Trans North Georgia '23 + Ride to the Start

During the race:

"This sucks", "Bikepacking is stupid", "I'm never doing this again"

The day after finishing:

"So how can I go faster next year?" 

The Idea

I was a little on the fence about this year's TNGA. I mean I wanted to do it, but I also wanted to ride the Trans West North Carolina (TWNC). Both are point to point routes and pose similar logistical problems of getting to the start and from the finish. However, the TWNC ends where TNGA begins, and so I seriously toyed with the idea of riding them back to back as this was the only way I could ride them both this year. There was still the issue of getting to/from the ends, and ultimately I decided that combining them would be too difficult. I don't know what TWNC is like, but I imagine it's pretty close to the difficulty of TNGA. So it would be like riding TNGA twice... which sounds awful. 

This dilemma led me to procrastinate and wait too long to sign up for Mulberry Gap support for TNGA (the shuttle to/from the start/finish). I quickly got to thinking how else I could do this race. The start is about a five hour drive, too far to ask someone to drop me off. I could park at Mulberry Gap and ride to the start, but riding back to Mulberry after 'finishing' sounded awful. When I finished the race, I wanted to be done riding. What if I parked at the finish and rode to the start? That seemed doable. Heck, why not just ride from my house? Well it's at least two days to get there, three days on route, two days to get back. That's a minimum of seven days and probably closer nine if I'm being realistic. Eh, that's too much, parking at the finish sounds like a better option. 

I could've just gotten on Mulberry Gap's wait list and probably gotten a spot, but the idea was in my head now. And I couldn't let it go. 

Getting ready: I swapped the emergency blanket for a wind jacket.

 Pre-Ride Day 1

I was nervous and anxious leading up to this. It would be a 550+ mile loop and probably the hardest thing I've ever done. Additionally, the route crossed through Atlanta suburbs which could be quite dangerous for cycling. I planned the route using Strava which has a feature to automatically choose the most popular cycling roads. This 'most popular' route seemed to go quite a bit out of the way, so I modified it with my own shortcut (bad idea) to save about an hour of riding. It was 180 miles to Clayton, plus another 17 to the actual start of the race.

I left Nashville mid-morning on Thursday and started riding by mid-afternoon. The first 20 or so miles were on the Silver Comet rail trail. Spinning along at 12 to 13 miles per hour was maddeningly slow as I was on a single speed with a gear meant for mountains. I had debated using a slightly faster gear but concluded that it would only save about 45 minutes on the way to the start and could potentially cost hours in the race. 

Once I was off the rail trail, the roads got a bit hilly, and the low gear wasn't so bad. The roads weren't bad at first, just the usual low traffic on country roads, but I was still a bit stressed out which caused me to push harder than I should have. As I got closer to the suburbs, traffic picked up, it was near rush hour. Some roads had a small shoulder, others had none. On a road bike, I might 'take the lane' but not on a loaded single speed spinning along at 12mph. I was on my 'shortcut' now which turns out is not cycling friendly. The roads had looked ok on Google Streetview, but sometimes it's hard to tell until you're actually there. 

As I got closer to Acworth, traffic slowed a bit. I was still on a busy-ish road when I passed by a house and heard a woman calling to a dog. I didn't think much of it, except hoping it wasn't about to chase me. A few seconds later I hear tires screeching and a dog yelping. I looked back and saw the dog tumbling under a large van, followed by people yelling. I think the dog got up and ran off a little ways. I didn't want to go back. I don't know if the owners would blame me, but I didn't want to get caught up in it. I feel bad for the dog, but there's nothing I could've done to prevent that. Hope it survived. 

I rolled into Acworth a little bit shaken, stopping at the Red Top Brewery for a beer and burger and to plan my next move. Originally, I thought I might ride through the night, stopping to sleep a few hours at a church or under a bridge. Cooler temps and lower traffic made that an appealing option, as well as getting to Clayton sooner. But, it was hot and I had been pushing harder than I should have, a hotel sure would be nice. I rode a bit further to Woodstock and stopped for the night after 63 miles. 

Pre-Ride Day 2

I managed to get rolling early-ish, but I would still face the morning school traffic and rush hour. I rode a lot of sidewalks when they were available. Sidewalks come with their own risks but aren't so bad when you're already going slow. A couple hours later, I was back on Strava's 'most popular' route. Some of the roads were still busy-ish but nothing like the previous day. Traffic got less and less until it was suddenly quiet. I rolled on, stopping at a gas station for second breakfast and Chick-fil-A early afternoon. The roads got hillier and then mountainous as I got closer to Clayton. It was hot, and my stomach wasn't really cooperating. Traffic picked up a bit as I pushed over the final climb and down into Clayton, 122 miles for the day. 

Nearly all of my rides end where I start, so it's a very different feeling riding to somewhere, knowing it's a full day's ride (or more) back to where I started. It almost felt unreal: I really just did that, also, what have I gotten myself into? I checked into my hotel, soaked in the tub, showered, and walked across the street for some pizza. I ate as much as I could, still nauseated from the heat and exertion. A beer would've been nice, but alcohol wrecks my recovery and my legs were toasted. I wasn't sure how I was going to pull off the TNGA after all that.

TNGA Day 1

I woke up even earlier than I wanted, but that was ok. I started the day with some crappy hotel room coffee and some cold left over pizza. I quickly packed and was rolling by 6am. It was another 17 miles to the start, about an hour and a half at my pace. I stopped by a gas station for some Advil and canned Starbucks. Another racer offered me a ride to the start, but I had come all this way, might as well keep riding. The sunrise was nice, but getting chased by three German Shephards wasn't. I rolled up to the bridge with plenty of time to spare, already 200 miles deep. 

I was tired, but I felt surprisingly good, though that might've just been the Advil and caffeine kicking in. I made it up the first few climbs easily enough; it was easier to pace myself on the gravel roads. I approached the two and a half hour mark and still hadn't gotten to Darnell Creek trail. Last time I was already in Dillard around this time. I knew I was riding quite a bit slower than usual. 

The first day was fairly uneventful. I drank water like a fish, stopped for snacks and a Coke at the Tallulah River around mile 40, stopped for a super greasy and delicious burger at the hostel around mile 54 (after 7 hours of riding). Not only was I riding slower, but I was also stopping more. It was nice to get to ride with other people and stop and talk/rest. The fast group doesn't stop for long. The downside to this, is I would be cutting it close getting off of Tray and down Hickory Nut before sunset. 

I tried to pick up the pace and limit my stopped time. Riding up Tray, I noted how much better I felt than last year, even if I was riding slower. I blasted down the backside and made my way down Hickory Nut, thankful to have suspension this time. I rolled into Helen just after sunset, ate some cold ravioli and Vienna sausages for dinner, and loaded up for the 5 hour push to Cooper's Creek. 

I set off with two other riders - we stayed together most of the way up Hogpen. I stopped to pee at the top, then stared at the stars for several minutes. I could faintly see the Milky Way stretching across the sky and also saw a couple shooting stars. It was about 11pm, and I decided to try to sleep a little. Even though one is a bit more exposed at elevation, I think it's generally a better place to sleep as all the cold air and humidity settles into the valleys. I was still quite sweaty and got chilled pretty quickly. I didn't feel like digging out my wind jacket, so I decided to press on. The jacket would have been nice - I froze on the way down. I made my way over to Vogel State Park, but didn't feel like stopping any more. 

Apparently I missed the memo about the Vogel un-re-route. A new road had been added to the route to add 5 miles of gravel and cut out some pavement, but the road was under construction and had been taken out of the route at the last minute. I hadn't checked my email in a few days, so I took the new road. I saw the 'Road Closed' sign - perfect. It was easy enough to get through at midnight, but not so much if people had been there working. I made my way up Wolfpen, stopped for some more Vienna sausages and hot pretzel pieces, then cruised on down Duncan Ridge. I tried to ride fast to make up some time, but it still seemed to take forever. I rolled into Cooper's shortly after 3am, ate some amazing home-made lasagna, and slept on the floor in the back, next to some other racers. (Cooper's Creek is definitely one of the highlights of the ride, super grateful to the owners/workers there.)

TNGA Day 2

I woke up around 6am - not nearly enough sleep - got some coffee and a breakfast burrito and took a sandwich to go. It was chilly this morning, so I rode with my wind jacket on for 20 minutes or so, until I warmed up. It was an easy cruise over to the Aska trails where I stopped for half of the sandwich. The trails were pretty fun leading up to Stanley Gap. I was feeling ok but still walked up most of Stanley. The descent was a blast. Shortly after I got off the singletrack and onto the gravel road, I came across some campers and 'trail magic'. It's hard to turn down a Coke and water, so I stopped for a few minutes. 

I usually make a stop at the Pink Pig in Cherry Log for some barbecue, but there was a new store coming up on route. I made my way to Mountainside Market where I caught up with Chad and James. We would end up leap frogging for the next 50 miles or so. 

I felt good riding up FS 64 into the Cohuttas. When I came up to South Fork trail, I didn't even slow down. It was actually dry this time and fun. Who knew that could happen?! I made my way up Pinhoti 0 and the gravel road after, stopping for the second half of my sandwich from this morning. About 30 minutes later, pushing up Potato Patch, I got incredibly sleepy all of a sudden. I sat down and leaned back against a tree and closed my eyes. I was in a strange day dream sort of state. I wasn't really asleep but seemed to be having a fairly vivid dream - like an hallucination - but I knew it wasn't real. It passed in about 15 minutes and I continued my way up the mountain. 

I filtered water at the top of Bear Creek before shredding the descent. Up and over Pinhoti 1, down Pinhoti 2 - suspension sure is nice - and into Mulberry Gap for a shower, dinner, and a cot in The Barn. I knew the clock was ticking for a 3 day finish, but I was exhausted, hadn't slept enough the night before, everything hurt. I knew I had the will to keep going, but I wasn't sure if I had the legs. I wasn't going to put a limit on sleep this night.

TNGA Day 3

I woke up well rested and generally feeling good. Turns out Advil before bed is much better than Advil in the morning. I had some coffee, a bacon, egg, and cheese sandwich, some hash browns, and took a burrito to go. The next sections were pretty fun, I walked a lot of the hills of course, but the descents were a blast. 

I rolled on towards The Snake, stopping for a milkshake in Dalton, and loaded up for the next 75 miles. The Snake wasn't so bad; the descents are much easier with suspension. I kept my GPS on the elevation profile page so I would know when I was at the top of the climb. Sometimes the trail levels off for a short stretch, but if I can't pedal up the climb, it's easier to just walk the whole thing rather than get off and on every 100ft. 

I drank a bottle and a half in the first 10 miles after Dalton - it was a still a long way to the next resupply. So when I came upon a small creek, I stopped to filter water. There was just barely enough flow to fill the filter pouch. 

Rolling along on the endless singletrack, I followed this 1-dimensional line through space, up and down the hills, around the trees, over the rocks and roots. At the top of the last climb on The Snake, I stopped for a chicken sandwich I had picked up in Dalton. From top of the ridge I looked out though the trees and watched the sun sink lower in the sky, soaking in the serenity of this remote trail.

It was getting dark as I neared the end of The Snake. I rode a few more hours, up and over the next hill. Around 11pm, I decided to try to sleep while it was still a little warm out, rather than wait until the coldest part of the night. I put my wind jacket on and laid in the dirt. I rested from about 11:30pm to 2:30am, sleeping maybe half that time. Mosquitoes kept buzzing around my ears and were probably biting me elsewhere. I calculated it was another 9 to 10 hours to the finish. I wasn't sleeping much, so I figured I might as well start riding again. 

TNGA Day 4

I trudged on through the darkness. I'm not as familiar with this part of the course - it had been 4 years since I'd last been there, and I'm always exhausted, in a daze by this point - some of the turns are a little tricky. One in particular I searched for about 20 minutes before I saw another rider standing near the entrance to the singletrack. He seemed to be in more of a hurry than I was, so I let him go ahead but quickly realized I was faster pedalling up the hills. 

This section has a lot of singletrack that parallels gravel roads - rather annoying when you've been riding for days. Towards the end of the ridge the route took some rough-cut, half-assed singletrack. I bounced along for a few miles on the uneven trail but eventually made it to the end. Down some switchbacks, across the road, and on to the Rail Trail to Hell. 

It's worse than I remembered - washouts, ruts, knee-high grass wet with dew, spider webs... I blame this rail trail for killing my Wahoo. A couple miles in, I glanced down to see a blank screen with vertical lines. Uh oh. It flickered in and out a couple times before I took it off the handlebar mount and put it in my pocket so it wouldn't be subject to such harsh vibrations. I wasn't really prepared to use my phone to navigate, but I could make it work if I had to. I could navigate the rail trail easily enough. 

Once I hit pavement, I put the GPS back on the mount. The display was back, but there was a small black spot in the bottom left corner. The spot grew as I continued on. I was pretty hungry by this point. I had plenty of granola bars, but I would rather be hungry. When I finally made it to a gas station in Coosa, I loaded up with chocolate milk, iced coffee, Gatorade, water, and a couple pastries. I was dirty and tired; the man at the counter looked at me a little suspiciously. 

After inhaling 700 calories, I cruised on towards Cave Spring. I was on the home stretch; smooth sailing from here. As I got close to Cave Spring, two dogs started chasing me. One kept his distance and just barked, the other got close and was rather aggressive. I unclipped from the pedal and kicked towards it. I felt my sock being pulled right before I kicked again, striking it on top of the head. Thankfully, it backed off after that. It shredded my sock pretty good and just barely nicked my ankle. I took my knife out of my bag and put it in my pocket for easier access. I'd just ridden 500+ miles, I wasn't about to get taken out by a stupid dog. And generally I love dogs, but I'm not afraid to murder one that's attacking me. I'll be carrying pepper spray from now on, so hopefully it doesn't come to that. 

I rode on through Cave Spring towards the last bit of singletrack. The spot on my GPS had grown so large that I couldn't really navigate with it, but now I could just follow the Pinhoti blazes. A few more roads after the singletrack and I was back on the Silver Comet, where I had started 5 days ago. I passed my car, glad to see it was still there. Just a little ways further and I was in Alabama. Done. Last time I finished at midnight, this time it was noon. Twelve hours slower but I did ride an extra 200 miles before the race (and last year I didn't finish at all). I sat down for some celebratory Pringles and to let my tracker update one last time, thankful to be done.

Conclusion

Would I ride to the start again? Maybe, but not that route. It's sad how so many roads are awful for anything but a car. It definitely set me back the first day of the race, and that time can't be made up. It certainly added to the experience but not in the way I thought it would. Maybe it's because the route was too urban, or maybe it's because I wasn't in race mode. I can't really compare my time with previous years, as this was altogether a different ride. I maintain that my first TNGA was the most difficult - running out of water several times and having sore throat makes things rather unpleasant. Also I need pepper spray. I don't have any more patience to deal with aggressive dogs.

The Primal State (Vista 300)

Day 1

The day started early, coming from Central Time. I got up around 5:45am Eastern, departure was at 6:30. I had no trouble waking up, as a nervous excitement had been lingering since the day before. I drank my cold brew and loaded the bags onto my bike, making the final call to bring my wind jacket, even though I probably wouldn't use it. I still couldn't decide what shirt to wear - long sleeve, quick dry for sun protection or a regular cotton blend tshirt from the MS Gravel Cup for better air flow. At the last minute I decided neither. I'd just wear the one I had on - my tri-blend Rat Bastard Brewing shirt (gotta represent!). It's not a 'performance' shirt, but it's super comfy and dries reasonably well. I took the long sleeve to change at some point. Rolling up to the start I had a mild panic that I hadn't loaded the route onto my GPS, but it was in fact there. I had loaded it a week or two ago and forgotten. 

After a brief 'good luck', we were off. All eleven of us. (Plus maybe a couple that weren't on Track Leaders, not sure, I didn't count.) Riding up the first climb, my lower back was complaining about having slept in my car. I figured it would stop sooner or later, and eventually it did. About twenty minutes in, with no one in sight, I realized this was going to be a very solitary ride - compared to TNGA where you see a handful of riders at every resupply. Early on I got passed by Joe and Garrett. I would see Joe again at the first resupply in Tellico Plains at mile 47, otherwise I was alone for the rest of the ride. 

For the first hour I was zipping up the climbs with minimal effort. Two hours in, I thought, damn this is getting hard. Four hours in, I had settled into endurance pace and was feeling good again. The first several hours consisted of mostly smooth gravel roads, some pavement. I was making good time and calculated that, at that pace I could knock this thing out in under 48 hours, easy. Then I got to the sustained climbs. The gravel climb up to Indian Boundary started wearing me down, but I got to the camp store just in time. They had closed up, about to leave, but they were super nice and let me grab a few things. I had hoped for some substantial food, instead I had a Snickers ice cream bar, a pack of Combos, and a Coke for dinner. I ate and rested for a bit, then started up the Skyway - a 10 mile 3000 foot climb. 

The Ride with GPS map has two overlooks marked on the way up. I got to the first one pretty quickly, feeling good. A little while later I got to the second, thinking this isn't so bad, I have to be over half way up. Then I passed another overlook and another overlook and another overlook. Five miles later, all uphill, I thought, alright I'm ready to go home now. A couple miles later I finally got to the top of the ten mile climb, exhausted. At least there was a ten mile descent next. 

Day faded into night as I made my way down. I cruised on to the game check station at mile 120 where I refilled water, put on a fresh shirt and socks, and rested a few minutes. Originally, I thought I might stop for the night around this point. There was a campground coming up, but the night was young and I wanted to press on a while longer. I then realized that the next few resupply points would be closed when I passed them. I took stock of my remaining food. It wasn't quite enough to make it to the next major town - McCaysville at mile 178. I would either have to stop for longer than I wanted, waiting for somewhere to open or risk a major bonk.

Around 12:30am, mile 140, I stopped to sleep for a bit at a tiny trailhead on the side of the road. The first night is always difficult. I was sweaty and tired and the air was chilly and damp. I wanted a shower and a warm bed, instead I got an inflatable sleeping pad and unknown critters wandering about.

Day 2

I woke up chilly around 4:20am. A sleeping bag liner doesn't offer much warmth by itself, and I wasn't going to get any warmer laying there. I packed up and was rolling by 4:45am. About a mile later there was a right turn in the route but no road. Oh boy! Singletrack! Not just single track but hike-a-bike with big loose rocks. What fun! Thankfully, the steep section was fairly short, most of the trail was rolling to flat and a pretty easy ride. I saw a bunch of squiggles coming up on the route and thought, what the hell is that? Oh, it's Buck Bald. I watched it get closer and closer. 

I popped out onto a road and next thing I knew I was heading downhill. Wait what happened to Buck Bald? It's a short out and back in the route, and my GPS had skipped over it. But I could see the road on the map. I doubled back and rode up it anyways, pretty sure I knew what I was doing. I didn't want to miss that 360 degree view of the surrounding mountains or get hit with a three hour time penalty. I got to the top at first light, which was pretty cool. I could just see the dark hills against the less dark sky. Getting there about 45 minutes later would've been awesome. 

I pressed on, down and up, down and up. I made it to the convenience store in Harbuck around 8:15am. They don't open until 10am. I was down to half a Clif Bar and a few sips of water - I'm pretty sure half a Clif Bar is enough to kill a man on the verge of dehydration. I hadn't seen a good place to filter water from in a while, either. So, I could wait nearly two hours for them to open, or I could ride another fourteen miles and be in McCaysville before 10am. I checked the upcoming elevation profile - relatively flat - probably a lot of pavement from what I remembered on the map. Easy decision: onward. (Looking back at the map now, there's a Dollar General a mile off route that was open at 8am...)

When the clock tower struck 10, I had found Catz cafe, ordered, and sat down. I sipped hot coffee while still dying of thirst because that's what I do in the morning. The cafe had been converted from an old house, but the bathroom still had a tub in it with a hose/shower head attachment... it was awfully tempting. I ate enough to feel like vomiting, then hit the Dollar General to restock. Riding out of town was very uncomfortable from having eaten and drank so much, but my stomach had settled by the time I hit the singletrack. 

It was quite warm by this point and the humidity among the dense trees was stifling. I took off my long sleeve shirt, the relief was instant. I never ride shirtless, but I did for several hours this day. It was liberating. With proper fuel, fluids, and convective cooling, I felt like a new man. I was ripping up and down the trail, but it still took three hours to go 22 miles. Near the top of a long singletrack climb approaching a gravel road, I saw a small black bear run off into the woods. Shortly after that on the gravel road a deer saw me coming, yelped, and ran off the other way. I didn't know deer could yelp, but I thought it was hilarious. 

Next up was the Sylco backcountry trail. I had ridden it before in the other direction as part of the Cohutta Cat. And even with the recent controlled burn, it was worse than I remembered. It's an overgrown, washed out, sorry excuse for a trail, and we should really let it die already. 

I made my way to the Ocoee Dam Deli where I got a buffalo chicken wrap to go - got a bit messy trying to eat that while riding. Then I got a milk shake from Sonic in the next town over to sip on as I cruised the easy pavement. I was making good time again. I got to the convenience store at mile 250 well before they closed. This would be the last resupply, then just 65 miles to the finish. It was 9pm. It would be a long night, but if I pushed through, I could squeak in, just under 48 hours. Little did I know what was in store.

Riding the next section of pavement, a dark mountain ridge loomed on the left. Then the route turned left. I walked most of two miles up a ridiculously steep gravel road, thinking I would have a nice descent on the other side. Nope. More singletrack. It was a bit technical and slow going in the dark. And it went on. And on. And on. I made it to Chilhowee Campground around 1:30am. Still over 45 miles to go. There was no way I was going to finish under 48 hours, so I stopped to sleep a while.

Day 3

I woke up around 4:30am again, ready for the final push. The long climb and singletrack the night before had distorted my sense of elevation. Was I on top of a mountain or near the bottom? The gravel road away from the campground went up. I could look out in the darkness and see lights far below. But then I would come across a fairly loud creek - how did all that water get up here? The road kept going up. Surely I was near the top of the world by now. When I made the turn to go down, there was yet another road that continued going up. I was baffled (also sleep deprived). I hit a wicked descent as the sun was rising with a waning quarter moon shining over the misty valleys far below. At the bottom, I stopped for second breakfast, then rode on towards the last big climb. 

Even though my goal had been 48 hours, I wouldn't trade my experience. Finishing in two days is just an overnighter. The third day is when things get interesting - when you really start to feel the effects of sleep deprivation and the finish line is within your grasp, watching the sun come up over the mountains while your very being is reduced to it's primal core of raw power and will, driven to complete a single task. Nothing can stop you. Nothing else matters. For me, this primal state of being is the essence of ultra endurance racing. It's a high not easily achieved or sustained. 

My transcension was complete when I decided to drink tepid instant coffee after consuming several thousand calories the day before, far, far away from civilization or a restroom. There's nothing quite like wiping with leaves still wet with dew to bring you back to nature.

When I crested the last peak, I stopped for some celebratory Pringles. They had survived surprisingly well over the rough terrain. It was all (mostly) downhill from here - gravel, singletrack, gravel - down to the Hiwassee river. If I hadn't been so close to the finish, I would've stopped to swim. One last little bushwacking, creek crossing adventure and a short loop around Ocoee State Park and I was done - 316 miles, 53 hours 25 minutes.

TNGA '22

 

The Plan

The question I asked was how fast can I ride this course? After racing the Delta Epic, I know I can stay awake for 40+ hours. I've ridden TNGA twice, so I know the course. A hydration pack would mean fewer water stops and not running out of water on long stretches. I can carry thousands of calories worth of food pretty easily. Bibs are more aero than baggy shorts and gears are certainly faster than a singlespeed, right?...

The plan was to ride straight through with minimal sleep. I had plenty of food and water. I'd put in more miles last spring than ever. I was ready. Or so I thought.

The Race

I had gotten a good night's sleep, falling asleep early despite coming from central time. Canned Starbuck's Mocha wasn't all that great, but it got the job done. I was still full from a burger and milkshake last night, so I didn't eat much breakfast. This was a mistake.

The first 20 miles mostly consisted of me thinking, 'damn, this is harder than I remember'. But after a few hours I found my pace and settled in. Up over the mountains and down through the creeks.

Hot and humid is pretty bad, but temps hovering around the dew point are worse, in my opinion. Humidity is literally 100%, there's condensation on the leaves, grass, roads, etc. Everything is wet. Nothing will dry out. And that's where the temperature seemed to stay all day. Things that cause excess sweat and hold moisture become very uncomfortable - like hydration packs, long sleeve jerseys, and tight bibs with no air flow.

Several hours in coming down Addis Gap, it starts pouring rain. I was already drenched before that, but it still sucked. My brakes are typically decent enough, but when wet, they lost quite a bit of power. Like v-brakes would've been stronger. So I had a long descent with a death grip on the bars, in the pouring rain. My primary headlight charge port must have been open and gotten wet because it started freaking out. It turned itself on, I turned it off. Then the indicator light was flashing red three times, pause, flash again, over and over. I tried pressing the button in different ways with no luck. Oh well, I would deal with it later. 

I made the turn to start climbing Tray Gap, the highest point on the route, and things really started to suck. It's not a steep climb, but it does go on forever. I was still drenched, didn't have much energy, and wasn't all that hungry. I stopped to sit down for a minute and that's when the pain hit. My lower back was so tight I could hardly bend over. My gloves had been damp all morning but were really soaked from the rain. I took them off to discover my hands were quite pruny. I knew pruny hands would get shredded even with gloves, so I left them off to give my hands a chance to dry out. Turns out my gloves wouldn't be dry for another 24 hours... I wasn't having a good time at all and was 100% ready to bail when I got to Helen around mile 100.

I try to keep my drug use limited and strategic - it was still early in the ride, but an Ibuprofen and a shot of caffeine would certainly help get me over this mountain. A free taco at the top from some local mountain bikers was also a nice pick-me-up, though I was dreading the descent. I remember coming down Tray and Hickory Nut last time and really hating life for a short while. But this time it didn't seem as bad. 

I was starting to feel better when I caught up to some other riders at the gas station in Helen. I stopped to rest and refuel and decided I was feeling good enough to keep going. My primary headlight still wouldn't come on, so I was relying on my backup. 

The long paved climb up Hogpen was a drag as usual in the thick humid air. I cautiously rode down the back side in the fog with a dim headlight, then turned onto Hatchet Creek Rd towards Vogal State Park. It was only 10:30pm or so when I reached Vogal. I wasn't all that sleepy, but I was struggling, my body needed rest. So, I pulled off to sleep on a picnic table under a pavilion, just like my first TNGA ride. I was still drenched and a little chilly, so I got out the emergency blanket. I awoke a couple hours later to pouring rain and a cool mist blowing through the pavilion... so glad I wasn't out riding in that. 

Around 4:30am I woke up feeling rested enough. With the rain gone, I packed up and headed up Wolfpen Gap. I was looking forward to some good breakfast at Cooper's Creek Store just a short 20 miles away. It didn't disappoint - coffee and a breakfast burrito, and a fried pie to go. The next section leading up to Stanley Gap wasn't so bad, but everything was still damp. And I was still low on energy. Stanley was worse than I remember. I recall riding up a good bit of it but not this time. I stopped halfway and ate the fried pie. Then there was quite a bit of hike-a-bike to a false summit, a short drop, then more hike-a-bike. 

I was strongly considering bailing in Cherry Log at mile 165, but I didn't like the idea of calling up the sag wagon. Mulberry Gap was only another 5 or 6 hours away at mile 212, less if I cut out some singletrack. I could make that. For whatever reason, I thought that was a more respectable drop out point. 

I started struggling again riding up FS64 to Dyer Gap. I was thinking hard about the South Fork - Pinhoti 0 loop. If I was going to bail at Mulberry, I could just skip it and save quite a bit of effort and probably an hour of riding through that muddy mess. I finally got over Dyer Gap and into the next valley. I passed up South Fork, then circled back around and gave it a good hard stare. This is roughly the halfway point. My hands were hurting pretty bad even though I had my gloves back on. I had some pretty serious chaffage from the weight of my hydration pack and being drenched for so long. I was exhausted and tired of being sweaty and damp. There was no way I was going to make it another 175 miles. I could just skip this loop. But with some good food and a good night's sleep, I might feel differently in the morning. If I skipped it now, there was no going back. Damnit.

I conjured what energy I could and headed into the woods, bombing down South Fork splashing through the creeks, then up the Pinhoti, splashing through the mud puddles. I managed to knock it out in under an hour and almost had a good time doing it. Back onto the gravel road for more climbing but I was in familiar territory now, which seems to go by faster. I slogged up Potato Patch Mountain then started the descent to Mulberry. I was definitely skipping Bear Creek and Pinhoti 1-2. It's an easy ride back to Bear Creek if I really wanted to keep going. I stopped at the overlook and admired that cursed mist rising from the valleys. 

This would be my journey's end. I did feel better in the morning but not good enough. My hands were still tingly from nerve inflammation (and would be for several days). If I was a bit more stubborn I probably would've pressed on. I think I was probably in more pain the first time around and I kept going then. But, I knew what was coming up, and finishing just didn't seem worth the pain.

What Went Wrong

Long sleeve jerseys are good for sun protection, but another option would've been nice, something with better air flow. Also, I think baggy shorts are more comfortable on all day rides (what I wore last time).

Padded gloves were part of my plan to avoid Ulnar nerve damage this time, but I didn't think about them being soaked and unwearable for most of the ride. I'll have to find a hand comfort solution that won't succumb to saturation. Perhaps some handlebars with more back sweep.

The real killer was the hydration pack. While I didn't run out of water this time, the weight on my back, butt, and hands was too much. A few weeks ago, I was having second thoughts about it, but that's been part of my plan all year so I stuck with it. I need to find a good way to carry 3-4 bottles and maybe plan on filtering water on long stretches. 

Fresh brake pads would've been nice. 

Training could've been more specific. Riding gravel mountain roads is a bit different than anything around Nashville. Additionally, since getting sick in June (likely covid), I've been running and riding slower with a higher heart rate compared to a few months ago. I'm sure the heat is a factor too, but I didn't track my heart rate last summer so I can't compare.

As crazy as it sounds, I'm ready to go back. Most of my issues were gear related and should be easy enough to sort out. I have some other routes in mind too like the Vista 300 and maybe Cohutta Cat.

Goals

A couple years ago I had a goal to ride 365 hours - averaging 1 hour/day. I just barely reached it, riding a few hours on New Years Eve, going only 5 minutes over. The next year I started commuting to work. Tracking that time, I crushed my previous goal with 417 hours. And while commuting is certainly better than nothing, it was a bit of a false sense of accomplishment. I don't think my fitness improved with that additional time and may have even declined. Thirty minutes twice a day while trying not to sweat too much just isn't going to provide much benefit. This year I stopped tracking my commuting time/miles unless I take the long way home. I also haven't had a time or mileage goal... and it shows. I'm on track to hit 3500 miles (and 230 hours), down from 5000-6000 miles in previous years. The lack of races this year certainly hasn't helped. 

On one hand I feel like I shouldn't need a goal. I should just ride when I want to because I like riding. The problem is I also like being lazy on weekend mornings - sleeping in, cooking breakfast, having an extra cup of coffee. Weekend afternoons can get a bit trafficy, so I end up just going for a short ride around town. I think a well defined goal may just give me that extra nudge out of the door in the morning.

Time vs Mileage

Time goals are generally considered better as mileage varies with speed and terrain. An hour of hard effort on a mountain bike trail may only get you 10 miles, while an easy hour on a road bike will get you over 15 miles but less fitness gain. Time and the quality of that time will be the best indicators of training effort. (There are other ways to measure training effort with power, zones, heart rate, etc., but I like to keep things simple.) A time goal means no preference of road vs mountain. But having a goal that is only time gives you no incentive to ride hard.

Mileage goals give you an incentive to ride fast when your time is limited (after work). It's also more impressive to tell people you've ridden X,000 miles this year. The downside is that it incentivizes the road bike over the mountain bike. 

Even though time goals are (probably) better (and an actual training plan would be best), I've decided to aim for mileage instead. 10,000 miles would be awesome, but I think that's a little ambitious while working full time. I've decided to shoot for 7500 miles next year, or about 150 miles/week. My trail rides are, sadly, infrequent these days, so that shouldn't be much of a problem. I can either go for longer trail rides or just make up the miles with a longer road ride. This goal also ensures that I ride at least 7.5 hours/week, so the time goal is just kind of built in. 

I'm still not going to count my standard commutes, only the ones that are an hour or more, ideally 20+ miles. 60-80 miles during the week should be manageable with 70-90 on the weekends. That sounds like a lot even to me, but that's the point. Of course there's no reason to wait for the new year to shoot for a weekly goal. I managed to hit it last week, but a 70 mile ride on Sunday left me destroyed. This week I've been dealing with allergies and rain, so I'll fall quite short. But that's ok, it's a goal for most weeks.

The Delta Epic

 

After working a full day on Friday, Pete and I drove down to Memphis to meet Taylor, then on to Arkabutla Lake and the start of the Delta Epic for 300 miles of delta dirt. We got there a little early but not early enough for a nap like I had hoped. It was going to be a long night. 

The race started at midnight, and it started fast. This was a bad time to find out my head light doesn't turn on with a charger cable plugged in. The plan was to leave my lights plugged in through the night. I figured, at best, it would last 5 hours on its own. It was 7 hours till sunrise... After fiddling with that for just a moment I had to chase back up to the group, putting out way more effort than I wanted to this early. The group was cruising at 22-26 mph for the first stretch; the relay teams weren't afraid of putting the hammer down. Drafting in the pack was relatively easy. It was well worth the effort to stay with the group as it allowed me ride much faster than I could've on my own. 

Riding out of Tunica, we hit the levee around 1:30am for ~30 miles of soft gravel. Still, the group was riding at 20+mph; it was much harder to stay with them on the gravel. I contemplated dropping back, but everyone else was still hanging on. Eventually, we hit some firmer gravel and the pace slowed to ~17. No one attacked. The group was a bit smaller now, mission accomplished I guess. 

We rode through Friar's Point and headed on to Clarskdale at mile 72. I had planned to stop there to fill up on water, but with temps in the 40s I hadn't drank a whole bottle in 3.5 hours. No one else was stopping either. The next town would be Rosedale at mile 122. 

Shortly after Clarksdale, around mile 90, we hit a rutted double track road. A few people crashed into a particularly deep rut. The group split. I fiddled some more with my headlight trying to get it to stay on while charging. No luck. The indicator light was now red; no way was it going to make it till sunrise. I caught up with a couple other guys and we worked together to try to catch up to the main group. It was quite cold at this point, the roads were rough, and my fingers were too numb to dig around in my frame bag for that pack of Pop-Tarts I really wanted. If I slowed up, I risked being stranded with no light. I decided I could eat after sunrise.

Eventually we caught a group of 6-8 people, but it wasn't the group I was looking for. We maintained our pace in pursuit of the front group. Riding on another stretch of the levee, one guy dropped back; a short while later the other took off to get to his relay transition. I wasn't going to chase. I was cold, hungry, and had to pee, but Rosedale was a just a couple miles further. There was a hint of light in the sky, and somehow, my headlight was still going.

Seeing how I was on my own now, I thought I might as well have a cup of gas station coffee with my Pop-Tarts. Big mistake. The sun was rising, but it was still 40 degrees out. I got really cold, really quick. Shivering uncontrollably, I got back on the bike to warm up, favoring the aero bars as they offered both a warmer and more efficient position. I'd ridden through so much dust during the night that my vision was now blurry - not just out of focus but cloudy and dream-like. 

Riding flat, flat gravel roads cutting through cotton fields, I made my way towards Indianola at mile 180. This was the longest I'd ever been awake - 27 hours. I started singing to myself a bit around 8 o'clock, 'I.. have.. found.. some kind of temporary sanity in this..[explicit]' - Tool. I rode the next couple of hours without seeing anyone. Well, I thought I saw another rider ahead of me a couple times, but I'm not sure that it wasn't an hallucination.

After a quick stop in Indianola for some apple juice and a bag of chips, I was feeling pretty good. 10:30am, only 113 miles to go. I saw Taylor there; Pete wasn't far behind but I rode on. Memory gets a bit blurry at this point: flat roads, some gravel some paved, a slight headwind most of the time. Another rider caught up to me at some point and we rode together for a while until he slowed up on a rough gravel section. A bit after that Taylor caught me. I hung onto his wheel as he time trialled at 22 mph. It took a lot of effort to stay with him, but it was better than riding alone at 17 mph. We caught Brian a few miles before the Delta National Forest where Taylor would swap out with Pete. 

At the entrance to the forest, I stopped and ate while Pete finished getting ready. A few miles up the road, we ventured off route in search of a water spigot only to discover the handle was broken. I had a little over half a bottle left. It was a stretch but I could manage another 26 miles to the next water source. Except my math was off, it was 36 miles. 

I rode with Pete until we caught Brian and Peter. Pete took off in pursuit of another relay rider while the three of us, dehydrated and exhausted after 250+ miles, struggled to crawl along at I don't know what speed because my GPS had died. Peter dropped back. Brian and I eventually reached Satartia where there is a self-serve snack shack. I hadn't planned on stopping here with only 17 miles to go, but I desperately needed water and calories. A Coke and a Reese's took care of the later. We took off into the 'hilly' section of the route; being able to stand and coast was a welcome change. We rolled along with another relay rider to an uneventful finish just before sunset in Bentonia, 18 hours and 20 minutes since the start. Brain and I basically tied for 4th.

This wasn't the longest I had ridden, but it is the most I've pedalled in a day. And my legs were trashed. We ate dinner in Bentonia and stayed the night with Pete's friend in Jackson. I ended up staying awake for over 40 hours, something I didn't think was possible. That was the deepest I've slept in a long time. 

Road Less Traveled

I really wasn't looking forward to Memorial Weekend. I had no plans, no one to hang out with, and was already feeling the effects of isolation due to the economic shutdown. I don't need much social interaction, but working alone plus living alone with all bars and coffee shops closed and a lack of group rides and races was starting to get to me. Three days of solitude looked pretty rough. But, I had bought a new bike the previous weekend. So rather than steep in confinement, I embraced the solitude and planned some long bike routes.

Over three days I rode 195 miles. 55 of gravel on Saturday; 73 and 67 of road on Sunday and Monday. My legs haven't been that sore since TNGA; it turned out to be a truly great weekend. I'd been commuting on the Niner RLT Steel (a.k.a. the 7empest) all week, but this was the first weekend putting her through her paces. In short, it's a monument to modern bicycle engineering. It's not the lightest thing, but it's not meant to be. It's buttery smooth over the rough stuff, while the thru-axles, oversized bottom bracket and tapered head tube keep it rock solid on the descents. Dropping at 45mph, my heart might skip a few beats, but the bike is incredibly stable. Swap in some road wheels/tires and it rides better than my road bike. So much so, that the roadie may be for sale soon.

Speaking of TNGA, I haven't really been considering it this year (for no particular reason), and with all other races cancelled for the near future, I've set my sights on a new challenge. I'm strongly considering racing the Delta Epic in October. 300 miles of Delta gravel goodness starting at midnight on a Friday; all of the top times are under 24 hours. This is what the RLT was made for.

Cost of Cycling

Over the last few months, it seems like I've been spending a lot on bike repairs - chains, cassettes, brake pads, tires, tubes, headsets, bottom brackets (yes, just in the last three months I've replaced all of those things spread across four bikes). Even doing all repairs myself, the cost adds up. So, I decided to take a look at just how much cycling has cost over the last few years. Originally I was going to compare it to the cost of driving, but I realized that comparing bike related recreation/competition/transportation costs to car transportation costs isn't very meaningful, especially when your bikes are relatively much nicer than your car (even though driving was still more expensive). I've been tracking my expenses in a spreadsheet since 2011 but wasn't detailed enough prior to 2016 for this analysis. I couldn't find much online for comparison; it seems competitive cyclists either don't keep track or don't want to know how much their spending (or they don't post it online). At first I looked at the average monthly cost which came out to $145. Keep in mind, build cost for the road bike and single speed aren't included here, so this isn't the complete picture. Regardless, I think the annual costs offer more insight.

Year	Cost
2016	2845
2017	665
2018	1296
2019	2136

Digging into the details, bike costs include race fees, apparel, accessories, and outliers like two runs through TNGA - while there is no entry fee, logistical costs can add up to a few hundred not to mention the wear and tear and required gear.

2016 was a bit of an outlier. That was the year I built my full suspension, even while my spending habits were changing. In 2017, I was a bit more frugal, but as my income increased in the second half of 2018 so did my spending. I thought I was smarter than that, but that's textbook consumer behavior. I did take notice of it in 2019 when I bought rollers, a GPS (worth it), and fancy bike shoes (definitely not worth it). I also completely rebuilt the road bike - cables/housing, bar tape, chainrings/cassette/chain, wheels (the old rims had been worn out for longer than I care to admit), brake pads, and tires which I had quite an unlucky streak with - destroying three in less than a year.

Competitive cycling is quite a bit more expensive than I would've guessed; it's not just the initial purchase of a bike. It's deceptive since there are no direct costs with going for a ride. I will say that it's significantly cheaper when you can win consistently. Can it be done cheaper? Probably. Especially if you pick one discipline, but that's not as fun. I will say I've largely kicked the habit of upgrading components - just do it right the first time. It can certainly get way more expensive too.

As far as transportation goes, I bought my commuter bike in May 2017 for $70 (less than the cost of a campus parking pass), put a couple of new tubes in and rode it for a couple years. I just recently replaced the tires and brake pads. In general, I don't track my commuting/around-town miles and often use my other bikes, so I can't accurately analyze those costs. But, I think riding for transportation can be done cheaply when weight, speed, and performance aren't significant factors.

Part of what got me looking into this is that my commuter bike is starting to see up to 70 miles (5 hours) a week. At that rate, things will start to wear out, and I don't really want to put money into it (even though 8 speed parts are dirt cheap). It's also a tank and not something that makes me want to take the long way home. Despite my cost analysis, I'm looking for a new "commuter" bike. I use quotes because this will likely become my go-to bike for all urban rides, bar rides, maybe even long road rides and light trail rides. The main things I'm looking for in a do-it-all bike are wide tires, carbon fork, full hydraulic disc brakes, rack/fender mounts, and the ability to run single speed (difficult to find these days) because I know I'll get that itch at some point, and I'm trying to avoid reasons to upgrade in the future. At first I was thinking an aluminum frame, but the Niner RLT Steel has really caught my eye, just waiting for a used one in my size to pop up.

 

Isn't that beautiful?

 *Edit: After some more thought, it seems racing is expensive while cycling is only as expensive as you want it to be.