drisKILL

Sweat was already dripping from my face as I pinned my number on for the noon start of the Mount Driskill race up here in Ruston, LA. I'd driven up with Mignon, leaving around 5:30 am and arriving shortly before 11. This was going to be a tough 50 miles. As if the jagged course profile wasn't enough, we would also be dealing with temperatures in the upper 90s. The masters field was small, about a dozen in size, so there wasn't going to be any place to hide. We weren't more than six or seven miles into the first 25 mile loop when I pushed the pace up a rather unimpressive little hill and discovered that two of us had opened a rather large gap. I rolled through and pretty soon we had maybe 30 seconds on the field, but the rider I was with was starting to have second thoughts and dropped off. I looked back and could see a few riders trying to bridge, so I kept rolling hoping that we could make something of it. Soon we had a nice group of Donald Davis, Grant Dona, one other rider, and me. We kept the pace pretty high and the next time I looked back I couldn't see the field. I was feeling pretty good at that point. We lost one rider but kept working together as we approached the end of the first lap. Donald took off early to go for the hot spot, but I stuck with Grant and we ground our way up the steep climb. I shifted up one cog and stood up to sprint, and when I did Grant did the same. I just didn't have the heart to come around him after he'd pulled most of the way up the hill. I guess I'm getting soft in my old age.

As we started the second lap I made the mistake of not taking anything from the neutral feed. I still had a large bottle of Heed and water, and about a quarter bottle of regular water, so I thought I'd be OK. Five miles later I was starting to get the feeling I'd made a mistake. It was getting really, really hot and I was starting to suffer on the hills a bit. I think we all were. By the time we were halfway around Donald was starting to skip some pulls. I had no idea how far back the rest of the race was, but I knew that our speed had dropped considerably. Grant seemed to be suffering the least. About five miles from the finish Donald pulled over and said, "sorry guys" and eased off the back. I think Grant picked up the pace just a bit at that point. I had already been rationing my water for at least five miles and knew I was approaching heat exhaustion territory. When we got to the bottom of the final climb up to the finish line, the Mt. Driskill "summit," I told Grant I was done and watched him ride up the hill as I shifted down into my lowest gear to trudge up that final kilometer. It took me a good half hour after the race to get my body temperature back to normal, and that was after downing three delicious slushee type things and a bottle of cold water. It was a tough day on the asphalt. Stephen Mire, the race organizer, did a great job with the race - everything went off on time, results were quick, there were lots of cold drinks and even watermelon. Tomorrow will be a different course, but I have a feeling it won't feel any easier. At least we'll start a little earlier.