This will be quite the novel report for me, my first ever bike event report. I did a good amount of mountain biking in high school and college, but it had been years since I had ridden with any consistency. My son Gavin got into mountain biking and somehow discovered a local team to join. They needed extra coaches, especially with the faster kids, and I volunteered. Things quickly spun out of control with me upgrading from a 2006 Specialized Rockhopper to a new carbon hardtail (built entirely by Gavin, who is now a self trained master mechanic), and now a full suspension Devinci Marshall that I race (more like survive) enduros with.

This was definitely not a race, as I was the only one riding. I’m not sure what I was thinking when I decided to try Everesting on my bike this Spring when my only long distance bike event was a XC marathon with Gavin. We have definitely had some relatively long days in the saddle in addition to the marathon, but Everesting is clearly in another zip code. I guess my rationale must have involved my observation that the descending part of Everesting is exponentially easier on a bike and you can sit down during the climb. I’ve done several 12ish hour runs where all the downhills were abusive and there was absolutely no sitting on the climbs. The other factor was that I was convinced that the Northfield mountain trails would be absolutely perfect for an Everest attempt. I was correct from many aspects, but context is key here.

My weapon of choice for my attempt was my Framed Bobtrax hardtail, Ricky Bobby. I initially scouted out the 10th Mountain trail for my effort but changed due to the possibility of some rain during my selected day. I ended up taking a more direct route after consulting with some of my far more experienced biker buddies and reading a few Everesting reports. The additional detail about my choice of Northfield was that the staff there was incredibly supportive when I contacted them about my idea. I needed to ensure that it would be OK for me to try this there, and they had not issues whatsoever.

I reached Northfield in the early am on Saturday, got my bottles setup quickly and saddled up before I had too much time for second thoughts. The forecast was for some potentially significant rain, but I really did not have many, if any, other weekends to give this a shot and I banked on the forecast  breaking in my favor. I lost out on that one to say the least. The first few ascents went smoothly; I felt good, the bike was working, and the pace seemed sustainable. I was particularly pleased with my route selection. There were a few short steep sections, but the descent was a blast. I wanted to do the climb as many times as possible just so I could keep flying back down. If you have never been to Northfield in the warmer months, there is a fantastic network of carriage roads and single track. The carriage roads are the quality of a fine cinder track and expertly graded and maintained. You can just blast downhill with little breaking; jumping off gently rolling gravel water bars the entire way down. The only other place I have seen such high quality carriage roads is in the Shawangunks in New Paltz, NY.

Everything was going well until the rain started a few hours in. It only rained for an hour or so, but the temps dropped into the 50’s, then 40’s, and the paths became wet enough to muck up my drivetrain. This would have been OK if that had been the end of the rain, but that was not the case. It would clear up for an hour, my hopes would rise, and then dark clouds would return an hour or two later and it would start to pour again while the temperature continued to drop. I should have bailed and gone home, but after 12 hours I was still on a good pace and convinced I could finish. I’m not sure when the last storm came, but it cranked up the misery level to 11 with the addition of hail. I’m not one to back down from a challenge, and this was the key issue here.

There is a reason I don’t race beyond 50 miles and around 12 hours. I’m a very competitive person and have high tolerances for suffering, pain, and discomfort. I’ve seen far too many people get into serious trouble in longer races, and I’ve never felt that it was worth the risk given my tolerances that are certainly a double edged sword in longer events. At Northfield, although I got quite cold, I had all the gear I needed to continue. After the 4th storm with the hail I was sure someone up above was messing with me. I was riding in an expedition level Goretex coat with the hood up and a wool hat under my helmet. My pace had slowed, but that was more due to my bike than my physical condition. The Box drivetrain never liked mud and grit, and I was having to stop, clean, and oil it every lap or two. The shifter was the worst, as it was so hard to change gears it felt like either my thumb or the shifter was going to snap off. As my laps progressed, I started to lose more of my easier gears. This was obviously not optimal and my hard life substantially harder.

I was close to throwing in the towel, even though I was getting close to the finish line, when Steph, Aido and Gav showed up unexpectedly on the trail in the dark. I thought they were some wacky hikers with headlamps. In better conditions, I should have been somewhat close to finishing but I still had several thousand feet to climb. It was great seeing them, and they even did a lap of my route while cheering me on. They made it clear they thought I was crazy, but this was not news to anyone. Although my pace had slowed, I was confident I could get it done by the time they headed back home, which was close to midnight.

It would have been shorter day for me it I had not clipped my handlebar on the trail gate near my turn around point at the base shortly after they left. I was lucky that I was not injured, but my derailleur hanger cracked, then snapped off at the start of the next climb. Again, this was a great time to bail, but I was very close to finishing and had all the parts and tools I had right in my pack. The challenge was that it was pitch black, my hands were cold and stiff, and everything was covered in mud and grit. I managed to get everything back together in about 30 minutes, but the episode surely did not bolster my energy levels. In terms of completing the laps, only the last two were genuinely hard, and that was surely due to the stress of the 19th hour repair.

I had hoped to be done before 21 hours, but I’ll take it. I ended up with 143 miles, about 113 miles further than I had ever ridden. My one regret is forcing it in the weather. My hands or feet never felt extremely cold, but the combination of the cold, wet, and tight winter gloves and bike shoes (still flats) resulted in toe and finger numbness that lasted for months. It is not worth that, I likely would have had no such issues in even moderately poor weather. Other than the numbness and tendonitis in my shifting hand from struggling with the Box shifter, it was not hard on my body despite modest riding volume relative to the scope of this undertaking.

I went for a typical run a day or two later and felt back to normal within a few days. Steph was convinced I would struggle with saddle sores, but no issues there whatsoever, and no chamois in my bike shorts. I credit Gav for a great bike fit for preventing other major issues given my lack of overall volume and experience with events that are even remotely close. To be specific, he convinced me to move my seat forward and raise my bars. I’m sure my back, and the rest of my body, was far better off with these changes. The funniest thing about this is that I have now Everested on my bike before doing it running, and I’m not sure I have any desire to do it running! With a new drivetrain on Ricky Bobby that shifts like a dream, I’m tempted to give it another shot this fall, assuming I survive the end of enduro season…

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