Aug. 17th, 2014 Hampshire 100 race recap
Wow! As usual the Hampshire 100 did not disappoint this year! This having been my third entry (2nd year in a row; yes I am hoping to complete a Hampshire 100 hardcore) I was prepared for a great day of the best 100 km of mountain biking that southern New Hampshire has to offer with approximately 7,500 feet of climbing, or so I thought.
This year featured a course change within the first ten miles. Traditionally the race would start with a very fast set of paved and dirt roads with a section of railroad track that lead into the first of a long set of climbing; but this year the land access rights were denied due to a dispute between the state and the RR company, so there was a detour, with a substantial amount of climbing added and earlier then usual. In addition to that we were treated to about 2 hours of pouring rain early in the morning between Saturday and Sunday, so the trail was going to be muddy and possibly not in a good way, but that was to be seen (fingers were crossed for good conditions).
The race started early. At 5:30 am the runners (yes runners, there are actually people who ran the thing!) were sent off. We had a pre-race meeting at 6:15 am, with a race start of 6:45 am. The early morning start had some fog and moisture from the night's rain, and was chilly. I managed to eat a few energy bars and drink some vita coco at about 5 am to get the food digested for my early start and was able to hit the port-o-john's for an early constitution: always a pre-race must!
We were sent off and I held back as much as possible. The start is very fast at Hampshire 100 but it is here, within the first 5-10 miles, that the race can be lost. Especially if one goes out too fast, which is very easy to do as it is hard to gauge with the start jitters and adrenaline going. Almost every noob goes out too fast and pays for it dearly in the last 10 miles, even veterans still make this mistake, because it's an easy one to make.
I remember specifically going slow and only breathing through my nose to force myself not to go fast. Hampshire 100 is one of those epic adventure races. The terrain and climbing only gets harder and worse as the day wears on and the finish squeezes every ounce of strength and vitality from almost everyone. When you do finish Hamp100 you will feel excellent, partly because the immediate pain and suffering is over, but mostly because you know you've accomplished something as unique as it is difficult.
After the fast start and cruising down paved and dirt roads we entered the new single track section. While riding this new section I immediately realized how much more difficult this year's course was going to be compared to last year's. Firstly, we were bottle necked in the single track because it occurred while the field was still tight. So you were pretty much stuck in the order you entered until the trail opened up (very rarely) and there was a ton of climbing in this new section. In addition the trail was sloppy and very wet from the rain, which was going to make the day that much harder.
On one of the down hills, I almost got hit by a deer! I was behind the guy in front of me by about 30 feet and in between us a spooked buck decided to sprint to safety. He passed by me in a flash of an instant. I heard only 3 hoof strides before I saw a tan blur and briefly smelled a wild smell. I thought, whoa!, that could of ended very badly, but then used him as inspiration later in the day, as it was a magnificent thing to see, and no one else saw him, so we had shared the moment.
After this section we started the hill climb that eventually led to the infamous power lines climb. Almost everyone walked the power lines, but when I was walking I turned around and was greeted by a magnificent view of the Pack Monadnock range and Greenfield, NH. I took a terrible spill on the Crotched Mt down hill and thought I had broken or pulled something in my back. I picked my line on a C turn covered in rocks and slipped off the line (due to the rain) and super-manned with my heels passing over the back of my head. It happened lightening fast and I hit the ground hard, but got up immediately and kept riding. My back was sore for a few hours but then healed on its own after some stretching at an aid station. I would fall twice more over the course, once so hard that it knocked my sunglasses off my head and the third time was a front wheel spin-out on a mud puddle with a header into a mud pile. After that I swore to not fall again and I didn't.
After 5 hours the course started to blend into itself and I am still having trouble remembering the order of it. I clearly remember the sections, but not their order. There was a new trail section carved specifically for the race that ended up being almost impossible to ride. Perhaps if it had not rained it would have been better, but with the rain this section was very slow and very frustrating. I kept thinking to myself that this is the type of terrain that can break a collar bone, and so I walked most of it.
However, my favorite section was still in the race and did not disappoint. In the past is has been known as "the painful, but soulful section," and it is certainly both. It is however a highlight of my race. I love riding it every year, despite the suffering it can provide. As the day wore on the course did start to dry out, although slowly.
My nutrition was going very well. I was taking 2 endurolytes tablets every hour, and was eating either solid food or gu's every other hour, until one of my falls emptied my bento box, and I didn't realize it until I got to the next aid station where I could stock up on hammer gels and smart bars. I felt very strong up until the last 5 miles of the race. By this point I was ready to finish and stop the pain that was starting to build in my quads. I started to push the pace after the last aid station, where I only stopped briefly. Up to this point I was stopping at aid stations for at least 5 minutes to eat and drink as much as I could stomach. It was this fuel that was helping me to stay strong and power through the day, but at the last aid station I decided to push the pace into the finish.
I knew this was not going to be an easy 5 miles, and I knew it was going to hurt, but what I didn't know was the magnitude of the pain that I was about to go through. After about 2 miles I started to feel a little strangeness in my quads, and then it happened. I had the first of several series of very painful quad and hamstring cramps and spasms. These were the kind where the muscle group starts to clinch and creep on it's own. I immediately thought, "oh no, how am I going to finish like this?" I couldn't stop pedaling because if I did my muscles would start to twitch and spasm in very painful ways, so I grinned and bared it and kept pushing those pedals. There were still a bunch of small hills to go over and I could hear the road by Oak park in the distance. So I kept pushing it. But the more I pushed the harder it became and if I slowed down the more pain I would feel, so I had no choice but to just keep going. At the second to last road crossing I was in a terrible fit of pain and was ready to be done. When I finally saw the finish line I started to sprint (or at least I thought I was).
I crossed the line dizzy, with tears in my eyes from the pain in my legs (and back). The time was 8 hours, 9 minutes. I later found out I finished 8th (out of 21 finishers) in my sport vet. I category (results). It took me at least 30 minutes before I could move and eat without feeling like I was going to throw up. I managed to crack a half smile between suffering and felt a sense of tremendous accomplishment and disbelief that I finished so well despite the slippery trail conditions, falls, and extra climbing.
For a brief few moments I thought to myself, how will I muster the courage to show up next year? And then I remembered, that I felt this same way at last year's finish, and that's how I'll show up at the next one :)
