Days of the NUE

This year’s National Ultra Endurance races have been a tough bunch and you never quite know what adventure awaits when rolling out from the start. The weather has often been quite bad and I’ve had a few hard spills. One thing is for sure, every hundred mile MTB race is an adventure in itself. Epic conditions and intense days on the bike have helped to forge a stronger rider in me.

The Cohutta 100 - April 24th
Rain the night before the race had made the trails nice and tacky. A long paved climb at the start crested and tuned right into fun and flowing single track. I surged around a group to make up some lost time and pinned it on a paved section approaching a wooden bridge. My brain did not compute how slippery it would be and I tossed myself and the bike across the bridge at about 20mph. Later, I noticed my rear brake dragging and was getting quite annoyed with the squeal of the disk rubbing on every revolution of my rear wheel up the big climbs. I would find out later that it was more than just a pad out of adjustment...

After more single track and the start of the 65 mile forest road section, it became soul crushing when a thunderstorm engulfed myself and others midway up the longest climb at about 45 miles into the race. The torrential sheets of water mocked me as I rolled into the aid station and paused before continuing up the rest of the major climb. Rain washed stinging sweat into my eyes as I approached. For extended moments I was essentially riding blind. At the aid station, I fished my bottles and gels from my drop bag as I shivered in the downpour that was relentlessly stripping any body heat I had left as it washed over my skin. Struggling with my rain shell, my arms cramped and my upper body pretzel’ed. Things seemed very bleak.

This single moment is the only time I have seriously debated dropping out of a MTB Century. But, I decided I had come with a purpose and I was going to get my hundred miles. I pushed through the rest of the big climb, riding way off the beaten tire tracks on the fire road. At this point the road had two rivers running down the double tracks. I looked forward to hard pedaling because I desperately needed the warmth. 50 deg F and pouring rain will drain you down fast if you don’t generate some serious body heat.

Riding in those demoralizing conditions with another 50 miles to go seemed to unearth the dark corners of my mind, and bring them sharply into focus. I felt anguished while remembering my cat and friend Lemmy, whom I had just lost to an illness that starved the life from him. I recollected all to vividly how he struggled to stay alive as the long night refused him another dawn. In that moment I became intimately reacquainted with the sense of helplessness I had tried to forget. Struggling to crest the mountain and escape down the other side, the realization that I was not helpless to finish what I had started became clear. That’s when I knew there were 50 more miles I would ride, no matter what.

While I rode the last mile of paved path to the finish, a fresh thunderstorm kicked up and gusts of gale force winds and rain tried to blow me back to the mountain. I pressed on cursing the rain and laughing madly back at the storm like King Lear. For sure, this was one of the toughest days I've had on a bike.
132 Finished open men, I placed 109th in 10:52, almost an hour off last years finish

Mohican 100 - June 5th
I love the Mohican 100. It’s one of my favorite races and has loads of fun single track. The forecast was for partly sunny skies and I could only hope for a bit drier race. I woke up at about 4:00AM as multiple waves of thunderstorms rolled through and dumped all over our campsite and the Mohican wilderness. As I got dressed I just hoped that it would not be raining when we started the climb out of Loudonville. As fate would have it, conditions cleared up nicely for our start on the road and gravel.

Plunging into the single track, it quickly became clear just how muddy the day would be. Slithering back to the campground via single track muddied us all considerably and proved slower than usual. The next fun and flowing 15 miles in the Mohican State Park were great, and not in too bad of shape. There was a long wood bridge with a turn in the middle that was covered in rain, and a thin coating of muck from the racers that came before me. The folks helping and taking pictures cautioned us to slow and watch out for the Death Bridge…I slowed and let out a “Yee-Haw” for the photographers… and then promptly crashed on the wet planks.

The remaining 80 mile of the race was very challenging because of all the peanut butter mud sections that required extra strength from all corners of the body. Also, a pretty nasty storm kicked up and I was again caught out riding in a tempest. I found out later that the storm system spawned tornados nearby. At the last section of the course, I was glad that a really nasty short wall of a climb had been re-routed at the campground where the race ended. There was however a very full stream to negotiate while hoisting my bike overhead. Crossing the finish line, I collected my pint glass and washed away some of the mud… then swapped war stories and recollected the challenges of the day.
190 started open men, I finished 64th in 11:06
There were 90 DNFs in open men.

Wilderness 101 - August 3rd
Ah… Pennsylvania trails. You had better like rocks, cause that’s what your gonna get. They are not the insurmountable hike a bike type of rocks, but rather a carpet of smaller pummeling instruments. The weather forecast looked good, maybe a 100 miler this year for me without all the epic thunderstorms and rain.

The race rolled out of Coburn park at controlled pace behind a lead out vehicle. This was a nice section to get the legs warmed up before pulling the trigger on the 1st gravel climb. Sure enough this day was starting beautiful and the weather would remain that way.

My friend Clarke has a nickname for me, it’s the “Cro” as in “Cro Magnon”. You see, at times I am like those prehistoric ancestor of man who probably approached some things in an adrenaline fueled, fight or flight responses. I like to go fast in single track. I’m better at killing trails than speeding up long gravel climbs. So, when we got to the entrance of the first section of trail, I should have heeded the warning a couple of cheerleaders were chanting… something… something…”watch the rocks, watch the rocks!”

I was feeling my oats and quickly overtaking riders in front of me so I decided to pass. “On your left” as I tried to weave around a rider in the grass next to the rocky trail. Just then, a strange and sudden feeling filled my senses. There was that sickening violent fling and moment of weightlessness as I arced over the bars and into the rocks my front tire had just met. Ouch! My limp carcass littered the trail and I lamely pulled my bike to me so other racers would not run into it. It was going to be a long day and Pennsylvania had just let me know where I was.

The rest of the race unfolded with out too much drama for me, just a few folks who felt they should point out I was a little dusty, thanks guys… The last abandoned train tunnel you go through is full of rocks and the line is on the right. Some how I ended up NOT on the right… and then my front tire found another big rock and I spewed some profanity as I met the rocks once again. My calf seized in a cramp as I tried to pick myself up, and I must have looked strange as a collapsed pretzel of man and bike. Ah… Pennsylvania.

Overall I finished a bit bruised, but not broken and with my best time yet of 9:52.
205 open men started, I placed 96th



Next up - Shenandoah Mountain 100 !
Cheers, Jeff Plassman