We rolled out at 7:45 and headed west out of Thompson Station. The 900+ riders spread out quickly and everyone settled into their own pace. I pulled away from James Todd and Jonathan Woody somewhere prior to the first climb into the unincorporated town of Theta, and didn’t see either of them again until after the ride was over. This didn’t worry me though, as riding well within your own pace is key to finishing long rides like this, especially in the heat and humidity.

The climb into Theta is almost a mile in length, and peaks for a short period at 18% grade. It’s brutal on any ride, but especially hard when you have 85 miles remaining in the day. I skipped the rest stop at Theta (mile 15) and caught up with some of the riders from the HBC Tuesday Night ride in the next valley. We rode a solid paceline for a few miles before I decided to sit up and ride my own pace to the 36 mile rest stop. A quick fill of water bottles and some food and I was back on the road.

I reached the 60 mile rest stop by 11:30 am, but I was starting to feel the effects of the heat and took a few minutes longer than the first stop. By this time it was in the high 90’s, but it felt like 110 on the exposed pavement. As I got back on the bike, I wondered how James and Jonathan were doing, and where they were on the route.

The next 20 miles took us on some very rural roads near Fairview, TN that had rough chip-seal pavement. Caney Fork road and Big East Fork roads are very scenic, but will numb your hands and shake your fillings loose if you grip the bars too tight. Some of these roads still showed signs of damage from the tornadoes that hit this area earlier in the year. The route organizers had been diligent enough to mark chevrons of brightly colored paint in front of these sections on the downhills so they could be easily avoided. I hate to imagine the carnage of broken wheels and road rash that would have resulted had they not marked the route with such detail. This section of the ride finished with another long climb up Stillhouse Hollow Rd. Stillhouse Hollow climbs a mile, gaining several hundred feet of elevation at an average grade above 10%, and was a painful few minutes on legs with 80 miles under them already. The rest stop at the top of Stillhouse was a most welcome sight.

The remaining 20 miles was on roads I was very familiar with from the Thursday night club rides, and Sunday morning pancake rides. No major climbs, but several good hills to overcome. As I left the 91 mile rest stop it started raining, then pouring, and continued for several minutes. It felt great after so many hours of relentless sun and heat. As I rolled back into Thompson Station, the rain let up and the sun came out again. A perfect finish to a great century ride. My fastest century finish ever so far. 7 hours total, 6 hours 20 minutes riding time, average pace 16 mph.

As soon as I put the bike into the car, my cell phone chirped with an SMS from James. “Back yet? I did metric + 3″. He had arrived at the church only a few minutes earlier. Neither of us had heard from Jonathan by then, so we knew he was still on the road somewhere. He ended up txting me at 5pm with news that he finished the century – his first!

Friday evening Rob Montgomery and I left Nashville in the pouring rain and headed southeast towards Chattanooga. All week long the weather forecast for Saturday had gotten worse and worse, progressing from scattered thunderstorms only in the afternoon to rain all day and thunderstorms in the afternoon. As we made the two hour drive to the hotel in Chattanooga, we speculated about flooded roads and cancellations. I was excited but had doubts about our ability to complete such a difficult ride in such challenging conditions.

Saturday morning came after a night of fitful sleep in a cheap motel a few miles from the ride start. We drove to Finley Stadium around 7:00 with no rain and got checked in. The ride started promptly at 8am, wich us near the back of a group of close to 2000 riders. We rolled through downtown Chattanooga in the beginning of a sprinkling rain as a solid mass of slow moving riders. After crossing the Tennessee River, it started to rain harder. Not wanting to stop and put on my rain jacket, Rob and I pressed on as the route followed the river. Even at this point riders were turning back and bailing out.

Twelve miles into the ride, we turned away from the river and headed up Suck Creek Mountain (mountain #1). I downshifted into my 34-23 gear and settled in for a 7 mile, 4-6 % grade up a 2000 ft mountain in the now pouring rain. Every couple of minutes we would see one or two riders descending the mountain in the opposite direction, deciding not to continue the ride. Soaked to the bone but ascending steadily, Rob and I made it to the top just before 10am. We skipped the rest stop as we didn’t need anything and headed towards the descent.

Descending Suck Creek Mountain in the rain was one of the scariest moments I have ever experienced on a bike. Steady rain, water sheeting down the roadway, and compromised braking due to wet rims made for several sphincter-tightening minutes. I had to begin braking well before needing to, and progressively increase braking pressure until the bike began to slow, then feather braking pressure to keep speeds under control while also keeping both tires from sliding on the wet road. It was scary. Speeds never exceeded 3o mph. On a dry day I would have blown down that mountain at 50 mph, but not today.

At the bottom of the mountain, I finally put my rain jacket on, now more as a vapor/warmth barrier than to keep dry. I also gave Rob my arm warmers as he had only a short sleeve jersey on. We rolled through the valley towards the second rest stop, trying to keep our speed around 20 mph to keep our blood flowing and stay warm.

The 40 mile rest stop in a fireworks store right off of I-24 was a welcome refill for water bottles and stomachs. We spent 10 or 15 minutes there and left quickly as we were starting to get chilled again in the rain and 60 degree temps. A few miles later we passed the turnoff for the 62 mile route and proceeded towards the second mountain. The route took us over Ladd’s Mountain on the way to Sand Mountain. This climb took 10 or 15 minutes, and near the top, the ride organizers had been kind enough to paint “This is not a mountain” on the road. Thanks guys (/sarcasm). Luckily by around this point in the ride the rain had tapered off.

The Alabama state line doesn’t need a sign. You know when you cross it. The pavement on the section of road leading to Sand Mountain is terrible. Rutted, rough, and uneven. I joked with the riders near me that in Alabama, they just make cobblestones a little smaller, like gravel sized. I’d like to imagine that I know what the riders on Paris-Roubaix feel like now.

Rob and I stopped for a minute or two before starting up Sand Mountain and talked for a few minutes with a rider named Bragg Davis on a nice new Tommasini bike. Bragg had ridden this century in 2008 and proved to be Rob’s savior on the upcoming climbs.

Sand Mountain was much harder than Suck Creek, but shorter. 3 miles or so of 7-8 % grade, with several switchbacks that felt much steeper. I again dropped to my lowest gear and ground up the mountain with my eyes locked on the cycling computer’s mileage readout as it ticked off the tenths of a mile. I had no concentration left to worry about where Rob was or how he was doing on this climb. Finally I reached the top and plateaued into a thick fog. I rode along for a while with a rider from Nashville named Bill Glass. Bill is an ultracyclist who makes up what he lacks in speed with his ability to ride seemingly forever. Bill rides with the Harpeth Bicycle club, which I plan to join soon, and participates in 300k to 1200k rides on a regular basis. No typos there, 1200 kilometers!

Bill and I stopped at the 60 mile rest stop on top of the Sand Mountain plateau, where I told him I was going to wait for Rob to roll in. After downing a bottle of Heed and eating a few banana pieces and peanut butter and jelly sandwich quarters, I saw Rob making his way down the road. I was impressed to see him as soon as I did, because he was very concerned about his ability to climb all three mountains today. Apparently Bragg and Rob paced each other up Sand and gave each other enough motivation to keep climbing without stopping.At this point, I began to hope that we would both finish this ride.

We got rolling again soon, and headed another ten miles or so to the descent down Sand Mountain. The rain continued to hold off, so this descent was much faster than the descent off of Suck Creek. Speeds in between the curves easily hit the mid-30s, and would have gone higher if it weren’t for the unfamiliar roads and fatigue. By this time it was around 2pm and we still had 25 miles to go.

Near the bottom of Sand Mountain, we crossed into Georgia, thereby completing the 3 State part of this ride. At mile 82 we stopped for a few minutes at the mini-rest stop at the base of Burkhalter Gap Rd. Bragg advised us to not refill our water bottles because 1) we wouldn’t have time to drink out of them for the next few miles, and 2) we wouldn’t want to carry the extra weight. He proved to be right. Immediately after turning onto Burkhalter Gap Rd, we all dropped into our lowest gears and started grinding away.

When I say grind I mean it. I’m a decent climber for a beginner, and usually climb most hills around 70-80 rpm and 9 or 10 mph. On Burkhalter, anything above 50 rpm and walking pace of 4 or 5 mph sent my heart rate skyrocketing – and I was passing some riders. Burkhalter Gap is two miles of 10 % grade, with a short false flat near the top, and then 300 yards of 20% grade. Difficult doesn’t begin to express what this hill was about. My bike is geared for the area I live, which for me means a compact double chainring at 50-34 and an 11-23 cassette in the rear. On Burkhalter I would have killed for a 12-27 cassette. Reaching the false flat near the top felt great. My legs got a short rest, and I was able to catch my breath and take a sip from my water bottle. Right after this, Burkhalter Gap turned right and headed up the steepest section of road so far. The only way I could make it up this was to tack back and forth across both lanes, doubling the distance traveled, but also cutting the grade in half. Hard as it was, I reached the top without walking. I only stopped twice.

Rob’s new Serotta Ottrott was also set up for where he lives in Central Illinois. This meant his bike had a non compact double chainring at 53-39 and a 12-25 cassette. He was not only physically under-prepared in terms of hill climbing, but grossly over-geared. After refilling water bottles and getting my front brake checked out by the bike technician at the rest stop, I went back to wait for Rob and Bragg to summit Lookout Mountain. 20 minutes later, I saw them come around the corner for the last section, walking their bikes. Rob hopped back on and rode 100 feet or so before unclipping and walking the rest of the steep section. Both of them made the summit of the third mountain. Rob was spent, but after a few minutes of rest and some food and drink, his spirits perked up as he realized what he was about to accomplish.  Only 15 miles of rolling hills atop Lookout Mountain and a fast descent remained before we completed this ride.

We left the last rest stop around 4:15pm and squeezed the last strength out of our legs as we crossed Lookout. The last descent was a lot of fun. Again I had unfamiliar roads and fatigue as a check against excessive speeds, but the elation of knowing all of the difficult parts were behind me made me push the limits a little more than the last descent. I hit 41 mph at one point on a downhill straight in between two curves. I can only imagine descent speeds on this mountain for people who live and ride in Chattanooga.

The Chattanooga police had every intersection in between the mountain and Finley Stadium monitored, and stopped traffic for any cyclist that came through. That was appreciated after a hard day’s riding, as it eliminated the need to stop, unclip, wait for traffic, then build up lost momentum . Rob and I rode side by side as we made the last turn into Finley Stadium where we had started 100 miles ago that morning. The time clock read 9 hours and 24 minutes, with 7 hours and 15 minutes of rolling time.