasn't. Things got squirrely in the rear fast. Fudge. But I didn't say fudge. I saw there was a sidewall tear and got out my tire plugs or "stabbies" as I like to call them. Put in a stabbie and got my big air ready. Turned chuck to crack CO2 and there was chuck fail. Blew big air every which way but in my tire. I was done. I had nothing. Nothing until my drop bag at the aid station. I yelled a few obscenities, kicked a tree and turned around. So pissed. My computer said 30 minutes. Riders passed me. No one wants to give anything up at Michaux. Self preservation is key. I walked my bike in anger back up towards civilization. 15 minutes later, after a few dozen more colorful words were strewn around the forest, I came upon a guy with a pump. He pumped up my tire and it held. I helped him out and used some stabbbies on his hole. That sounds oddly inappropriate, but you know what I meant.

I wasn't sure at that point if I should try to go the way of the course or continue back. I had lost ~25 minutes and I had gone backwards. 25 minutes at Michaux is huge. Computer said 55 minutes. I turned around and tried to make it. I busted my ass. I felt extremely defeated because I couldn't see or hear anyone. Flat tire guy had fallen off behind me. I felt my tire getting softer and I could feel the rim hitting the rocks. Fuck. I had to baby it until the aid station. Made it to the aid station. It only took me 2 hours to go 12 miles. Ugh. I rolled in and used their pump rather than waste another C02. I felt pretty defeated. Grabbed my bottles and went on. I started to bust ass again and finally I caught up to some guys on singlespeeds. They looked like they were pulling the plug and asked if the motos were coming. I told them that no motos were coming. That's the fun part of Michaux races. Motos start taking down the course after the last rider and follow.  I have succumbed to the motos before. I think part of the attrition rate is because of this. It's awful and humiliating.

The loamy freshcut trails were leg sapping to put it mildly. At on point, the course was just arrows through the woods. No trail to be seen. Just riding through saplings and bushwhacking by way of the arrows. Again my tire got a little soft. And no, I would not put a tube in. Not yet. I stopped on an off-camber singletrack section to fill it again. The trail was uneven, so to get my balance I braced myself against the tree. While I was tending to my tire I heard a loud crack and what I now know was a dead tree gave way and I toppled over backwards down the hill, slammed my head and hip into the downed tree and my bike toppled on top of me. Really. I can't make this shit up. That was the most painful crash I've had all year. The good news is my tire held.

I got myself together and carried on. I climbed a long gravel road and drained my bottles. I looked at my mileage and I was at 25ish miles. The next aid station was supposed to be around mile 27, so I wasn't too concerned. Fast forward an hour + later. No aid station. It was not good. I thought I missed it and I wasn't the only one. I felt awful. Dizzy, clumsy and nauseated. I couldn't eat because I had no fluids. My body was not my own. Not good. I felt drunk and was moving backwards at one point. I made it to the aid station at around 32 miles. There were only 4 more miles to go and I got pulled. That sucks. As I was coming out of the singletrack I saw a woman riding up the road. She had just made it. FUCK. I sat and talked to the moto guy who was going to corral the others behind me. Before I left the moto guy told me to hold still and he pulled a inch long twig that was embedded in my arm.  He held it up and asked how I didn't feel it. Delirium I told him. I got my marching orders and directions back. To say it was demoralizing is putting it mildly. It was the ride of shame back to the parking lot.

In trying to find the bright side of my experience, I convinced myself that I was lucky all year with flats and technicals. I was due. It was better that they happened today. I guess. I was then told that during the last 4 miles a few people were stung by bees. Someone pointed out that maybe it was 'luck' that I didn't make it because I'm allergic. The universe? Maybe. I think it's just fudging Michaux.