Friday, September 29, 2017

Marji Gesick 100 Race Report



While I am laid up on the couch in a supine position after throwing my back out on this morning's road ride, I figured I might as well tell you about the race that put me here.

In just 3 short years, the MG100 went from 68 racers to over 600.  Granted, there is now a 50 miler as well, but toeing the line on Saturday morning for the 100 were 366 poor souls. I did this race last year and finished in 12:41.  My goal this year was to finish sub 12 and earn that #damnbuckle. The course had a few small changes but wouldn't really be a factor.

After finishing up my pre ride on the Epic Trail leading out of Jackson Mine Park, the heavens let loose with buckets of rain. As if the trails weren't hard enough already, now I would get to ride wet rocks and off camber trail. At packet pick up that evening, Todd Poquette, the satanical race director, even went so far to say that the trails handle the rain well.  Needless to say, that did not bolster my confidence.


Waiting for the 7:30 am start

The start was delayed by 30 minutes so that was just more time for it to get hotter.  The temperature was 72 degrees at 7 am and highs were expected in the upper 80's. Although I was acclimated to this kind of weather, I was nervous about how the engine could handle the heat/humidity going full bore for 12 hours.

I laid out my bike shoes, helmet, Camelbak, and all that I would carry with me over the next 100 miles next to my bike.  Because before that, I would get to run 0.5 miles ... yep, a LeMans start.  I thought those had died with the 24 hours races!  This year I decided to start in running shoes and then change into my bike shoes.  I calculated that the time running in full bike gear would be the same as the time running in appropriate footwear + the transition, but that my feet would be happier.

After the bass guitarist played the National Anthem, with even Death showing respect, the bottle rocket went off and I started running.  Upon transitioning to the bike, my legs felt pretty good.  Thank goodness for all those 5K runs over the summer.  I took it easy in the early miles.  No sense getting all worked up in passing trains of people.  Things would sort themselves out soon enough.

The first few miles were XC ski trails: wide, open, nothing too strenuous.  Then onto single track to the Top O' The World Climb.  After seeing a video of Jeremiah Bishop not being able to clean it, I don't feel near as bad having to walk the second half.  All the good lines were taken by HAB'ers.  I was tickled to be able to at least ride the first half of it.  On a non race day, with no one in the way, it would definitely be doable.

It was just after this descent that I met FaceBook friend Lane Myers.  It was his first time doing this and he wanted a pacer.  And I wanted a wind blocker! We were working well together and making small talk when the trail dictated.  I was thinking that this was going to help the time go by more enjoyably.  Together we rode the rail trail (with the railroad ties still embedded), some forested road, some loamy North Shore feel single track, and enjoyed Mr. Bagpipes as we crossed a field.  Then we hit the infamous rock garden going straight up!  Second HAB of the day.  At the top I remounted and continued to proceed through more rock gardens.  When it was safe enough to take my eyes off the trail, I turned around to say something to Lane, but I was all alone.  Ahhh! I hated he was no longer on my wheel.

Angry Bear was a trail that was used last year but had since been decommissioned. It was a super slicky, slimy, rocky, rooty trail that ate up all sorts of time.  But Danny made sure to replace it with an even harder trail, Pine Knob!  A double black roller coaster of rock gardens that eat tires for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.  A trail where I used every millimeter of my suspension as well as my dropper post.  My Rescue Racing team mate, Scott Mormon, was tubing his tire as I rolled through.

Once off Pine Knob with knobbies intact, I blew a sigh of relief.  The upcoming trails were still gnarly, but not as tire-deadly.  I managed to catch up to a small group of riders and sat on their wheels.  They were going slightly slower than I wanted, but my strategy was to save all my matches for Ishpeming.

The family that was on the Lowe's climb last year was there this year as well.  Just one of many unofficial aid stations.  Their young kids were having an absolute blast handing out cups of water to the racers.  I thanked them for their service and continued as I knew Zeke was just up ahead, around mile 30, to resupply me.

After riding through the culvert that takes you underneath Hwy 41, I rolled up to Zeke who had set up in the Best Buy parking lot. At this point I was 7 minutes faster than last year.  But I had also completely emptied my CamelBak, too.  Last year I was able to make it all the way to the South Trails trailhead before needing anymore hydration.  I made short work of refueling and swapping gel flasks.

Next up was a short bit of pavement and then the Iron Ore Rail Trail.  With a couple miles of flat, I ate two salty peanut butter filled dates.  Hard right off the rail trail and onto Harlow Farms connector.  When I popped out of the single track onto a short bit of pavement, I noticed how intense the sun was and just how much I was sweating.  Just before getting into the meat of the South Trails, I noticed a large group of racers huddled around a woman who was soaking them down with water from a sprayer.  Another unofficial aid station. I opted to motor on.

Once into the Pioneer Loop, my autopilot kicked in.  The body is truly an amazing thing! While my mind may have forgotten certain details, the body knew exactly where I needed to feather the brakes for an upcoming technical section and where I could let the bike fly around blind corners.

Halfway through the Flow Trail, a machine cut fast descent with high berms, table tops, and doubles, I was ready for it to be over.  Although there was no pedaling involved, it still took quite a bit of energy to hit each jump just right.  My skillset lies with natural obstacles, not man made ones.  By the time I hit the bottom, my forearms were jacked!


Rolling into South Trails trailhead


I hit the South Trails trailhead and Zeke was front and center flagging me down.  I headed over to the truck and topped off my CamelBak and grabbed a couple more dates. At this point, I was pretty much on the same track as last year.  I was not giving up on the buckle, but my first priority was finishing. It was also stinkin' hot!  So hot, I felt like I was an ant underneath a magnifying lens.

The Doctor's Trail was a very bouldery trail, both up and down.  Last year, I had to walk a couple sections.  This year, with knowing what lay ahead, I was able to clean 99% of it. Absolutely one of my fav's.  However, on one of the easiest sections, towards the end, I was crushing it ... and then it crushed me.  I was approaching a bridge when my front wheel went all catawompus, and instead of hitting the bridge at a 90 degree angle, my front wheel caught the side of it.  And down I went, rolling around in the rocks.  My ribs and shoulder took the brunt of it.  Amazingly, I popped up, and upon triaging both myself and the bike, we were ok to roll. Jason Kunishier came by and stopped to see if he could offer assistance.  I told him to go on; I didn't want to slow up his race.

The bastard of a climb, Mt. Marquette, allowed me to settle down and regain my composure. Not long, only 0.6 mile, but with an average grade of 12%.  I saw people walking.  I take no shame in saying that my easiest gear was a 30 x 50 because it saved me alot of HAB'ing today.  Next up was the Scary Trail.  I remembered last year that the pucker factor was high.  Today, as I was rolling down, I wondered if there had been a reroute, because I was no where near as intimidated.  Body memory, I love ya!

I picked up my second token on the Not So Scary Trail.  I grabbed two, again.  One for my CamelBak and one for my Mountain Feed Bag.  Can you say I was just a little bit paranoid about losing one?  I just needed that added insurance for peace of mind. 

I can't say that the remainder of the South Trails blew by; I just can't remember anything notable.  Which probably goes to show that this was where I started to go into survival mode, around the 50 mile mark.  I remember looking down at my time when I was at the "half-way" mark and seeing the 6 hours.  I also remember that anytime I saw my HR go over a certain number, I thought my head was going to explode.  It was HOT!  Did I mention that?  I thought I would have been acclimated, but it still even got to me.  It is just that this course is so intense, all the time!  It doesn't let up!  And I think that is why even I was overheating.

The next thing I remember is running out of water in my CamelBak, around mile 55.  In 15 miles, I had emptied a 50 ounce bladder.  I reached for my bottle on the bike and it was empty!  Rookie mistake!  I had forgotten to fill it back at the last stop.  Fortunately the Wurst Aid Station lay not too far ahead.  As I pulled in,  a volunteer filled up my bottle with ice cold Gatorade.  I chugged it, knowing I was ingesting Yellow #5, glycerol ester of rosin (WTF!?!), and "natural flavor," but that I would deal with those consequences later i.e. breast cancer, hair falling out, Alzheimer's. 

Hooking up with a Salsa rider, together we traded pulls on the sandy ORV/snowmobile trail and the Iron Ore Rail Trail.  This is probably the easiest section of the course, 6 miles of false flat to the Jackson Mine Park.  Today it felt like I was pulling a sled.

I rolled into the park, found Zeke, and refilled my CamelBak, once again.  By now, 8 hours in, I had drank almost 150 ounces of fluid.  While tending to my nutrition, Lisa and Chris were there talking about their "race" (they were doing the 50), while eating these massive waffles topped off with an Everest of whipping cream! They were in the process of heading out for the final 15 miles, while I had yet to tackle the first 20 mile loop.

This first loop was full on techy gnar.  Super tight and twisty, I thought I was going to fold my bike into a pretzel.  Although there were many individual trails, together, as a whole, they were called the Malton Loop, named after the mining company that utilized the land.  Over the next 3 hours, I saw so many signs with the words Malton Loop that I swore the next one I was going to rip off the tree and throw it into the next county!  Yes, I had some dark moments in those 20 miles.  Those dark moments started when I ran out of fluid with 8 miles to go.  How could that be?  I was drinking like a sailor!  By the grace of God, with 3 miles to go, a volunteer had set up a water station.  I filled my bottle with the precious liquid gold, drank 1/2 of it there, and then topped it off. 

With about 3-4 miles to go, I hooked up with a fat biker.  This was his first time and he asked whether or not I was going to put lights on for the last 15 miles.  Now, it was 5:30 when he asked this question and we still had another 30-45 minutes of riding until we got back to Jackson Mine Park.  This made me laugh ... evilly.  That poor soul had no idea!  So I told him.  The last 15 miles was gonna take at least 2 hours 15 minutes ... at least!  When I told him that, I think I just dealt him the death blow.  He weakly let out a string of expletives.

I arrived back at my pit at 6:30.  Zeke helped me get situated with my lights while I chugged down an ice cold Coke with all of its liver killing high fructose corn syrup.  It was then I fully came to realize that the buckle had eluded me once again.  I was o.k. with that.  I was going to finish this damn thing.  I had heard that racers were dropping like flies.  Many had not even reached Jackson Mine Park for the first time.  Not to belittle or disrespect the WWII veterans in any way, but compared to other hundies, this race is the equivalent to the Battle of Normandy.

Setting out for the final loop, I began to feel better.  Dusk was approaching and with it cooler temperatures.  Everything was aching, but I was going to make it, even if I had to crawl across the finish line.  But first, I had some bitches to deal with.  Straight the f* up climbs, like Suicide Hill and the one with the slimy rock slab that had to pitch to 20%!  Not to mention all the mud puddles I had to negotiate.  Most were as wide as the road, which required portaging my bike through.  And all this in complete darkness.  The one cool aspect, though, was the crescent moon which seemed to be sitting on the top of each and every climb.

I know I picked up my 4th and final poker chip somewhere in this last 15 miles.  I cannot seem to remember where I got my 1st and 3rd chips, however.  It's all such a blur.  But when I acquired the 4th, it was NOT at the top of Jasper Knob, so I was hoping that Jasper Knob was not in this year's race (I had not studied the GPS track prior or I would have known). So when I popped out on some pavement, I thought I might be home free.  But no! There she was, the arrow pointing to the Jasper Knob climb.  I got caught behind some 50 milers, but was content to HAB with them.  At least at the top, there were volunteers cheering us on.  That made me smile!  I turned around and raced back down, hitting some remaining single track before popping out onto the road that would carry me to the finish.  Or was I going to have to go back into the woods for a few more miles of torture (like last year)? 

Fortunately, Todd took mercy on us and did not include that final trail.  I rolled through the finish at 9:44pm, 14 hours and 14 minutes after starting my journey.  First woman, 28th overall, but buckleless once again.  I can't say I didn't try.  Any disappointment was quickly washed away by the fact that I completed the hardest 100 miler America has to offer! 


Completely spent, but ecstatic!

I have got to hand it to Danny Hill, Jedi Master of trail building, and Todd Poquette, Lord Punisher and race director extraordinaire, you shitheads guys did one helluva job devising this race. I also want to thank their wives, for allowing them to devote huge amounts of time, so that we racers could push and carry our bikes, puke, roll around in the rocks, hallucinate, and oh, ride our bikes some,  all ... day ... long (and into the night for a majority)!


I earned these badges of honor!


Thank you to the volunteers and the community!  You prevented a lot of heat casualties, including me.  And the cheering was an enormous boost!


5 out of 13 women finished.

Other notables:

- You know the course is a beast when it takes Jeremiah Bishop 10:24 to finish (average speed 9.9)

- 70% DNF rate.

- Only 9 earned a buckle.

- Don't put your GPS or other tracking device on Auto Pause unless it can detect speeds less than 2-3 miles per hour.  I had to turn mine off pretty quick into the race.  It was mocking me with its incessant beeping!

- Closer to 107 miles and 15,000 feet of climbing.

- Equal payout for men and women.  $1 to the winner!

- No less than 5 racers told me that my quote, "There is no free trail," was spot on.

- I got to meet two of my Rescue Racing teammates, Scott and David.  I even got to race alongside Scott for awhile until he scurried off on the Mount Marquette climb.

- I got to commiserate ride with so many cool fellows:  Lane, Piotr, Tom, and so many whose names escape me.  Everyone was so nice.  I suppose because the competition was not necessarily each other, but with the course.

- 200+ ounces of fluids consumed (Skratch, Coke, Gatorade, and water)

- Most of the trails were hand built and amazing!  Wish I could ride the Ishpeming section while fresh.

- Last year I had to walk the Bluff climb.  This year I nailed it and all of its heinous switchbacks.

- I had amazing traction with Specialized Ground Controls 2.3's with Gripton.



Note the fine print





And so there you have it.  A hundie unlike any other.  Although I highly recommend this one, most that toe the line will not complete it.  But to those that have the courage to come out and play, I commend you, for this is a challenge like no other.







Thursday, September 14, 2017

Black Bear Rampage Race Report

First race for my new LBS.

Another prefect day to make great bike race!  The rains earlier in the week made the tacky and the starting temperature was 54 degrees.  After a brief warm up, I made my way up to the 6th row.  My starts are in no way "lickety split," so I did not want to inconvenience any of the greyhounds.

There were 5 of us in the Expert Over 35 class.  When the gun went off, everyone seemed to be in slow motion. I had to "Flintstone" my bike a few yards before I could safely clip in.  By this time several of the women had gotten 20-30 yards ahead of me.  As I pedaled up to Starr, she was wondering why she was out front, thinking maybe she had started in the wrong wave.  I put her fears to rest as I pedaled on by.

I tried to get rowdy on the paved climb up to Brush Creek, but I felt like I had a governor on my engine.  I could just not get my heart rate up at all.  With no blood flowing to my legs, they were like blocks of concrete.  I was a bit frustrated, so I dialed it back until I felt good again.  A woman I did not know passed me, riding on the coat tails of one of her team members.  Good enough for her so good enough for me.  I hopped on the Wood N Wave train and let them drag me up the climb. Having someone to pace off of allowed me to give the engine a little more time to come to life.

Upon entering Brush Creek, I jumped ahead of her.  Not knowing her skill set, I did not want to be caught behind.  Henry Trent and his tribe had put a lot of hours into making this trail a super speedway (cutting back the underbrush and clearing out the muddy spots).  It was so ... much ... fun, even if I was dying.  I still could not get my heart rate out of zone 3.  The Wood N Wave woman stuck with me for awhile.  Her bike, also a Niner, but with Stan's Wheels, had a distinctive sound, so I did not have to glance back to know where she was.  About half way through, I did not hear her wheels anymore and so assumed she popped.

Boyd Gap was blistering fast!  Harold, also racing for Scott's Bikes, was hot on my heels.  Not wanting to slow him down, I took a few more risks (= less brakes).  At least here I did not have to pedal!

I bumbled a bit on the rooty section of Old Copper.  Man, I think those roots have grown!  Either that or I was just sloppy through there. Heading up to the bridge, Zeke handed me a bottle.  I probably didn't need it, as I barely touched the one on my bike.  This would come back to bite me later.

Henry gave me some smiles for the upcoming miles along Lower Chestnut, Thunder Rock, FS 45, and Poplar Hollow.

Nice coconuts!

I grabbed another bottle from Zeke at the entrance to Poplar Hollow.  I didn't see Fenton, but heard him screaming at me to "get after it."  I truly love people hollering at me along the course.  You guys don't know how much that means to me and how motivating it is, especially when I am in the pain cave.

Once I hit the Quartz Loop, my body began to feel better.  The pedals were a little easier to turn.  I began to pass some people back.  I felt the flow through Riverview and hit all the good lines on Bear Paw.  Old Copper Road flew by and the roots were no problem this time.  The climb up Boyd Gap was still hard, but I found a good granny gear rhythm and actually enjoyed it.

As I was coming through the parking lot at Boyd Gap, Zeke told me that Beth and Starr weren't too far behind.  That was all I needed to dig deep for the last 6 miles.  I buried myself for the first 3 miles. Brush Creek has a groove worn into it.  Envision a slot car track and that is the trail.  I got sketchy in several spots, but that worn in groove kept me from sailing off the trail.  Midway through, I got out of the saddle to power up a short climb.  Immediately I felt a twinge in my left quad.  Uh oh! Don't cramp!  Don't cramp!  I sat down and spun the pedals easy for a few revolutions.  Whew!

I slowly increased the power to the pedals.  As long as I was sitting everything was good.  But whenever I attempted to stand and hammer, the twinge was back.  As I am not one that is prone to cramps, it was most likely due to not hydrating properly during the first half of the race. Fortunately I was able to keep the full on cramp at bay.

I rolled across the finish line in 3:36:16.  Not my fastest time, by far, but still good enough for 1st. What I am really excited about were Beth (2nd) and Starr's (3rd) finishes.  They absolutely rocked the course.  And when Zeke told me they were right behind me, indeed they were!  Beth finished 4:59 back and Starr 8:00 back.  These ladies have stepped it up in the past year.  Hard work, eating clean, and attention to recovery has allowed their bodies to excel!  I know because I did a Whole 30 with them last fall.  I may have to stop giving out my trade secrets! 😁😁

Mighty impressed by these fassst women!


I also must give a shout out to my team mate Noel who made her goals and took a sh!t ton of time off last year's result.

Thanks to Scott's Bikes for another great event, good food, and support! Can't wait for next year!






Wednesday, September 6, 2017

Cherohala Crossing Gravel Grinder Report

In its 10th year, the Cherohala Crossing is one of my favorite gravel rides.  It is about 50% dirt and 50% pavement, has 3 monster climbs, and covers two states, NC and TN.  The turnout this year was small, only 10 of us.  That was ok with me, as I got the chance to get to know everyone during the roll out to the Tatum Gap climb.  



The start was unusually chilly, but I was not complaining.  The weather fore casted a perfect day to ride.  The first 15 miles was pretty neutral and my legs were happy with that.  In the past two weeks leading up to this, I had logged some hard miles.  For me today was all about pushing through fatigue and finding that zen.


Party pace roll out.  Photo Cred:  Jimmy Deane


David Goggins, an ex Navy Seal and motivational speaker, has a 40% rule that I am struggling to embrace, but bound and determined to by September 23.

When you think that you are done, you are only 40% into what your body is capable of doing; that is just the limit we put on ourselves.

Once we turned onto the gravel, the pack broke up pretty quickly, as the road rose to the heavens.  I found my groove and stayed in it for the 4 1/2 mile climb, where, at times, I saw 18% grade.  Jimmy Deane (not of sausage fame) went up the gravel like a scalded pig.  I kept Don in my sight and used him as my pacer.

The legs were ok at the pace I was pushing, but there was definitely no sparkle. At the top, Jimmy and Don had stopped to wait on the rest.  I kinda wished they hadn't, but not wanting to be a douche, stopped as well.  Today wasn't really a race, but more of a group ride.  Over the next 10 minutes, the others trickled in.

The descent off the backside was super fun.  With the previous days' rain, the road was tacky and traction was superb!  Towards the bottom, it turned into pavement.  Still bombing the descent, just behind Jimmy, we almost became a hood ornament when a blue haired person in a mini van approached us, careening left and right across the road.  Thank goodness for disc brakes and quick reflexes!  I don't know if the person was drunk or having a stroke.

Once onto Hwy 143, I was treated to a bit of a head wind.  This road rolled steadily uphill, with a few small curvy descents to keep it fun. The first rest stop was at the Snowbird picnic area.  I quickly refilled my bottles and motored on. Some stopped longer, but I knew my body needed to just keep moving.

With my Garmin timer set every 15 minutes, I made sure to drink and take in some calories.  Just before we hit the second section of gravel, FS 81, the road pitched upwards.  I was hoping that I would not have to use the 40% rule until I hit the 3rd and final gravel climb of the day, but it was on the 9 mile climb up the gravel that I had to embrace the suffering.


Hero gravel.


Thankfully, the road was in perfect condition, unlike last year when it was so dry and loose that I could not stand without spinning out.  Today, climbing up to the Skyway crossing I alternated between sitting and standing.  Halfway up, Hill Billy made an amazing pass.  Good gawd, he was flying like he was on a moto!  Apparently those weekly group shop rides with the young bucks had paid off!


His kit was dialed! Photo cred: Jimmy Deane

At the top was the second rest stop.  Wayne and Jimmy were already there and I rolled in with Don. Once again, we waited on the others.  I learned a valuable lesson right here.  After 20 minutes, we finally rolled out onto the North River Road descent.  Most of it was so steep, there was no need to pedal.  By the time it leveled out and I had to re engage the legs, they were nowhere to be found. Apparently they thought the ride was over at the Skyway and so had completely ... shut ... down.

The struggle up River Road was real.  Fortunately, Don was feeling just as bad.  Together we agonizingly made our way to the final gravel climb, Harshaw Gap.  The first mile or so of this climb is pavement, which helps when it pitches to 15%.  When the tires hit the gravel, my legs had finally decided to come back to life.  I enjoyed the rolling nature of this climb. With so much traction, I didn't have to scrub too much speed in the corners and could carry momentum up small inclines.


Harshaw switchbacks of death!  Photo cred: Jimmy Deane


Plummeting off the backside of Harshaw, I found my smiley face again.  Once I hit pavement, I still had 11 miles to go, but now the legs were at least firing on 6 of 8 cylinders.  Most of the pavement was still downhill, but there were a few short but vicious climbs we had to "oomph" over.

I was glad to see the final left hander back to the start.  6:14 moving time, but the real kick to the body was the 6:54 elapsed time.  No wonder my legs were cranky!   Although I enjoyed getting to know everyone better, next time I will save the banter for the end.  So, in the future, if I don't stop, it is not that I am a "dickette," but that I have the engine of an old Massey Ferguson tractor:  once I get it going, I gotta get it done!

I definitely put the 40% rule into effect on this one.  Thanks Wayne for making it happen.  Now that there has been 10 editions, the CC has got to keep going.



Sunday, August 6, 2017

With A Heavy Heart ...

Thank you, Pam and Bruce, for 21 memorable years.

This is the one post I thought I would never have to write.  And then the unthinkable happened a couple months ago when Bruce called to tell me that The Outdoor Store was closing its doors.  My heart sunk as if someone died.  Did I not just blog about another great LBS shutting down a few months ago? Once Bruce explained the situation, I had to agree with him.  But what was I going to do?  As if the store only existed for me.  It took me a while to sort things out in my head. My vacation with Carly was the perfect therapy.

It's definitely not about me but totally about what is best for the Blevins family.  Although I am sorry for me and the community, I am happy for the new path they are going to take.  Everything happens for a reason and though I may not realize it now, by God, I will on down the road.

For the past few weeks, I have been reliving the unbelievably life changing memories that have come about through Pam and Bruce's friendship and The Outdoor Store's sponsorship over the past 19 years. Like, in 2000, the first time I used clipless pedals.  They said to come ride some gravel roads and double track to get used to them before I went on single track.  Sounded reasonable, I thought. However, they took me on the now defunct Tellico ORV trail system.  Holy cows!  That is NOT where you take a clipless newbie!

Or when I joined the "racing team" in 1999.  To be a part of a family that loved to get sweaty and dirty and push the limits was a dream come true.  One of my first races was the Bud Light Ocoee Challenge held at Chilhowee Mountain.  I began my career in the Sport category. Somehow I managed to finish the 16 mile course in 4th in 1 hour 54 minutes.

Note the tennis shoes and toe clips.  How I ever survived, I do not know.

I was totally spent.  Charlie had come to spectate.  On the way home, I was so exhausted that I fell asleep. This is the race that Ellen Carroll blew past me like I was standing still and then rode a rock garden like a beast.  I had to walk it!  Seeing her do what she did is what inspired me to get my shit together so that I could be like her one day!  My hunger was insatiable.

In 2000, I upgraded my racing machine to the 2000 Specialized FSRxc, the unofficial beginning of the S-Works line.  I didn't care that it weighed 28 pounds; I felt even faster on this machine!


So pro, with the squiggly SID.

In 2002, the team started to get some home town recognition.

I am in the background, 7 months pregnant.

I remember the year I about killed my husband making him ride the Tour For Tots ride that the store put on to raise money for Christmas gifts for those kids less fortunate.  Carly was about 5 years old and on the Trail-A-Bike.  I was enjoying the hills, even when my little stoker was not stoking. On the other hand, Charlie was being a good husband and father and suffering like a dog.

And the time when I almost had a sub 3 hour 100K Ride For Life hosted in part by the store.  Joshua used to pedal back then and was a beast!  I remember saying to myself with about 10 miles to go, "Just hang on, you got this, don't pop now!"



I will cherish these forever.

I still have my first two team jerseys.  They "swallow" me now.  Had The Outdoor Store not existed, I wonder ... would I have still found mountain biking?  Or would I have taken up another sport?  Or would I have just vegetated on the couch eating Twinkies and drinking Diet Cokes?  I am so thankful for them opening up my eyes to this riding bikes thing.  I have seen so much because of them.  I have pushed my limits and then reset them innumerable times.  I have made good friends.  I have discovered new foods. I have gotten stronger.  All these things ... because of the impact The Outdoor Store made on me.


Before Swiftwicks were Swiftwicks, they were WickWear.

I have 3 pairs of these socks left.  They are 15 years old! A true testament to the quality of Swiftwick. The Outdoor Store was one of the first accounts the company had.


One of the original bottles.

I felt so loyal to this LBS that I purchased as much as I could through them.  One time I even cancelled a S-Works bike frame order with another bike shop because I felt guilty. Apparently after 15 years of being a Specialized dealer, The Outdoor Store wasn't good enough (not doing enough volume) to continue being an S-Works dealer. That was in 2010.  As a result of that guilt, Bruce became a Niner dealer, and I started riding them.

But with the days of on-line shopping, all small businesses are feeling it. I suppose that this is the evolution of shopping, but darn it, sometimes I wish we could go back to the days of Sears and Roebuck.  So when I stepped back into the store after we got back from our vacation, I got choked up.  Reality hit me hard when I saw 3 bikes left on the floor and racks devoid of product.

For me, I will move on and make a new LBS friend.  It will just mean traveling a bit further. I hope to find a new team that will treat me with as much kindness and respect as Pam and Bruce have.  For them, I wish all the happiness in their new endeavors.

Bruce was/is an amazing mechanic. I never once lost or DNF'd a race due to a mechanical.  He kept my machines in immaculate operating condition.  If he didn't know an answer to a problem, he would call until he found someone that did.  That will be my biggest headache; finding a new mechanic that I can entrust my "wheeled" kids to.  This is more serious than finding a new doctor, people!

And if you ever have a hankering for tinkering on some bad ass bikes, Bruce, my basement door is always open ...

Thanks for the memories!




Sunday, July 9, 2017

Butt'r Makes It Better ... And Bigger

Chamois Butt'r decided to go big earlier this year with the release of their 32 ounce pump style container in both the Original and Her versions.  I got my hands on this several months ago.  At $59.99 retail, it is a steal, especially when compared to some of the other top brands of chamois cream.

The first time I used the pump with a bottle of Chamois Butt'r Her, however, I was disappointed.  It took forever to get the product out.  I mentioned this to Curt Shelman, the man behind product development, when I hung out with the Chamois Butt'r crew during the Dirty Kanza 200.  We had a rather lengthy discussion about this new pump while pre riding the day before the race. He told me that it was possible that I just got a "bad apple," and to try another pump.  He also mentioned that the Her product had the highest viscosity of the 3 formulas (Original and Eurostyle being the other two). He wasn't totally satisfied with the pump, but at the time, it was the only one he could find that would fit the 32 ounce style of bottle they were using.

When I got back home, I swapped out pumps and indeed I had gotten a defective one. But, it still took 3-4 pumps to get out enough quantity sufficient to slather my chamois.




Fast forward to just last week when Curt sent me a brand new pump. This one has a stronger spring mechanism and will pump twice the volume (8 ml as compared to 4). Hallelujah!  This new pump is on steroids.  After I primed it by loosening the top and jabbing it up and down in the thick butt'r, I screwed it back on and with one pump had plenty to slather.  I pumped one more time for good measure and my nethers were in heaven.

I give 5 stars for this new pump.  If you have yet to try the Chamois Butt'r line of products, I double dare ya!  They were the first to develop chamois cream and have been doing so for 18 years.  The Her product kept me chafe free during the DK200 and the Dirty 130.





Friday, June 30, 2017

Dirty 130 ITT Report

After working for 3 days, getting up at 4 am on Thursday, and having an unfavorable HRV score, I was going to be in for a long full day of suffering.  But to us crazy bike addicts, we need this fix, and I am no different.   I love pushing my body and my mind.  I love discovering that I can exceed my perceived limits.

This route takes place in my "backyard."  I have ridden about 70% of this course, but in bits and pieces.  To do this all in one day, self-supported, required a bit of planning.  I used the same set up as for the Dirty Kanza 200, to which I added water purification tabs and some $$.





Bike:  Niner RDO RLT
Wheels:  Industry 9 Ultralite CX (23.5 mm internalwidth)
Tires: Maxxis Rambler 60tpi 40 mm front, 38 mm rear
Drivetrain:  SRAM Force CX1 with RaceFace Next SL crank, 10-42 cassette, and 34T chain ring
Bar:  Easton EC70 AX gravel bar (love the 16 degree flare, more control)
Seatpost:  Niner RDO
Seat:  Specialized S-Works Phenom
Pedals: Xpedo M Force 8 Ti

2 Revelate Design Mountain Feedbags and Oveja Negra TT bag

Topeak Mini Morph pump

2 King titanium cages in the frame and 1 on the fork

Backcountry Research strap holding 2 tubes, CO2, and tire levers

Gear I carried:  2 tubes, 1 CO2, 2 tire levers, 2 patches, Dynaplug kit, patch kit, 2 quick links, derailleur hanger, extra bit of chain, valve stem, multi-tool with chain breaker, lube, duct tape, zip ties, twistie ties, Chamois Butt'r Her single serve packets, water purification tabs, a shower cap, Presta to Shrader converter, and a Wet One (just in case I had to make additonal race weight).




Not knowing which stores might be open and what they offered (since I am celiac, my choices are limited) and knowing what my body fuels the best on, I carried all my calories. I also started my ride with 56 ounces of Skratch.  I love my Hand Up Gloves water bottles as they carry 28 ounces each.

- 7 gels, 1 of which was caffeinated
- Fizz electrolyte tabs
- 3 Honey Stinger gluten free waffles
- 1 Ally's Bar
- 1 RX bar
- 2 home made rice cakes
- 1 Honey Stinger chews


5:45 am start

Dawn was breaking as I left Kim's propery off of Greasy Creek Road.  I immediately began climbing on pavement.  Turning onto Kimsey Mountain Highway, which starts out as a rough paved unlined road. Around the 3-4 mile mark, I had my first dog encounter, a large Great Pyrenees, who was sleeping in the road (just tells you how traveled this road is).  I screamed at him in my most manly voice. He gave a half hearted chase for about 10 yards.  Nonetheless, it got my adrenaline going. The road turned to gravel in another mile or so.  After climbing for 10 miles and 3000 feet, I hit the ridgline just in time to watch the sun peak out from behind the mountains.  Spectacular.

Turning left onto Smith Mountain Road (FS 80), the gravel got chunkier and the road bed contained slabs of rock.  It was mostly downhill with a few rollers. One of the most technical descents of the day; glad I was fresh!

A right on McFarland Road (FS23) gave way to smooth gravel.  A couple miles on this and then I made a left on Lost Creek Road (FS103). Another fairly smooth road with minimal gravel.  One of my favorite gravel roads in this area as the climbs have a nice grade (4-6%) and have some rolling sections to keep the legs fresh.

28 miles in and I popped out onto Hwy 30 with a nice paved descent into Reliance.  I stopped at Webb Store,  Although they didn't open until 9 am, the bathroom door was open and I was able to refill my bottles, and re-Butt'r down under.  It was here that I filled up a 3rd bottle, for I knew I had a ways to go to get to Coker Creek.

I crossed the Hiwassee River bridge and took a left on Hambright Road (paved).  After a few miles, it then turns into an old abandoned 4 wheel drive trail with HUGE mud holes.  There is a railroad that parallels this section, and when I have ridden this in the past, I have used the railroad tracks to avoid this mudfest and the creek crossing which can be very deep.  But, for this ITT, one must take the trail, as it technically is illegal to travel on the tracks.  AND, which could ruin Kim's chances of getting the proper permits for a race in the future.


The beginning of the 4WD trail

Fortunately the creek was only mid-calf deep and the mud holes were mostly passable.  I did have to bushwack around 2 large ones that took up the whole trail.  And am now waiting to break with poison ivy!

Creek crossing and the trestle I used to walk across, back in the day.

Be wary of trying to ride the edge of these mud holes.  This mud is like peanut butter!  And they are deep enough to house a Loch Ness monster.

Just one of many mud holes along this 0.4 mile stretch.

Turning right onto Spring Creek Road (FS 27), I enjoyed the 4 mile flat smooth gravel that parallels the creek.  As I passed the gun range, which I have done a million times before, someone shot off what sounded like a cannon.  Scared the bejesus outta me!

Left onto Hwy 315 for a short ride on pavement over to Starr Mountain Road (FS 44).  It starts out with a short climb, followed by a short descent, and then a 3 mile grind to the ridge.  Well, it seems that everyone with a rear wheel drive vehicle decided to drive up this gravel in the week previous, as the road was chewed up; ALL the gravel was loose.  It was like climbing on marbles!  I was glad I had changed my ring from a 36 to a 34 as I was unable to stand without spinning out.

At the top, I pulled out my phone, since I knew I could get a signal.  I let my husband know I was 46 miles in and doing well.  I called Zeke as well.  After a short ridgeline ride, it was on to a super fun fast descent. I shot out onto Bullet Creek Road down to Hwy 315.  Left on 315, a short ride, and then right onto Ivy Trail Road.

Now, I was thinking that the "connectors" from 315 to 68 and then later on 68 to 315 were just going to be some rolling pavement.  Oh, no!  Ivy Trail went straight "the hell" up.  And this is where I said, "Good God!" the first of many times to come.  And when I thought I could go no higher, around the corner it continued UP.  Yeah, one of those roads. There were a few more paved roads (Towee Falls, Epperson, and Hot Water) before I crossed Hwy 68 over to Coker Creek Welcome Center.  I think I had another dog encounter somewhere along here.


About 12 pm and starting to get hot and sticky


At the welcome center, I was at mile 68.  I went inside to use their restroom and see what food they had to offer.  Don't put this on your list as a reliable source of nutrition.  There was a basket, maybe 2 feet by 1 foot.  In it was 10 tiny bags of chips, 10 packs of crackers, a few single serve packages of Oreos, and then about 20 mini size Milky Ways and Baby Ruths.  I did buy a few Baby Ruths, just because I used their facilities to refill my bottles.

After doing a mental calculation of my nutrition (200 kcal/hour) and water (20 ounces/hour), I was on track.  Having to pee was also a good sign. I set a 15 minute alert on my Garmin to remind me to drink and fuel. I turned on my phone to see if I could call my hubby with an update.  No service.

Joe Brown Hwy soon turned from pavement to gravel (FS40).  This was also another nice climb and shorter than I had remembered.  It was a small victory to see the sign for the Unicoi Multiuse Trail so quickly. Heading down the backside of Unicoi Gap was another fun, fairly smooth descent.  There was a lot of loose gravel in the corners, so I had to put my drifting skills to use.  Much harder on skinnies!

At the bottom, I took a right onto Shuler Creek Road (FS 1322) and enjoyed the 5 mile flat fast gravel over to the Buck Bald climb.  This also parallels a beautiful creek.  I used the easy miles to stretch out my upper back, particularly my left shoulder, that was beginning to ache.  I kicked it into a harder gear as I approached another potential dog(s). One gave a pretty aggressive chase, but I still had some energy to channel my inner Mark Cavendish.

Taking a right on Old Hwy 68 (FS 311), I began the 6 miles climb up to Buck Bald.  I love this climb, but I usually don't have 76 miles in my legs. Today, it was a grunt.  This is where I first felt some heavy fatigue in the legs.  Mentally, though, I was in a great state.  If you don't already know, the reward at the top is well worth it!


Never gets old!


The required selfie for proof of doing the 2 mile out and back.

The descent off Buck Bald down to Hwy 68 was quite chunky.  I felt a rear wheel rim hit and slowed it down a bit.  A short ride on Hwy 68 before turning left onto Bailey Road.  Trudy had warned me of the dogs here.  No joke!  Two large pit bulls who looked like they wanted to rip my throat out.  And it was on a climb, so I could not out sprint them.  I had prayed while descending down FS 311 about what I was about to encounter.  The last thing I wanted was to be taken out by a serious crash caused by a dog or getting bitten.  50 yards away and they saw me and started coming after me.  Off to my left in the middle of the road was a 4 foot rather stout tree limb.  I picked it up.  Stopped those two dogs dead ... in ... their ... tracks!  Apparently they knew what this object could do.  It got me safely by.  Note:  these dogs are on the left about a 1/2 mile after you turn left onto Bailey.

After this encounter, Bailey Road then shot straight up into the heavens. Good God!  How can it be uphill both ways? Meaning, from 315 to 68 seemed all uphill and now that I am going from 68 back to 315, I would expect more downhill.  I was now around mile 87 and found myself weaving back and forth on my 34 x 42! I turned left onto Duckett Ridge and was still climbing.  This soon turned to gravel (FS 22).  Guess what?  Still climbing!  Finally I hit the ridge and FS 22 suddenly became fun. Fast and rolling and then a great big descent!  I envisioned this descent carrying me all the way down to Childers Creek.  But soon I was greeted with 2, maybe 3 big ass kickers. Legs hurting, I struggled to maintain an RPM of 50 on these loose gravely climbs. Good God!

Eventually the whippings subsided and I had some rolling gravel and then pavement (Duckett Ridge, Fingerboard, Cox) over to Childer's Creek Road.  Mostly downhill, I saw mile 98 on my Garmin. When I hit the Childer's Creek-Powerhouse Road intersection, I made the decision to purify water out of the Hiwassee as opposed to the 0.5 mile out and back to the convenience store.  0.5 miles just sounded too long at this point in my journey.

There is a grunty little climb on Powerhouse before you descend down to the river.  This is then followed by 3-4 miles of pleasantly flat pavement.  I had a chance to look up at the sky and saw dark clouds in the distance.  There was a 30% chance of afternoon storms.  Even though it was hot, I did not want to have to dodge lightning bolts once I was back up on one of the highest points of the day's ride.  I stopped at the river put in, used their restroom, and filled 2 bottles out of the river.  The clouds appeared to be getting closer.  Well, nothing like a brewing storm to motivate me to push a bit harder.


This ought to be another required photo as it is just a cool pic to add to the FB page.


After crossing the suspension bridge, Smith Creek Road (FS236) greets you with a loose, marbly 3 mile climb with just enough false flats to question your sanity.  Good God!  This was a slog.  I was at mile 105 when I turned left onto McFarland Road (FS 23).  A nice 3 mile reprieve for the legs, but I knew what lay ahead.  I had made it a little bit easier in my mind by telling myself that this course is really only 120 miles, as the last 10 are all downhill.  So it did help at the moment, knowing I only had 15 to go.  But, it was mostly uphill, with one of the gnarliest gravel roads ahead.

As I began the final grueling climb on FS23, the rain started, light at first, but then it got to the point where I needed to put my shower cap on my helmet and my phone in my Ziploc.  Yes, a shower cap. It keeps the head dry and a dry head equals a warm head, which helps to keep the core warm.  And it keeps the rain from running into my eyes.  The rain subsided at the top.

Turning right onto Ditney Mountain Road (FS 66) I figured I had 7 miles to go to the final descent. This road is more like rugged rocky double track; definitely one where I would prefer a mountain bike.  The slabs of rock that stretched out across the road where wet and slick.  It was about 1000 feet of hard climbing (on very tired legs) in 5 miles.  Good God!  Halfway up, I took my phone out.  I had cell service so I called Zeke and Charlie.  Just beyond where I called, I came across a series of 8 downed trees.


My bike suddenly got heavy hoisting it over all these blow downs.

With about 2 miles left of FS 236, I heard thunder and then the heavens let loose.  The road was soon transformed into a creek.  That made for an interesting descent to FS 68.  Once on FS 68, I still had 4 miles of climbing left.  I was motivated to get finished before I got hypothermic. I rode those last 4 miles hard, not feeling the lactic in the legs, but feeling the adrenaline in my veins as it continued to thunder.  Thankfully I never heard nor saw a lightning strike.

Well, the motivator of the last 10 miles being "free miles" came to an abrupt end 1 mile into the descent.  The rain had let up, but the "smooth" road I had thought while riding up this section in the wee hours of the morning, had suddenly become very bumpy and rocky.  The rocks were now wet and the dirt sections were muddy.  The clouds had settled in, lowering the visibility.  I had also forgotten to eat anything in the past 90 minutes, so I bonked ... on a descent.  I got light headed and with all the jarring, thought my head was going to fall off.  I had to stop and take some food in.  After a couple minutes I felt like I wasn't going to pass out, so I got back on the bike.


Final descent, after the rain let up.


A few minutes later, I thanked my sponsor, Industry 9, for their buzzing hubs.  As I came around a corner, a rather large black bear was running down the road in front of me and then shot up the 30% grade hillside like a missile. I am pretty sure he heard me as he was running all out by the time I saw him.

The final descent took twice as long as I had thought.  Happy to hit the pavement, I knew the only obstacle that lay ahead was the Great Pyrenees.  Sure enough, he was there, but since I was going downhill, I blew by him before he could do anything.

I entered Kim's property at 6:40 pm.  My time was 12:54:03.  My Garmin said 128 miles and 15,700 feet of climbing.  It felt like a lot more climbing than that.  And, it was.  Topofusion calculated it at 130 miles and 18,271 feet.  I'm going with Topo.  Moving time was 12:11.

Kim Murrell did an awesome job laying out this course.  Beautifully brutal course with a mix of pavement, gravel, rugged gravel, and spectacular views.  The GPX file was correct and at no time did I worry I was off course.  I love the self supported nature of this event.  It is, by far, the hardest 1 day gravel event I have done.  In my book, it even trumps DK200.  Put it on your list, you crazy gravel ginding crack heads!

Final thoughts:  I had 5 dog encounters, just cannot remember all but the two I mentioned.  I suppose that is because they were the most aggressive.  Water is not a problem, food may be.

The start/finish on Kim's property is primitive, but beautiful.  And complete with a nice cool creek to soak your legs.


Friday, June 9, 2017

Dirty Kanza 200 Race Report

The Race

In 2006, Jim Cummins and his late friend Joel Dyke wanted to torture ... err, challenge racers to a self supported gravel race of epic proportions.  They mapped out one big loop of 200 miles.  34 showed up that year ... and Dirty Kanza was born.  Since then, the race has evolved into 4 distances: 25, 50, 100, and the premier 200 miles.  And it has gone from 34 entrants to 2300+!  Although Jim and his volunteer army of 150 work tirelessly to ensure an amazing experience, YOU ARE ON YOUR OWN.  No race organization support is provided.  There are three checkpoints, each roughly 50 miles apart, in a town.  It is up to you to either have a support team to meet you at the CP's and provide the necessary assistance and refueling or sign up for the crew-for-hire services from the Never Let Go Fund. They provide support crew services to you and the proceeds go to support their mission of helping families battling childhood cancer.

Pre Race Festivities

The town of Emporia rolled out the red carpet for the racers.  There were tons of activities in the 3 days leading up to the race.  Group rides, a concert, an outdoor expo, Q & A sessions, and new this year was the #200women200miles initiative.  After a lackluster number of women participants in the past, this year, even though the race sold out in less than 2 minutes, 200 spots were held for women for the 200 mile distance.  Those spots sold out in 24 hours. Throughout the months leading up to the event, the organization helped women prepare by having clinics and training camps.  The day before the race, there was a round table event for the women held in the Granada theater and was also on FB live. Now this is how to empower women to race their bikes without feeling out of place or intimidated!

Also unique to this year, the premier of Blood Road was shown at the theater on Friday afternoon. This documentary was about Rebecca Rusch's quest to ride her bike along the Ho Chi Minh trail and find where her father went down in his A4 during a bombing mission in the Vietnam War.  I watched it and tears were shed.  I highly recommend this, not just because it involves cycling, but gives a different perspective of that war.


Got caught taking a selfie!

My lead up to race day

I was a bundle of nerves.  My competition was not the other women, but the course and Mother Nature.  My goals were 1) to finish, and 2) to "beat the sun."  I was jonesing for the Race to the Sun Patch, which, in order to receive, one must finish by 8:45 pm.  The start was at 6 am, so that gave me almost 15 hours. I knew I could do the distance, but was worried about the time. I checked my weather app no less than 100 times. I've heard horror stories about the course, especially if it rained.  Peanut butter mud that would gom up wheels and rip derailleurs off. And the weather forecast was not looking good ... initially. Heck, even as close as 48 hours prior, there was a 50% chance of storms.  And I had heard the winds could be steady at 15-20mph.

If you know me, I was very much prepared.  In my resupply bags, I had ample nutrition, a change of clothes and shoes, rain gear, extra lights, and a spare "everything" for my bike. On the bike, I carried all the necessary supplies and tools to fix any problem that I was mechanically capable of. Registration was fun!  From the local girl scout troop giving us free boxes of cookies to efficient lines to the overwhelming amount of schwag, I was in and out in less than 10 minutes.

Zeke and I stayed at the Emporia State University dorms.  The University was kind enough to house and feed us for $135/person for 3 nights.  We were only a 2 minute pedal from the start.  There was a microwave in the lobby so that I could brew my Christopher Bean coffee and reheat the meals I had prepared.  I would definitely stay there again.

Race day I woke up at 4am.  After fueling up on CBC Caramel Macchiato with honey, a banana, and a Honey Stinger waffle, I checked my bike over one more time and pedaled over to Commercial Street. The butterflies were swarming and with a few minutes to spare, I meandered over to the Porta-John where there was amazingly no line to make race weight.

To mentally get through the day (and possibly night), I broke the 200 up into 4 50 mile races.  It is much easier to focus on a 50, which I do all the time.  I just had to do 4 in a row!

Race #1: Emporia to Madison, 48 miles, 2400 feet gain (Free Speed!)

I positioned myself on the start line around the 10th row.  I knew I needed to stay up front to increase my chances of avoiding any crazy stupid situations that almost always arise as the race goes from a controlled start to letting loose the hounds of hell.  The first few miles were quite pleasant as 1150 racers made their way out of town under police escort.  With no yellow line rule in effect, I did not have to battle for position with elbows extended.  The pace was perfect, allowing the engine to slowly come to life. I felt there was no need for a pre race warm up. Once we hit gravel, the race began. It was fast! The dust was thick and tiny rocks were getting kicked up in my face. Not wanting to have to see the dentist upon my return home, I kept my mouth shut and teeth covered.

Knowing that I could most likely sustain this effort for 50 or even 100 miles, but definitely not 200, I fell back into the 3rd, or 4th group. There was a quote from Rebecca Rusch that stuck in my mind. She was once asked by a racer why she started so slow ... to which she responded, "Why do you finish so slow?" In my new contingent of racers, I was comfortably able to manage a pace that would last.

As I had heard stories of, soon racers began having flats.  In my best estimate, I would say 1 flat per mile.  That made me nervous.  And for the most part, it was like I had read about:  just after a descent, riding through a wet or dry creek bed where the sharp rocks were more exposed.  I took no chances and eased my way through these crossings, often times scrubbing some speed and watching those ahead to see which lines were best.  And saying one of my mantras: float like a butterfly.

Midway through, I caught up to Jill Martindale.  She was her usual bundle of joy.  I filled up on her bubbliness while we made our way to CP1 in Madison. I had set my GPS timer to go off every 15 minutes in order to remind myself to drink each time and eat something every other time. This worked wonderfully for me throughout the race.  The first segment flew by quickly as the peloton worked like a well oiled machine.  As we approached town, the pace quickened, racers eager to get to their crew, re supply, and begin the next 50.  There was a nice little kicker leading up to the checkpoint at the local high school that blew the peloton apart.

Once at the checkpoint, madness ensued.  Imagine trying to find your support crew among 700! They had broken up the area into 5 colors to try to make it a bit easier.  I was looking for yellow.  Luckily, I had full support from the Chamois Butt'r team and finding them was fairly easy. As I pulled into my area, I was immediately assisted by Mitzi, Steve's wife (CEO of Chamois Butt'r) and her son.  While I wiped down my chain and applied lube, they refilled my 2 bottles (I had ridden with 3, but only drank 2).  I was feeling great and had no issues.  As a final act, I also "re lubed" my taint with, but, of course, Chamois Butt'r!

Race #2 Madison to Eureka, 56 miles, 3200 feet gain (The Road to Nowhere)

Headed out, the pack had thinned and I found myself alone.  That was fine, as I was blessed to not have to fight against the typical Kansas headwinds.  At the most it was only 10mph. The temps were still cool and the legs were still in great shape.  I had managed to keep my heart rate in the high 140's in the first 50 miles, which for me is in the aerobic range.  I still had plenty of gas in the tank and my nutrition was spot on.  As I pedaled, I took the time to look around and gaze at the beauty of the Flint Hills and the boundless prairie.  With the abundance of rain, the grasses were green and wildflowers were everywhere!  The terrain became hillier and evidence of man's existence became less.

C. Heller Photography: 2017 DK200 Race Day &emdash;


After awhile I came upon a rider with a Lauf kit utilizing a Lauf fork. We traded pulls and eventually got collected up in a small group. It turned out that he was the owner of the company. Needless to say, he was faster on the descents, but I always caught him on the climbs. Eventually the rubber band broke and he fell back.

There were just as many racers off their bikes on the edge of the road as in the first segment, but this time they were not changing flats, but taking nature breaks.  Fortunately for me, my urinary tract is able to "shut down" during a race of even this magnitude.  Otherwise, I might have caused a crash or two, as there were no trees to hide behind.

As I made my way to Eureka, the group's dynamics would change as some decided to surge ahead, new riders would join, and some would pop off the back.  I did my fair share of pulling, to which I believe most appreciated. Of course, I did not provide much draft, so at times, the second in line would come around and that was o.k. by me.  But there was one dude that I felt did not like the idea of being helped by a woman, because I tried twice to pull him, to which he responded by quickly whipping back around me and then trying to break away.  What ... ever!  I just laughed under my breath and went along my merry way.  After a couple hours, he was reeled back into the group, shuttled to the back, and then promptly popped off, never to be seen again. Karma!

Around mile 90, I was fortunate to become part of a large group that hammered the last 10 into Eureka.  I met another female Chamois Butt'r rider, Jamie, who was looking strong.  We chatted for a bit, but our conversation ended when the front half decided to ramp it up even more.  I let them go, as those speeds were too much for me.  Knowing from experience, I needed happy legs for the next leg, which is around the time that I usually hit my low spot in a race of this distance.  I still had a nice little group for the final 5 miles into the checkpoint.

Entering the Eureka High School, I heard my crew yelling at me before I saw them.  This time, none other than Mr. Chamois Butt'r himself, Steve Matthews, was there.  He and Zeke took over my Niner RLT RDO and busied themselves getting my chain all cleaned and lubed up as I had my 3 bottles refilled by Mitzi.  Once again, I applied more Chamois Butt'r.

Race #3 Eureka to Madison, 58 miles, 3200 feet gain (Chamois Butt'r Pain Train)

With another quick transition, I was back on the bike and back to grinding.  I've been told that this is the hardest, so I mentally prepared myself to enjoy the pain that was about to ensue.

As I pedaled up the road, I saw two Chamois Butt'r riders.  I pushed hard for a few minutes and made it up to them:  Elliot and Jad.  Little did I know at the time, but these guys would make the last half of my race a memorable one.  Others joined over the next few miles and pretty soon we had a decent pack. Talking with them, I learned that this leg was the longest and most demanding.  It was also going to be in the hottest part of the day.  I was glad that I had added a fourth bottle at the last check point.

Jad was a powerhouse and perfectly built for these endless miles of mild grade rollers.  He looked like a defensive end.  He could motor on the flats for miles, bomb the descents and drop everyone, and was surprisingly strong on the climbs.  And he did a fine job of blocking the wind! Elliot was tall and lanky and rode a consistent pace like I.  For the most part, I stayed with them on this leg.  There were a couple times when I ended up by myself; once when the guys had to take a nature break and once when I just broke free on a climb.  I enjoyed the "alone" time, as the winds were not too bad and it gave me some time to think about the ride, the beauty of Kansas, and just how blessed I was to be happy, healthy, and able to conquer a feat of this magnitude.


Not like the "hills" of Tennessee, but still hurt the same, especially around mile 120.

The alone time would end when I would be swallowed up by the group, being led by the Jad The Destroyer. 2-4 pm was the hottest, but I could see rain off in the distance, which helped with cloud cover, and kept it cooler than what was predicted for the day: mid to upper 70's as opposed to the mid 80's.  The humidity was also low as I noticed that I was not sopping in sweat.  However, there was one 1 mile section near some houses where ground up asphalt had been laid down for dust control. This black gravel radiated the heat and it was sweltering!  And deep!  My tires sunk and instantly I had to turn up the wattage.  That was an SOB, for sure!

Along the way, I caught up to Tiffany.  She was motoring along on her Specialized Epic with skinnies.  I was most impressed with her position for not only her bike choice but what little preparation she was able to do, you know, because of ... life.  I then caught up to Desiree, the one who I battled for the Single Speed Marathon National Championship. She called me out, as she was single speeding and I was "cheating."  I laughed, but gravel and single speeding are like oil and vinegar, for me, at least.

Along this leg, the course had been re routed due to an impassable river.  Members of the local jeep club were along this section, to ensure we stayed on course.  Even given this, I was still a bit unnerved as my GPS would scream at me every few minutes that I was "off course."  After 8 hours of racing, your mind can begin to play tricks on you and staying focused can be difficult.  The self doubting left me, however, once I got back on the original course.

About this same time, I developed a case of sour stomach.  This is when your GI tract begins to rebel at processing and your food just sits there and nothing happens.  And which is why I carry along a plain bottle of water.  When I get a case of this, diluting it out with water is the trick for getting back on track. I also have to slow the pace little as well, which can be frustrating.  But, I know, this must be done, in order not to completely shut down.  After 90 minutes, I was feeling much better.

C. Heller Photography: 2017 DK200 Race Day &emdash;


But then my feet began to develop hot spots.  My left big toe and the outside of my left foot felt like they were on fire, a searing pain.  I actually looked down at my foot expecting smoke.  It lasted for 20 minutes and then ... just ... left.  I dunno!

I began to notice fatigue setting in at mile 150.  The legs began to get a little achy, and a fog began to develop in my mind.  I felt myself looking less at the landscape and more at the ground in front of me, or if I was lucky enough to find another racer, at their rear wheel.  I became less talkative and just more concentrated at turning the pedals over.  Checking my nutrition and my fluids, I had more on the bike than in the body.  So I focused on eating/drinking a little more, hoping to shake off this feeling of emptiness.

Those 12 miles to the third checkpoint seemed to last forever.  Finally, my tires hit pavement. Rolling into downtown Madison (CP 3 was at a different location than CP1), I began to look for the yellow flag.  Two riders just ahead of me stopped dead in front of me.  I had to lock up the brakes to avoid a collision.  What were they thinking?!?  I suppose they were in the same fatigue induced stupor that I was.

I rode onwards and at the end of the town still did not see my support vehicle.  Slightly panicked, I saw some Chamois Butt'r people and asked where Zeke was.  I was told to backtrack a couple hundred yards to yellow (they had been mistakenly put in orange). Turning around and pedaling back, I saw Zeke jumping up and down and waving his arms. My spirits instantly lifted when I saw my "gravel trail angel"!

While I grabbed more food and refilled just 3 bottles for the final segment, Zeke worked on the chain again, cleaning and applying more lube.  My bike was in great shape, but with the few muddy creek crossings and all the dust, I wanted to make sure that my drive train was as quiet and efficient as possible.  Once again, a healthy dose of Chamois Butt'r applied to the appropriate region!

Race #4 Madison to Emporia, 45 miles, 2100 feet gain (Shut Up Legs!)

"Only 45 to go, you got this!" I told myself.  And I noticed that for the most part, it would be a tailwind all the way.  I managed to hook back up with Jad and another racer that I had seen off and on the entire race. His name was Paul and he was riding a Why gravel bike.  I asked him if he was the owner as a good friend of mine, Kim, also rode a Why bike and absolutely loves it.

As racers slowly came together, our group grew.  We were all tired, but were smelling the barn.  The roads became a little flatter and smoother and the pace picked up.  This is where I entered the pain cave.  It was either work hard and go fast with the group or work hard and go slow alone.

It stayed this way for the first half.  But then, some faster riders latched on and our group doubled in size.  The speeds picked up even more.  I ended up in the very back, the place not to be.  For whenever there was a minor change of speed up front, by the time it got back to me, it became a huge power surge for me to not get gapped.  I fought this battle for 5 miles before I popped.  I was alone, but at least the tailwind was still present.  I was still in a relative happy place because I knew I would accomplish my race day goals. My case of the "hot feet" flared up off and on during this final segment. The pain was almost unbearable, but I began to have other pains that distracted me from the awful foot pain.  My left wrist and left shoulder helped me to take my mind off my miserable feet.

So I trudged along on my alone for quite some time.  Then I began to see a couple riders on the horizon.  As I continued to pedal, they got closer.  I recognized them as part of the group that I had popped off of.  Apparently their rubber bands had snapped as well. Soon we formed a trio:  Paul, a NBA-tall dude (so tall he made his cross bike looked like a 26'r), and I.  We worked together over the next 5 miles and then were joined by 2 more riders who had come upon us.   They upped the pace a little and my legs were all like,"Go away, we don't want to play with you."  But soldier on I did.

Closing in on the final few miles, we began scooping up solo riders. One was a woman whom I remember passing after the second checkpoint.  When she saw me, her eyes widened and she got squirrely. Paul noticed this and motioned for me to hop on his tail.  He pulled me back up to her and then pulled off to the side.  I guess he wanted to see some racin'!  I laughed and told him that I didn't want to race anymore, just finish.  But ... I hopped on her wheel anyway.  I didn't think she was in my class as she looked really young.  What the hey!  I decided to play with her, though.  Don't judge me. After 204 miles and 13 + hours, I figured I earned a game of cat and mouse.  No matter what, I was going to let her win.  I just wanted to show her that she could muster up some power in the final few minutes.  And perhaps help her to realize that the tank is never truly empty (something I learned at Marathon Nationals).  So I chased her until we hit the hill up to the university.  Once she opened the gap, I sat down and let her go.

Rolling down Commercial Street to the finish, thousands of people were present!  The cheers were overwhelming.  I hi-fived so many kids my right hand stung!  Crossing the finish line, the announcer called my name out.  Jim, the race director, shook my hand and gave me my Race The Sun patch and finisher's glass.  I later heard that he personally greeted every ... single ... finisher.  Another memorable moment was when Rebecca Rusch gave me a great big hug!  She had raced the 100, finished 2nd overall, got cleaned up, and then proceeded to be a part of the big celebration by welcoming the 200's back. What an inspiring athlete and person!  Steve Mathews was there as well to congratulate his tribe.

Once I dismounted, I guess my body realized that it was done working, and began to shut down.  I hobbled over to the side walk and then sat down in pure exhaustion.


That is the face of "I love racing my bike for 206 miles."

I want to give a big shout out to Jad, Elliot, and Paul for giving me shelter from the wind for a good portion of the day.  It definitely made this experience that much more enjoyable.  I cannot fathom trying to go at this beast alone. And to the Chamois Butt'r team for taking me under their wing and making me feel #sopro.

It was not until an hour later I learned that I had finished 3rd in my age group (40-49) and 10th overall.  Which got me thinking.  What could I manage with a little more specific training?  Future food for thought.

What an adventure!  I had always thought of Kansas as flat farmland with nothing more than rows upon rows of corn and wheat.  But the beauty of the Flint Hills was breathtaking. I did not even mind seeing gravel road upon gravel road rolling to the distant horizon.  And the countryside was so clean!  No dirty diapers, discarded mattresses or refrigerators.  I did see an old tire or two, though.


Icing on the cake!

Interesting Facts

# of chasing dogs: 0
% of women finishing the 200:  80.4 (record)
% of men finishing the 200:  84.3 (record)
# of women in all distances:  410 (record)
# of riders beating the sun:  399 (record)

The Gravel

As best as I can remember, I would say that there were 5 types of road surfaces.

1.  Asphalt.  5 % of the course
2. Hard packed gravel.  45% of the course. Smooth and close to "asphalt fast".
3. Loose and semi-deep gravel.  30% of the course.  One lane wide with 2 distinct tracks to ride in. As long as you stayed in the track, all was good.  Stray off the track and you could get squirrely.
4. Rocky base B road. 10% of the course.  Large slabs of rock in areas.  Lots of sharp flint.  The most technically demanding.
5. Black dirt base B road. 10% of the course. Hard packed ruts from tractor traffic.  And if it rains, turns to hellish mud.