Stage 4:
Dublin General Store to Ludington (46.2 miles)
You waited
up for me!
When
I pulled into the third checkpoint, Sarah had no idea what to expect. The last
time she saw or heard from me, I’d been on the verge of quitting and now I was
an hour behind schedule arriving. She was ready and prepared to have a
conversation about whether I was going to continue. I could have truly asked
for no better support crew, because all she wanted to do was be there to
provide wisdom, perspective, and encourage me regardless of the decision that I
made.
Talking
with her about it later, she recalled a conversation we had that I’d forgotten.
A few weeks before after finishing my longest training ride, my dress rehearsal
if you will, we talked about whether I should continue with my plans to race
the 212 miles or change over to the shorter 100-mile race that was also part of
the event. She reminded me what my conclusion was, “I would rather try to do
the 212 miles and drop out if I can’t finish than finish the 100-mile race. I
already know I can finish 100 miles.” Because of that, she wanted me to finish
if I wanted to, but she was also ready to pack it up at that point.
Unbeknownst
to her, I was revived and ready to finish the race. When I pulled up to a stop
and immediately detailed what I needed to do for the stop so I could get back
out there, she was taken by surprise. I knew she wasn’t especially fond of the
idea of me riding at night, and I took her hesitation to be disapproval. It
occurred to me to stop and check to make sure it was okay with her that I
continue.
“I’m
planning to go on. Is that okay with you?”
“I
want you to finish if you want to finish,” was her reply and she meant it.
One
of the little things that encouraged me as I was plowing through the sandy
forest in Stage 3 was the anticipation of a treat at the third checkpoint. I
knew that in her planning for the day, Sarah discovered a Biggby Coffee shop in
Cadillac, MI, and planned to stop there between checkpoints 2 & 3. I asked
her to get me a coffee, and provided her my travel mug. Sure enough, just as I
had hoped, my mug was waiting for me full of warm (not too hot and not too
cold) coffee. The coffee itself was only average, but it tasted delicious.
I
chugged my coffee, ate a piece of pizza, and filled up my water and snacks. I
knew there were still some forest roads, probably loaded with sand traps, so I
pulled out my route que card to see what I should expect. Sure enough, the que cards showed a few more
forest roads, but at mile 178 they turned on a regular named road. From there
out everything looked clear. I just had to make it through a little bit more,
and then it was firm ground until the end. I set up my lights (one headlamp,
one blinking white light on my handlebar, one other super-bright light on my
handlebars pointing forward, and one blinking red light on the back), kissed my
wife, and headed out into the night.
I
was a little apprehensive about the ride; the woods can be pretty spooky in the
dark and though I’ve done some night riding, it was never far from the familiar
glow of street lights and cars. I knew there wasn’t anything dangerous out
there, and as long as I didn’t surprise any animals, they were going to stay
far away from me. Good thing riding across a dirt trail on a squeaky bike makes
plenty of noise, but I also took the opportunity to talk and sing out loud. Why
not? I was alone out there in the woods. Don’t worry, this wasn’t the crazy
person, delusional from exhaustion sort of talking to myself. The noise just
helps the quiet and the eases the sense of emptiness in the night.
It
was pitch black out in the woods, with cloud cover hiding the moon and the
woods swallowing up any other ambient light. I could see where I was going just
fine, but all I could really see was the road in front of me. I was a little
bubble of light, plowing through empty forest trails.
I
took a couple of wrong turns because it was hard to see the path I was supposed
to take, but my GPS provided excellent navigation and let me know immediately
when I went off-course. At that point it was easy to backtrack and find the
right path.
Around
mile 173, in the middle of a very dark forest trail, I saw a sign that
immediately perked my spirits. I don’t remember exactly what it said, but it
was something along the lines of “Are you ready to chase the chaise?” I had
forgotten about it, but they hadn’t forgotten about me.
Salsa
Bicycles was one of the main sponsors of the rain, and a huge promoter of the
gravel bike scene in general. This year, they began a promotion called “Chase
the Chaise” where they brought a chaise lounge out to several of the biggest
gravel races of the year. They camped out somewhere in the middle of the course
and waited for everyone to arrive. As the riders came through, they asked each
of us to stop for just a minute and pose for a photograph on the chaise. The
photos would be posted on their website (
https://salsacycles.com/chasethechaise),
free for download, and they gave each of us a custom “Chase the Chaise” patch
for the event.
After
a few more signs down the trail, I spotted a glow in the distance, growing
brighter and brighter as I approached. There right along the trail was the
Salsa Bikes crew with their truck, several large spotlights illuminating the
area, and the infamous chaise lounge sitting in the middle of the trail.
“You
waited up for me!” I hollered as I pulled in. They had seen my headlights
coming and were waiting to greet me.
“Of
course we did!”
They
gave me my patch and held my bike as I laid out on the lounge for my picture,
all the while offering encouragement. When they handed my bike back to me, the
representative explained to me, “There’s only about four more miles of these
forest tracks, and then it’s regular dirt roads to the end!”
That
tracked with my estimation from the last checkpoint, and I pulled away into the
heart of darkness encouraged. I remembered then what “Kid” Riemer had told us
the night before while explaining the chaise to us. “If you can make it to the
chaise, I guarantee you, you can make it to the finish.”
Interlude:
Product Placement
I am not
paid to endorse these products, but I would love to be!
There
are a few products and companies that I came away from this race especially
pleased and/or impressed with. I tested everything out on training rides before
I brought them on a massive one-day 200-mile race, but these are the things
that stepped up their game on race day.
·
Swedish Fish gummies—these were some of my
grandmother’s favorite candies while I was growing up, so I had good
associations to begin with. I read an article about unexpected snacks that were
great for ultra-endurance rides that mentioned them, so I tried it. They were
incredible. The refreshing taste and energy burst from the sugar were both
welcome, especially during the later stages of the race.
·
Goldfish Crackers—I’ve always loved Goldfish, a
guilty pleasure I suppose. But they provided the perfect contrast to the
Swedish Fish. A handful was easy to chew, digest, and provided a good kick of
salt and processed carbs. I was fueled almost entirely by Swedish Fish &
Goldfish during the last hundred miles of the race, and I’m taking them on
every long distance ride I do from here out.
·
Lezyne Macro GPS—earlier this year I used some
Christmas money to buy myself a cycling GPS. I’ve been using a Garmin triathlon
watch for several years now, and it’s worked great but there was functionality
I wanted. I did some research and settled on the Lezyne GPS. I have two of
their frame-mounted tire pumps, and they are by far the best I’ve found. In
addition to all the standard cycling GPS features, it had a couple of standouts
that sold me: long battery life (claimed, and my experience supports this
claim, around 50 hours between charges) and a tracking function. Sarah adores
the tracking function, because it allows her to track my progress in real time
whenever I’m out on a ride. It worked flawlessly through the whole ride, and
the navigation never led me astray, even in the more remote, covered forest
sections.
·
Hammer Endurolytes Fizz Tablets—I’ve used these
for the past few years in my water bottles on bike rides, and I love them. They
provide all the benefits of a sports drink like Gatorade without the sugar (or
artificial sweeteners). They also give the water a fizz and a slight flavor,
which is especially refreshing on a long ride or a hot day when lukewarm water
is unpalatable. I dropped them in nearly every one of my water bottles (and
have had great experience combining them with Gatorade as well).
·
Salsa Bicycles—I don’t own and have never ridden
a Salsa bicycle, but when next I’m looking to buy one (which will probably not
be for a while) I’m planning to look long and hard at their lines. I was very
impressed with all their representatives at the race, their encouragement, and
their dedication to the riders and the gravel riding/racing scene. When most of
the race promoters and photographers ignored the slow riders to focus on the
big names up front, Salsa waited late into the night to encourage and cheer for
even the slowest of us. The Chase the Chaise promotion was a lot of fun for me
as a rider, and their participation impressed me.
Now back to your
regularly scheduled programming.
Stage 4:
Redux
Into the
heart of darkness
The weirdest thing about riding through
the forest in the middle of the night was hearing the echoes from my bike in
the woods all around. The one thing I forgot to do at both checkpoints 2 and 3
was to lubricate the chain on my bike, and so by the time darkness fell, it had
a pretty healthy squeak going on. I didn’t realize it at first, because I kept
hearing the sound coming from the woods around me. Originally I thought it was
some sort of bird, because I could hear other birds occasionally, but it was
everywhere and seemed to be calling out as I passed. I remember thinking to
myself, “What sort of bird sounds like someone forgot to oil the hinges on an
iron gate?”
It
seems obvious to you, and me now, but at the time it wasn’t. Consider though—I’d
spent the last 16 hours riding my bike and I was mentally and physically
exhausted after pedaling more than 170 miles. It didn’t sound like it was
coming from my bike because I was hearing the echoes bouncing back from the
dense trees in the forest around me. Give me some credit, I did figure it out
after a little while, and recognized the ridiculousness of it all.
As
expected, the forest roads and most of the sand gave way around mile 178,
though there was one more stretch where the road was pretty torn up and sandy.
That was frustrating; mentally the most difficult parts of the race to deal
with were the unexpected. I knew there were sandy trails until mile 178, but I
expected I would be done with them at that point so when I had to trudge
through another mile or so it was discouraging. I suppose the lesson there is
“when you don’t know what to expect, don’t expect too much.” Or just scout the
course really, really well.
My
pace picked up a little once I got onto more traditional dirt and gravel roads,
but it wasn’t as fast as I could have gone in other circumstances. I may have
cleared the woods, but I was still out in the middle of nowhere. I had to be
careful and watch my map constantly to ensure I wasn’t going off course, and
every turn to a new road required a little extra deliberation to stay on track.
I did miss a few turns and had to back track to get right.
There
were a fair number of creek valleys where the road would dip down a short hill,
cross a bridge over a small creek, and climb back up out of the valley. Because
I couldn’t see very far in front of me, I was hesitant speeding down hills on
gravel roads. Had it been daylight, I would have accelerated down the hills and
used the momentum to carry me up the other side. Instead, I would hit these
short inclines cautiously and downshift to granny gears to get up. I still had
enough energy to pedal, but the will to attack short hills had drained from my
legs.
It
wasn’t too long before I noticed in the far distance ahead of me one and
sometimes two sets of blinking red lights. They were far in the distance, I
estimated at least one-half and maybe as much as a full mile, but it was nice
to know I wasn’t on the course alone. I would glance behind me occasionally to
see if I could see anyone in the distance back there, but I only found
blackness. I knew it would be nice to ride alongside some other people, but the
gap was large enough I didn’t want to blow myself up trying to catch some
people so (relatively) close to the end.
I
don’t remember much of those last two hours. I was riding along in my little
bubble of light. Slowly I began to encounter more civilization, crossed busier
roads, and saw more lights on the horizon. A few times I passed houses, and one
had several cars parked in front. Light was spilling from an open garage, and
the sounds of a late-night party could be heard.
I
was going to finish, and at this point it was just a matter of time.
One
of my favorite go-to cycling treats are “energy gels” from a company called
Untapped. I say “energy gels” in quotes because they’re actually just packets
filled with pure maple syrup. Basically pure sugar, they are delicious on long
rides, but they’re not great for ultra-endurance challenges because once you
start dumping pure sugar into your gut you have to keep it up for fear of the
dreaded sugar crash. Before the race, I found one lone packet in my stash of
food, and squirreled it away for the late stages of the race when I needed a
treat and a pick-me-up. Somewhere in the mile 190’s, I decided it was time. For
my fuel-depleted body, the sudden influx of fast, easily processed
carbohydrates was nearly intoxicating. I literally felt energy surge back into
my muscles and my pace pick up for a few minutes. I still had some Swedish fish
I snacked on to keep from crashing, but they lacked the immediate reward of the
Untapped syrup.
I
remember crossing the two-hundred-mile barrier. Most of the time I left my GPS
on the map screen, but I checked it occasionally to see my distance and heart
rate numbers. When I saw 199, I began checking it more and more frequently. I
should have just left it on the distance screen, but I was paranoid of missing
a turn so I kept switching it back to the map. I watched it tick over to 200,
and I let out a holler in the darkness. A hundred miles earlier, I did the same
but that seemed a very long time ago.
Somewhere
around five miles to go, the moment I longed for finally arrived. Pavement,
sweet pavement, was beneath by tires. The dirt and sand were gone for good, and
I could get down on my drops to finish this thing out on fast asphalt.
I
looked up and noticed that the two blinking red tail lights in front of me
where close, closer than I expected. I was gaining. Between the mental
refreshment of nearing the end and the physical benefit of smooth pavement, I
clicked the gears up and picked up my cadence. I was going to catch these guys.
Just past mile 210, right before turning south onto the lakeside road that was
our final section, I pulled alongside them.
“I
have been chasing you guys for hours!” I explained, probably surprising them.
I’m not sure they had any idea someone was behind them.
“We’re
just standing now,” one of them explained, “because our asses hurt so much.”
I
had more power left in my legs, and so rather than dally alongside I pulled
past and turned down the home stretch. During the last few hours riding in the
darkness, I had planned what I was going to say when I crossed the finish line.
“I don’t know if I’m the Lanterne Rouge, but I finished!” (the Lanterne Rouge
is the title given to the last finisher of the Tour de France every year). With
two miles to go, all my thought and plans went to waste. I knew for a fact I
wasn’t last, because two riders would cross close behind me.
I
don’t know what I expected to feel when I crossed the finish line. With all the
half marathons and century bike rides I’d completed, I’d experienced a whole
array of feelings. I think I expected this one to be jubilant, like some sort of
conquering hero.
Mostly,
I was just ready to be done. I didn’t have the energy for feelings. I didn’t
collapse, feel like death, or any of those things. I just knew that when I got
off that bike, I didn’t have to get back on and do a little more. It was just
past 2:15am.
The
race promoters and a few others greeted me at the finish, making sure I crossed
over the timing mat. They handed me my finishers swag (a mug, custom C2C Salsa
stem cap, and a “210” sticker), and ushered me on. Well done, now move along.
Sarah
was there, of course, and she was the only person I was really interested in
seeing at that moment. We embraced and took a few pictures. I saw the two
riders I passed come through a few minutes later, but I was already loading my
bike into the car.
Sometimes
the finish is the easy and boring part. Everything that came before was the
real reason to ride the race.
Checkpoint 4 split time: 4:44:53
Finish time (overall): 20:04:24
Placement: 188 out of 199 Finishers (238
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