TAKING THE TREK
I rode 50 mountain bike miles in one day. It hurt so good.
Ican’t yet say that I’ve done the impossible, because what I achieved was accomplished by dozens, if not hundreds of fellow cyclists on March 5. But it sure felt like a challenge.
I’m not one to back down from a dare, so it was with the utmost confidence I hopped on my Giant Stance 1 mountain bike and spun my legs for 50 miles on that recent Saturday. The task at hand was finishing the Epic 50 ride at the annual Santos Fat Tire Festival, a fundraiser for the Ocala Mountain Bike Association.
Set on one of Florida’s best mountain bike trail systems, the route would take me along dirt paths traversing pine flatwoods, scrub habitat and forests with formidable live oaks. I had ridden some of these trails before, but never
all in combination. I was excited for the chance to explore more of the scenic and storied Cross Florida Greenway.
The night before the Epic 50, I gained a little inspiration from Kathy (from Kentucky, originally), a jovial entrepreneur who was near the trailhead still slinging barbecue burnt ends and brisket as dusk approached and other food trucks packed up for the day.
“I have a goal, and that’s to make $7,000 this weekend,” she said enthusiastically, noting that she had gone to nursing school while raising four kids and paid for the food truck in cash. Meaning to say — Kathy always crushes her goals.
If that wasn’t enough to motivate me, I don’t know what was.
Ready, set, go!
After a night of mostly sound sleep — sometimes interrupted by a passing train or car engine turning over — I awoke ready to chug some coffee and face the day.
I didn’t think much about what I was about to do, as the task at hand was already etched into my mind. I simply suited up in riding gear, triple-checked the supplies in my daypack and got on my bike.
When I usually ride Florida’s off-road bike trails, I tend to push myself, muscling through every climb and turn. This time, I knew keeping a steady pace was the key to success, along with hydration and nutrition. It would have been possible to accomplish these trails on a self-supported ride, but having SAG (support and gear) stops along the way definitely helped.
The miles felt slow at first. By the time I reached the first aid station, about eight miles in, I was feeling good but had to reckon with the fact the ride wasn’t even 20 percent complete. After an orange slice and a banana, on I went.
Finding the flow
By this point, I had linked up with my camp neighbor, Dave, to roll through some miles together. We traveled west, headed toward the Land Bridge that crosses over Interstate 75, and my Melbourne-based riding
partner remarked how good he was feeling.
Dave had ridden multiday endurance rides before, including a self-supported bike adventure that took him through the Georgia mountains. However, a recent bout with COVID19 had left my new friend in less than ideal shape for distance riding, so we parted ways around mile 16 as he took the paved trail back.
While some of the mountain bike trails that stretch along the Cross Florida Greenway feel remote, I was never alone on my ride. I chatted with another rider named Patrick and later found myself amid a small group of riders from Tallahassee. We quickly discovered we had mutual friends and I remembered the cool,
tight-knit sense of community that can be found within Florida mountain biking.
After nearly 27 miles on the saddle, I was oh-so-relieved to find ham sandwiches and snacks waiting for me at the Ross Prairie Trailhead. Time for a proper break halfway through the big ride.
Staying strong
I tried to rest during my short break but didn’t delay scarfing down my sandwich and getting back on the bike. I knew if I hung around much longer, I might never ride back.
The miles after lunch are where I really found my stride. Even on slightly more technical blue trails, such as Ern N Burn, I found my comfort zone and
made easy work of punchy climbs. I relished the flowing downhills found on Nayls South, and even the small, nagging ache in my left thigh didn’t slow me down too much.
While paused at an intersection with the paved trail, gathering my thoughts and my legs, I witnessed two riders roll past as they commented on a painted yellow arrow on a tree designating the return route.
“Are you guys lost?” I inquired.
“Nah, we decided to bail,” went something like their reply as they pedaled back on the pavement.
I remembered that some riders are content to pound out a few solid miles, maybe hit some jumps and then head back to the trailhead to relax and crack open a beer. Some days, I am that cyclist. But not today.
Finally, the finish
After crossing back over the I-75 Land Bridge and taking the “Coyote Corner” trail, I returned to the first SAG station, which signaled I was within 10 miles of the trailhead. Volunteers advised I could skip one of the trails and be back in about five miles (versus closer to eight), but I wasn’t prepared to quit.
I usually love the miles of flowy singletrack contained within Twister, but I’ve never enjoyed riding the route less than I did that day. Near the end of the trail, I encountered an orange-clad rider I’d passed earlier.
“It’s good to see someone else out here, I’m kind of hitting a wall,” I remarked, breathing heavily.
“Me too, me too,” he agreed, as I cheered back with a quick, “We got this, so close!”
I made my final pit stop to down a sleeve of Clif “Bloks” energy chews, and I knew once I crossed the road I’d be in the final stretch. The contingent of Tallahassee riders passed me again, right about the time I looked down to find an encouraging message from my brother on my phone.
“I can do this, I’m so close now,” I thought to myself.
After my quick break and a newfound determination, rediscovered for the fifth time that day, I hopped on my bike and went steady through the last twists and turns of the trail. I wound up behind a slow rider as he used up the last of his energy reserves, striving to reach the 50-mile mark. I kept pace behind him, and we crossed the finish line together, triumphant.
Fifty miles down, a yelp of glee, a finisher medal and a photo op later, I was reveling in my accomplishment. I had spent nearly six hours riding and almost eight hours total in pursuit of this goal, navigating almost 1,300 feet of elevation gain, and wow — it was worth the effort.
The last thing left to do was rinse the layer of dusty dirt off my legs and cheers to my Epic 50 with a cold beer. I had earned it.