Hillbillies, Moonshine, and a Flat Tire!

This Saturday, CONSOL Energy Racing team member, Travis Olson, raced the Appalachian Bicycle Racing Association's Hilly Billy Roubaix and placed 2nd in his category with a time of 5 hours 57 minutes.

That may be a little understated, both for the race and the endeavor...so, let's back up a little and start again.

What is the Hilly Billy Roubaix you ask, well, it's the antithesis of a ride on the rail trail and the arch-enemy of a relaxing day sipping drinks on the patio.  It's a 72 mile bike race that starts just outside of Morgantown, WV, winds it's way through some of the forgotten county roads into and out of Pennslyvania, then back into West Virginia.  Some of the roads are pavement, some well-maintained gravel roads, some not-so-well maintained dirt roads, some atv trails, a stream crossing and a few waist-deep mudholes.

My entry fee was waived this year by ABRA Director, JR Petsko as a thank you for volunteering at two big races last year.  I haven't been training this year...AT ALL!  Just riding, then racing on weekends, so I had been worrying about this race for months because I knew I was going to be in no shape to really compete with the skinny guys, so I entered Clydesdale Class (200+lbs.)  Only problem was that I know at least 3 big guys who always give me a run for my money and they were all racing.  There were also some big guys coming from other states like Maryland, Tennessee and South Carolina to race, so the unknown was weighing heavily on my dreams of standing on the podium this year.  I had even heard reports of a certain mountain bike magazine publisher that may race in Clydesdale this year, so I was resigned to focusing on staying upright, finishing under 6 hours, and being happy with that.

In the weeks before the race, I was worried about my choice of bikes for this event.  It has miles and miles of paved roads, even more miles of dirt roads and a few miles of nasty, rutted trails that would give an ATV a hard time.  The first year, I rode my carbon road bike with skinny knobby tires and a very uncomfortable seat.  Parts of my anatomy still haven't forgiven me for that indescretion.  My road bike was out of the question this year, so it was down to a choice between my cyclocross bike or my mountain bike.  The cyclocross bike has the room to run wider knobby tires, but the brakes suck, and for a big guy, that's a big factor on steep gravel descents, so I decided on the moutain bike with ultra-lightweight tires, courtesy of Pike Street Bikes, so I could try to keep up with the skinny boys on the paved roads.

The forecast for race day was sunny and mid 80s, so dehydration was another concern.  I decided to wear the Camelbak hydration pack this year since the mountain bike only had room for one water bottle.  I also have a love-hate relationship with energy gels, I love them on short rides, but they hate me on longer rides.  I chose to take Honey Stinger Waffles rather than gels with me on this ride.  They're delicious and my stomach doesn't reject them when I'm racing hard.

So there I was in a mass of lycra-clad shaven-legged skinny people getting myself and my bike ready for the race.  I pick up my race number at the registration table and make the rounds saying hello to the folks I know and wishing them well on the course.  At 10 minutes to start, we all listen to the promotor give us last minute details for the day and then scurry back to our cars to grab the one thing we may have forgotten and to finalize our wills and organ donor cards in the likely event of our demise.

At the start we all line up en masse, then make our way down a half mile to the actual starting line, and as soon as we all get there, the lead moto takes off in a wheelie and the racers up front hammer it down the long paved descent.  I peg it trying to pass as many folks as I can before it gets so steep I can't pedal any faster, then tuck in behind some racers and draft as best I can until it levels out a bit. 

Soon, we turn onto John Fox Road...the first real challenge of the day.  I know my buddy and fellow CER team mate Jason Stewart had some tricks up his sleeve since he lives close to John Fox Road, but he outdid himself.  As I climbed to the top, I saw a sign that read, " Y'all best keep movin, stragglers and Yankees will be hogtied and told they have a purdy mouth".   Then a second sign, " except for Travis Olson, done told him".   And then the third sign. " twice, actually".  Let me tell you how hard that made me laugh, which made breathing even harder on that steep-ass hill.  Then, as I passed the second sign, the sound of "Dueling Banjos" was coming out of the woods as if I was Burt Reynolds (not Ned Beatty) reliving a scene from Deliverance.  Luckily, I was surrounded by scores of guys that shave their legs for fun and have much 'purdier' mouths than I.

The inspiration from the music and signs lasted for miles to come, then at Aid Station #1, my friend Sandy provided her own inspiration for me as I passed her house and headed up the first REALLY STEEP climb of the day.  This is the point where I knew I made the right bike choice as I shifted down a few gears and just spun my legs up the hill as other, much stronger riders where struggling and some walking already.

At mile 25, on a relatively easy and flat gravel road, my back tire blew and the sealant in the tire wasn't doing its job.  I jumped off the bike, threw some air in it hoping the sealant would clot the tear, but no such luck.  I ripped the tire off the wheel, threw a tube in it, pumped it up and off I went.  As I repaired the tire, it was amazing to see how many folks passed me and also how many folks asked if I needed help. 

Back on the bike and chasing some folks down, I tried to keep an eye out for any other Clydesdale-looking fellas that may have passed me during my flat, and if someone looked over 200 lbs, then they were a target.  Things were going well, and it wasn't long before Aid Station #2 came into view, but it seemed like the last mile getting there took forever since was in direct sun and uphill.  Before I even stopped, there were two volunteers asking what I needed and what my number was so they could grab my bag of food I dropped.  They also grabbed my Camelbak and filled it with water, handed me a peanut butter & jelly sandwich, and did an incredible job making sure I had what I needed to continue on.  I added some air to my rear tire after the flat and chatted with some buddies who stopped. 

As I drank my Pepsi I had in my food bag, I spotted a big fella looking back my way and sneaking off on his bike to gain some ground on me, at least that was my motivation to get going again. So I slammed the rest of the Pepsi, ate half a banana, and tried to get one of my buddies motivated to come with me, but he was hurting a little and was going to rest a while longer. 

I can't remember much of the next 20 miles, but it seemed to go by rather quickly, albeit painfully steep at times.  I remember riding with a Kelly Benefit Strategies female rider for miles and a couple guys, both much older than me, one on a single speed, and one on a nice custom titanium frame machine.  We pulled into Aid Station 3 together, which was the home of the race director, where his wife and other angels handed out ice water, cookies, bananas, and other goodies.  I ate a few cookies, drank some ice water, poured some over my head, and took off to get it over with.  On my way under Interstate 79 toward the infamous Smokey Drain "road", a rider from the Koeles/Sargent Electric bike club caught me and was really grumpy that I was the only one for him to talk with.  He thought we were way ahead of everyone, but I told him we were probably running about mid-pack.  That made him even grumpier and he sped away.

About a mile up the road, the grade steepens from really steep to insanely steep and I saw little grumpy pants up ahead riding with two other team mates, so I turned it up a little and closed the gap and just sat there while we crested the hill and dropped over to the sharp right-hander onto Smokey Drain Road.  As we all made the turn, I cut to the inside and jumped in front of the 3 team riders and as I pedaled past them, I heard one of them say, "That guy's a clydesdale."  And then I thought I heard another exclaim, "We just got passed by a clydesdale?!"  I smiled big, and hammered Smokey Drain as hard as I could to get out of sight, because I knew a downhill was coming and I was ready to open it up.

A few more miles ticked away and I was really starting to feel it.  My quads were cramping when I stopped pedaling, so it was a logical decision just to keep pedaling, but that's not what the rest of my body was saying.  I caught the guy on the custom titanium bike and we chatted up the next to last hill up to Mylan Park and crested the hill to the turn off the main road into the park where we sped down the last dip toward the last hill.  This last hill, which is a tough hill on its own merit, but being at the end of a 72 mile ride is pure torture.  I crested the top, turned left into the gravel parking lot, rode across the horse arena to the finish line and accepted my Mason moonshine jar as I crossed.

I finished just under 6 hours, which was what I was hoping for, but had no idea how many were in front of me, or how many were still on the course.  I saw Matt, one of my strongest competitors, but he didn't know if he was first clydesdale or if someone got past him.  I made my way back to the car to get cleaned up and put my bike on the rack, then called my wife to tell her I was off the course.  As I was talking, I heard JR announce that they would be handing out clydesdale awards, so I made my way back over to the finish line just in time to hear my name come over the P.A. system as 2nd place clydesdale finisher.  I couldn't have been more pleased.  Matt beat me fair and square and I rode as hard as I could have.  I left feeling tired, proud, dehydrated, sore, and $80 richer.  I already can't wait until next year.

All photos by Fred Jordan.

Here is Cyclingdirt.com's coverage:  http://bigbikesmedia.cyclingdirt.org/coverage/249501-Hilly-Billy-Roubaix

Here is XXCMag.com's coverage:  http://xxcmag.com/archives/6652