Bull Mountain

I may have mentioned this before, but this winter has been absolutely horrible. I was sick for two months, broke my rear wheel, have had endless trouble with my back brake, and it seems like every time things aren't totally broke, it's been raining. I did get a good ride in at Allatoona last weekend though, and one a week before that at Pinelog, and one really good ride this past Monday before it rained again all week. This past Friday I was feeling cooped up, so I got some gear together and headed up to Bull Mountain Friday night. My plan was to truck-camp Friday night, ride all day Saturday, camp somewhere north of there Saturday night, then ride directly back Sunday morning and be home around lunch time.

The first part of it went pretty well. I have such a collection of gear that I was able to throw together some truck-camping stuff, food included, in like 15 minutes before heading out the door. My bike is just always loaded, and my pack actually still had all the food in it from some previous failed attempt at an overnighter. Despite the 5-o'clock traffic, I made it up to the Jake lot in good time.

The equestrian camping area seemed pretty busy, so I strolled down that way to see if I recognized any of the trailers, people, or horses for that matter. Sadly no though, not a one. When I got back it was really starting to cool off, and just starting to get dark enough to want some light, walking around outside.

I blew up my mat, got all my gear situated in the back of my truck, and cooked some dinner - veggies and chicken. So good. I didn't manage to get any photos of any of this. It somehow didn't occur to me. I also watched a couple of movies on my phone while cooking and eating, so maybe the fact that my phone was busy influenced my subconscious. I don't know. I didn't get any photos though.

I fell asleep around 11 maybe, and some hours later somebody else drove into the lot and parked like one space away from me. I was the only car in the entire, enormous lot. Why would they park that close to me? I could see the guy moving around in his truck, from the light of his phone. At first I thought maybe he was also truck camping, but after like 30 minutes he started up his truck and sped away. Like hauled ass away, urgently, kicking up gravel.

No idea.

My sleeping pad had deflated a bit, so I gave it a few breaths, fell asleep again, and woke up the next day at like 10AM. Kind-of late, but no big deal. I had all day, and no specific plan.

There were a few cars in the lot when I woke up. It turned out that one of them was Scott Hanson. I talked to him later. Mine was the only other truck in the lot when he'd arrived. Heh. He rode right by me as I slept. The guy parked nearest to me was getting going right as I got up. His wife was running in the Georgia Death Race. He was going to meet her at the Bull Mountain Lot some time later in the day, and figured he'd ride his bike until then.

I cooked some potatoes for breakfast, got dressed, and got moving.

It was tricky figuring out how to dress, and I kept second-guessing it. I had frost on my front window when I woke up, but in the sun, it felt quite warm. As soon as you'd get into the woods though, the temperature dropped precipitously, and it was more windy than usual. I guess with the trees not being leafed out yet, the wind made it well into the woods too. You'd be riding along, sidehilling around some bend, and the wind would just hit you in the face like you were on the road. I alternated between baking, freezing, and getting windburn, all the way to the Bull Mountain lot.

At the lot, there was, indeed, a checkpoint set up for the Georgia Death Racers.

I talked to a couple of folks about it while I was there. They'd started at Vogel State Park, the checkpoint there was at mile 50, and there were 20 more miles between there and Amicalola. Goodness. That sounded impossible.

Part of the impossibility was just because it was a run. I'm useless running. At my absolute best I was good for about 6 miles. Six terribly slow, painful miles. The other part was just that so far, I'd had a pretty bad day. I'd felt fine rolling out of the Jake Lot, but any little bit of climbing had just eaten me up. I'd had to sit back and spin everything so far, and sometimes that spinning had turned into grinding. I felt dehydrated, but I'd put away an entire Nalgene bottle during the night, and a good bit more after breakfast. I also felt a little stuffed, so maybe I'd just eaten too much. I wasn't sure, but I didn't feel good, and I hoped I'd wake up and push through it over the next few hours.

That didn't happen though. Not in the least. Climbing Bull just got harder and harder. My bike felt heavy. My pack felt heavy. I had to walk a bunch of little rooty sections. The trail was extra rough after all the rain though, and it was still "early", so I kept at it.

Somewhere, maybe about halfway up to the Y, three riders passed me in the other direction. They looked like they were having fun. "Yeah, if I just push though this rough patch, I'll be having fun like them, all the way down Bare Hare." It turned out one of the guys descending was Doug Urquhart (who's name I hope I spelled correctly) but neither of us recognized the other at the time. Ha!

I actually stopped at the Y for like 5 minutes. My chest felt like it had when I went to the hospital last year. Like my heart just wasn't getting enough O2. I knew that the trail mellowed out though, the higher you got, so I kept going. I made it to The Great Rift.

Which I had to walk. But, hey that's always hard to climb, right?

Then a little while later I had to walk some other little bit that I was confident I'd never had to walk before.

Had I gotten less sleep than I thought? Maybe I'd actually tossed and turned for hours without realizing it, and only gotten like 4 or 5 hours of sleep? Maybe, but I'd done that a dozen times and still felt better than this. Nutrition, maybe? Maybe chicken and veggies aren't a good pre-ride dinner? Maybe potatoes aren't a good breakfast? Maybe. But I'd done both of those, many times before, with no problems at all. Maybe they're not ideal meals, and maybe they were a factor, but I've never had two less-than ideal meals hit me this hard. If it was nutrition, I ought to bonk after a few hours, not after less than 1.

I stood there contemplating the problem until I felt better, tried to ride one more hill with the same result, and gave up.

I didn't know what the problem was, but whatever it was, I'd have a miserable day pushing through it, and I wasn't in the mood for that. I figured I'd head home, regroup, maybe go for a local ride later if I felt better, or maybe the next day.

At that point, even the downhills were taxing. At some point, my front tire slid out, then caught. It threw me against the bars and my back wheel kicked way out. I have no idea how I saved it. It was pure instinct, but I saved it. I literally walked every little climb in the woods, and almost gave up and walked on the road.

I got home at about 1PM, fell asleep over and over in between phone calls and texts, grabbed some food around 7, fell asleep again, and woke up at 12:30 today. Somewhere in there I checked my temperature, and I had a slight fever. I'd had swollen lymph nodes in my neck all week, but I'd just chalked it up to allergies, as I had no other symptoms. Apparently I was sick?

Whatever it is, it's not round 2 of the megacrons:

Some random cold, I guess, that saps your energy, but little else.

I spent a few hours eating lunch with the kids and taking Sophie back to school, but otherwise slept most of the day today too. I did grab some dinner around 6, and I've been up since then, feeling marginally better.

Hopefully this passes quickly. I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired.