From writing to riding: a journalist's experience being part of the story
It was 5:30 a.m.
My alarm called out to me on a Saturday, waking me instantly, and then became a dream for seven more minutes before it rang a second time, reminding me it was time to get my ass out of bed. I had a job to do.
I grabbed my notepad, a pen and my camera and headed out the door to make it to the start line of the 2015 Mohican MTB 100 race in Loudonville, Ohio — a 100-mile race through the woods and hills of Mohican country. Arguably one of the coolest events in the region. I made the coffee, poured it in a mug and got into my Subaru Forester, where my full-suspension Mongoose lay in the back.
The plan involved riding sections of the course in order to get the best shots of riders. I had covered the race before but had been limited on finish line photos. I wanted to get all the action.
By the time I left my house it was 6:15 a.m. The race’s start time was 7 a.m. and it took 30 minutes to get there. I had never been to the start line, so I wanted to give myself enough time to get oriented, maybe even talk to some riders.
Just before entering Lucas via State Route 39, a policeman sat with his radar speed gun. Nabbed me. I was so mad. I had just entered the 35 mph zone — the zone before it had been 50 mph. I was slowing down, just not fast enough. Also, I’m a reporter trying to get to an event that started soon, I told him.
He didn’t seem to care.
I still made it to the start line that year, but it was too late. They had already started. Defeated, I went home and came back later in the day to get some photos at the end of the race.
Turns out the Mohican MTB100 isn’t just hard to ride, but also to cover as a journalist. At any rate, this failure motivated me to a.) cover it well and b.) ride the damn thing.
I have since done both.
The following year after falling into the speed trap, I got to Loudonville early enough to jump into the leading truck for a cool shot of the hundreds of riders pedaling through downtown. That year I was also able to get into the woods a bit to get shots of riders on course.
Every year I’d cover the race, I felt as though something was missing in my life. I pined to be one of the guys in front of the lens instead of behind it.
And then in May of this year, I completed the 100K version of the race.
I found out quickly that riding the thing is very different from covering the thing. Here are some tidbits I learned.
Preparing
The race is in late May. For me, that meant cramming all my training during the cold months. It meant riding an indoor trainer, getting out in the cold and riding the mountain bike in mud, snow and salt.
It also meant really figuring out how to keep myself nourished during a ride. This was probably the toughest thing. What to eat when I don’t really feel like eating? And what about hydrating? Which tablets are best? Which powder drinks work for me? Am I a Gu guy or a bar or a PB&J guy?
(I found out I’m not, in fact, a Gu guy. They’re OK, I guess. But some of them really messed with my stomach in a bad way.)
I’ll get into nutrition on a separate post. I think I’ve found a good mixture of hydration and calories that doesn’t mess with my finicky tummy.
It’s hard
Not much more to say here. Riding your mountain bike for 60 miles up 8,100 feet in the heat is going to kick your ass. It kicked mine.
It’s OK to start with 100K
I really wanted to do the 100-mile ride. I just lacked the experience. Painfully naive. I’m glad I listened to some sage advice and downgraded. I enjoyed it more.
Slow and steady, baby
My goal was to finish. So I started slow and did everything I could to conserve energy and calories. I was still dead by the end of the race, but at least I thought I was conserving energy toward the beginning of the race.
Crashes happen
It happened to me. It was about 35 miles in as I made my down a gnarly rock garden. It wasn’t serious, but it definitely could have been. Someone told me about that section the night before and suggested I walk down it.
I didn’t. And I fell.
Positivity
It’s good to stay positive during these intense rides. It’s too easy to ask “Why the actual eff am I doing this?” when things get rough. And believe me, that question was on repeat that day.
But I also kept telling myself I could do it. I would also sing songs to myself. And then at one point I’m pretty sure I started commentating the race — out loud, in a British accent — as if the Mohican MTB100 would ever be televised, let alone commentated.
Seeing familiar faces, like my wife and kids, really helped too. They came to aid stations to give me a smile and fetch me a drink or banana. My girls wore punny shirts that read “My dad is mountain bike king.”
Eating the night before — some thoughts
I ate spaghetti noodles, asparagus and grilled chicken. It was good, but it’s not really my favorite meal. I think next time I’ll just eat as much food as I can fit in me and try to enjoy it.
The guys next to us at the campsite were eating pizza and drinking beer. One of them won the singlespeed category. Not really comparing apples to apples here, but I wonder if there’s anything to enjoying the night-before meal and what that does to your mental game.
I thought about it too much and got into my own head. I couldn’t really sleep that night, thinking about whether I had done everything right, done enough and packed everything I needed. Next time, maybe I’ll just try to enjoy it a bit more by eating what I want to eat and allowing myself to just relax.
Nutrition on the ride
I took Untapped waffles, used Hammer Nutrition hydration tablets, Hammer’s Perpetuem and anti-fatigue pills, ibuprofen, maple syrup and made sure to eat something at every aid station. Oh, and water. H20 always seems to be an afterthought for me, for whatever reason.
It wasn’t enough. (Still learning.)
This isn’t a comprehensive list, by any means. I learned a whole lot, but the most important thing was finishing the thing.
If you’re preparing to do a long mountain bike race and you’re feeling anxious or nervous — I understand. But you wouldn’t be tempted to do it if you were at least somewhat ready. And chances are, even if you’re considering it, you’re driven.
You will finish. You will enjoy it.
Now get out there and do the thing.
Any tips out there from seasoned MTBers? Any thoughts on the night-before meal? How do you sleep the night before a big race?