I've discovered a pattern in my thought processes. Basically, if I get an idea in my head, it's going to happen sooner or later unless I can convince myself that the outcome would be total misery and destruction. Realizing this pattern, I've tried to quit second guessing myself without being too impulsive. I've even gone through with some bad ideas, knowing they were bad at the time, because eventhough the chance of failure was high, the consequences were manageable.
The most prominent case being the time I tested out my Hobie 16 homemade solo righting system. I think it goes without saying, that flipping a boat over on purpose, when you're out by yourself, knowing there's a good chance you won't be able to right it, is a bad idea. But it just so happened, that the conditions were favorable that day: minimal tidal movement and a mild south wind. So, worst case I'd drift into the beach. I even lined up with a specific part of the beach I wanted to drift into. Long story short, my righting system failed, I drifted into shallow water and still spent twenty minutes trying to get it upright. I even attracted a few spectators on the beach. Eventually, I righted the boat and went on my way.
Following that same pattern, I've had the idea of racing the Trans North Georgia for a few months now. Admittedly, it's a bad idea. The TNGA is a 350 mile mountain bike ride/race from South Carolina to Alabama, through Georgia's roughest terrain complete with bears, snakes, and hillbillies. See Deliverance for reference. Technically it's not a race, but, as all cyclists should know, when two or more bikes are in close proximity, it is always a race. Sadly, the mileage of this event isn't even the bad part. The real kicker is the 56,000ft of elevation gain. That's nearly twice the height of Mt Everest, ridden in two or three days.
So why put myself through this? Because it's there. Because there's a ~50% failure rate for first timers, and that chance of failure is enticing. Also, if I don't do it this year, I'll be waiting until 2018. I've already got plans to see the solar eclipse in 2017.
Luckily, I have a pretty good starting point as far as training goes. I really don't plan on doing much fitness-wise. But, I want to get used to eating while riding and maybe experiment with riding while fatigued. I also need to perfect my gear set-up: shoes/pedals, saddle, handlebar position/grips. And, of course I'll need to decide what to bring and which bike to bring, which means coming up with a strategy. Some people recommend riding twenty hours a week to prepare for such a long race, but I think that's unnecessary. After a certain point, endurance is all about being mentally strong and staying fuelled up.
The race starts August 20th, which gives me six months to get things sorted out. I'll be posting training/gear updates between now and then along with the usual topics of work, racing, inefficiency of cars, etc. Stay tuned!
2.21.2016
2.14.2016
Gravel and High Points
While researching Thacker Mountain - a known high point near the Whirlpool Trails - I came across this website. Apparently some people make a hobby out of finding local high points in places where there are no mountains to summit. Thacker "Mountain" is one of the high points listed, but unfortunately, it is now private property. The other two high points listed for Lafayette County are off of some back-roads in Holly Springs National Forest.
Fast forward a few months, and I finally decide to go explore the area and maybe get lost on some dirt roads. There's been a recent rise in popularity of riding road bikes on gravel/dirt roads, so I figured I'd see what the fuss was all about and took the road bike.
Getting to the county road that goes into Holly Springs, requires about two miles of travel on Hwy 30, which isn't a major highway but still has plenty of drivers who are in a hurry. After getting off the highway as quickly as possible, I find out that there's a logging operation on the narrow road of CR 225. Great. About a mile after the deforestation, things get really quiet and the road turns to gravel. The only sounds are my breathing, the wind in the tops of the pine trees, and rocks shooting out from under my high pressure tires as I slowly grind up the biggest hill I've seen near Oxford.
The road finally levels off. The two high points are nearby, but I can't distinguish which hill tops are the highest. A couple of times, I get off to scramble up the hill in search of the survey marker but no luck. Back on the bike, the road smooths out to hard-packed dirt and I pick up speed. Too much speed as the road quickly turns back to chunky gravel. I feel rim hit rock multiple times before I can stop. Pinch flat. Luckily it was only the front wheel, and I had a spare tube.
I'd have to be more careful for the rest of the ride. More chunky gravel. I realize I brought the wrong tool for this job and decide to head back to civilization. I find some (rough) pavement again and come up on a turn that will take me back towards town when two dogs start barking at me. No big deal, they're not acting aggressively, just barking. Except there's another sound. A few hundred pound pig comes out of the woods, blocking my way and trotting towards me, grunting. Now, I'm unfamiliar with the do's and dont's around livestock. All I know is big heavy animals can trample me. I turn the other way and ride away from it, but it keeps following me. I gain enough ground to check the map; a possible detour would add several miles to the trip and dump me out in a bad place on Hwy 30. Taking my chances with the pig, I ride towards it slowly as it trots towards me, now near the edge of the road. I get as close as I dare, then sprint passed it. Passed the dogs who've settled down.
I climb a big hill up to the highway, cross it, and descend again. The road starts to level out, and I see more gravel up ahead. No big deal, I'll just go slow. But there's something else. A big dog barking aggressively and leading a small pack, all running full speed trying to head me off. The logical decision here is to slow down and face the dogs, since most dogs just want to bark. Unfortunately, my fight or flight response system overrides any logical thinking. Since I'm already moving at a good speed and know I can out-sprint a dog, my brain selects flight. I press harder on the pedals and hit the gravel at almost 30mph. I'll admit, running on adrenaline and sprinting away from a big dog on an unstable surface was pretty exciting and a little bit fun.
I get chased for about a quarter mile before he lets up. I slow down only to find the other thing I was afraid of. Another pinch flat. Now I'm stranded in the middle of nowhere. Fortunately, a cycling club member came through for me and picked me up. Good thing I had a phone. It would've been a long walk back.
I didn't get to explore nearly as much as I wanted, but at least I now know that there are some cool gravel roads in the area. I'll have to rethink how to get to them though. And bring a better bike next time. A cross bike would be ok, but that gravel is thick enough that a geared mountain bike wouldn't be overkill. Also, there were some closed and abandoned double track trails that looked interesting. I may start making frequent rides out there as the area seems to be a good place to train for the Trans North Georgia! More on that next time.
Lesson learned: road bikes and gravel don't mix. I don't care what others say.
Getting to the county road that goes into Holly Springs, requires about two miles of travel on Hwy 30, which isn't a major highway but still has plenty of drivers who are in a hurry. After getting off the highway as quickly as possible, I find out that there's a logging operation on the narrow road of CR 225. Great. About a mile after the deforestation, things get really quiet and the road turns to gravel. The only sounds are my breathing, the wind in the tops of the pine trees, and rocks shooting out from under my high pressure tires as I slowly grind up the biggest hill I've seen near Oxford.
The road finally levels off. The two high points are nearby, but I can't distinguish which hill tops are the highest. A couple of times, I get off to scramble up the hill in search of the survey marker but no luck. Back on the bike, the road smooths out to hard-packed dirt and I pick up speed. Too much speed as the road quickly turns back to chunky gravel. I feel rim hit rock multiple times before I can stop. Pinch flat. Luckily it was only the front wheel, and I had a spare tube.
I'd have to be more careful for the rest of the ride. More chunky gravel. I realize I brought the wrong tool for this job and decide to head back to civilization. I find some (rough) pavement again and come up on a turn that will take me back towards town when two dogs start barking at me. No big deal, they're not acting aggressively, just barking. Except there's another sound. A few hundred pound pig comes out of the woods, blocking my way and trotting towards me, grunting. Now, I'm unfamiliar with the do's and dont's around livestock. All I know is big heavy animals can trample me. I turn the other way and ride away from it, but it keeps following me. I gain enough ground to check the map; a possible detour would add several miles to the trip and dump me out in a bad place on Hwy 30. Taking my chances with the pig, I ride towards it slowly as it trots towards me, now near the edge of the road. I get as close as I dare, then sprint passed it. Passed the dogs who've settled down.
I climb a big hill up to the highway, cross it, and descend again. The road starts to level out, and I see more gravel up ahead. No big deal, I'll just go slow. But there's something else. A big dog barking aggressively and leading a small pack, all running full speed trying to head me off. The logical decision here is to slow down and face the dogs, since most dogs just want to bark. Unfortunately, my fight or flight response system overrides any logical thinking. Since I'm already moving at a good speed and know I can out-sprint a dog, my brain selects flight. I press harder on the pedals and hit the gravel at almost 30mph. I'll admit, running on adrenaline and sprinting away from a big dog on an unstable surface was pretty exciting and a little bit fun.
I get chased for about a quarter mile before he lets up. I slow down only to find the other thing I was afraid of. Another pinch flat. Now I'm stranded in the middle of nowhere. Fortunately, a cycling club member came through for me and picked me up. Good thing I had a phone. It would've been a long walk back.
I didn't get to explore nearly as much as I wanted, but at least I now know that there are some cool gravel roads in the area. I'll have to rethink how to get to them though. And bring a better bike next time. A cross bike would be ok, but that gravel is thick enough that a geared mountain bike wouldn't be overkill. Also, there were some closed and abandoned double track trails that looked interesting. I may start making frequent rides out there as the area seems to be a good place to train for the Trans North Georgia! More on that next time.
Lesson learned: road bikes and gravel don't mix. I don't care what others say.
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