So after much ado and anticipation, I rolled out of Berea Friday Morning. The destination: Traverse City, Michigan and Iceman Cometh.
So after a mind-numbingly long drive with Mike, Rusty, and Todd, packets were picked up, food and libations consumed, and to sleep we went.
I woke up the next morning at the god-awful hour of 6am, and we quickly got dressed, packed up, and headed to the little town of Kalkaska for the start of the race.
Staging was like nothing I've ever seen before, mountain bikers as far as the eye could see. Pretty awesome.
Lining up, I think I had the worst case of the pre-race jitters I've ever encountered. My right leg kept shaking, and I had no idea what to do to stop it. Oh well.
Off we went. I got the holeshot. It was the most awesome feeling ever being out in the front: seeing hundreds of people cheering and taking pictures and whatnot. I traded pulls with a racer for a bit, and before you know it, we were in the woods.
The trail was a lot like people said it would be. Wide, for the most part flat, and very sandy. All was going well, and I was feeling great, until I bobbled passing a rider and we got tangled up. Sucks, but that's part of racing. I looked up to see two guys take off past me as I tried to get back up and regain my composure.
So the chase was on. The race gave my big ring a pretty solid workout. I kept the hammer down, probably passed 200 people until I finally caught the rider, Ryan Katulic, about ten miles in.
I was excited to have someone to race with, as it helped me keep my pace consistent. We talked a bit, and traded pulls to open up our gap on the rest of the field. I attacked a few times to see how he was holding up, and he countered every time. The race was going to come down to the last 6 miles, where some sandy, short, steep hills came into play.
Ryan was a strong climber, and we were evenly matched on the hills, but finally luck was on my side. I was starting to notice that he was drifting off my wheel now and then. I used this to my advantage and attacked on one of the monster sandy hills. It was a pretty cool scene with people all around cheering, music playing, etc etc. I got bogged down in some deep sand and didn't clear the hill, but I came dang close :-)
After getting of my bike about 3/4s of the way up this hill, I got back on as quick as humanly possible and took off. Big ring doing its thing.
I opened a gap and couldn't see him anymore. Yes! I rode like a man possessed not knowing if he'd catch me or not. I pushed it, but tried to remain upright and not goof up with a crash or anything like that.
I kept it together the last few miles, and was able to roll across the line at 1:50, first place Sport 19-24. Wooooo!
Now the fun starts...
I cross the line, big smile on my face. The second I get of my bike, my stomach pretty much does a backflip. I think to myself, "Man I don't feel hot," and quickly make my way to some privacy.
Boom. Projectile vomit behind a tree. Nobody saw it, which sucks because it was probably hilarious. But I grabbed a banana and some water and felt fine again.
On a non-puke related note, good job to Chip Meek, Jeff Pendlebury, teammates The Spisaks,
Rusty Brown, Todd Turner, Brett Davis, Todd Davis, Mike Kline, and anyone else I forgot for ruling it out there on the trail. Everyone rode really well and showed that Ohio is a secret cycling hot bed with rad dudes.
If anyone is into data related geekery, this will suit you well enough. I forgot to start my Garmin until ten miles into the race :-( but until I find some pictures, I'll put up some data. 173 average heart rate. Ouch. Click it to make it bigger.