I didn’t think I would survive the Jerdon Mountain Challenge. That might sound kinda stupid, but for some
reason I was really nervous. I haven’t
been nervous before a race in a long, long time, but right after I registered
at the 11th hour I started to have second thoughts. Although I had just ridden the course a month
ago, Saturday would be the first time I would attempt it on a single
speed. There was no way I would chicken
out (or waste the money I spent on registration), but all day at work on Friday
I started thinking the worst.
Like I would die out there.
I know I was overreacting, but something just didn’t feel
right. I got home Friday night, made sure
my bike was ready, and got some rest to prepare myself for a long day. Lunchbox and I hit the road at the crack of
dark, and during the two hour drive to Old Fort I calmed down a little. Just before the race started I got my game
face on.
After the pre-race announcements, we rolled out through
town.
Photo cred: Lunchbox
I started out kinda up front, but that changed quickly. Running a 32x21 had me spinning like crazy,
and I couldn’t keep up with the geared people.
I resisted the urge to spin my ass off to keep up, and when we hit a
couple of climbs on the road I passed a few people. During the flat sections I got passed again,
but I realized that maybe I might have a chance to keep up with such an easy
gear as the race went on (and as the climbing increased.) After a few
miles the paved road ended, and we started climbing up Mill Creek Rd.
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Photo cred: Me. I brought my phone along just in case.
During the long climb up the road, I noticed that the geared
riders were spinning with the lowest of gears.
My gear ratio was perfect for that climb, and I started passing people
left and right. Every time I went by
someone I heard, “You’re crazy for riding a single speed.” I just smiled, said thanks, and kept on
pushing. My legs felt pretty damn
awesome, so when I finally reached the top I decided to blow by the first rest
stop. Next up was Kitsuma, which after a
series of switchback climbs turns into some of the raddest downhill out there.
I was ready, or so I thought.
On the first downhill I grabbed a little brake to scrub some
speed and I noticed that I had nothing for a rear brake. Zero.
Zilch. What was supposed to be a
fun section turned into “Oh shit, I hope I don’t die.” I got my ass way off the back of my seat, and
somehow managed to control my speed and not die (or worse) using only my front
brake. I also noticed that my rear tire
pressure was really low for some reason, but I had just enough air to make me
pucker up a little around the corners.
Towards the bottom of the trail I ran into a little traffic, and my
first thought was to stop as soon as I could and shoot a little CO2 into my
tire.
I guess I forgot, because as soon as I got out I gunned
it. Back on Mill Creek Road , I realized once again
the disadvantage of my gear choice.
Spinning at only eleven miles per hour, I took my hands off the bars,
grabbed my phone, and texted Lunchbox to let him know that I was approaching
the halfway point. As soon as I sent it,
I rolled up to the geyser and saw a crowd of people cheering and taking photos.
Photo cred: Danielle
S.
Lunchbox had hitched a ride there, while Little Miss
Sunshine waited for her friend to roll through so they could ride Star Gap
together. I probably should’ve stopped
to borrow an air pump (which I found out later they did indeed have), but I was
making good time and didn’t want to ruin it.
Instead of turning up Mill
Creek Road to climb again, we went straight
through to aid station number two.
I had to stop this time, since both of my bottles were
empty. It was a quick stop though, since
one of the very helpful volunteers filled them both for me. Thirty seconds later I was back on the bike, headed
for Star Gap.
The easy part was over.
And so is today’s post.
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