Mohican 100! (Harlan)

The stats:  Driving 440 miles away= 9hrs
                100 miles of racing= 8hrs and 23mins
       
Tornados, rain, mud in eyes, the smell of oil and old barns with tobacco advertising. Ohio is a strange and beautiful place. Everytime I drive there I gain a better appreciation for the rolling hills of the western Appalachian terminus.

The night before we left Dr. Jim told me that it was hailing chunks of ice! On the drive out we passed in and out of torrential rain.  As we drew closer to the event, the evidence of heavy rains could be seen in the fields where only the highest part of the rows stuck above water. We were on track to mimic the Cohutta 100 last month.
      
It was raining during check-in and the idea of sleeping outside in a tent, which I forgot, or my hammock (which I had) didn't seem appealing. Theo and I took off to find a place to stay. After some searching we found camp TooDik about 5 miles away and acquired a three bunk chalet. It continued raining all night and into the morning. 
We woke up at 5:30, ate our cold breakfasts and scooted out of there to leave our drop bags and line up in downtown Loundonville. The rain slacked off for the start and we had only threatening clouds and wet roads followed by wet trails to remind us of the recent history.
        
The Mohican has one of the worst starts in the history of 100 milers. Two miles out of town we climb the first steep hill of the day and at the top of it is a cash bonus for the first racer to it. The result is a pelaton that goes ballistic from the line and you have to abuse your cold muscles to keep a good position into the opening single track. I discovered this year that it's even harder on a single speed. I burned through a few cookies early and spent the rest of the day regretting my early efforts. Somehow I was still about 15 back from the front and I instantly tried to settle down and work my way through people without stressing myself out any more than necessary. I got to ride with my friend Theo for the first ten miles, which was fun and new. The trails were so full of water and treacherous, but Theo and I were having a good time riding loose lines and catching people a little less capable in the trail.
         
Eventually Mike Montelbano, another single speeder caught up to us, and we proceeded to battle for the rest of the day. No other one geared rider made their way up to us and we only had each other to watch out for. Through aid station one we went through together and then at aid station two we were cleaning our bikes, and I decided to go inside the garage and grab a snack while Mike cleaned his rig with the garden hose. When I stepped back outside Mike was no where in sight! I had been snookered. I jumped on the bike and after a few minutes caught up to mike and could tell he hadn't cleaned his bike like I thought he was going to do. It turns out when I went inside he thought I had jumped on the bike and was in front of him.
     
We continued on together with a couple of geared riders. I was trying to be as conservative as possible since I pretty much knew I had blown some reserves off the start and wasn't sure how I was going to finish with anything left. On top of that it has been a pretty busy few weeks and I hadn't been on the bike as much as I should have, so training was definitely not up to par. I knew that after aid station three we were going to have some of the biggest climbs of the day and a section of infamous cart path, that was a single speeders worst nightmare. I got out of aid three first and expected Mike to follow soon after. There was no sign of Mike and after a bit a geared rider caught me and we worked well together through the worst road stretches. Unfortunately he was starting to flag on the Cart path and my advantage of being with a geared rider was a little blown since I had to pull for him a decent amount. The good news was that we didn't see Mike at all.
     
At Aid station four and 72 miles in I refueled, cleaned the bike a little and took off. Soon after Greg Kuhn on a geared bike caught up and told me he had been riding with Mike and he wasn't that far back. Greg was obviously riding strong and he soon pulled away, which meant he was probably a good pull for Mike. Sure enough, Mike came up on me a few minutes later and we rode together to aid station five. On one of the last steep climbs I managed to ride more of it than Mike, but his walking was the same speed and I could tell I was about cooked. My quads were cramping a little and when he stood up on a nice paved incline and rode away I couldn't respond. I only hoped that I could come back around for the last two hills that I knew he would have to walk with the extra tall gear he was riding. Not that it really mattered, but those hills never came, (apparently they were taken out of the course this year). When we got to the last six miles of single track I started to feel good and despite having no brake pads, and was only using metal on metal to slow down, I was very motivated to try to pull him back.
      
At one point someone I passed said there was only a two minute gap and I tried to step on it harder, but somehow the trail started to feel like it would never end and with about two miles to go I was pretty much a mud basted turkey. I came across the line five minutes back of Mike and was very glad it was done at no more than my 8hrs and 22 minutes. That's the longest 100 miler I've done since 2006!
       
Mike was the strong man on the day and it was great to get to have a close battle with someone. It pushes you to dig deeper and can make a lonely ride more motivating. All I got to say is Mike better watch out. I'll be ready come the Shenandoah!