Wilderness 101 - The Independent Fabrication/Team Seagal Pain Train Comes to Town

Well sports fans it is that time of the year when the planets align, the clouds clear and the trails run fast in furious in Coburn, PA.....yes the Wilderness 101. In a sado-masochistic way this is without a doubt my favorite race of the year. It mainly has to do with the fact that the W101 is the first mtb race I entered and somehow managed to finish. After swearing never to set foot again in Coburn here I am stepping up to the line for the 6th straight time.

Again I was joined by a couple of proper English gentlemen, Wayne and Footie, both veterans of the race and always looking for a reason to tip a couple of beers. The antics didn't take long and leaving NYC at the optimal time of 4pm on a Friday ensured that Wayne & Footie wouldn't be here for the better part of 7 hours. The downside to all of this - when they did finally arrive at 11pm I was awaken from a solid sleep and eventually forced to run for the vial of Ambien so I could manage a paltry 4 hours of sleep before the race.

Race day dawns with Chris Scott plying the campground with subtle ringing of the Race Gong. After a shortened night of sleep nothing is more satisfying then Footie's antics on race morning. Last year it was the attempt to convert to tubeless and this year there was nothing quite like watching Footie attempt to get a 29er tire to stay on a 26" rim, and all of this in the 15 minutes before the start!

Race day showed early signs of ideal weather and a the crack of 7am we were off and riding behind the lead cycles with the pain train revving up to full speed. Wayne, Footie and I held together for the first climb with Footie showing signs of brilliance (and his skills at wrist snapping) as he shot ahead on the climbs and in true old school fashion stopped on the road side for a quick menthol. Once we crested the first climb it was goodbye Footie and hello pain train as the pace quickened and we took advantage of the rolling fire roads. A couple of dropped chains later and Wayne was off the back leaving each of us to suffer in our own world of delusion and pain.

Grinding out mile after mile and focusing on the road ahead for mile after mile of climbing/wrist snapping, I made it to the 73 mile mark with only a few scrapes from going over the bars before I had the pleasure of meeting my potential maker -

On the climb up Sand Mountain Road I held to the right and led the group up the packed track on that side. You can imagine what it was like to take a pedal stroke and hear the rattle of the snake, look down and see a coiled rattler have the option to a)strike at the nearest ankle and end my race (or life) or b) retreat to the woods. Lucky for me option b was the more appealing choice on this day. Needless to say the center of the trail offered the best path for the rest of the race.

The final 20 miles saw a monumental battle between my legs and the demons in my head and you can be assured that the demons put up one hell of a fight before they finally ran out of hard riding and were suppressed for another year.

Crossing the finish line I realized that this is the only thing that could hurt more then a session with a dominatrix and a cat-o-nine tails. Was it worth it - for second place in masters - hell yes and I will see you next year.

The following morning, looking to combat the effects of burning 10,000+ calories, way too many beers and shots of mezcal it was off to the local diner for the "Delicious Dozen" or in our case the Delicious 36 after ordering 3 of these. Yes we did manage to finish almost everything on the table and without running to the bathroom to hurl! And one last positive note, I managed to raise a few thousand dollars for ALS/TDI. Amazing how much people will pay to see you suffer.