Decision, Decisions - Cohutta 100

Well,
my first 100 of the year has come and gone.
You might want to know how I finished?
How did the bike hold up?
Was it hard?
Did it Rain?
Was the climbing out of control?

Did I finish, no I did not.
The bike held up great and was truly an amazing ride.
Hard? I would give the first 50 miles about an 8 on a scale of 1-10, 10 being the hardest.
It started raining about mile 40 or so, which I think was about 11:15a.m.
Sure there was climbing, was it stupid? or off the hook? Not really. I think in retrospect it could all be completed in the middle ring for a strong rider.

We left the Ocoee Hotel just after 6:00 a.m. and headed to the start line which was located at the Ocoee Whitewater Center, also home to the 1996 Olympic Kayak event. We park, bail out of the car and start gathering pieces and parts, and determine what clothing  might be applicable for the day. Many have arm warmers on and knee warmers, some are wearing cycling hats, I even saw wind breakers and rain jackets. At this point, we all are aware that rain in some sort of fashion is looming. I go with arm warmers, short sleeves and shorts only. Hindsight, I should have kept the cycling hat with me. It was still really dark and there are hundreds of men and women all diligently checking their shifting, warming up their legs, and getting on-the-bike gear situated. I see local Ohio famous endurance racer Garth Prosser, working on his front brakes and getting his gear together and say hello. My friends, Cara/Ben, Ray, Layne, Mark French, all roll towards the start line, located at the entrance gate to the Whitewater Center. Ben, Layne, Ray and I are all sitting in the front 40%. There were some announcements, but no one sans the front 20 could hear. We didn't even hear the whistle or horn for the start, traffic just started moving uphill on Route 74.

Once we all filter through the gate 2.5 wide, like cattle being counted by a herder, we settle in and start up the steep road grade on Route 74. The four of us roll up the hill at a decent pace and try to get our motor's going. Layne comes around me and then, then Ben then Ray, I attempt to follow them and sit on as I watch my HR go through the roof. Not sure if it was nerves or just early morning jump start, I decide I need to ride my own race and let them go ahead. I get a little warm, make the decision to dump my arm warmers along the road (hoping I wouldn't need them later and would be able to find them after the race on the way back to the hotel-which I did get them). We climb and climb and the racers are strung out all the way up the climb. I look up to see the driveway to Boyd Gap and the parking lot/turn around area which means the entrance to the trail is just ahead of the parking lot. I find a good set of wheels to follow from the yellow line and we hit a downhill and then onto some of the best single-track I have ever ridden. We roll along in small packs, people passing where they need and being very polite and patient from behind, waiting for opportunities to pass. Small groups of 8 to 10 form in front of me and behind me, I was closing down the gap to the group in front of me on the twisty bits and downhill sections, and having no issues with any of the single track or staying in a rhythm. There was quite a bit of chatter going on, even some comments and jokes about a large turtle sitting in the middle of the Brush Creek trail. The mood overall was great, temperature sitting around 70 degree's, low wind and the sun peaking through the clouds on occasion. I was thoroughly enjoying this part of the race, the scenery off to our left was amazing as we made our way to Boyd Gap. We pop out of the woods and veer off to the left through some grass at Boyd Gap and drop down onto the single-track and down onto some really amazing trail alongside the river. Lots of passing and being passed, some baby head rocks, some roots and we arrive at the "famous" slate creek crossing. I hear and see Jen yelling and manage to get around some guy who took the wrong line and was about to eat it on the rocks. We cross the bridge at the welcome center and fade up into the single Track Layne and I pre-rode on Friday. This is about a 3-4 mile climb up to and on some more simply amazing single track trail. Since we had ridden this section, I remembered most of the trail and felt like I was picking up speed and riding with a little more speed, trying to keep up that average speed over 10mph. We roll along up Bear Paw and on the Chesnut trails and arrive at Aid Station 1 and Fire Service Road 221. I grab a banana, check on the bottles and decide to keep moving.
Make the turn to go onto the 100mile course, and let the others make their turn to do the 65 mile race. We hit FS65 at the Georgia line where the road becomes FS22. We continue to Dally Gap then to Watson’s Gap (Aid Station #2).
I stopped, had my bottles filled by some very helpful volunteers in this small valley in the road, grabbed a few items from my drop bag, filled up the bottles with powder mix, dropped off some food trash and grabbed more gel, a new bar and my Figs bars. I think I was at Aid 2 about 3/4 min and then on my way up this steep climb pedaling away chowing on my figs climbing at 5/7 mph - ugggg - trying to get my engine ramped up again.
About mile 25/26 while looking at my computer, I remember and visualize, the course profile, where we start the roughly 25 mile climb up to the peak of the race at 4000 feet. We hit Watson’s Gap and about 11:15 a.m. it starts to sprinkle rain and the temperature starts to noticeably drop by about 10 degrees. Myself and a few others try to stay together on the ups and downs of the road, all chatting about how much the weather is going to start sucking at some point. My hope and thoughts were, if I can just get up and over the peak of the race, get through Aid 3 and hit the otherside, before the serious rain and bad weather, that was predicted, I would be fine arriving at Aid 4, take a little break and continue on. Well, we hit FS64, and we climbed to Potato Patch mountain (Aid station 3) where road turns to FS6. The guy on the SS with the belt drive and a few others around me all mention and say they are quitting before we even arrive at Aid 3. The rain is coming down sideways, I can't see going downhill or even 10 feet in front of me at this point. The temperature had dropped another 10 degrees, the wind was blowing in some areas about 20-25 mph and lightning was popping very close to the exposed sections of the road. My brain is starting to take over as I pedal the last few feet into Aid 3 - meaning - I am starting to think about bailing and throwing in the towell - decisions, decesions - what should I do. I think maybe someone can tell me about the weather and get my hopes up that it's going to pass, I can hang out here for a few minutes even 15 if I had to...then I can start my long, fast, precaruious decent to Aid 4 and I would be home free. After arriving, standing under a tarp that was over our drop bags, one of the aid station volunteers invites me into the cabin to watch the radar. I go in, shivering and hoping to grab a PB & J sandwich, watch the radar and showers diminish and be on my way. The more I watched the radar, the more I thought about why I was out there in the first place, while I was eating my PB & J on a hot dog bun, it was because I enjoy riding my mountain bike and it's supposed to be fun - this WAS not fun or enjoyable.

Quitting at this point was one of the toughest decisions I have had to make - I am not a quitter, I am not the kind of person to start something and not finish, I have hundreds and hundreds of hours invested in training, tons of money involved in getting to this point, my body telling me to go, my brain telling me it's not fun, what happens if I wreck at 30 mph on the way to aid station 4, I can't see climbing or even going down little hills at 20 mph, what is finishing this race worth to me at this point, who am I here for? Do I want to be the only one of my friends that didn't finish? what am I going to say? How will I justify this to myself tomorrow or the next week?

I decide, to watch the radar for 5 minutes and at the end of that 5 minutes I will decide what to do. As the minutes tick by like hours and days, racers are filing into the cabin, gathered around a wall heater like penguins on the Discovery channel all shivering and not saying much. These guys were all quitting as well - do I want to add my name and number to that list? 2 minutes left, the radar, changes again for the worse, another giant blob of yellow, green and red stuff is heading this way - one minute - a woman racer rolls in the front door and heads for the heater, she's shivering beyond comprehension, another guy comes in and say's he can't feel his hands or his feet. The wind picks up again and it starts raining even harder: my 5 minutes are up - I make the personal decision to bail and quit. I will go to the finish, try to hold my head up-stand tall and tell my friends-training partners, family, I didn't finish, I will live to ride and train another day.

Congratulations to Ben, Cara, Ray, Layne, Mr. French, James, Bridget, Derek, Garth, Mr. Proppe and Ellen on your finish - you earned every pedal stroke. Thanks for a great weekend, shacking up with me, the conversations and making the social part of these races more fun.