Cheat Mountain Challenge 2009

Well the Cheat Mountain Challenge has come and gone and looking retrospectively at my experience, I can without a doubt say that it was the most physical, emotional, and mental anguish I have ever encountered on a bicycle. It was a fantastic race/ride and I am pleased with my results, having ridden myself into 12th overall out of 153 competitors! I am for sure heading back next year and you can bet I am looking for a Top Ten result!

Describing this race is going to be more difficult than in the past, as I feel almost incapable of accurately depicting the magnitude and sheer brutality of the ride. But here goes anyway...

First some facts: The Cheat Mountain Challenge is 110.2 miles of riding through the Appalachian Mountains in Central West Virginia. These mountains are not kind. They do not love you. They are beautiful and horrendous at the same time. The organizers of the CMC know this...and take full advantage. Rated as one of the Ten Best Rides in America by Road Bike Magazine, the CMC takes in some of the most breathtaking views and covers some of the most superb pavement the East coast has to offer. There are two options when you sign up for the CMC: a full century (110.2 miles) and the metric century (100k or a little over 70 miles). As far as my group of friends/team mates are concerned the only reason to go over was for the full century so that is what I signed up for. Now I had done some century rides this year, but all fell well under 5-6,000ft. of vertical elevation gain over a course of 100 miles or so. The CMC climbs close to 11,000ft. in 110 miles. There are six major climbs in that distance coming in at lengths of (in order of appearance) 7 miles, 4 miles, 10 miles, 7 miles, 5 miles, and 6 miles. Lets put this in perspective, shall we? Stage 8 of this year's (2009) Tour de France was a climbing stage in the Pyrenees Mountains. Follow this link (http://connect.garmin.com/activity/8755231) to see the actual GPS stats from a Garmin-Slipstream rider who rode this route. Notice it covered nearly 110 miles and climbed 10,191ft. Thats right, the CMC was not only comparable but almost identical to a climbing stage in the Tour de France...the Super Bowl of all bike races. Also notice the elevation profile on that page...and compare it to the one on this map (http://www.wvcf.org/cmc/images/PDFs/2006%20CMC%20Century%20Profile.pdf). See the similarities? Several major climbs, lots of small elevation changes, barely any reprieve save for a few flat sections between mountain peaks? Is the CMC starting to sound tough yet? Well it is/was! Out of 153 riders, only 124 made it to the finish line. Others were either pulled from the course for not making the time cut or abandoned on their own accord.

The entire peloton started on top of Cheat Mountain at the Rimfire Lodge in Snowshoe, WV. There was a "controlled" 6 mile roll to the bottom of the mountain where official timing would begin. Ben and I lined up close to the front of the mass of cyclists and began our descent. Almost immediately we were clipping along at 40mph heading into the sweeping turns on the slopes of Snowshoe. A small group of 4 broke off the front as they chased the leadout vehicle, so I got off my brakes and enjoyed the brisk early morning air reaching speeds of up to 55mph as our small splinter group railed down the mountainside. We rolled into the bottom staging area several minutes ahead of the main pack, with plenty of time for me to down yet another bottle of water as we waited for the initial lineup. As we lined up, Ben motioned for me to once again move to the front. I tucked in next to him as he chatted with a few of the guys up front. They all knew or knew of each other, however I was a no name. I was pretty much invisible, except for Ben's quick introductions of "This is Nat, he's fast" to a few of the guys who had actually noticed that I was wearing a Team Athens jersey. I got a half-hearted nod every now and then, which was about all I expected as I anxiously awaited the starting whistle.

When the signal finally came to roll out, our group eased forward, soft pedaling down the road toward the slope of the first climb. The peloton was jovial, if not antsy. I was safely tucked into the group and barely had to pedal to maintain my spot in the pack. We weren't even breaking 20mph, but that was because everyone knew what lay ahead of us that day. My tactics were simple: make it over the first few climbs with the leaders and back Ben up if needed, hang on as long as possible and then simply survive to the finish after the accelerations on the 10 mile ascent that marked a bit over halfway on our route.

The first climb was one of the steepest with a sustained grade over 9% for all of 7 miles. As we hit the base, the pace quickened. A few flyers headed up the road, apparently on a mad dash for the summit but were quickly caught, passed, and dropped from the folds of the main group. To me the pace seemed sufficient only to quicken my breathing, but we were shelling riders left and right. At the top of the climb a group of around 30 riders had managed to hold it together and now began the twisting, highly technical descent. For me this was perhaps the most fun descent of the day. I dont know if its because I came from mountain biking or what, but I love technical descents with lots of turns and switchbacks. We bombed the next 5 miles of twisty back mountain roads, reaching speeds around the 50mph mark. Even in this downhill section we shed a few more riders as they simply couldnt hang onto the tail end of our drawn out paceline. Following the downhill there were a few miles of flats before we headed into the next climb. The group was around 25 riders strong now and we all rode in a pack, heading toward the base of the upcoming 4 mile grindfest. A couple of miles before the base of the climb we were riding through a small section of rollers and I dropped my chain (chain fell off the front chainrings). I lost my place in the paceline and had to slow in order to pull it back onto my rings and get back up to speed. At first this seemed like the end to my day. The pack sped on and I was left seemingly alone on the road. However, I got the chain back on and managed to chase back on to the back of the pack right before they hit the next climb. As expected, there was an acceleration on the climb and those that could, followed. My legs felt good but I was monitoring my power output so as not to burn out too quickly. Thankfully, I was able to answer the accelerations without too much problem and managed to hang on with Ben and the other leaders over the summit of this climb as well. We emerged with a mere 18 riders and the pace eased as we had enough of a gap on the riders we had lost that we would not see them again before the finish line. We now had a section of 30 or so miles of flats and rollers before the whopping 10mile climb into Watoga State Park. At this point there were some guys starting to take notice that I was still there (and not only still there, but I wasnt really hurting yet either). As we cruised along at 25mph through the flats, taking turns pulling on the front, I struck up conversations with several of the other riders. This was a "stacked" group! Within our group of 18, we had one 18 year old Junior phenom who had won the state championships last year, a 14 year old Elite level climbing specialist, one Ex-ProContinental rider, several Pro/Elite level racers, a West Virginia State Mountain Biking Champion, and the guys who had taken first, second, third, and fifth at the CMC last year. Conversations flowed as we cruised along, I having been accepted into "the fold" since I could match pace with them AND was willing to share the work up front. There were a handful of riders at the back that refused to take their pulls (from the looks on their faces, they simply couldnt as it was all they could do to hang on) and one guy in a blue jersey kept accelerating up to the front and asking if we wanted to make a breakaway work...which no one did. We were like 40 miles into the day with most of the major climbs yet to come...why would we want to go it alone...? So after a few miles of having some sandbaggers and the annoying Blue Jersey guy, we turned the heat up at the front and dropped those that refused to help. Our main group now consisted of 13 guys, everyone of us having pulled our weight to get there.

Ben dropped back into the pack and asked how my legs felt. I said I was good, but knew that the next section was going to be tough. He said to match pace with the leaders as best I could and even "burn a few matches" if I had to because if I could get over the top with the group I was guaranteed a Top Fifteen finish. I chuckled and said I would do my best. As we hit the climb, the group stayed together for maybe 5 miles or so. Then the leader (he won last year as well) accelerated AGAIN and I began losing touch with the group. Myself and one other rider were detached from the back of the group and labored together for the next 5 miles to the summit. The front group only had a gap on us of 20 seconds, so on the descent I pulled alongside my comrade and asked if he wanted to chase back on. He said yes so we worked for the next few miles to close the gap and managed to latch back onto the main pack by the bottom of the mountain. Just as we were about to make the catch however, I saw a bottle come skittering out of the pack and Ben slowed to go back and pick it up. He had dropped it as he hit a bump and now was going to get left in the wake of the charging pack. He yelled to me to keep going and he would be there in a minute, but as a single rider he stood relatively little chance of latching back on to this group, so I slowed to wait on him. He grabbed his bottle and then we started hammering to get back up to the leaders. Taking short hard pulls and some risks in the gravel-filled turns of the State Park, we managed to catch back up to the group right as they entered another section of flats.

From then on it was fairly uneventful as the group worked together to drive the pace, all of us knowing full well that as soon as we hit the next climb, the attacks would come and our group would be splintered yet again. As we hit the base of the next 7 mile climb, I could tell I would not be able to answer the attacks on this climb. In fact, I could tell that I was starting to hit "The Wall". I was bonking due to a lack of food. You see, even though the CMC is fully supported, if you want to hang with the lead pack you had better be ready to make only two stops over the entire ride. We had blasted through at least four aid stations so far and I had been living on nothing but Gu Gel packets, a Powerbar, and Gatorade recovery drinks. I had done good on liquid intake, but didn't have enough calories to sustain my efforts much longer. At mile 67 there was an acceleration on the climb and I was dropped for the last time that day. Once the pack pulled away, I was alone on the road and in complete and utter pain. I had several more miles of climbing before I would reach the aid station I had told my parents to meet me at with bottles and extra food. I switched into my small chainring and simply CRAWLED up the climb. You know how sometimes if you watch the Tour de France there will be that guy that is on the front all day killin' the pace, but then later in the race you seem him weaving all over the road trying to climb but failing miserably? Yeah, I was that guy. I could barely keep my bike straight and almost fell over because I was moving so slowly up this climb. I was now in survival mode, not even focused on finishing the ride, just on finishing this CLIMB. After what seemed like an eternity I made it to the top of the climb and instantly downed the entire quart of Powerade my Dad had waiting on me. I ate two peanut butter half-sandwiches, grabbed more bottles and hit the road...slowly. I knew I couldnt match pace with the leaders anymore, but I was going to maintain my Top Fifteen spot! I headed out onto the Highland Scenic Highway...or as I like to think of it, the ninth circle of Hades. You see, the scenic highway is straight, rolling, and on a mountain top so I was able to look in either direction and realize how utterly alone I was as I battled against strong headwinds and changed into my smallest cog for even the tiniest undulation in the road. I was gone, done, completely empty. At this moment I felt so completely exhausted and frustrated that I was ready to call it quits. I was waging a mental battle with myself, torn between accepting defeat and abandoning, but realizing that if I could push past this low point I would most assuredly find the resurgence of strength to finish. The next 10 miles were quite possibly the hardest of my entire riding career as I maintained a cadence so slow that I was sure I was traveling back in time. Apparently I was surrounded by beautiful mountaintop views, but all I could do was focus on the white line in front of me as I fought to turn each pedal over, one stroke at a time. I ate and ate and ate. Half of the food I had with me was gone within 15 minutes of my picking it up, but I felt no reprieve. With each kick upwards in the road I literally would scream outloud in anger. I was irrationally angry at the organizers for designing a tough course, at the earth for having mountains, and most of all myself for not eating enough. I was overcome with emotions at the sight of each hill, feeling thoroughly beaten and near a complete breakdown. With each rise, it became a gamble as to which of my muscles would cramp next: hamstrings once, followed by calves, then quads. I even had cramps coming into my triceps and shoulders. When I felt a cramp coming on, I would begin beating the cramping muscle incessantly with my fist until the cramp passed. Who knows if this actually helped the muscle uncramp or just made me feel better mentally. At that point, I really didnt care. Even with all of these emotions, I kept telling myself to pull it back together because I knew the feeling would pass. I KNEW this feeling and I KNEW that I could beat it. I continued to eat and I continued to pedal, because that is all it seemed I knew how to do at this point. My world became one of singular purpose: eat, drink, get over the next rise. Slowly I began feeling better and my cadence quickened. I didnt feel as good as I had at the beginning of the day, but I could tell I was coming out of it.

After the aid station at mile 80 there was a long straight descent down the mountain. I grabbed some more bottles from my parents and hit the descent, using the full 10-15 minutes of descending to wake my legs back up and work some of the lactic acid out of my tired and sore muscles. I was recovering finally and able to pull everything back into perspective as I passed from the bonking stage into a tired, but determined drive to see the finish line. I had two more climbs that day, one of which came directly after my long recovery descent. I dropped into low gear and began grinding my way up the next 5 mile climb. Nearly half an hour later I emerged at the summit to another aid station. I grabbed two more bottles, Fig Newtons, and another sandwich and kept trucking. I learned here that numerous riders had already abandoned, including the ex-ProContinental rider from the lead group. The going was indeed getting tough! I rolled through a few flats on top of the mountain and then descended to the foothills. As I made the turn onto one of the major routes in the valley I saw a sign that said "Snowshoe 15miles". You would have thought someone just told me that I had won a million dollars. I was so elated to be "only" 15 miles away from my goal! The next few miles flew by, partly because I was feeling better and was able to hammer again, pulling back some of the time gap that had opened up between me and the leaders. It seemed this section of the ride was nearly all downhill (not sure if it was or not...) as I happily clipped along, headed to the base of our final climb of the day back up to the Rimfire lodge. I came into the final aid station and unloaded my bottles, jettisoning as much weight as possible for the final 6 mile push to the top of the mountain. The last climb was almost a blur compared to the other climbs of the day. I felt fine actually. I was able to accelerate in the switchbacks when the grade kicked up into the double digits, passed a few people, and maintained my position behind the leaders (just over a minute behind the guy in eleventh position). I rolled across the finish line alone, but elated.

My results were good, but the experience of riding the CMC was about more than that to me. At first of course it just started as a bike race, everyone gunning for the line. But for me it had turned into an exploration of myself as a cyclist. It truly showed me exactly how much of the ride is mental. How your mind can push your body past the point of no return and then continue to demand more, but only if you will let it. I had felt such unimaginable pain in literally every single part of my body on this ride, that it was hard to believe it was over when I crossed the finish line. I sat alone in the hotel lobby eating my high carbohydrate snacks and sipping Gatorade, contemplating what I had just been through. Sure, I could have been better prepared for this ride. And of course chasing back onto the main pack (not once, but three times) had burnt up valuable energy that I didnt have to spare on a day like that AND I know I should have eaten more. But it is what it is. I have never and will never have any regrets about the way I ride my races. I leave it all out on the race course, regardless of my place standings at the end of the day...and to me that is more important.

After the ride most of the guys from the lead pack found one another and we all reminisced about the climbs, attacks, etc. After I was dropped the group had stuck together for only a few more miles before the relentless attacks had splintered the entire group. We all finished either by ourselves or in groups of two, but the ranks of our once 13 strong pack had all but disappeared by the final climb. We laughed and joked, all vowing to return stronger next year for another crack at one another and the mountains of West Virginia. We all parted ways knowing that for several of us, this ride marked the end of the road season. Ben and I have one more race, but then it will be back to base miles and donning arm warmers for “Fall Leaf tours”. The holidays will come and go, we will put in monotonous miles on indoor trainers and then come back in the early spring, ready to stretch our legs and put the hurt on one another yet again. Over the season I have grown as a cyclist and endurance athlete, increasing my speed and aerobic capacity, and exploring the mental connection to athletic performance. I have made friends with guys in the peloton, impressed some, irritated others, and am fairly well known by the event organizers at this point. And while I may have started the season as a no name rookie from Marietta, you can bet that next year will be different. I am gonna work harder than ever for next season and hopefully will hear more than one guy in the peloton say “That’s Nat, he’s fast!”.