I
did Crush the Commonwealth in 2011 and had a great time. I learned a
lot too and knew that if I gave it another shot I could do even
better. So my 2013 CtC started back in January. About 1/2 dozen
extra pounds had insinuated themselves on my body over the last few years.
I starved them off and got back down to a lean, mean buck
twenty-five. I put in loads of miles in the cold, mostly alone, but
sometimes with Jimmy and Josh. By the time April came around 4-5
hour rides on both Saturday and Sunday was the norm.
On
Thursday Eric drove me down to Pittsburgh, deposited me at the Days
Inn and left to spend the weekend drinking beer and mountain biking
with John. I laid low in the motel room fretting over The Weather
Channel and eating a GetGo sub nearly the size of my thigh. Slept
like crap. I got up before the alarm at 3:50am, showered, ate a
ProBar for breakfast, and headed to the Point. I wasn't sure how
rideable my chosen route was going to be, but at 4:30am it worked out
OK. I nipped around the west end of Mt. Washington, crossed the Fort
Pitt Bridge and rolled up to the starting point with plenty of time
to spare.
It
was pleasantly warm that morning and the neutral ride on the new
trail to McKeesport was peaceful and chatty. I learned that only half
of the badass Tressler duo was there and that the rain wasn't
supposed to start 'til around noon or 1pm. Then we hit the GAP trail
and a few guys bolted off the front. I chased for a bit then backed
off when it was clear that bridging was going to cost way too much.
Gavin caught me and we both had the same idea: get to Rockwood and
off the trail before the rain starts. We moved at a pretty good clip
for a while. When we stopped to pee a group caught up to us. When
they stopped to pee we kept going. We swapped pulls, making good
time; going quite a bit faster than what was prudent, but it would be
worth it if we could get to pavement before the trail got soaked.
Gavin was very strong and a couple of times I wanted to cry uncle.
Then I sat up to eat something and lost his draft. With a mouthful of
cheese crackers I couldn't say anything and in an instant he was
gone. I pushed on into the headwind alone.
Then
the rain came; not the big front that was due, but a little pre-storm
shower - just enough to turn the trail to peanut butter. The last 10
miles took about an hour. I could see Gavin's fresh furrow clearly,
but not any other tracks so the guys ahead likely timed it well. I
bought snacks in Rockwood and enjoyed the pavement for a while. There
was a bike outside Sheetz as I rolled through Somerset. The hilly
stretch from there to Bedford was harsh - strong crosswinds and
quartering headwinds for miles and miles. The heavy rain started
while I was refueling at Bedford. I put on my jacket and set off into
the deluge. It was warm so I stowed my gloves to keep them dry.
The
rain had eased up and it was a good 15 degrees colder by the time I
pulled into the Sheetz at Breezewood. Gavin showed up about 5 minutes
later - guess I'd leapfrogged him at Somerset. I gobbled a
Schmiscuit, tucked another warm one into my jersey pocket (that felt
really good!) and left to get through the the tunnels and off the old
turnpike before dark.
Climbing
up the embankment, I could see only one set of tracks in the dirt.
The first tunnel was in pretty good shape, but the second one was
littered with debris. Just as I was nearing the end there was a
startling noise, like an animal - something with claws - scrambling
along the wall beside me. I sped up. It sped up too. I sped up
more. When I shot out into the open it stopped. Then I discovered it
had been the sound of my tubeless rear tire slowly losing air and
spitting sealant. The cut was too big to seal so I put a tube in and
kept going. The tire bead didn't fully pop up onto the rim in one
spot, making the ride annoyingly bumpy, but it was working so I
didn't want to take the time to stop and futz with it.
Cowans
Gap was nice in the dark, with the peepers peeping and the smell of
wild onions wafting around. The road into Chambersburg provided a
stark contrast - nasty with trash, truck spray and roadkill. I got
more Schmiscuits at Sheetz and kept moving. The climb past Caledonia
State Park and beyond seemed endless, but the following descent in
the dark on wet roads was pretty fun.
Strange,
but East Berlin smelled like dog food - is there a pet food processor
or some such there?
Though
there were still way too many red lights, York was relatively easy in
the middle of the night. I saw a bike outside the Sheetz there. I had
just enough food to get to Lancaster, so I decided to slip on by.
Sheila was staying with a friend in Lancaster and she got up a 4am
just to come out to the street and cheer me on - she must really like
me. We had planned to meet at the downtown McDonalds so I passed up a
bunch of food options on the way in. But then the McDonalds was
closed. Bummer. I had been looking forward to a warm Egg McMuffin and
a hot coffee - my first caffeine in 5 days. All I had left was a
Little Debbie oatmeal cream pie and just the thought of eating it
made me queasy. I pressed on in search of something I could stomach.
The
Turkey Hill east of town was a glowing oasis. I zipped in and
resupplied. I wanted to pee too but a woman had the only bathroom
tied up. I decided to just get rolling and hold it 'til I was out of
town and could pee along the road somewhere. I headed east for
probably 2 miles before it slowly dawned that something was wrong -
there was way more sprawl than I remembered, and no Route S signs.
Damn. I turned around and rode 'til there were signs again - right in
front of the stinkin' Turkey Hill. I had been so focused on getting
in there I totally missed the turnoff. That cost me at least 15
minutes and now I really
had to pee.
The
Amish country was lovely in the pre-dawn hour, and even more
enjoyable once I dumped off about a half-gallon of piss - putting
all the local draft horses to shame, I'm sure :). The birds were
singing, the roosters were crowing, and I couldn't see any of the
horse shit I was likely running though. I grabbed some food and a
Coke at New Holland just as it was getting light. The roads were
drying up. I thought about putting on the dry socks I'd been toting,
but I didn't want to take the time. I was on track to beat my goal of
30-32 hours and maybe be one of the first few finishers. I'd been
coping with wet socks for the past 18-or-so hours, so why not a few
more?
I
had to stop one last time to abuse the toilet of the Dunkin Donuts at
Morgantown. Feeling grateful (and about 10 pounds lighter), I bought
a coffee and a glazed donut even though I didn't really want either.
I poured the coffee into my water bottle and continued on, trying to
choke down that donut on the fly. I got through most of it, and held
the last bite in my mouth for a long time. But I felt like if I
swallowed it I was going to puke, so I finally had to spit the gob
out on the side of the road.
That
next stretch, 23 toward Phoenixville, was torturous. I had little
strength left, so there was no rolling those rollers. It was all
grind up, coast down, grind up, coast down. Repeat ad nauseum. I was
so fried I missed the turn onto Coldstream Rd., even though I already
knew that was a potential problem spot. Then I got tripped up by some
other wacky signage near Valley Forge. Those screwups probably cost
another 15 minutes. But I finally made it to the SRT and ran for
home.
By
"ran" I mean limped along at 16mph with a squeaky chain and
a still-lumpy rear tire going thump-a-thump-a-thump. My judgment
and reaction times were off, causing me to nearly clobber a few
joggers, but I finally got to Kelly Drive. Traffic was mercifully
light that time of day and I made it to the Bell and checked in at
10:36am. I wasn't sure how I had stacked up against the others, but
was happy to have beaten my time goal.
 |
| At the Liberty Bell |
Sheila
was waiting there for me and drove us home. It felt amazingly good to
brush my teeth. I spent the afternoon alternating between snacking
and napping, ate dinner, then slept for another 12 hours. The next
day I was hobbling around like a 90-year-old man. Then when I saw on
the website that I had been the first one done it put a little spring
back in my step.
Chapeau
to everyone that tackled this thing. You all are tough! It was
especially cool to see three women start and finish well. Also,
thanks to Eric, Adam and whoever else helped put it together. Your
hard work is appreciated. I hope to ride with you all again sometime.
