Myself, and 4000 others raced through the beautiful wilderness of northern Michigan for 30 miles on mountain bikes. Northern Michigan in November isn't typically warm, and this day was no exception - it was 31 degrees (F) that morning, and remained below 33 all day. I suppose they were serious when titling the race "Iceman Cometh". A partly baked weather forecast for partly sunny skies parted ways around 9am, and snowflakes began falling. Take cold, add wet, and mountain biking really gets interesting. During the race, which I did next to zero to prepare for, I went through all sorts of pain, but wonderfully, pain often gave way to joy...
A fast start is often a good strategy in a mountain bike race. That is, unless your legs are cold, and out of shape. In this case, a fast start is a painful strategy. Lactic acid, heart rate, burning muscles...you know it as well as I. At this point, Pain 2 (cold, muscles); Joy 0
Approximately 2 miles into the race, the course finally took a turn into the woods on a single track trail rather than winding on dirt around high schools and fields. This was welcome since the advantage the in-shape guys were flaunting on me was about to give way to a section that required riding skill, rather than fitness. I took some joy in immediately passing some chaps on the tight and windy track who had passed me seconds earlier on the flat and open spots. They were likely more experienced at road cycling, where the fitness and high-cadence pedaling win races regularly. (with the aid of doping). Pain 2; Joy 1 (skills matter!)
The snow began falling while in the treed section, and the thick, heavy, wet snowdrops came down almost like large soaked cotton balls. Unusual snow, but very pretty. However, the wetness on the earthen trail started the mud a-flyin' - not great when you have riders directly in front of you and your mouth must stay open to suck in the copious amount of oxygen needed to keep from falling over. Pain 3 (dirt in mouth); Joy 2 (awesome snowfall)
The snow continued beautifully falling as the trails became more vertically challenging. One interesting chemistry/meteorological event that started going on was this mashup of snow, ice, sand, and mud. The mix exhibited properties very close to velcro! Tires were virtually sticking to the ground, not rolling with normal ease. When the ground did let go of one's tires, they were left packed with a layer of this mix, making them much heavier than normal. Pain 4 (heavy tires, velcro ground); Joy 2.
I continued to trade race places with a few guys that were clearly more adept at the pedaling part (probably road cyclists) as we transitioned between open stretches and single track trails that rewarded bike handling. This was fun, but really getting old, especially as one of the guys I couldn't shake was really annoying in the way he announced his intent to pass. Every time he passed me he yelled out "ON YOUR LEFT!!!" incredibly loudly, as if a meteor was about to wipe out Will Smith and the planet. An uncalled for, blood-curdling scream that gave me concern, and nearly shook me from my bike (perhaps that was the plan?). Somehow, for reasons I cannot explain, the "affliction" style of clothing made it to cycling gear before everyone realized how terrible it was. And the guy in front of me was proudly wearing one of the affliction style bike jerseys. It was such a rediculous look that it gave me pain...but it was a good kind of pain, so that notched the joy count up one. Pain 4, Joy 3 (don't mess with one's dress)
Soldiering on, I "hit the wall", what's called "bonking" in the cycling world. Recall my admission of non-preparedness? I was seriously debilitated by the pain in my muscles...so much so that really all I could muster was keeping them going around using the "granny" gear on the bike. This has only happened to me twice in my life...not fun. As my pace slowed, I knew this race wouldn't be a great showing, but I was determined to finish, and doubly determined to not get off the bike. Already, a few tricky parts and near accidents allowed me to show off my 25 years of mountain biking experience to simply stay on the bike. I noticed so many off their bikes at different times - not able to climb hills, taking a rest, stopping for the water stations, walking it over tough parts, etc. I didn't. I mustered all the balance between my inner ears to stay upright and not stop. Each time I managed this where all others failed, I won a little. Pain 5 (riding up the steep sandy bits was extreeeemly hard); Joy 4 (little wins)
I was now nearly 90 minutes into this epic race, and due to my legs' condition, I was really starting to think about "how much further!?" Inside my head were a pair of 4 year olds asking "how much further, how much further!!?" I noticed a sign on a tree and then another. On each were large numbers. Yes, the numbers were large in size but my mind, numb from the cold, took a few seconds to register how high the numbers were. WHOA! 24??!! What. 30 miles, and I'm only 6 miles in! That's BS!! A few other profanities flew, I'm sure. I couldn't believe it...and started dreaming up reasons why it would be wrong. Was it numbered in reverse, as in 24 down, 6 more to go? Was it some permanent sign used for snowmobiling and had nothing to do with the race? I asked a rider in front of me that had the mack daddy of electronic gizmo's going "How far are we into this mess so far?" "15.1 miles" came back the response. Ahh, 24 kilometers. Through the rest of the race, I saw the kilometer signs, and although now I knew, I still couldn't conjure up the equation to convert it. Luckily, I could see the car speedometer, so I had a rough idea of the remaining torture. Pain 5.5 (.5 for the temporary pain of confusion); Joy 5 (I'm halfway!)The trail got snowier, more twisty, and even more encouraging. As the final miles approached, more and more spectators lined the trails cheering, cowbelling (more cowbell!), and even someone that oddly knew my name yelled out...all of which restores a broken spirit. The ultimate lift came in that last 100 meters, as I cranked out the last bits of energy from the furthest reaches of my body to sprint to the finish line. I did it!!!
It felt so awesome to finish this thing, that really felt like one of the most strenuous athletic events I've ever done. Moreso than 100 miles in 100 degrees on a road bike. Moreso than 20 miles running. Moreso than shoveling stone for 12 hours. The personal kudos was great, but a personal congrats from someone close put the feeling over the top. Pain - what pain? it's all been forgotten and converted to joy; Joy - more than can be counted.
Pushing oneself to accomplish things that feel insurmountable is an incredible ability of the human spirit. It requires faith, hard work, diligence, and focus, but when it comes together, the reward is...priceless. I hope you find something like my race soon in your own life.
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