An 'old guy' recap of the Appalachian Mountaineer gravel grinder
Once again, I was the oldest guy in the race—an emerging trend.
My goal was to ride aggressively and “empty the tank” for my last race of the season. I accomplished that goal on this hilly course in The Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia. My quads were sore and tired 30 miles into the race. At that point, my comforting thought was that I only have 39 miles to go (including the monster climb up Bald Mountain Road).
I continued to torch my quads to the end of the race and it has taken a couple days for my Fred Sanford walk to resolve.
The initial logistical challenge was to decide how to dress. The forecast about 36 hours prior to the event showed cloudy conditions all day with a temperature of 45F at the start (8:30AM) and a gradual increase to 55F by mid-afternoon. That kind of narrow range is pretty easy to dress for. The updated forecast and the reality were much different than that predicted narrow range. It was between 35 and 40F at the start and reached the low 60s about halfway through the race. To keep from overheating in the later stages, one had to endure some cold suffering early.
My hands were so cold the first 6 miles (mostly flat and downhill on paved road), I had trouble shifting and trouble holding and squeezing my water bottle. There was a long, warming climb of about 700 feet elevation gain at mile six followed by several additional cold miles. Eventually, the temperature rose nicely and I was able to shed my windbreaker at mile 20 and stuff it in my long-sleeved jersey pocket for the rest of the race. The weather was sunny and glorious from that point forward.
The course was beautiful and challenging with some outright brutality. Ohio has steep hills, Pennsylvania has long hills, Virginia has mountains. You can see in the elevation profile that a 2,300-foot ascent on an old Forest Service dirt road started at about mile 41. The riding surface was good for most of the first half, but picking a line and using balance, pedal-stroke timing and weight-shifting skills came into play.
After the first half of the climb, there was brief dip in elevation and an aid station at mile 45. The second half of the climb was much harder. A couple hundred feet of that second half were steeper (15.8% maximum grade). At the same time, it became loose and chunky.
Brutal.
Then came the descent of 2,400 feet. Steep, very chunky and rutted. Brutal. Some riders were stopping periodically to rest on the descent because the jackhammer effect was so taxing. I stopped once and took a 10-second break, then continued to take the beating. After that descent, the final 13 miles of primarily flat trail and roads gave the opportunity to spend what one had left.
At the start of the race, the director mentioned the “creek crossing” that comes one mile from the finish line. It was very different than my concept of a creek crossing (which can usually be ridden through while accomplishing sock laundry). There was no substantial current in this creek, but it was 100 feet across and mid-thigh deep. As we waded across with our bikes over our shoulders, footing on the irregular rocky bottom was the challenge.
One guy who crossed at the same time I did was commenting on the cryotherapy aspect of the cold water on our aching bones and muscles. He said, “Just what the doctor ordered.”
I thought to myself, “I’m a doctor and I didn’t order this crossing.” I didn’t want to be contrary to the dude who was being friendly, so I held my tongue.
Here is the link to my race data. My official time was 6:40:36. I am looking forward to trying again next year.
Mike “Mikey” Jarosick is 64, lives in Lexington, Ohio with his two dogs and works as an urgent care physician. He’s also the president of the Mohican-Malabar Bike Club, an ice climber and one helluva cyclist.
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