The 2003 - 30 hour North Georgia Adventure Race
The Mole
5:00 AM Sitting on the tailgate of my truck, the thermometer is reading -5 F. A mole scurries under my feet seeking the warmth of the propane heater. Thomas arrives with the maps and instructions and we begin the ritual of deciphering the clues and UTM ordinates. The ink pens we normally use to write on the USGS maps with are frozen and will not write. We use Sharpies instead. 50 minutes later we mount our bikes, wearing all of our race clothing. Thomas reminds us to keep our heads on our shoulders. I add we also need to keep our hearts in our chests. We ride out into the frigid darkness, leaving the mole with the heater and Thomas with the other 84 support crews. I have NEVER ridden in such harsh conditions. The roads are covered in snow and ice and the wind-chill makes it feel like -20 F.
Us
Four months of mental focusing, planning, reserving cabins, testing equipment and physical preparations are united in this ambitious effort. None of us have completed a 24-hour adventure race, though we all have race resumes that hint we can. Our goal is to finish. The objectives are to have a good team experience and stay safe. The strategy is to minimize navigation errors, eat and drink little and often so as to keep kidneys going and hunger at bay. I estimate we will burn 1000 calories per hour, over 22,000 calories for the race. There is no way we can eat enough to keep up with the deficit, so we must rely on our reserves. Team Adventure Carolinas is: Drew Wilson, Tim LaRose and myself. Thomas DeMaria is the one-man support crew.
Checkpoint 1
The map says we turn right out of the Woody Gap School parking lot, go past the lake on our left and turn right at the Ranger Station. The road is icy and we pedal at a controlled pace favoring the snowy portions of the road for traction. We arrive at the right hand turn, pause and take it, but don't recognize the ranger station. We turn around and go back, just to be sure. Making a navigation error this early in the race would be embarrassing. We decide we are on the right course and continue along the road confirming our route by the names of the side roads and the creek names on the maps. Mountain Bike starts in adventure races are notorious for having a brutal climb at the beginning to thin things out a bit and this race is no different. We settle into a steady climbing pace, not breathing the frigid air too deep and warming the muscles slowly. My camel back tube is already frozen solid, I check my Polar water bottles. The nozzles are frozen and I don't want to break a tooth biting it open. I try to unscrew the top, but it's frozen. I jam the bottle in my jacket to warm the top and press on. I intended to drink every 10-15 minutes and eat Power Gels every half hour to maintain hydration and energy. I'm already behind that schedule. The road continues up.
We are mixing in and out of other teams who are stopping to adjust clothing, un-stick frozen derailleurs, hook up tow systems etc… We turn left and begin a descent down a very slippery snow covered gravel road. The 25 lb pack makes me top heavy and I unclip to descend with one foot out of the pedals for stability. A cyclist on another team just in front of me hits an icy patch and goes down, then Drew does the same thing. They slide off the road, but get back up and continue. They have so much clothing on that the falls don't hurt. After about a mile of descending we reach the manned checkpoint, sign in, turn around and ride back up the slippery road we just descended. We are in about 20th place.
The Wonder from Down Under
We continue along the snow covered gravel road, making good progress, traveling with several other teams, until we make the left hand turn onto the un-traveled, un-improved road that goes straight up the side of the next mountain. We dismount and start briskly walking up the road; Tim tries to ride it, but doesn't get very far and dismounts. We stop for Drew to make some clothing adjustments. The side zipper on his pants breaks and he is trying to repair it. Drew is not happy and getting more frustrated by the second. Tim and I look at each other and suggest that he take the pants off and worry about fixing the zipper later. He does and we move on. A little further, the road turns into a trail that soon disappears. Footprints are going in all directions indicating that other teams are confused. We stop, read the map take a compass bearing, and continue in a general direction. After a mile or two of this we find Checkpoint 2 on the trail. We punch the passport and continue only to encounter a woman running up the mountain we are descending. We think this is a little strange and wonder who she could be and why she is alone. Then we encounter a guy doing the same thing. We tell him about what we just saw and he says she is his teammate. We wonder who she is, because there are not that many women who can run like that in these conditions.
No 69
Checkpoint 3 is land marked by a church at the junction of FS 69 and FS 69C. The race instructions were very specific about NOT approaching checkpoint 2 on road 69; we must be on road 69C. Thomas and I made a special note of it by writing NO 69 in big red letters on the map. The next few miles are a navigation test. The roads and trails are overgrown, and the route is not clear. Teams scatter in all directions. I read the map, take a compass bearing and we head down an old logging roadbed that parallels a stream. We pop out on a road that shows on the map. The road is 69C, just where we need to be. The next couple of miles are fairly easy. We see the trout rearing station on the map and arrive at checkpoint 3 on road 69C. The checkpoint is womanned by three volunteers in their 20-30's busy building a fire out of wet wood. I ask: "Are you Girl Scouts?" They all stop, look directly at me and say, in unison "NO!"
10:52 AM We move on towards checkpoint 4.
"Read the map and use the compass."
The rest of the checkpoints all appear to be on roads. The navigation challenge is not as rigorous, but the unrelenting climbing is beginning to take its toll. Drew has a flat rear tire. We stop once to re-fill it with CO2, but it doesn't hold, so we have to stop again and replace the tube. Then I make our first navigation error by passing a landmark for checkpoint 4. Two miles later we arrive at a major gap where the Appalacian trail leads to Springer Mtn Ga and realize what we have done. We humbly turn around and ride back down the road only to find about 10 other teams congregating at the checkpoint. It has been placed 300 yards off the road up a hill. I trot up the hill to get the checkpoint. Several other teams have made the same mistake and a guy asks me how we are supposed to find these things? The answer, of course, is: "read the map and use the compass", but I don't say anything. Drew and Tim rest and refuel. Now I'm ticked because of the error and we set off at a brisk pace attempting to recover the 50 minutes lost. It could have been worse.
We ride more gravel roads, being more careful with navigation. The team with the Wonder Woman passes us. She is riding a Moots Mtn Bike and the guy has on a Salomon jacket. She has an Austrailian/NewZealand Accent. I dub her the "Wonder from Down Under" and we have a brief conversation about the tenacity of the Aussies and New Zealanders.
1:30 PM We arrive at CP5 to find two guys around a fire with plenty of bottled water. We are out of fluids. I drink three bottles and stuff two more in my pack. Drew recognizes one of the race volunteers and he tells us the paddling leg has been canceled because the lake froze and that half of the teams have dropped out of the race already. I'm relieved to know we won't have to paddle, but am not sure what the high attrition rate means. Is it the quality of the field? The conditions? The race? Or all of the above? Does it really matter?
Little-Big-Man
5:23 PM Thomas DeMaria is 5 feet 4 inches tall. He is a giant of a person. The world would be a much better place if there were more Thomas DeMaria's. When we pull into checkpoint 6/Transition area 1 at 5 PM in 17th place Thomas has a full meal, hot liquids, a fire, and our equipment laid out for us. He also befriended a family of 5 that look like LL Bean models and taught them how to support their two-man team. The LL Bean models, in turn, help Thomas by helping us. This is a definite, much appreciated, and totally unexpected high point and is just one of many examples of the terrific spirit and cooperation of the Adventure Racing Community.
It is getting dark quickly and the hiking leg starts with a pontoon ferry ride across the frozen headwaters of Lake Blue Ridge. After changing into dry clothes, Thomas briefs me on the hiking portion and makes the point that we should stay near the ridgelines. The hiking looks to be mostly on established trails and forest service roads. With the expected full moon reflecting off the snow I anticipate good night trekking conditions. We are carrying Petzyl headlamps capable of burning 30 hours continuously and plan to leave them on the whole time.
Journey Into the Darkness
6:33 PM We leave Thomas and the LL Bean Family models and walk off into the darkness. The race director has managed to get one of the local fire and rescue groups to bring a pontoon boat up the frozen lake to ferry the teams across the 100-yard wide lake. The ferrymen have their routine down and give us very specific instructions. We are to stand on the bow of the boat outside the railing so as to weight the front down to better break through the ice. I get in the middle. The boat driver does a three-point turn and we run up on the far side bank. The bowman tells me that I am first off and to wait until the wave surge is over and he will tell me when to jump. I do just as instructed and land safely on the other side. Drew and Tim make it without incident. We walk down the river bank to a trail head that leads up to Wilscot, a place we had just passed on Mtn Bikes. We meet two teams, one is studying their maps and trying to read the terrain. I ask them if they recognize the area from the Mtn Bike section and they say “Oh yeah” and then walk off about 50 yards or so to see what we do. I read the map, see the trail and we start walking. The other team follows, eventually passing us. I wonder how much I helped them out.
The moon is not rising. We can see the light from towns in the distance, but see no stars. I hope that the moonrise is late. We walk the trail, emblazoned with white triangles and end up at the top of a mountain to find Checkpoint 11 at the foot of a fire tower.
8:23 PM We speak briefly to the couple manning the checkpoint and continue down the road leading to the fire tower looking for a trail showing on the map. When we reach the point where the trail starts, an emergency service vehicle drives up and tells us the road we are on takes us to the gap where the trail ends. I confirm the suggestion by taking a compass bearing and we thank the men in the truck and make good time walking the road. The road ends at a trailhead and we start walking a trial that follows the ridgeline. Still no moon; it is getting colder (dropping below 20F) and the wind is starting to blow. I am eating and drinking constantly, stopping regularly. We aren't talking much, just putting one foot in front of the other and moving at a steady pace. We start looking for checkpoint 12 and do not see it where Thomas and I plotted it 14 hours ago. We arrive at a gravel road that is clearly marked on the map and walk down the road following some foot prints in search of the CP. We don't see it and turn around thinking it must be on the trail ahead. We walk ¼ mile up the trail, far enough to read the terrain and decide to re-plot the point. We confirm that the CP is back down the gravel road. Tim takes off for the CP, Drew and I follow, but at a more reserved pace. When we get back to the road, Tim is nowhere in site. Drew and I walk down the road and find the checkpoint, but do not see Tim. We begin calling and flashing our lights and end up announcing the checkpoint location to three other teams we passed earlier. Finally Tim arrives, he blew right by it, we punch the passport and start back up the trail. We quickly pass the three teams back and move on.
12:49 AM We reach Skeenah gap road and cross it, heading straight up a 1000 foot, steep climb. It is snowing; the winds are gusting to 25-30 mph through the trees. The trees are creaking and sound like sheep bleating or a chorus of women whispering. It is very eerie. My eyes start playing tricks on me as shadows from my headlight start to form images. I see a Volkswagen, then a refrigerator, and people who aren't there. Drew makes a comment about the sounds. We stop and catch our breath and assess the situation. Three teams pass us moving quickly in the opposite direction. I ask them what's up? And they say they are going back. Images of the Blair Witch Project come to mind. Drew has been hobbling for the past 3 hours and Tim said he doesn't feel good and has been eating Ibuprofen like candy. We look at the map and see how far we have to go: 12 more miles by foot, then another 16 by Mtn bike. We have been going for 22 hours. At the pace we are moving we will not make the time cutoffs. The options are to continue and risk injury or go back down to Skeenah Gap and have Thomas pick us up. This is not a time for glory.
1:57 AM I consider the situation and announce that I can't go on and offer to let Tim and Drew continue. They assert that we are a team and agree to go back down to Skeenah Gap. We pull out the race radio, put it together, and I announce who, and where we are, and that we are stopping at Skeenah Gap. They acknowledge us, and say that our support crew will meet us at Skeenah Gap. No sooner had we arrived at the Gap and Thomas drives up. We cram into the Blazer and stay around to offer assistance to two other teams who have made the same decision. On the drive back to the cabin, Tim sleeps and Thomas, Drew and I have a mini group therapy session. Thomas tells us how fortunate we are to have gone so far.
Post Race
We get back to the cabin, sleep 3-4 hours, pack up and drive down to the Woody Gap School to drop off the GPS and race radio. Only 8 of the 84 teams completed the full course in the 30-hour time limit. A handful of others trickled in on shortened courses. Remarkably there are no major injuries. An article in the Atlanta Journal Constitution reports that one person was treated for mild hypothermia, and one person complained of chest pains but checked out Okay at a local hospital. The teams who finished within the time limits were professional level teams or Army Rangers based at Camp Merryl near Suches.
We ended up “stopping” in 33rd place, in the top half of the field. We stuck to our strategy and objectives, but didn't meet our goal.
There will be other races and we are stronger.
March 23, 2004
January 31, 2004
Again....
The Assault on Mount Mitchell Director's familiar voice announced that the countdown clock on the marquee would start at 6:27 AM. A local pastor prayed in Jesus’ name. Amen. The motorcycles started and so did all 1500 of us. So much for the 3-minute countdown. We’ve started.
From three rows back I knew that I needed to move up and keep moving up so that I didn’t get pushed off the road when we squeezed down to one lane on Parris Bridge. Whew, that wasn’t so bad, now just hang in, move up as necessary and don’t do anything stupid. Pulse is now 170, chest is a little tight, but that plastic bag under my jersey is doing the trick. We speed up to 28-29, and then slow down to 25, left off of Parris Bridge road and we string out. Then right, onto the fast section. This part has been painful in the past. I’ll know how we’re going to pace it after this section. Not so bad, they actually sit up and slow down to 24 or so. Next is the downhill before the little bridge and the left hand turn. I announce what is coming so the riders around me won’t panic. They take my advice and focus. Whew, cleaned that one, now up the hill, right turn and down again, Pulse is 178 now, chest is tight, and legs are stinging. I wonder if they are going to sit up again. Thanks! Now, time to recover before the next hill. 46 mph, no traffic and the road is clear. We spread out a little bit and safely cross the bridge, dodge the water bottles that didn’t make it and drop it into the small chain ring to prepare for the climb for the next ¾ mile. There’s the compression, watch for guys dropping chains and running into the back of each other. Wow, Still no crash. We’re actually riding like a bunch of experienced cyclists! Finally I can relax, the next 25 miles are fairly flat and scenic. I start to look around, There’s Alan, Paul, Mike, Susan, Phil and Ian. We exchange pleasantries. They all have black numbers indicating they are going all the way. George H. pulls off. The pack sits up. George blasts back by like nothing ever happened or is going to happen. We settle down, people start talking and take time to notice the sunrise and countryside. We cross into NC at 35 mph, someone must have sprinted. The road surface changes from tar and gravel to smooth blacktop. The obligatory sigh of relief is heard throughout the peloton. I don’t know how many we have left now, but it looks like there is still 300-400 in front of me. We approach a hill and I can see the whole bunch in front. Wish I had a camera, what a picture. Over the hill at 21 mph, then back up to 25. Left turn and over to highway 29 where the first SAGS are waiting. We are applauded as we roll through. By now, I comfortable, the training paid off. Two years ago I was off the back at this point. I see John Holloway; he says we’ve gone 33 miles in 1:20. (25 mph) The next hurdle is the big hill at 45 miles. This is where I historically get dropped. I move up anticipating the inevitable and plan to pace it so that I filter through the field during the climb and am still in contact by the time we get to the top. It worked!!! I’m still here. Pulse is 180, I hurt like hell, but not gone… yet. Now I am. The next hill got me. Okay, been here before, settle down, pace myself, pickup riders and regroup for the rest of the ride to Marion. I pick up a few more riders and we work our way towards Bill’s Hill. Charles is at the top and hands up a fresh water bottle and Poweraid. He motor paces me a short distance, but it’s not worth the energy to keep up. I need to save some for the climb. The roads are familiar enough that I recognize the hills and pace myself accordingly. . I start to see the Spartanburg guys: John, Donnie H. and Greg. They don’t recognize me. I take a huge pull on a flat section, 28-30 mph and pull off. Donnie rolls up and I casually say: “Hi Donnie”. He still doesn’t recognize me. “It’s me, Richard”. “Ridlehuber?!” We ride together for a while. Another group comes up to us, we jump in and rest, letting them do some work. A couple of long climbs later and it’s Greg K and me. We ride to Marion together. I ask him how he feels and he says “Shot.” Elapsed time 3:38. Average speed is 20 mph, good time for me on this course. I stop briefly at Marion to fill up water bottles, and scarf down two bananas. Then back on the bike for the second half of the ride. On the approach, I pick off several riders. I know the climb doesn’t really start until you get to the bridge and the little white church so I ride hard to limit my losses. I assess myself to gauge my pace: Energy levels are okay, still sweating, legs tight, and pulse 164. There’s the church, time to start climbing. I settle into a 7-8 mph pace in my 39 X 25. A few riders pass. Legs start to cramp. I stand, and shift positions, unzip my jersey and drink. The cramp subsides. I keep this pace all the way up the watershed, slowing to 5 mph on the steeper sections. Riders pass. I reach the top of the watershed at 5:00 even. Steve Verdell is there and fills up by bottles. I eat another banana. George H. is probably just finishing (he actually finished in 5:08). If I’m going to break 7 hours I have 2 more hours to go 16 miles. I keep climbing. At this point, it’s a mind game. The Challenge is real. People are quitting, my legs are cramping, and my energy levels are so low I can’t get my pulse over 145. If I stand for too long I get light headed, so I sit and grind it out. Riders pass me, then pull off to rest, then hop back on the bike, pass me again, then stop to rest. It’s like the Tortoise and the Hare. I keep going. The road continues up, I recognize the scenery and take it in, anything to take my mind off the messages from my body. There’s the curve before the rest stop at the 2-mile descent. I stop, refill bottles, eat another banana, and orange. By now I’ve had 3 gallons of fluids. Time to descend, get dry and cool off. Speeds are in the mid 40’s and 2 miles later it’s over, I’m dry, and cool now, but not for long. I approach the entrance to Mount Mitchell State Park and realize I’m not going to break 7 hours. I keep going. It’s hot, I’m cramping, can’t get my pulse up, and am creeping at 4-5 mph. Keep going and look for the left hand bend in the road before the straight shot into the park gates. Finally there it is! Now I have another mile of semi-flat riding. I kick it up to 20 mph and pick off a few riders. I go past the restaurant and give what’s left to the last three curves. I look for the split rail fence signaling the start to the parking lot. There’s the fence. Guys are sitting on it encouraging me on. I keep looking up the road. There’s Charles, someone goes by me. I consider sprinting, but just don’t have it in me, might cramp. I see the cones, arrows, and clock. It’s ticking. I cross the line at 7:18. I’m glad that’s over. Again…
For more information on the Assault on Mount Mitchell, go to http://freewheelers.info/assault.html
From three rows back I knew that I needed to move up and keep moving up so that I didn’t get pushed off the road when we squeezed down to one lane on Parris Bridge. Whew, that wasn’t so bad, now just hang in, move up as necessary and don’t do anything stupid. Pulse is now 170, chest is a little tight, but that plastic bag under my jersey is doing the trick. We speed up to 28-29, and then slow down to 25, left off of Parris Bridge road and we string out. Then right, onto the fast section. This part has been painful in the past. I’ll know how we’re going to pace it after this section. Not so bad, they actually sit up and slow down to 24 or so. Next is the downhill before the little bridge and the left hand turn. I announce what is coming so the riders around me won’t panic. They take my advice and focus. Whew, cleaned that one, now up the hill, right turn and down again, Pulse is 178 now, chest is tight, and legs are stinging. I wonder if they are going to sit up again. Thanks! Now, time to recover before the next hill. 46 mph, no traffic and the road is clear. We spread out a little bit and safely cross the bridge, dodge the water bottles that didn’t make it and drop it into the small chain ring to prepare for the climb for the next ¾ mile. There’s the compression, watch for guys dropping chains and running into the back of each other. Wow, Still no crash. We’re actually riding like a bunch of experienced cyclists! Finally I can relax, the next 25 miles are fairly flat and scenic. I start to look around, There’s Alan, Paul, Mike, Susan, Phil and Ian. We exchange pleasantries. They all have black numbers indicating they are going all the way. George H. pulls off. The pack sits up. George blasts back by like nothing ever happened or is going to happen. We settle down, people start talking and take time to notice the sunrise and countryside. We cross into NC at 35 mph, someone must have sprinted. The road surface changes from tar and gravel to smooth blacktop. The obligatory sigh of relief is heard throughout the peloton. I don’t know how many we have left now, but it looks like there is still 300-400 in front of me. We approach a hill and I can see the whole bunch in front. Wish I had a camera, what a picture. Over the hill at 21 mph, then back up to 25. Left turn and over to highway 29 where the first SAGS are waiting. We are applauded as we roll through. By now, I comfortable, the training paid off. Two years ago I was off the back at this point. I see John Holloway; he says we’ve gone 33 miles in 1:20. (25 mph) The next hurdle is the big hill at 45 miles. This is where I historically get dropped. I move up anticipating the inevitable and plan to pace it so that I filter through the field during the climb and am still in contact by the time we get to the top. It worked!!! I’m still here. Pulse is 180, I hurt like hell, but not gone… yet. Now I am. The next hill got me. Okay, been here before, settle down, pace myself, pickup riders and regroup for the rest of the ride to Marion. I pick up a few more riders and we work our way towards Bill’s Hill. Charles is at the top and hands up a fresh water bottle and Poweraid. He motor paces me a short distance, but it’s not worth the energy to keep up. I need to save some for the climb. The roads are familiar enough that I recognize the hills and pace myself accordingly. . I start to see the Spartanburg guys: John, Donnie H. and Greg. They don’t recognize me. I take a huge pull on a flat section, 28-30 mph and pull off. Donnie rolls up and I casually say: “Hi Donnie”. He still doesn’t recognize me. “It’s me, Richard”. “Ridlehuber?!” We ride together for a while. Another group comes up to us, we jump in and rest, letting them do some work. A couple of long climbs later and it’s Greg K and me. We ride to Marion together. I ask him how he feels and he says “Shot.” Elapsed time 3:38. Average speed is 20 mph, good time for me on this course. I stop briefly at Marion to fill up water bottles, and scarf down two bananas. Then back on the bike for the second half of the ride. On the approach, I pick off several riders. I know the climb doesn’t really start until you get to the bridge and the little white church so I ride hard to limit my losses. I assess myself to gauge my pace: Energy levels are okay, still sweating, legs tight, and pulse 164. There’s the church, time to start climbing. I settle into a 7-8 mph pace in my 39 X 25. A few riders pass. Legs start to cramp. I stand, and shift positions, unzip my jersey and drink. The cramp subsides. I keep this pace all the way up the watershed, slowing to 5 mph on the steeper sections. Riders pass. I reach the top of the watershed at 5:00 even. Steve Verdell is there and fills up by bottles. I eat another banana. George H. is probably just finishing (he actually finished in 5:08). If I’m going to break 7 hours I have 2 more hours to go 16 miles. I keep climbing. At this point, it’s a mind game. The Challenge is real. People are quitting, my legs are cramping, and my energy levels are so low I can’t get my pulse over 145. If I stand for too long I get light headed, so I sit and grind it out. Riders pass me, then pull off to rest, then hop back on the bike, pass me again, then stop to rest. It’s like the Tortoise and the Hare. I keep going. The road continues up, I recognize the scenery and take it in, anything to take my mind off the messages from my body. There’s the curve before the rest stop at the 2-mile descent. I stop, refill bottles, eat another banana, and orange. By now I’ve had 3 gallons of fluids. Time to descend, get dry and cool off. Speeds are in the mid 40’s and 2 miles later it’s over, I’m dry, and cool now, but not for long. I approach the entrance to Mount Mitchell State Park and realize I’m not going to break 7 hours. I keep going. It’s hot, I’m cramping, can’t get my pulse up, and am creeping at 4-5 mph. Keep going and look for the left hand bend in the road before the straight shot into the park gates. Finally there it is! Now I have another mile of semi-flat riding. I kick it up to 20 mph and pick off a few riders. I go past the restaurant and give what’s left to the last three curves. I look for the split rail fence signaling the start to the parking lot. There’s the fence. Guys are sitting on it encouraging me on. I keep looking up the road. There’s Charles, someone goes by me. I consider sprinting, but just don’t have it in me, might cramp. I see the cones, arrows, and clock. It’s ticking. I cross the line at 7:18. I’m glad that’s over. Again…
For more information on the Assault on Mount Mitchell, go to http://freewheelers.info/assault.html
Labels:
cycling
January 27, 2004
Welcome W. Brown
Every so often a story needs to be told. This is a story about a most dedicated cyclist: W. Brown.
During the Masters Race of the Upstate SC Race Weekend, on Sunday morning, August 16 2003, a taxicab makes its way onto the racecourse and pulls into a driveway in front of the shuttered Pepto Bismol plant at Donaldson Center. The back end of the taxi is sticking out into the road and a field of riders is fast approaching. I start yelling for the driver to pull on into the driveway and get out of the road; bringing a lot of attention to the situation. Thankfully the driver does.
A young, simply dressed, black man gets out and pays the cabbie, then the cabbie gets out, opens his trunk and removes a large bike box. Those of us watching are all wondering who this is and what is going on. I approach the young man and ask him if he needs any help? “Yes, can someone help me put my bike together?” I tell him I will. We open the box, and he shows me his tools. The two of us make short order of assembling the bike, making small conversation.
R. “What race are you in?”
W. “Cat 5.”
R. “My name is Richard what’s yours?”
W. “W. Brown”
R. “What’s the W. stand for, is it Walter? my middle name is Walter”
W. “I just go by W. (dubya)”.
R. “Where are you from?”
W. “Raleigh. I took the 1 o’clock bus yesterday afternoon”
W. “These are my pedals. Make sure you get the left on the left and the right on the right.”
R. “Okay, aren’t they marked left and right?”
W. “Yeah”
I attach his pedals, threading them backwards.
Up till now, I am thinking this is pretty unusual because I have only seen a few top Pro riders take taxicabs to races before, and there are even fewer black cyclists. So I assume he is a strong rider who wants to place or win and earn some money to cover his costs.
We finish assembling the bike, he looks it over and tells me I did a better job then he does. While I go get my pump for his tires, cyclists nearby ask me what is going on and offer to help. The guys from the Atlanta based CycleWorks team pin his number, others give him gels and offer water bottles.
The Cat 5 race is about to start and “W” lines up with the rest of the 19 riders. The race starts, and three laps in “W” is off the back. The crowd is cheering him on. By lap 6 he is way off the back. We keep cheering anyway. The race ends and “W” finishes last.
Afterwards, we give “W” some snacks and a Red Bull or two. He changes back into his street clothes. I see that someone else is helping him disassemble his bike and is struggling with the backwards-threaded pedals. I lend “W” my cell phone and he calls the taxicab for his trip back to Raleigh.
In retrospect, I don’t remember who finished first in the race or how much they won, but I definitely remember the story about W Brown, the black guy from Raleigh NC, who took a 16 hour bus/taxi ride to a race and finished last; and the lesson in dedication he demonstrated to all of us at Donaldson Center that Sunday morning.
During the Masters Race of the Upstate SC Race Weekend, on Sunday morning, August 16 2003, a taxicab makes its way onto the racecourse and pulls into a driveway in front of the shuttered Pepto Bismol plant at Donaldson Center. The back end of the taxi is sticking out into the road and a field of riders is fast approaching. I start yelling for the driver to pull on into the driveway and get out of the road; bringing a lot of attention to the situation. Thankfully the driver does.
A young, simply dressed, black man gets out and pays the cabbie, then the cabbie gets out, opens his trunk and removes a large bike box. Those of us watching are all wondering who this is and what is going on. I approach the young man and ask him if he needs any help? “Yes, can someone help me put my bike together?” I tell him I will. We open the box, and he shows me his tools. The two of us make short order of assembling the bike, making small conversation.
R. “What race are you in?”
W. “Cat 5.”
R. “My name is Richard what’s yours?”
W. “W. Brown”
R. “What’s the W. stand for, is it Walter? my middle name is Walter”
W. “I just go by W. (dubya)”.
R. “Where are you from?”
W. “Raleigh. I took the 1 o’clock bus yesterday afternoon”
W. “These are my pedals. Make sure you get the left on the left and the right on the right.”
R. “Okay, aren’t they marked left and right?”
W. “Yeah”
I attach his pedals, threading them backwards.
Up till now, I am thinking this is pretty unusual because I have only seen a few top Pro riders take taxicabs to races before, and there are even fewer black cyclists. So I assume he is a strong rider who wants to place or win and earn some money to cover his costs.
We finish assembling the bike, he looks it over and tells me I did a better job then he does. While I go get my pump for his tires, cyclists nearby ask me what is going on and offer to help. The guys from the Atlanta based CycleWorks team pin his number, others give him gels and offer water bottles.
The Cat 5 race is about to start and “W” lines up with the rest of the 19 riders. The race starts, and three laps in “W” is off the back. The crowd is cheering him on. By lap 6 he is way off the back. We keep cheering anyway. The race ends and “W” finishes last.
Afterwards, we give “W” some snacks and a Red Bull or two. He changes back into his street clothes. I see that someone else is helping him disassemble his bike and is struggling with the backwards-threaded pedals. I lend “W” my cell phone and he calls the taxicab for his trip back to Raleigh.
In retrospect, I don’t remember who finished first in the race or how much they won, but I definitely remember the story about W Brown, the black guy from Raleigh NC, who took a 16 hour bus/taxi ride to a race and finished last; and the lesson in dedication he demonstrated to all of us at Donaldson Center that Sunday morning.
Labels:
cycling
Welcome and Introduction
Welcome to "In the Zone." I hope you enjoy the stories of faith, dedication, challenge, love, joy, humor, sadness, and safety, all real examples of how Jesus Christ is alive in the world today. I find cycling to be a part of an active, healthy lifestyle and do not recommend it to everyone. I say a part, because cycling is not a means to an end. Only Jesus Christ is. I don’t ride to get closer to Jesus, but he is with me every pedal stroke of the way. I want him to be with you as well.
More about me: I am a happily married, father of three children who never really stopped riding his bike as a child. Cycling is a conduit for me to meet terrific people and go to fantastic places in the US and Europe. I raced on and off road for 15 years competitively and now ride as a fast recreational rider. I’ve raced in 5 states, on the velodrome, toured across SC 5 times, done 24 hour team events, and most recently dabbled in cyclocross. I direct races, charity rides, and am a regular on group rides in SC/NC. I am a USCF Bike Race official and have been invited to speak at various community clubs/organizations about my experiences. I ride bikes with my wife, children and family.
When I am not with my family or on the bike, I am at Church or working to promote a bike ride/race or charity event. I work as a Quality and Safety systems manager in the Chemical Division of a large private manufacturing firm headquartered in South Carolina. I also enjoy woodworking and home improvement projects.
Thank you for reading. Glory to God in the Highest. May the Peace of the Lord be always with you.
More about me: I am a happily married, father of three children who never really stopped riding his bike as a child. Cycling is a conduit for me to meet terrific people and go to fantastic places in the US and Europe. I raced on and off road for 15 years competitively and now ride as a fast recreational rider. I’ve raced in 5 states, on the velodrome, toured across SC 5 times, done 24 hour team events, and most recently dabbled in cyclocross. I direct races, charity rides, and am a regular on group rides in SC/NC. I am a USCF Bike Race official and have been invited to speak at various community clubs/organizations about my experiences. I ride bikes with my wife, children and family.
When I am not with my family or on the bike, I am at Church or working to promote a bike ride/race or charity event. I work as a Quality and Safety systems manager in the Chemical Division of a large private manufacturing firm headquartered in South Carolina. I also enjoy woodworking and home improvement projects.
Thank you for reading. Glory to God in the Highest. May the Peace of the Lord be always with you.
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