Game, Set, Match - Wilderness 101

With all of the chips in the pot, Mrs C-Dubs and I loaded the Audi assault vehicle and headed west to the backwoods of central Pennsylvania/Bald Eagle state forest for the 11th annual running of the Wilderness 101 (and second running of the super secret Wilderness 40). With the 9th go at the race, getting our shit together, loading the car and getting there and establishing base camp is akin to getting dressed in the morning with a hangover....everything is on autopilot. The biggest excitement of the trip being how many Mennonite carriages we will see on the road and whether Floyd Landis will be at the reins or building another barn.
Arriving at the Coburn town park we once again landed the primo camping site under the trees. With temps and humidity rivaling the nether regions of a sidewalk bum's filthy pants, having shade was as essential to survival as a good Chinese dinner is to getting the munchies. Once base camp was established, like a dog marking it's territory, we set about running the construction tape to mark off sites for our Midwestern ambassador to China, Garth Prosseralong with plots for the expected contingent of NECS/Dark Horse riders that were able to withstand the tongue lashing doled out by the Mayor for missing the marquee event of the season - Dark Horse 40.
Finishing off the traditional preride of the first climb and finishing rail trail, we circled up the camp chairs around the cooler, determined that the hip seemed to have enough left for the race and quickly set about worshiping the god of yeasty malted beverages for a bit of prereace carb loading before setting off to Millheim for our traditional pasta and egg roll dinner. By this time the news started rolling in, Monte was out but in at the DH 40 (Mayor 1 - Chris Scott 0), El Obamador had made the mistake of getting a late start and was parked on Route 80 enjoying a social session with fellow drivers due to an accident and Fat Chick was in but opted for the offering of XXX films on the hotel tv instead of the bromance of the campground. By the time we called it a night it was still so hot that while laying in the tent it felt like this -Race day dawned with our host, Chris Scott, circling the campground rousing all participants with the traditional ringing of the Chinese gong and songs from Pulp Fiction to get the juices flowing. With temps and humidity a bit lower it wasn't going to be the death march we all feared but it was still going to be a cooker on some of the longer climbs. Rolling up to the starting line I took a quick look over my shoulder a bit anxious as to whether this view was going to come by my own power or in the back of a pickup truck after packing it in on the course (and you can be sure that after putting up with all that pain for the past 8 months I was in no mood to ride the Budweiser express back to Coburn).
Well loyalistas things were going better then planned and before I knew it aide station 3 had come and gone and your narrator was feeling good and ready to push on for the brutality that lay ahead. A few changes to the course had taken out one the single track climbs and replaced it with a beautiful ridge top ride complete with panoramic views and even moar rocks which was only a precursor of what was to come.
About 65 miles in I finally caught Fat Chick on one of the road climbs only to incur the feared endo/flat one-two punch on the following descent. After putting in a replacement tube and gassing it with Co2 only to find that the new tube was a dud, Fat Chick rolled on by, passed a tube and Co2 before setting back off. With the repairs made it was back to the duty at hand. Rolling into aide station 4 I was greeted by Mrs C-Dubs, who as bottle bitch extraordinaire, had me refilled with liquids, tubes and Co2 for the next leg, the feared climb up Stillhouse Hollow Road. Now Stillhouse road on a good day is an ugly climb, steep at the bottom with the top half hard packed rocky old jeep track but this year the weather really tore it up and both the lower and upper sections were akin to riding in a dried up river bed, lots of rocks, lots of ruts and not too much riding surface. Having successfully navigated this section I came to the realization that Little Poe Trail (no longer a part of the course) was the one section that gave you relief and let you know the last aide station was coming soon. This year we were diverted with an extra 30 minutes of climbing before being treated to the worst descent on record, a 5 mile long double track that was completely washed out and full of chunky rocks and felt like you had been working a jack hammer after 85 miles of riding.
Coming into the final aide station I again caught up with Fat Chick where we topped off with bottles of coke and fig newtons before setting off for the final climb. Once at the base I caught another master and with Fat Chick running on empty I elected to put the hurt on and powered up the climb, changing up a gear and getting out of the saddle anytime the pace started to slow. Summiting meant only a high speed descent followed by Fisherman's trail and 4 miles of rail trail/road to the finish. Well just yards from the bottom it was another flat and this time I had it changed and on the bike before anyone had caught me only to turn the bike over and find it was once again flat. It wasn't until halfway through the second change that I was finally caught by my fellow master and realized that all that work was for naught. As Fat Chick rolled up he handed me moar tubes and Co2 while with a pathetic look I offered to let him give it a go to which he responded "see you at the finish".
At this point I should have been wearing this jersey due to all the flats - Facing the reality that I wasn't going to catch either Fat Chick or my Masters competitor I called it a day and casually took my time changing the tire for a relaxed ride to the finish. Only problem was this year the Fisherman's Trail went over the top instead of by the river and it was a massive hike-a-bike section that I could barely walk. I knew to make the year's goal I only had to struggle over this section and worst case I could one leg pedal home. Carried by a superior attitude and superior state of mind I rolled across the line as the clock ticked past 10:24. Not my fastest, not my slowest but in light of changing 4 flats and having a bum hip I was smiling but in a lot of pain. Immediately on the menu was my infamous post shoveling elixir of oxy, Tobala and Corona followed by a dip in the river.Back at the camp it was time to eat, party, eat, party and celebrate that I was now nine for nine at the 101Next stop 8/18 and the operating table, keep you posted.