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Senior Member
Join Date: Jun 2003
Location: little rock
Posts: 304
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Today marks a week since Team Maverick, composed of John and Jed Davis, a guy named Stan, and myself crossed the finish line of the Ozark Challenge. Officially, in 13th place. The last to cross the line. I needed this week to feel good about the experience.
The race started at 6:30 with the typical shotgun start that I've become accustomed to seeing at longer mtb races. We get the maps, start pulling gear for the bike leg, and Stan and Jed begin plotting. I knew it was going to be a long race, when it took 45 minutes to locate a point. Mainly, I think it was because everyone else thought the point was in the same place, so we didn't recognize the problem early enough. Either way, we figured it out, and then broke out. 45 minutes later, Stan gets cramps. He's walking hills and eating e-caps. We hit checkpoints and begin working fluidly, at 20 mph on doubletrack, though. Things are looking up.
A quick transition to the canoe leaves us in 4th place. We're happy. We start "paddling our asses off" because the Canoe is a strong leg for Team Maverick. Got passed several times. Stan and Jed were having issues, their canoe begins taking water, and they tump b/c of some drunk teenagers leaving their tumped canoe in the middle of a corner rapid. I begin to dehydrate some and become disoriented enough to make the trek to the climb site difficult. I made it, though, and ascend, rather sloppily. Finish the rappel, I could hardly say "belay" much less grasp the concept at that time.
Canoe into the cemetary and transition to trek at 8th place. At this point, we've cycled 20 miles, canoed about the same, and now we're off for a jaunt through the woods. We begin racing night fall, and we did well. I thought it went well, until I saw the Topotrak. We hit all checkpoints and make it out of the woods just after nightfall. Still in 8th place.
Stan, whom my disoriented mind begins to call Cartman (Southpark), Jed, and I are swallowing vomit. We're trying to eat, but I'm cold. It's beginning to feel a lot like North Georgia, now.
We take off, and begin to "pedal our asses off." We see many beaten down Basic teams as we head off into the night. This is where things get interesting: We begin going uphill, and continue uphill. We take a turn onto Potato Knob road and continue uphill. Jed, our navigator, begins second guessing himself. We pedal back and forth for about an hour, and only notice Kent Davidson's team pass us. Eventually, John and Jed tell me to stay with an ailing Stan, and they go in search of the manned cp. 42 minutes later, after Stan and I had napped a little, they return. That set the tone for the whole night.
Cp 2, was the same story, exactly. We were to take a road to the right, find a cp, then follow it to a manned cp. An hour after finding the road to the right, the 2nd cp was found, and we were on way to the manned cp.
Now, this road is a little rocky, so care was to be used while riding it. John, who typically has no concern for the welfare of his body, is notoriously, an endo-er. I have seen this man go over his handlebars while rolling through level ground with no obstacles. Well, I'm sure you can see where this story is going. I'm ahead of John, and notice a rock that looks dangerous. I think "Oh shit, I hope John clears that." Then I hear expletives and a grunt. John endoed. We think he broke his nose because it's crooked and blue. He says he's okay, though, and we're soon on our way. His chosen to walk the sketchy parts now.
We hit the manned cp, and they send us to the trail. Well, actually, it's a steep, rocky, rutted out fire road. It hurt, and it was a mile long. The decision was made, once we hit cp, to continue on the trail since we were directed there. This was wrong. We lost 3 hours, had to bushwack with our bikes, and dropped to 12th place. See, the hippies, who got stoned at every transition, were now in 11th place. The sun's up, and we're behind pot smoking, college hippies. 24 hours ago, we were 4th.
We follow a pipeline, and power lines and uneventfully, aside from Jed's bonk, make it into the transition. We were rewarded for the long night with a sweet downhill. The Ozark Challenge offered the absolute sweetest bike sections I've ever raced, on both days. They were just technical enough to separate and reward the solid rider. At times, I felt like Marla Streb as I smelled burned lycra from my rear wheel. I loved it.
Transition to last trek at 8 a.m. after some double noodle chicken soup lovingly prepared by my husband and father in law. My parents and little brother are also at this TA, so that gives me a huge morale boost. Aside from being disappointed and weary, everyone is feeling solid. Well, I'm having a hard time, now. I'm starting to wilter and get tired. I'm "putting one foot in front of the other" with the knowledge that it's the last leg. Aside from being a little slower, we're fine. We catch up with about 4 teams and gain a couple of places and pass a hardcore chick who had been snake bitten the night before, and continued on.
Now, the moment of truth, do we take the road for 4 kilometers or spend the energy to bushwhack? Jed said road, so we went road. That was the longest 4 kilometers ever. Really, it was much longer. We can't find a cp, and waste energy climbing the mountain only to find that out. The decision was made to skip it. Okay, fine. It's been fun, but I'm wanting it over. 2 more kilometers until we hit the next manned cp. Cool, keep walking. I'm hallucinating. The wind is talking, and the trees look like cars, houses, and horses.
2 hours and lots of kilometers later, we hit the manned cp, with 4 minutes to cutoff. Wow, we learn that if we don't finish by 6:30, (2.5 hours left) then we're not ranked. Damn, we have to skip another cp. John's paying the price for a hard night, Jed's out of water, I'm focused on a finish line beer, and Stan wants his finish medal. John's feet are hurting bad from popped blisters. Stan and I set the pace a little quicker and we continue down the road to the highway, which will take us to Byrds. A mile or two from Byrds, my blisters pop, and I ask Jed for a little tow help. I didn't want to slow down the group, and the tow line helps psychologically keep us together; even with slack in it.
Finish time: 36 hours 40 minutes. Next race: Sylamore Hardcore in late August.
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Live cheap. Play hard. I love to climb hills.
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