Wilderness 101
Ultra-endurance Mountainbike Race [101.4 miles]
July 28th, 2001


Reported by Steve Thorne
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Description: The Wilderness 101 , the "original east coast epic", "is an ultra endurance 101 mile backcountry mountain bike race. The 101 set the standard on the east coast in the early 90's and now it is back. The course is one super big loop composed of the best off-road riding central PA has to offer. Singletrack uphills and downhills, doubletrack ridge riding, fire road climbs and a bit of pavement totaling 9000 ft of climbing."

In a word, WOW! I'd ridden some of the course last summer as a group ride. This year it was reinstated as a race, there was more single track and climbing, and it's become part of an ultra-distance MTB series that includes the more famous Shenandoah 100 in Virginia.

The single loop course includes fast fireroads, grueling climbs, incredibly sweet single track through crank-high mountain laurel, and of course some rock-pile sections that I ended up running (many of which a trials rider could probably clear). There was even one area that looks a bit like Vancouver's North Shore with narrow wooden bridges and rock ramps over obstacles. We also passed through 2 railroad tunnels (more on that below) and had some screaming jeep track descents to die for in addition to more technical "oh hellvita" (as they say in the old country) drop offs. In short, it's an incredible event!

The volunteers at the 5 aid stations were great and had hammergel and other fuel on hand, a lube and mechanic guy, cow bells, etc.

The Race: We rolled out at 7:30 a.m. under cloudy skies and in cool weather. In other words, perfect conditions.

The first climb was more hotly contested than I'd thought it would be. Folks were chomping at the bit despite the long day ahead and I watched as a lead group of 15 or so disappeared up the road in front of me while I moderated my heart rate between 165 and 175 bpm. Cresting the summit we descended and then rolled along on fast fire roads. I picked up a couple of folks and organized a ratty pace line (and i mean RATTY). A bit later I rode with some fellow Nittany Velo Club buds which drastically improved my otherwise awkward single-track descents since I was able to follow their clean lines.

There were a number of moderate ascents and some fast fire road and a wee group of us made it to aid station 2 at the same time. The aid station was fabulous with lots of familiar faces. A quick fill up on water and hammergel and then it was back to more climbing, long ones now (2 x 1300 ft).

At hour 2.5 I began to feel cramping sensations in my legs that eventually became extreme enough for me to dismount in consternation. I rarely cramp and so was surprised, almost shocked, to be so debilitated since it was a cool and fresh morning. I had some endurolytes with me (e-caps version of salt tablets), took 3, and jerkily tried to spin for a few minutes. The cramps subsided fairly quickly and WHAM (if you know what I mean) I was feeling good again. This was lucky since I was heading up the second of the 1300ft climbs! I just kept chugging away, keeping my heart rate steady in the high 160s, and eventually I caught the guy who'd passed me while I was at the road-side cramped up.

On the rolling run along a trail we call snowmobile toward aid station 3, the cramps came back in a big way. I was worried now since I only had a few endurolytes left. I took one and arrived at station 3 to great fanfare. Lots of familiar faces again, but alas, no bananas or potassium for the cramps : 0 I was a bit flustered by my seized legs and so forgot to fill my camelback. Oops.

To Chip's (a local cat 2 legend) enthusiastic clanging of the cow bell, I started up the interminable "no-name trail". This single track ascent is major grunt with lots of 15% ramps, roots and rocks, and logs that would be easy to pop over on the flat but which seem daunting going up hill. About half-way up I caught my first sight of the agony of defeat. A rider had totally cracked on this ruthless climb. I snuck by wondering when my energies would also wane.

Ahh, exiting the no-name climb out onto fire road was the best, if short lived, feeling of the day. Now the drudgery of the Sassafras trail reared its rocky, ugly, false flat sloping cro-magnon-brow of a head. The moans of mountainbikers' past and future haunt this region. The air was still and stifling. Somewhere not far off a coffin was being built to just my size. It's not that this is such a tough trail, it's that it doesn't look like it would be a tough trail at all. It's a sandbagger's delight and it went on forever until finally the earth began descending again.

My great relief at gravity as an ally rather than foe was abruptly curtailed as both of my legs seized up. I dismounted/fell off the bike at the bottom of the descent and quite literally screamed in rage, my yell echoing out into the empty forest. At a distance, a pack of dogs began to bark sensing my weakness and injury and no doubt preparing to start their hunt of me. Stretching wasn't helping and I really wanted to get back onto my bike, so I took my final endurolyte and awkwardly pedaled bricks out onto the fire road.

Some few minutes later, the cramps disappeared to my great relief. I was suddenly superhuman and decided to power as quickly as I could to aid station 4 in hopes of finding salt tablets and/or electrolytes to stave off the immanent cramping to come.

At aid station 4 (mile 72), the cramps were back and someone had a banana, and yes, as the joke goes, I was very glad to see it. With considerable resistance, I also accepted a handful of Pringles for the salt. Cecilia stuck some more in my jersey pocket and I munched these occasionally over the next hour. I hate Pringles, but they seemed to help as I grunted up the last big climbs. Das Crampens eventually returned, however, and I simply kept riding this time since I had no alternative since walking was just as bad. I actually started talking to my legs about how I understood that cramping was their language warning me of the need for potassium and salt, but that I couldn't do anything for another hour or two -- "you'll just have to keep working" I said, "we can do it", "don't let me down now, we've come a long way", and "I promise to take great care of you at the finish" (NOTE: the last was a cheap pickup line since I crossed the finish line, got my pint glass, filled it with beer, and immediately began the dehydration process).

But oddly, despite my disingenuousness, the use of the 2nd person pronoun seemed to work and as a set of cramps would begin, I'd talk with my legs, empathize with their plight, and ask them for help to finish this event in good form. Each time, the cramps would subside (whereas before I'd had to get off my bike and stretch -- often to little avail) and I could continue to push steadily if not as strongly as I would have liked. The frustrating thing was that I otherwise felt great. Alas.

Finally, after a small mouth full of powerbar and some strong gatoraid at the last aid station (mile 85), the cramps subsided entirely and I was free to finish the last hour of fast railroad grade, short power climbs, and one extended fireroad climb, pain-free. Such a joy!

I did manage to crash twice. Once in a rock-garden on the Poe Valley trail (a hard fall onto my left side in a rockgarden) and once in the second train tunnel passage as I plowed blind into a large rock and went over the bars. For those of you familiar with my, err, limited technical MTB expertise, 2 crashes was pretty good!

Riders tricked in and we had a good evening together over bbq and beer. The event organizer, Chris Scott, has lots of schwag and everyone came away with something cool (I ended up with a sweet Independent Fabrication jersey).

This is great stuff. Can't wait for next year.