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Chris Cooper - 2004 Assault on Mt. Mitchell |
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The reality is that this was easily the hardest ride I’ve ever done. But let’s start from the beginning. Chapter 1: I am Mario Cipollini and these guys are a bunch of slow-ass punks. The first 75 miles are a joke! Bill’s Hill is a small hump. If you want to feel like a stud, ride Marion as fast as you can, pulling the Mitchell people the whole way and then stop. You’ll feel great and everyone will love you (Mike — why don’t you do this us next year). We were averaging about 20 MPH when we got to Marion. In a way this is the deceiving part, you’re riding along, looking at your cyclometer, thinking everything’s great. Your legs really do feel good and then you start the climb to the parkway. Now I know everyone says the climb to the parkway is the worst, but Gibbs and I were riding great at that point. We were dropping people left and right. There was an ABRC group that we thought would be good to ride with, but they were too slow for us. It was HOT (glad I brought arm warmers and a jacket — thank you National Park Service warnings), and we were keeping fairly hydrated (In retrospect, I didn’t drink enough in the first three hours, but I didn’t realize it until later). When we got to the parkway, I was starting to hurt. Fortunately we had a small flat section at the beginning and I thought that it wasn’t going to be too bad. Then the grade picked up to 7-8% and did not let up. Now I know what you are thinking — 7-8%, that’s nothing! That’s Waterrock on a Sunday. That’s half as steep as Cullowhee Mountain. Well, you’re right, except that we had about 80 miles already in our legs (it’s deceiving — trust me). Gibbs and I rode together for about 5 more miles and then he went Roy Hobbes on me and dusted me. I didn’t see him until the end, so you’ll have to ask him to finish the story on his end. Chapter 2: I suck After Gibbs left me, I chugged along, constantly looking at my computer. It would say encouraging things like 12 miles left. Then it would say discouraging things like 6 MPH. Even in my state, I could figure out that at that rate it would take me 2 hours to climb to the top. 2 hours is a long time when every part of you is in pain. The encouraging thing was that except for Gibbs, no one was passing me. My pace sucked, but so did most other people. I also noticed that at this stage of the ride, the chatter slowed down. It’s like the difference between the beginning of the Tuesday night ride and when you hit the wall. We’re all buddies at the beginning. At the wall, you can’t tell that we even know each other. OK, back to the narrative. At some point, I started to feel awful. I finally hit a rest stop and pulled over (We actually worked the rest stops pretty well — we didn’t’ stop much and when we did, it was quick). I started to lean over my bike and felt about like I did at the end of Cashiers (if this was a book, there would be a picture of me looking like death net to the text). Then I saw the greatest thing I’ve ever seen in my life — a banana? No. I had about 48 of them and they made me sick by this point. A couch? No, but that would have been nice. A beer? Don’t get me started. An orange slice! Now I don’t even like oranges, but it looked like the nectar of the Gods at this point. Jennifer had suggested that oranges have super powers, so I tried it and she was right. I felt great! I got on my bike and there was a downhill. I was going 40 MPH. The miles were flying off and with the benefit of my new super-powered orange, I felt like Lance Armstrong (except with all of my equipment). Then about a half mile later, I hit the next climb and I was back where I started. OK. This is getting kind of long (I can hear the Chris doesn’t work jokes coming now), so I’ll speed it up. After far too long, I hit the entrance to Mt, Mitchell. There was a rest stop there. I thought that I didn’t need that. From the entrance to Mitchell to the end is only about 8 miles, but it takes about an hour. It is steep and it hurts. I began to cramp (why didn’t I stop at the last rest stop and get another super-powered orange)? At one point, I stood on the pedals to pass some people. I had pictures in my head of Lance Armstrong in the Tour “dancing on the pedals.” The problem was that I was “collapsing on the pedals.” I cramped up and almost fell over. Luckily I stayed on the bike and kept going. At this point, some guy next to me said that we were only climbing to the restaurant. I could (barely) read the sign that said the restaurant was 2 miles & the summit was 4 miles. This made me feel good….until the point where I realized that this guy was a moron. We were climbing to the summit. It’s not the assault on the Café of Mt. Mitchell, it’s the Assault on Mt Mitchell. So, I persevered and passed another rest stop (this will become important). It flattened out a little bit and I could see the finish. I was beginning to feel better. I knew that I could pass a few more people, so when the grade picked back up, I stepped on the pedals and with appx. 50 yards to go, it happened…..my legs completely collapsed and I fell over as my legs convulsed and spasmed. 6 people passed me and then I got back on my bike and rolled into the finish line at 6:55:23. That put me in 250th place out of 1000 that started and 791 who finished. Depending on how you figure it, I was either in the 25th percentile, or the 31st percentile. Gibbs had finished about 15 minutes before me at 6:41:02 — 190th place (either 19th percentile, or 24th percentile). Chapter 3: I’m going to throw up in school bus After Gibbs and I complained for about 10 minutes and I said some dumb crap that I was too delirious to remember (although I’m fairly sure it had something to do with oranges), we got on the school bus. I was on the hump. Some people thought about sitting next to me, then they decided against it. That was smart. Turns out being crammed into a school bus when it’s hot as hell and you feel like crap, descending from Mt. Mitchell makes you feel kind of…nauseous. I never did throw up, but I did keep my mouth firmly placed against a Gatorade bottle in case all of the bananas that I ate decided to make a sudden reappearance. As we descended, we made fun of the people still riding (as had the people before us, I’m sure). It had started to rain and some decided in their infinite wisdom that walking their bike up a mountain was smarter than riding. I was glad I was not them. We finally got back to Marion, I didn’t throw up and Jennifer picked us up (thank you). We got home and I slept like I have never slept before. |
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552 West Main Street - Sylva, NC 28779 - 828.586.6925 |
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