The EPIC!

So this week our typical Thursday night "A group" ride was anything but typical. In fact, it verged on that ever-present verbage used in mountain biking circles: Epic. Presumably we have all experienced an adventure of "Epic proportions" at some point in our life but it seems as we grow older these adventures grow few and far between.

Thursday dawned humid and cloudy, with the promise of rain showers in the afternoon. The normal group ride email went out and there were several "Yays" but even more "Nays". Those that had opted into the ride were among the fastest guys in the area and were of the mindset to not shy away from a ride due to inclimate weather. (Sidenote here: I really have as of yet to meet a "slow" guy that shows up to these rides. I am thoroughly impressed with the quality of outdoor athletes we have in the Ohio Valley and we continually place well in regional events. Even at the CMC last weekend we had half a dozen guys from Marietta and Parkersburg in the top 50 of the field, which is saying something! Anyway, I digress.) As I parked in the wide turn off on Colegate which has become our normal meeting area, there were already three other vehicles and a handful of riders standing around the lot. I prepped bottles, put my bike together and took a few short runs up the steep climb leading away from our meeting area.

Right before we left as dark clouds were grouping overhead a gray car stops and the kind (and obviously intelligent...) middle aged woman inside tells us there is a tornado warning in Athens, OH and severe storms were headed this way. We laughingly tell her thanks and that we will be ok, then foolishly crack tornado jokes as we strike out on the first climb...if only we knew what lay ahead.

Our group was partially made up of triathletes (guys who ride with us just for their "bike" workout), one mountain bike racer, and the rest of us were road racers. As we started gaining elevation on the "warm up" part of our route there was an initial selection made as I pushed the pace off the front. One guy was able to follow, glued to my wheel while another was caught out just a few seconds back from us. He eventually caught on and the three of us sped over the first 10 miles, growing a 30 second to 1 minute gap on the rest of the group. We waited at the bottom of the descent on to Rt. 821 and when the group had come back together we headed out to Rt. 530 and the "real" climbing. We let the triathletes lead on the sustained, but long climb of the night and followed along in their draft on the flats. As we entered hilly country again, I pegged it and my comrades from the initial selection followed, with the rest of the group content to string out in a paceline and let us go. We were averaging 21-23mph through the rollers and hills of the middle section of the ride without too much trouble. Partway through, there was an acceleration by one guy and I followed, shedding the other leader who followed behind around 30 seconds down. We came to Rt. 530 and waited again. This is the part where if we were smarter we would have turned around and hitailed it for home. This is the part where "pack mentality" took over and drove us not back towards safety, but instead further into the eye of the storm. And this is also the part where the ride changes from the typical Thursday group ride into the EPIC Thursday group ride.

As we were waiting for the remainder of the group to catch back on we noticed lightning and thunder in the distance. The wind had also picked up a bit and we joked...again...about tornado warnings and how we had ALL checked the radar map before heading out and everything nasty was heading northeast of us. The group came back together, there were some half-hearted attempts to see if anyone wanted to turn back...and then we all hammered down the hill headed for our final big climb of the evening. After that moment, not a word was spoken about turning back. We were all chasing wheels and hammering up the climb. I was caught out by two guys and put into the red a bit, but managed to recover and catch back on, passing one guy partway up and "pipping" the other leader at the summit for our imaginary KOM points. The three of us came together and laid down a blistering pace through the hills headed into Lowell, never dropping below 30mph and most of the time hitting 40mph or over.

Two of us broke away on a roller and were topping out in the big ring when we rounded a bend and looked across the valleys below. We literally could not even see the houses or hills we knew existed down there. We couldnt even see several hundred yards in front of us...thanks to the white wall of water and wind that was headed our way. My comrade and I glanced at one another, each mumbling something inaudible as the howl of the wind started around us. We literally were in the middle of nowhere, with no shelter other than the trees along the side the road (which at this point looked more like lightning rods to me). So...we hammered on in the rain. This was not normal, softly caress your face, just keep you wet rain. This was pebble sized raindrops flying at 60mph, beat you until you are blue rain and it was relentless. Now I have ridden in maybe 5 rainstorms this training year and normally my pace doesnt change much due to weather. If anything I push harder when the weather is worse, but none of the storms I had ridden in even came close to this storm. We were bombing the hills as hard as we could...and only hitting 44mph. On the flats we only managed to ride 13.5-15mph at our top speed. The wind was so fierce that at times it was seemingly impossible to hold a line. Somehow through all of this I managed to push the pace to a point again to shed my only other attacker. I charged on in the rain with each of the other two leaders doing the same. Maybe 10 seconds separated us on the road, but not one of us could hear or even see one another. I descended into Lowell and took shelter under a covered bank ATM, awaiting the arrival of the remainder of the group. They eventually came in singles and groups of two, scraggling in as if we had just spent a truly rough day out on the road...and we were halfway done. At some point the rain stopped and we all headed out to finish our loop. We were soaked, but NOW we had the gall to joke about the experience and even to say that it was obvious that it was over for the night! I mean, we did see blue sky on the horizon and after all, how many summer rainstorms have YOU seen that last longer than an hour? We lost two of our number in Lowell as they had a vehicle parked there and opted to drive on home rather than continue back to Marietta.

We headed out on the flats of River road shooting for home and warm food. As we hit the middle section of River road, we were really rolling and Nathan and I struck out on our own. We were topping 30mph taking short hard pulls and growing the gap we had on the rest of the guys. All was well until we rounded a corner...and again were confronted with a white wall of water. The rain was really coming down now and showed no signs of stopping. It was coming in sheets and seemed to be shooting sideways as we cruised along against the wind now. We were barely breaking 14mph as we continued to strike out on our own, but eventually the rain that felt like hail was just too much. We pulled in under a railroad bridge for some reprieve from the wind and rain. It wasnt perfect but it helped...for awhile. None of us were overly prepared for the dropping temperature so we eventually got cold and decided to ride the rest of the way in the storm. We headed out and made our slow way to Marietta. The last part of our Epic was fairly uneventful...oh yeah, except for my wreck.

Thats right, we finally make it into town and less than a mile from my house I am tucked in behind Nathan, clippin over 20mph as the rain had finally stopped, when all of a sudden he drops his front wheel into a concrete joint in the pavement. When his front wheel drops, it throws his rear wheel over into my front wheel. Let me just say that while I do fancy myself at least somewhat of a bike handler, there is no recovering when your front wheel has left the pavement. The front end of my bike shot out from under me and I was instantly hurtling for the pavement. Nathan managed to recover and clear the way for my quick, albeit painful dismount. Apparently both knees, my right elbow, hip, and the top portion of my back hit at some point, however I dont really remember all of the contact points. It seemed as soon as I hit I was up looking for my bike. I drug it out of the road and took stock of my equipment and myself. Other than a bit of blood, torn lycra, and a few holes in my jersey I was ok. My bike did not fair as well, however, as my rear wheel was completely destroyed, rear tire flat and slit, and some chunks of grip tape were missing. I called for a ride and headed home to patch me and my bike back up for the race on Saturday.

You would think after a night like this I would be unhappy or discouraged, however it was exactly the opposite. I hadnt had that much fun on a bike ride all season! So many things went wrong that it was ridiculous, but nights like this make the "everyday normal" rides bearable and enjoyable. The only concern I had was...how was I going to fair on Saturday now? I was going to have road rash on various parts of my body and (since I am my own mechanic) had alot of work to do on my bike before it would be ready. However, I wasnt worried. I was once again loving the simplicity of "the ride" instead of thinking only of training and knew that Granville was my last race. If I simply finished I would have the points I needed to complete my license upgrade and have met my goal of upgrading one category in a single season, so I felt very little pressure. As soon as I got home I started patching myself and my bike up to get ready for Saturday...but I knew that I would have memories of our Thursday night EPIC for a long time! Enjoy the ride everyone!