Becky and I celebrated our 7th wedding anniversary this week. 7 years and nothing to scratch. We engorged ourselves on steak and free desert. It's hard to believe she has put up with me this long.




I have been waiting all week for a dirt ride. Cartecay Bikes in Ellijay, Ga host Chili Dawg rides every Saturday. They are pretty popular and this was the first time my schedule allowed for me to go. I woke up to sound of rain, I checked and rechecked the radar. Rain until 10am (RTR time) then %50 chance after that. I was in desperate need of miles to somewhat reduce the pain. I threw the bike in the truck and headed up to the meetin place. It rained the entire 75 minute drive up. I was determined to ride. I showed up and met the regulars. As the start time got closer the rain dissipated and more folks showed. We decided gear up and headed out into the drizzle. The route had us on country roads to fire roads up and down Springer Mountain. We stopped to regroup and a Ford Taurus with 3 people sitting in the front stopped and asked us if we were "alright", we said we were good and they laughed and went on. There was a 30 and 40 mile option. After the pavement turned dirt, which had turned to slog the pedal strokes became more difficult. We came to the 30 turn off and anyone who had aspirations of 40 miles changed theire minds due to conditions. Well this BA chick on a SS (Lisa) decides to do the 40, one of the ride organizers Joe joins her and I say "what the hell".
Off we go into FR hell. The drizzle slowly stopped and the temps were warm so I was somewhat comfortable clothing wise, but the pace and mud was zapping the energy quickly. We made it to a flatish pavement connector and I mired in futility trying to catch what became a day long carrot chase. I was running 21 on the back, my 20 is stripped, so I just spun and spun with no real gain on the leaders. Joe and Lisa were nice enough to wait at the turns, but I hate being that last guy. Given their were 3 of us I didn't feel too bad, but the thought of them waiting at the wet and windy FR road intersections made me push harder. We left the pavement and began what seemed like an endless slog climb up the mountain. The mud kept any type of pacing to a minimum. Having never done this climb it seemed to go forever. If there was a point to bail, I would have. I felt slow, real slow. I decided to just take in the scenery. I met up to a waiting Joe, Lisa went on ahead apparently she trains like 6-8 hours in the mountains during the summer, who has that kind of time? We ascended into a fog that blocked all views, but made for an interesting setting. We eventually rode above the fog, which was cool.
We regrouped at the last intersection. Only 14 miles to go, a mountain descent and pavement back to the truck. The last section punished me. The mud was so thick you would have to pedal downhill to keep momentum. I would put glasses on for descent, but they kept minimal sand and water out of the eyes. Finally, hit the last fast descent. It starts to pour, we hit the pavement and head back in the pouring rain. The rain did not rinse off any of the accumulated mud.
Once it was over we enjoyed some conversation and what I hear was great chili. What a great group of folks. Their was about 10 riders split evenly between guys and gals. Just about everyone said they decide to come in the rain knowing they would ride if others were there to ride too. What a great sport.
The Merino 12's did great in the wet and nasty condition. Although my feet were wet the wool managed to keep my feet feeling dry. My calves never even tinged with cramps, the quads were a different story.