|
| |
3-State 3-Mountain 2001
I Can't Believe I Really Did It
by Celia Millington-Wyckoff
When my husband Wayne, a native of Signal
Mountain, came home one day in mid-March talking about a neat Chattanooga Century he had
seen on an LAB site, I barely paid attention. "Sounds great," I said. "But
too hard for us."
We're serious recreational riders--we each did 4,000 miles last year--but we're not
particularly fast (I'm 51; my husband is 46, and although we love to ride, neither of us
are "natural" athletes). We've each done Centuries, and central Pennsylvania is
full of respectable ascents. But neither of us had ever done a CLIMBING CENTURY.
Nevertheless, his talk continued. The beauty of the area. The views from the mountain
tops. One morning when we woke up, he said, "I dreamed last night we went on that
ride, and we both finished!" "What ride?" I said. "The Chattanooga
one," he said, with utmost patience. "Oh, THAT one," I said. Subject
closed.
I finally realized he meant business when he came home one day and said, "Round-trip
airfare from Harrisburg to Chattanooga is really cheap." I stopped what I was doing
and looked at him, incredulous. "YOU'RE REALLY SERIOUS ABOUT DOING THIS, AREN'T
YOU???" I said. Turned out he had already been doing a lot behind the
scenes--planning for me and our 10-year-old son to fly down while he drove down earlier
with the bikes; contacting old friends of his in Cleveland, TN, to see if we could stay
with them and if they could care for our son while we did the ride, etc. He even figured
out a way he could stay in the area for some time after the ride and do some legitimate
work, enabling him to write off part of the trip as business.
So, I rose to the Challenge. "OK," I said. "Count me in."
At the end of March we made the plane reservations, then signed up for the ride and the
jerseys. The month of April was spent in a frenzy of trying to prepare for a major Century
around two demanding full-time jobs and a busy 10-year-old. "You know," I whined
to Wayne, "all of those Chattanooga people have been able to ride year-round. Plus,
they're acclimated to hot weather already." Complain, complain. We knew right off the
bat we simply wouldn't have the time to train properly for such a demanding ride. Our
longest training ride was 60 miles; although we were able to do a lot of climbing before
the 3-S, 3-M (this is central PA, after all), NOTHING we did prepared us for Lookout (the
toughest ride around here is close to Sand Mt. in difficulty). I get the feeling there is
nothing that can train one for Lookout except Lookout itself, or maybe L'Alpe d'Huez.
Friday, May 4, arrived. Our son Nick and I flew to Chattanooga without a hitch. We walked
out of the airport into blasting summer heat, and I ran for the nearest piece of shade.
How was I going to do a Century in this the next day??
Wayne offered to drive us up Suck Creek Mt. so I could see it. "No," I said,
cranky. "Let's just get to the pasta feed early and back to Cleveland so we can get
to bed early." At the pasta feed I just picked at my plate, too apprehensive to have
a decent appetite. I had been further unnerved by the announcement on the information
sheet stating that riders not at the Marion County sag by noon would not be allowed to do
the Century. As I said, I'm not very fast.
We got to bed at a decent hour, but I tossed and turned most of the night. When the alarm
went off at 5:45 a.m., I figured I had gotten between four and five hours of sleep.
We got a late start from Cleveland, and rolled into the Provident lot at 7:40 a.m. We
frantically threw our bikes together, realizing that we had left a few things (extra
bandannas for sweat control,for instance) back in Cleveland. We snapped at each other,
edgy and cranky.
Then, this event we had speculated about, worried about, talked about for six weeks
simply.....began. Off we rolled. I immediately dropped near the back, which didn't worry
me. Just pacing myself.
Before I knew it, we were climbing Suck Creek. Hmmm. Not difficult at all. At the top, we
got through the sag quickly; re-mounted, and rolled down the other side. Then, a couple of
hours of rolling farmland, tailwind, and gradual downhill later, we were at Marion
County--11 a.m.
Boy, did I feel good! Almost halfway through, and I really felt as if I had done
practically nothing! "It's a cinch!", I said to Wayne.
Uh-huh. Not long after leaving Marion County, we took that fateful right and watched as
EVERYONE who had been around us at Marion County took the left. Except for an occasional
glimpse of a rider way ahead or way behind, we were ALONE.
Then we began the ascent of Sand. I had never done this kind of climbing before--brutally
steep, but also very short, ascents; followed by switchbacks. I could feel the road
surface absolutely *draining* my energy (and that's saying a lot, since I hail from
Pothole PA). For the first time that day, I felt the heat closing in. Halfway up, I found
my husband stopped, waiting for me. I pulled over and took a breather. Truth is, I would
have had to stop for a break even if he hadn't been there.
Top of Sand. I was a new person--sobered by my Sand Mountain experience, my Marion County
cockiness shaken. On across the top of Sand. I started feeling a little more energized; I
had recovered somewhat. Two nice guys from Memphis (one may have been Jeff, who wrote
another review) took our picture on top of Sand.
At the Bryant sag, the EMS folks rolled their eyes and shook their heads as they described
the Lookout ascent. "How bad can this really be??," I thought. I could not have
imagined.
Down Sand. We've had some time to recoup even as we ride. I felt....well, guardedly OK.
Then we hit that nasty little thing just before Burkhalter Gap Rd. What is that?? Who put
it there?? What is it called?? It sucked everything I had left right out of me.
Junction of Burkhalter and the other road. I looked to the left and GASPED. No, no, no,
no.
I started up in my LOWEST gear combination (26 front, 28 rear). About 1/4 of a mile up, I
started getting chills. I felt lightheaded, and got off. Ahead of me, my husband had
gotten off, because (as he told me later) his heart rate was up to 177. All around us,
people were staggering and weaving; some pulled off the road and sat down. A few
"tacked" back and forth, trying to stay on their bikes as long as possible.
OK, I did what I knew all along was a possibility--I walked on Lookout. But what was this?
I didn't feel much better walking. My ultimate back-up plan--walking--was possibly going
to fail. BUT I WAS GOING TO FINISH THIS RIDE!!
So, conserve. What that meant was walk 1/4 mile or less, then find a square foot of shade
off to the side; drink and quiver. Repeat this four or five times.
Finally, the "flat spot" before the final steeper ascent. I actually rode a
little. Then, off the bike again--and walked to the top. At the top, as I waited to cross
the road and panted and tried to keep my stomach from turning itself inside out, a woman
with a little girl in a pick-up truck drove by and gave me a big grin and a thumbs-up.
Made my day.
At the Lookout sag, I sat in a lawn chair by a big fan (not the cheering kind) and drank
water (the thought of food or Gatorade made me nauseous). My husband took a candid picture
of the Memphis guys, collapsed on the grass, hands over their faces, with their bikes
around them. (Hey, guys, $100,000 in small bills will prevent us from sending that picture
to the CBC web site.) (Too late - see I Love Those Hills.)
20-minute stop, then time to go. I told my husband I was going to walk ANY climbs, no
matter how insignificant, on the way back to Chattanooga. I sounded panicked.
Turned out I didn't walk any more, and I actually found the descent of Lookout worse than
the ascent (I'm a CHICKEN on fast downhills). When we do this ride again--and I'm sure we
will--I'm going to finish my 100 miles on the top of Lookout and have someone drive me
down to Chattanooga! Just kidding. I'll grit my teeth again as I go down.
Back through town; past the guy taking down the cones for the ride lane, and down to the
river. Almost 9 1/2 hours--we spent AN HOUR getting up Lookout. The party was over at the
finish, but we received a warm welcome from Daisy and friends.
Back in the car, driving to Cleveland. I saw a hill rise in front of us and felt my heart
sink. Then I remembered--I was in the CAR. The CAR would do the climb.
The next day, after the longest, hardest sleep I've had in years, I felt.....NOTHING. No
soreness. No tiredness. I was not aware that I had done anything physically demanding the
day before. It was like a dream. Well, I may be aging, slow, and somewhat overweight, but
I sure have GREAT recuperative powers!! By Sunday afternoon, we were already trying to
figure out how we could get some more rides in around Chattanooga before my son and I left
on Tuesday. It never happened--too complicated logistically with our son.
So, what's next for these Pennsylvania pedalers? The ride season is just beginning here,
and everything we normally do is looking too tame. A Century with almost 7,700 feet of
climbing the first week of May; what's left??
The 3-S, 3-M next year....or whenever we can get back again!
by Celia Millington-Wyckoff, also a Southerner by marriage (and by pioneer ancestry, and
musical taste); New Jersey-an by birth (OK, you can stop laughing), and Pennsylvanian by
current residence.
Celia Millington-Wyckoff, M.A.
Instructional Materials Designer
Department of Distance Education/The World Campus
Penn State University
814-863-8293
|
