The following information is provided for the reader who might be interested in the Assault from my perspective. Also, I’ve included the training schedule which enabled me to complete the event relatively uninjured!

About me.  I’m 53 years young and must be doing something most of the time.   I’ve been running since age 14, and wanted to compete in the Olympics "when I grew up". Unfortunately, mother nature made me a mule rather than a race horse, so I had to be content to pursue my running endeavors as a plodder rather than a racer. No matter, it’s been a wonderful ride!  I’ve completed 8 marathons, including the Pikes Peak Marathon (thank God only once!), the Boston Marathon (once), the New York City Marathon (once), the Emerald City Marathon in Seattle (once), and the Big Sur Marathon (3 times ‘cause it was so beautiful).  And more 10Ks and 5Ks than I can begin to count.  I started serious biking in 1985 after a leg injury forced me to do something besides run.  I began riding centuries. That brought me to the Assaults and the Bridge to Bridge rides, all of which I’ve thoroughly enjoyed.  I’ve completed 8 Assaults and 4 Bridge to Bridge rides over the last 10 years. That introduction brings me to the reason for this short expose’, my 1998 Assault experience.

The Assault.  This was one of the hottest Assaults that I’ve completed, with early morning temperatures in the 60s and Mt. Mitchell temperatures in the low 70s at mid afternoon.  I knew that early and constant hydration with both plain water and especially sports drinks would be paramount if I wanted to finish.  Thus, I carried my standard two water bottles with plain water on the bike, and another "sugary" drink stuffed into my jersey.  I debated on the sugary drink, but it proved a good idea as it gave me a boost at about the 30 mile point and beyond until it was gone.

I like to start at a quick pace and stay with the first pace line as long as possible.  That provides me with a very quick 25 mph average initially, something I would never be able to do by myself. In past Assaults, I’ve managed to "hang on" to this pace line for 50-60 miles, but this time I fell off the back along with about 20 others at about 25 miles. I think the heat and the fact that I had never done the Assault at "that age" contributed to the fall back. Anyway, the smaller group that I was with was much more casual, and I enjoyed numerous conversations along the way to Marion. The gentle hills of northern South Carolina and southern North Carolina, along with the beautiful countryside vistas, small farming communities, unique little churches, friendly road guards, and more than helpful rest stop people contributed to a great outdoor biking experience all the way to Marion.

I tried to concentrate on the sights and sounds and smells as I encountered one real surprise during the early going. My legs, primarily thighs (the stokers), began hurting much sooner than in years past. That led me to wonder about what might happen when we hit the big hills past Marion. Although time would tell, I wanted to know now, and the mental anguish of not knowing (the mind supposes the worst) started working on my attitude. And I questioned seriously, not my ability to complete the ride, but my desire to complete the ride given the pain that I was convinced I’d have to endure to the finish. The mind can sometimes be a terrible thing!

About the time I was really at a low spiritually, I was helped along the way, more than I realized at the time, when I had to brush aside a tear at mile 50 as we approached Mr. Van Epps on his Freedom Rider, a three wheel, hand powered cycle. Van had a life threatening accident while training for a previous Assault, and now participates using his unique Rider. He always provides inspiration, and makes my own pedal strokes seem easier. Just seeing him out there gave me tremendous inspiration and the desire to make it at all costs. I thought about him often during the remainder of the ride, especially during the tough mountain climbs. There’s more information and a great story about Van on the Assault’s home page.

Marion, North Carolina, at about mile 70 represents the first goal that I try to reach, and as I go by the cheers from the spectators are refreshing and reassuring. During this portion of the ride, I try to make a vital sign check to see if all systems are go for the remainder of the ride. Although Marion is more than half way in terms of mileage, its not even half way in terms of effort! Legs, neck, arms, seat, spirit – yep, they’re all ok, so on we go! Highway 80, which zig zigs up and up to its confluence with the Blue Ridge Parkway, represents some of the hardest climbing of the event. But, the scenery is rewarding with lakes, streams, mountainous terrain, views, and (usually) cool breezes (none this time). I try to concentrate on anything except my physical discomforts. The legs are really burning, neck hurts, hands are numbing, seat is painful, feet are going to sleep, but during bouts of reality I tell myself each pedal stroke is one less that I have to do to make it to the finish! The Highway 80 experience takes somewhat more than an hour, and then mercifully the roadside sign says Blue Ridge Parkway ahead. I thanked God for his help! I consider this point to be about half way. I began to notice that somehow perspiration was accumulating under my helmet so that when I tilted my head forward a rush of water fell down to the pavement below. My idea to drink "everything in sight" was truly paying off as I was flushing those water bottles through my system at an alarming rate! The heat continued even though I was now at about 3400 feet. Another vital sign check indicated all systems were still go! I was ready to "hit the Parkway", another highly anticipated goal and one of the most important mentally. It meant that the future climbing would be no worse, at least in terms of grade, but that it was necessary to start conserving some energy for what lay ahead – more climbing.

The section of the Parkway from Highway 80 to the entrance to the Mt. Mitchell State Park has mostly ascents, but the one mile, 40 mph descent which shows up about two-thirds of the way is heavenly! Gives one a chance to "get some air" and relax for a few minutes. At 40 mph the mile goes quickly, and then back to more climbing. The views are phenomenal on both sides of the Parkway. Distant mountain views with their shades of green, sheer cliffs, gentle wild flowers, small animals scurrying about, glimpses of Mt. Mitchell in the background, and even opportunities to gaze at the wonderment of building a road through mountains using tunnels – it’s all there. And more. The tunnels, although quite short, are wonderful as they provide respite from the heat and sun, if but for a short time.

About the time it feels like the legs just won’t go any more, there it is! The entrance to Mt. Mitchell!! There’s a lot of "thank you Lords" said at that point. It’s there with only 5 more miles to go that the end is finally in sight, if not visually, then in the mind. I say quietly to myself, "I can do 5 miles", and head up the road.

Initially the Mt. Mitchell road is steep, and remains that way for what seems like forever. But finally and mercifully, it levels out somewhat to what is a relatively level stretch of road – and you really know "this is it". I’ve seen that level stretch before and can feel the release of tension, renewed energy, confidence of what’s to come – I can almost hear the cheering coming from the crowd at the finish line and I really want to be there to participate. One last rest stop and I go through it needing only a "cookie please". The volunteers (bless them) run over to the table, get 2 chocolate chip cookies, and run over and hand them to me as I go by. The various groups here are cheering, someone says, "Man, you got it made!", and some more tears start to flow. I try to get the cookies down but they stick in my throat. There’s a big lump there, too. I think about my Barbara waiting for me. About how I wish my son were here to see the old man do it one more time. How great it will feel to see and hear the crowds, to go through the finish and it’s over for me, except for all the emotions that I will take through my life long after the legs have ceased to ache. I wash the cookies down with some water, cough a bit, and continue on. Before long I can see parked cars, lots of people yelling and screaming, clapping, cheering – there’s that lump again, and now it’s so big I labor to breathe! That once smooth, rhythmic breathing turns to shallow gasps as I struggle through the final 100 yards through the finish line. I finally believe it when someone calls out number 446 – I glance down and see that’s the number on my bike. I coast to a stop about 20 feet beyond the line, search for the ground with my feet, and collapse on the handlebars, completely spent. Someone asks if I need help and I’m able to say, "I’m ok, just need a few minutes". He goes on to help someone else.

After some amount of time passes (don’t know how much) I’m able to get my legs from around the bike and push it up to the concession stand where I just leave it and all of my other worldly goods – helmet, gloves, shoes. The next item on the agenda is to get the coveted patch, available only at the top! I get more congratulations from the lovely ladies giving them out and I proceed over to a wall to lean a bit. It’s hot, and I’d like to sit down, but I’d probably not be able to get up! As I glance around, there are all sorts of riders in various positions of rest. Most my age are pretty much doing what I’m doing, but the young types are "working the crowd" with their antics, excitement, friendships. And I say to myself, "Truly, youth is wasted on the young".

After about 30 minutes of this, I decide it’s time to meet my SAG. Barbara and I decided prior to my start that we would try something new this year – she would meet me in the car at the intersection of the Blue Ridge Parkway and the Mt. Mitchell road. About 5 miles, thankfully, downhill. I figured early on that I surely could mount the bike one more time and coast for 5 miles – probably about 10 minutes of riding, tops. And sure enough, all went according to plan and I was able to go back down the mountain. It was quite a thrill, and most enjoyable. I maintained about 35 to 40 mph and the miles went quickly. I even had to chuckle when I saw a tandem with only a guy on it struggling up the road. Guess his companion opted for next year.

The story is almost over. Barbara retrieved me in pretty good shape and I was full of interesting (to me) stories to share with her about the experiences of the day.  We proceeded to Asheville where we enjoyed a lovely dinner at the Biltmore Estate. What a great way to end what was truly a wonderful day. As I write this, I can’t think of a better way to spend that day, really!

So, with all that effort devoted to training and actually doing the event, what did I learn. The first thing that comes to mind is that I can still do what I love to do and probably can next year, too. It’s not the end of the line for this activity, although if I live long enough there will come a time when I can’t sustain the training any more. I don’t know what I’ll do at that point in my life, but I’m sure something will come around to fill the void.

The event brings out all of the emotions I can think of, and all of a sudden. There’s joy, sorrow, fear, elation, pain, excitement, anxiety, friendship, love, anger, resentment, enthusiasm – I could go on. The point is, these all come at various times in the event, probably predictably, and one is able to continue on through them all. Some are good emotions, while some try to be debilitating, but we fight to retain stability, a "good head", and continued drive. And, if the finish line is in sight, you know you’ve managed them well. The same goes with life. Manage the emotions and the rest is easy. Thus, the Assault can be called a course on managing emotions and life, with the finish line the final exam.

My life is changed because of the Assault. I view annoyances more critically. I take those who make critical perturbations to my life, both good and evil, with thoughtful concern. I know there is nothing that me and the Lord can’t handle (so far, at least). I can pick out and favor the helpful people in my life and I can more readily ignore (and forgive) those who wish to cast "spells". The personal commitments and sacrifices I’ve endured during training and doing the event leave me concerned about commitment in others.

I’m going to request Barbara’s perspective of what I’ve said and see if she agrees. We all look out at life through distorted glasses.

I hope in some small way I've been able to enrich your life through my experiences. And, just maybe, I've given you the encouragement you need to think about completing the Assault one day. Maybe even next year! You'll never be the same again! Guaranteed!

Some fuel statistics. Breakfast was my standard Waffle House waffle, 2 eggs, ham, orange juice, and coffee. Those waffles seem to do the trick, and I owe all (really some) of my success to the Waffle House company!! During the ride I consumed the following: 8 full water bottles, about half and half, water and sports drink; 1 bottle of some kind of sugary (non-carbonated) drink I bought at a 7-11 store; 4 chocolate chip cookies, 2 I'm not sure what cookies, and 5 1/2 bananas. I usually like a good, big greasy steak the night before the ride, but settled on 2 gorditas from Taco Bel, a BK broiler from Burger King, and medium fries. Seemed to settle just fine. (This is not a commercial!)

Until next year about this time. Happy biking and "please, share the road". Remember Van. I know I will.

Oh yes, my time: 6 hours and 58 minutes. Not my best and not my worst, but I’ll take it!!