Wrath of God

Read Part I here: Decision Point

I tore out of pit row with no idea what was to come. As it stood, temps were in the mid-90s, there wasn't much wind, and the sun was shining bright. The new course layout took us first quickly south, then east across Redbud Road, through the sweet singletrack that winds forever on that side of the course. Then we headed back west, still in tree cover, until we crossed Redbud again and plunge back into the forest with a super-fun, fast bunnyhop into a quick drop. Then we climbed up the roots to the rock drop/climb, before plunging back to the undergrowth and twisting our way out to the fire road. At this point, we approached mile marker 4, as we climbed up the fire road before traversing across to the base of Ho Chi Minh.

I cleaned the widetrack steep, made the turn, and cleaned the rocky start to the singletrack climb. I was on a mission, riding smoother and faster than I had all day, but I still wasn't sure what was going on -- what storm? What weather? The thoughts in my head were getting louder and louder. Those of you who have been around long enough may remember 24 Hours of Nine Mile 2006, documented in 24 Solo, as Chris Eatough won the national championship while dodging lighting strikes and trail flooding that turned the forest into a flood plain. I wasn't there that day, but I remember watching the radar while at the Pony Shop in Evanston, seeing massive red blob envelope Wausau and put my friends' lives in real danger. So I knew that if the volunteer said "weather," we could be in for it.

And we were. I crested at the mile 5 marker, made the turn on the gravel, and felt the breeze. I could see clouds now above me. The wind picked up. I kept on turning the pedals, as fast as I possibly could. As I passed the checkpoint at Four Corners, the Mountain Bike Patrol were on the radio, and though I asked them how long I had, I didn't get a response -- and it wasn't time to stop.

I made the false flat, and kept after it to the singletrack at mile 6. This was the one section I knew from previous years, in this direction, and while it used to give me absolute fits, the Spearfish ate it up as I coasted in, tailwhipped the first roller (really!), and slalomed through the trees. Quick transition to the second half, and I was juking and jiving my shoulders through, rolled the rocks, made the right turn, popped out to the road, and OH. MY. OH MY. OH SHIT.

The sky was boiling. Boiling. From that vantage point, looking west/northwest, wind swirling the field below me, I was staring at a massive wall of black, the backside of the course about to get swallowed up as if it were night. Lighting was flashing, thunder was rumbling ...

... and all I could think of was Ghostbusters.

Dr. Peter Venkman: This city is headed for a disaster of biblical proportions.

Mayor: What do you mean, "biblical"?

Dr Ray Stantz: What he means is Old Testament, Mr. Mayor, real wrath of God type stuff.

Dr. Peter Venkman: Exactly.

Dr Ray Stantz: Fire and brimstone coming down from the skies! Rivers and seas boiling!

Dr. Egon Spengler: Forty years of darkness! Earthquakes, volcanoes...

Winston Zeddemore: The dead rising from the grave!

Dr. Peter Venkman: Human sacrifice, dogs and cats living together... mass hysteria!

I had four miles to go.