I began my second real attempt on the 2005 Assault on Mt Mitchell with what I thought was adequate training and preparation. At 6' 6" tall and near 250 lbs, I never expected to win, but wanted to do my best to keep up with my riding buddies.

I rode the Marion ride in 2003, and in 2004 abandoned the ride with knee pain when I reached Marion.  But in 2005, there was one problem, hurricanes washed out part of the BRP, and the course was rerouted through Asheville and up the BRP for a distance of over 110 miles.  No problem, I thought, the extra few miles will be tough but I can do it!

At 6:30 AM, we rolled out of Spartanburg to thunderstorms and rain.  The weather kept up for the first few hours, but as I approached Asheville, it cleared a bit.  Soaked, but happy, I was riding well for me.  My average was just above 18 mph, and my legs felt good, even riding up past Lake Lure.   Then, I hit the BRP.

That's when it all began.  My legs began to feel bad, and the climb up to the Folk Arts Center revealed to me the meaning of 'BONK'!  I began to have real trouble, stopping to rest, shouting at myself, crying, cussing, getting back on and feeling rubbery legs.  Wow.. as I approached mile 100, I noticed a small visitor center on the left!

I was cold, wet, and miserable.  I'll stop in and warm up a bit, I said to myself.  Great! So I go in, ask for water, and noticed a nice rocking chair next to a wood-burning stove.  Warm up your legs, John, I said... you will be able to finish.  So I sat down.  Then, "Sir!?"  "Sir!?" I heard hazily!  "Sir, you have to wake up and leave, we are closing in a half hour."  HOLY CRAP!  I slept in that dang chair for almost an hour, maybe more!  What time is it?  YIKES!  I gotta MOVE OUT!  I stood up, and immediately fell down!  My legs were wooden and unmoveable.  @@%&# it!

I stretch, move and get my legs working again, go outside, and was hit by a blast of cold, moist, foggy air. BRRRR..  I grab my bike, and get on it, and the agony began.  I made it to the next rest stop, which was about 3 miles up, as I remember it.  There, I found a cell phone, and called my wife and daughter... "Come get me... I am dying here!" I told them.  Okay, they say, we are at the Folk Art Center, we're coming.  "OK.." I say.. "I will keep riding, you catch me and at least I can say I kept moving 'til you got me".

So I take off, and pedal my miserable self up past Craggy Gardens, descend the long, long drop at almost 50 mph (remember I am rather a large fella!), and then it was like the hand of God came down and touched me...

The clouds broke, blue sky became visible, and sunlight touched my skin.  It was a miracle!  I somehow found energy, and kept riding.  As i climbed, and I approached the turn into the Park, I realized that my family still had not caught me.  What the hell, I say, keep going.  So I did.

About half way up, I heard a familiar honk: my family!  'Hey, Dad !'  I heard. 'You wanna ride?'  Incredulously, I said no, that I would finish, I was only a couple of miles from the finish.  So they went on up, and they were at the finish when I crossed that cone-lined BEAUTIFUL finish line. My bike was swept from me, I stumbled up to get soup, and realized I finished my first Assault on Mt Mitchell by riding a longer route, overcoming a tremendous BONK, taking a nice nap by a wood-burning stove, beating my family up the hill (because of bike traffic, they were driving very slowly), and somehow having a miracle happen that put finishing energy into my spent legs.

11:30 was a long time on the bike, and I am now more proud of that finish than I am of my more recent, faster finishing times!  Hail, AOMM!!!!