Appalachian Journey Long Doggie Race/Ride Report

300+ miles of gravel in Floyd County, Virginia

The Appalachian Journey was long overdue.  Covid put a hold on this duo format (team mates had to stay within 5 minutes of each other) gravel race for two years.  This race was the brainchild of SS Slugger Gordon Wadsworth and Deadly Shredly Emily Hairfield).  I signed up for the inaugural version and was so so glad to finally see it on the calender for this year.  There were 3 distances: 35, 65, and 110. 

My training plan had been fine tuning my engine and I was ready to rumble with my good friend John Switow, who wasn't skeert to tackle another BDR with me. Having made it two years without nary an illness, including Covid, of course I would be full body tackled by a head cold the week leading up to the race. I did everything in my power to recover quickly; Vitamin C, Zinc, all the protein, and lots of rest.  I felt pretty good when I checked out the first 5 miles of the course on Friday, but that may have said more about the 17mph tailwind than my actual recovery.

Race day morning came early: 7:30am was go time and it was cold  (26 degrees F). Knowing I had the option to shed and drop clothing at the 3rd aid station, I wore all the layers (heavy wool base, arm/leg warmers, wind jacket, and chemical warmers sandwiched in between two layers of gloves, and chemical warmers in my shoes). 

5, 4, 3, 2, 1 ... GO!  The race started out on a descent followed by two sketchy loose gravel turns. I rode cautiously, but fortunately everyone played nice. The first two climbs were spicy: steep and loose. That got my engine warm real quick.  But still cold enough that my fingers froze and I would not feel them again for a couple hours.

The country gravel roads of Virginia are amazingly beautiful but narrow: about 1-1/2 car widths wide.  So extra caution was necessary when taking the blind turns as it is even easier to become a hood ornament here as opposed to back home in Tennessee.

The first 10 miles or so went by at a comfortably hard pace.  The contending teams slowly pulled away from us, but I knew that the day would be long, so I did not get caught up in the early race fast pace pressure. I was feeling good. If I didn't burn any matches early on, I felt confident we would eventually see them again.   

The early morning sun was creating a serious strobe light effect on the roads, making it difficult to see any pot holes or road debris. John and I took turns pulling, as the pack had thinned out and we were essentially on our own.  We didn't say much as it was still too cold to talk; it didn't get out of the 30's until 10am. 

Just one of a hundred vistas 

At mile 16 was Aid Station #1.  We deferred as we had ample nutrition and hydration still aboard.  The route continued to roll up and down on Virginia's high plateau.  For most of the day, the elevation was between 2300 and 2700 feet.  At one point, I jokingly said to John that if I ended up not having a good race, I would use the altitude as an excuse.

At mile 28 was the first of two big descents of the day. At two miles and 1000 feet of loss, it was steep, twisty, and was icy in spots.  I felt like I was crawling down it, but it was too early in the race to take risks.  After all that descending, the legs barked when the first sustained climb of the day began just a few minutes later.  Climbing 900 feet in 4.5 miles,  I knew it would take a minute or so for the climbing legs to come back.  But ... the check engine light came on 1/2 way up. Uh Oh!  I was not getting enough compression to move the cylinders.  Come on legs!  I stood and pedaled thinking that perhaps using the muscles a different way would help.  But nope!  Legs were dying.

I stayed positive and added some more fuel to the tank.  I always have low moments, but usually not this early in the race (2 1/2 hours in).  I stayed focused and patiently waited for them to start firing again.  At the top was the second aid station (mile 35).  We stopped and I filled one of my bottles and grabbed some Gu's.  This was the Chamois Butt'r Aid Station and they had ALL the fixin's, including bacon!  As much as I wanted to throw down some, I knew better. My engine woulda definitely sputtered on a two stroke fuel mix.

Better than Cracker Barrel 📷: Bruce Buckley

The next few miles were mostly downhill on Lick Ridge Road.  I had thoughts of licking my wounds (lack of power), hoping that would make things better for the second big climb soon to come.  Last thing I wanted was to disappoint John, but he would later tell me that he was on the struggle bus as well.

Trying to keep the spirits high

The second sustained climb started at mile 43:  4 miles and 1300 feet of gain.  I was feeling better, dare I even say frisky!  Those two Gu shots plus the eye candy on this climb was all I needed to feel better.  However, John was in a dark place here, so while I settled into my pace, I did begin to whip out my phone and start taking pictures.  It was at this point that I decided to let the race go, and turn this into a wonderful ride.  

Fisher's View Road Climb

Once on top, it rolled for a bit and then we were greeted to a 5 Mile Mountain Distillery oasis. Knowing the "race" was over, there was no better time to "fall off the wagon," and enjoy some small batch moonshine.  I selected the Elderberry and the first went down so smooth, I had a second!  Man, how I could have used that a few hours ago to warm my belly!

This ... was ... amazing!

Aid Station 3 (mile 53) was run by Cardinal Bicycle Company.  This was where our drop bags were.  We refilled bottles and stripped some layers off (it was finally warm 'ish at 12:30pm). I  ate a banana and grabbed a couple more gels.  I opted to just use their hydration (Gu Roctane) to fill my bottles, but just in case, I diluted it 50/50.  Thank goodness I did because the first taste I had was whoppingly potent!  Full strength woulda been like syrup! While John continued to stuff his shed layers into his 1 gallon ZipLoc, I soft pedaled away and took a pee break.

Plenty of bike parts but no spare legs.

So here is when the course began to test my mettle.  At 60 miles in (with 50 to go), it was "death by a thousand kickers!"  The course profile resembled a shark's mouth.  My earlier "friskiness" turned into a death march.  John was right there with me in misery.  Had it not been for the "eye candy" it would have been easy to pull the plug and call Mommy.  But wait, there was no Mom van to rescue us.  We were in this to the bitter end.  Fortunately the absolute beauty of the countryside helped keep our minds off the pain and enjoy the beauty of Floyd County.

Up, Up, Up

Several of these kickers hit 22-23% grade!  On one of them a photog was at the top.  I had been contemplating walking, but then I looked up and saw him.  Oh, hell no!  He was all the motivation I needed to make it up that sum bitch!

📷: Bruce Buckley

All these short steep AF punchy climbs were beginning to take their toll.  After the 343rd one, I stopped and waited on John.  As he rolled up, he mumbled something about needing a gel.  I heard him, so when I saw him hand me a Gu Liquid Energy, in my oxygen deprived state, I thought he wanted me to open it for him.  So I did, all the while watching him pull out some shot blocks and stuff them into his pie hole.  Then we motored on; shortly thereafter, I asked him how that gel tasted.  He replied, "I didn't eat it; I put it back in my saddle bag."  Whoops!  I told him I opened it for him to which his reply was an expletive.  Why he handed it to me was so I could take a look at it because we had talked about this new gel in the drive up to Virginia.  Well, now it was leaking all over his other saddle bag items.  And in the dog house I went!

Aid Station 4 came at the 85 mile mark.  It was being run by a bakery ... OMG!  Too bad so sad I have celiac or I would have lingered for awhile sampling the delicious treasures.  So while John partook of the smorgasbord, I looked at my Garmin:  11, 000 feet of gain so far.  Wait one minute!  That number was supposed to be for the full 110 miles.  We still had 25 to go!  Can I raise the white flag please?

But as John hopped back on his bike, I remembered something he told me way back when we did the Fried Clay 200K:  you always have 25 miles left in ya!  O.k. let's do this, then!  Even though a good majority of the remaining 25 was pavement, it still hurt!  I remember thinking that I felt slower on the pavement as opposed to the gravel.  Anyway these last 25 felt like time and space were disconnected:  I was in slow motion yet time was moving at 2X.

Views like this helped greatly with mindset.

It was hard to enjoy the last 10 or so miles.  All I wanted was to be DONE.  John, too.  His legs mutinied on a climb, locking up, and he had to walk a 100 yards or so before they went away.  Fortunately it was a one and done with cramping for him. Finally we saw the left hand turn onto the last 2 miles that we initially came out on 10 hours ago.

Two more kickers, just for good measure, and then we were crossing the finish line.  What a hard fought day.  Although we both struggled, fortunately when one of us was down, the other was up.  And together we helped each other cross that finish line smiling!  If it was easy, it wouldn't be fun.  You get to know your true self and your partner during your darkest moments. Needless to say, John is one positive dude!

Today was not about the competition but about the camaraderie.  And I enjoyed every minute of John's company.  But I did have a few small victories:  cleaning that hellacious climb and a hub deep creek crossing and becoming the local legend of this 😂😂😂

Thank you Gordon and Emily for showing us, challenging us, and allowing us to enjoy the riches of your backyard.  Can't say I will do it again, but give me a day or two to feel human again.

For those of you contemplating this one, you will not be disappointed.  Good schwag, good food, and a well marked gorgeous course (I could have done it without the GPS). The gravel/dirt roads were for the most part very smooth.  Occasionally some washboards, but no wash outs or holes of death.  I ran 40mm tires which were perfect.  

Southern Cross Race Report -- Chaperoning Jayden Randall

Once again, I would be hanging (tongue out, eyes bulging) with Jayden as she raced the 30 mile junior event.  I was happy that Lisa had asked me to do so.  After warning me that Jayden was much stronger this year, I opted to race my SuperCaliber.  Last year, riding my gravel bike, I was just barely able to hang onto her wheel on the descents.

Mother Nature blessed us with 54 degrees at the start, although misty and overcast.  Mass starts were in effect again and Lisa would be leading us in her vehicle in a neutral roll out -- hmmph!  I, along with all the other adult chaperones, were immediately dropped along the winery roads.  It took me 4 miles to finally catch up to Jayden; granted, I wasn't going all out, but I was definitely pushing a hard tempo.  I think next year, the chaperones should have a 5 minute head start.

During the initial rolling gravel leading to Winding Stair, I could tell Jayden was not firing on all cylinders.  I encouraged her to eat/drink, in case it was a nutrition thing.  But as we made our way up Winding Stair, her engine began to sputter.  It was killing me that I could not do a darn thing to help, other than to keep the conversation positive.  Maybe she went to hard initially and burned a couple matches; I had told her the night before that if she could draft off others on the initial pavement (without going above comfortably hard), she could get some free speed.  Perhaps she overdid it,  or maybe it was just all that bike fun she had in Florida, the week prior to SX week.

Once we hit the rollers leading over to Cooper's she came alive a little more. Especially on the descents.  Whoa Nelly, that girl can send it!  Jayden made good time over to Cooper's Gap.  Just before the descent began, I told her to take a gel and then have fun and send it hard!  Now last year, I was fearful for her safety;  this year, I wasn't worried about her, but about me.  It was all I could do to keep up with her.  She was crushing it, passing several men and boys in the process.  Thank goodness for full suspension and 2.2 tires.  Cooper's was rough and even more blown out than last year.

The final pavement miles back to the winery were hard.  Had she been on her game, I definitely would have been in the pain cave. Jayden finished off the last half mile of trail, crossed the creek like a pro, and pushed it up the grassy hill, to finish in 3rd with a time of 2:29:45.  Despite Jayden having a rough day, her time was the same as last year.  Had she been on her game, I would have been a hurtin' buckaroo.

If I am asked to do this again next year, I might have to put it in my training plan as an "A" race.

Well done, Jayden.  You gritted it out, and for that, you are one tough chica!😬🙀🙀🙀🙀

Snake Creek Gap TT (34 Mile) Race Report

18th year of racing The Snake

During the month of January, I began 3 big endeavors to start off my 2022 training with a bang.  I did a Whole 30 (no added sugar, no grains, no dairy, no legumes, no alcohol for 30 days), I entered a competition with my local gym from January 5 through February 4 where you could get points for certain actions you completed/accomplished, and I began the first month of structured training with my new coach, Mike Schultz.  I felt as fit as a fiddle the morning of The Snake.

So why was my mindset so shitty, as I was riding the shuttle to the start?  No butterflies or screaming eagles in my gut, just a sense of dread.  Like I was going to work on a Monday morning.  Two things, perhaps.  One being doubting myself, that despite all my preparation the past month, I was still going to "fail."  And the second being the fact that Charlie, my husband, was 9 days post open heart surgery, and while he was recovering at home with a sawed through sternum now held together by stainless steel wires, I was going to play bikes and have fun.  He gave me his blessing to race, but still I felt some sense of guilt.

I finally HTFU'd myself into giving my all and leaving it all on the trail ... the past two weeks of worry, frustration, anger, and guilt.  Like a cowboy rides the wildness out of a freshly broke mustang, I was going to ride all of these emotions right out of me.  Because if I was bleeding out of my eyeballs, I could not think about anything else, especially reality, if only for 4 hours.

The temperature at the start is ALWAYS the coldest place in Georgia.  30 stinkin' degrees.  It was 42 in Dalton where I got on the shuttle.  With no warm up, I could only imagine the barking my legs would do when it was go time.  But surprisingly as I blasted off the start pedaling like a character in a cartoon, my legs played nice.  I went as fast and hard as I could, wanting so desperately to warm up.  This was as close to "sparkly" as I have been since I cannot remember when.  Awesome.  My mindset pegged the positive side of the mental tachometer.

I caught up to Angie on the fire road climb.  We chatted a bit, although she did most of the talking as most of my focus was getting oxygen into the lungs.  I dialed it back a notch, as I needed to save every match for Dug Gap.  I slowly pulled away from her and eventually got a clear path ahead of me into the single track.  Riders were very respectful as I made my way around them.  The trail was in primo condition; no mud, great traction, and fast!

I was so so happy that the legs were on fire ... in a good way.  Having to reign myself back in was a good sign that I was reaping the benefit of last month's training.  Losing the chocolate bon bon butt and sugar baby Buddha gut also helped when hitting the climbs.

My friend from last month, Mr. SuperTuck, caught up to me on Horn Mountain.  He apologized once again for last month's little mishap, and we reminisced about it.  I let him and his friend around once at the top of the climb, as they were getting much too talkative.  They needed to motor on at a higher pace than mine.

The descent down to Snake Creep Gap parking lot was WAY funner this month.  With the leaves gone, it made for a cleaner and safer ride down at speed.  I rolled into the aid station 14 minutes faster than January.  And was still feeling great! I dropped my CamelBak, grabbed a bottle, took a caffeinated gel, and headed up Mill Creek Mountain.

Now, all I wanted was to catch a glimpse of Lisa.  I know she started before me, but not sure by how much.  She was the one to beat, and I was sure she was going to go sub-4. She was my carrot, but it is hard to push harder if you cannot see the carrot.

Swamp Creek was rideable, and the double track up to the Middle Mountain ridgeline was firm and fast.  I was feeling frisky and was able to repeatedly stand and hammer to the top.  Looking at my Garmin, I was hoping to hit the single track at 2 hours and 45 minutes.  That would leave me 1:15 to finish sub-4, which I thought was definitely doable.

I pushed as hard as I could on the final single track stretch.  But, lawdy! I could tell I was having a good ride as I was quite gassed on the steeper climbs.  I opted to hop off and hike hard on several, as I knew I would make better time.  Thank goodness for all the training runs, as it definitely paid off during the HAB's.  I was much more efficient and could save my legs for when the terrain flattened out.

Hitting the "gunsight pass" section, it was gonna be close to a sub-4.  I let it go on the double track descent to the pavement!  Stood and hammered up the pavement roller and then tucked in for a free fall descent down to the Snake Pit.  Came under the banner in a time of 4:03:25 (second half I was 17 minutes faster).  Now the waiting began.  I did see Lisa pedaling around the parking lot as I finished.  So I couldn't have been too far behind ... but was it enough?

I went to my truck and immediately called Charlie to check on him.  He was just fine, having had lunch, and was getting ready to nap.  Whew!  I was glad nothing bad happened in my absence. I was in a good space; all those emotions I was going through this morning were scattered over the rocks of the Pinhoti:  good riddance!

I cleaned up and then headed over to see the results.  Lisa came up to me and congratulated me.  I barely squeaked out the win.  I thought for sure she had a sub-4 and that it would be the time to beat.  I was super happy with my effort, having gone as hard as I could.  

Rescue Racers go 1, 2!

Another big shout out to the #snaketamer Jameson Keith.  At 10 years old, he earned the buckle and took 1 3/4 hours off his January time.  I am so so proud of this young man, who dug deep, entered the pain cave, and exited with a huge victory!

Jameson's drive inspires me.

Snake Creek Gap TT (34 Mile) Race Report

 

True to its nature, Saturday morning turned out to be brrrr! cold, with a starting temperature of 24 degrees.  And with the previous rains, the course would be squishy.  After the longest bus ride ever, I arrived at the start at 8:10.  At least I did not have to stand in line and shiver awaiting the start.  As soon as I had signed in, took one last pee, dropped my SAG bag, I headed to the line.  This year, it was all about comfort.  I had ALL the layers and had invested $150 in a pair of battery operated gloves.  I was NOT getting cold and I was planning to ride just under my "sweat threshold."  

My nutrition plan was most interesting as I started a Whole 30 on January 1.  In my CamelBak was watered down orange juice with just 1 scoop of Skratch (19g added sugar).  This shouldn't be enough to throw off any progress I had made, but might just help me avoid a total bonk).  Instead of gels, I had baby food pouches.  I figured I would probably be going slow enough that I would be burning mostly fat anyways.

The start was anything but race pace.  The initial 2 miles was a warm up as the legs were stone cold.  I also tiptoes around the mudholes; I did not want my feet wet so early on or my drivetrain angry.  Although Dry Creek was up, the bridge was long enough so that my tires did not even get wet ... what a pleasant surprise.

I upped the pace a bit on the double track climb and thought I was moving at a fairly decent pace ... until Luka blew by me, wishing me well.  Holy smokes, kiddo!  Oh, to be young again. Although I had no goals for this race, I figured I could finish right around the 4 hour mark.

As I entered the first section of single track, I was happy that my fingers and toes were warm.  Being able to feel my extremities makes it so much easier to shift and brake and feel the bike beneath me.  The trail was a little slicker than I thought it would be; still lots of leaves and there was frost on the roots and rocks.

As I descended down the gravel, I looked down at my hands and noticed that my gloves turned off.  WTH?!?  I pushed the on/off button, but nothing.  40 minutes in and they were dead ... argh!  I just hoped they were insulated enough to keep me warm until the temps began to rise.  After the Pocket Road crossing, the trail conditions deteriorated and became spongy with water flowing down the middle.  Although that first creek crossing was not pretty, at least I managed to keep my feet dry.

I almost made it up the red clay climb, but had to dismount after I spun out in the leaves.  I finished it off with a quick HAB, and continued pedaling to the next tricky section, the short hard steep left hand switchback.  But first I had to call back a racer ahead of me, who went straight instead of taking the switchback.  How he thought he was on course still befuddles me, as he had to dismount and carry his bike over downed trees, to continue off course.  Now that's some serious oxygen debt so early in the race!

I managed to clean the switchback and begin the slow grind up Horn Mountain. This section I feel is one of the hardest.  Beginning with this climb there are 4 lengthy climbs before you get to the Snake Creek Gap parking lot.  The first is the longest but also the easiest of them, the remaining 3 are all rideable, but technically challenging with root step ups, loose rocks, and steep pitches.  Every race, one of my mini goals is to clean all 4; it is about 50/50 chance for me.  Today, I had a small victory and did it.  Mind you, I could probably walk it just as fast, but where lies the challenge with that?

The final 2 descents down to the parking lot were as sketchy as hell!  Watering eyes, heavy leaf cover, and multitudes of baby heads made for a butt puckering slow ass ride down; I felt like a beginner.  As I looked at my Garmin heading into the parking lot, I was right at 2 hours.  Welp, there goes my 4 hour wish.

At least I was warm.  I ditched my dead gloves for my HandUp ColdER ones a core layer, guzzled some baby food, dropped my CamelBak, and grabbed a full bottle for the last half.  One of the volunteers tended to my muddy glasses ... thank you!  I slowly worked my way up Mill Creek Mountain, got off at the blown out sandy/rocky climb, white knuckled the switchback descent that gets worse every year, and played it safe down to Swamp Creek, even getting off and tip-toeing over the last creek crossing, as Mother Nature has turned that one into a swimming hole.

The ground had thawed by the time I began the double track climb and what with all the other racers' tracks, it was turning into a soupy mess.  It felt like quicksand at times, or was that my legs beginning to die?  

Finally the last section of single track, the creme de la creme!  Had I enough gas left in the tank to enjoy this?  I would know very soon.  As I was cruising the first slightly uphill section, Sasquatch jumped out from behind a tree and high five'd me!  Now that was a morale boost that had me moving at a pretty good clip for a while.

Notables during this last 5 miles of tricky tech were cleaning the rather steepish climb before the wall, cleaning the climb right after the wall, not dying on the washed out Pisgah'ish descent, and biffing the gunsight pass climb (I was so close, but also so tired at this point).

A junior racer and I came out of the single track in close proximity and began the final pavement descent down to the finish.  As he crested the last hill on the pavement, he attempted to gear down, hammer down on the pedals, AND get into the recently banned UCI Super Tuck (all at the same time), losing total control of the bike in the process, and nearly taking me out!  Somehow he managed to save it and I braked/swerved away from his careening bike and we both escaped destruction.  He did apologize, once he recovered.

I crossed the finish line in 4:32 ... yikes!  I have got my work cut out for me for February, but I do like a challenge.  Fellow Rescue Racer and long time friend, Lisa Randall, currently sits atop the leaderboard.  But everyone said the course felt slow, so maybe it was not all a lack of higher end fitness for me ... we shall see.

Now for the best race news!  Young Jameson, aka Snake Killer, at 11 years of age, finished the 34 miler.  So stoked for this young man!  One of his biggest accomplishments yet.  And I believe the youngest finisher of this distance.  

Entering 2022 with the Biggest Athletic Goal Yet

If you had asked my former self back in 2011, after having dealt with a foot neuropathy and subsequent Morton's Neuroma surgery (which yielded less than ideal results) would I ever be able to run again, I would have said, "Unlikely, unless being chased by a bear."  Fortunately, seeking a second opinion (which I should have done PRIOR to electing surgery) and finding Dr. Tracey Pesut, a orthopedic foot/ankle specialist, who didn't recommend surgery but rather custom orthotic inserts, after 4 years, my feet had healed enough to start the process of running again. Why would I decide to run, you may ask?  For one, to see if I could, and two, for cross-training, improving HAB skills, and to keep me bonez strong, aye!

In 2019, with 3 months of training and the day after I raced the Snake on my single speed (why the hell, you ask?  because I can!), I raced the Cloudland Canyon Trail Half Marathon in 35 degree rain.  And managed a respectable 5th overall.  It was hard, but never would I have thought running would be so much fun!

This past August, I ran the Ubaye Trail Half Marathon in Barcelonette, France.  Kip prodded me into it, saying he would do it with me, then bailed.  This was a true couch to 14 mile race and I paid the price, both with suffering the last 6 miles and dealing with left patellar tendonitis ever since.

Fake it until you make it!

And so, when I raced the Marji Gesick 50 this past September, I resembled a human being afterwards, and not a hollow shell of one that has happened the 3 times I have done the hundred miler.  Lisa Randall asked me soon after I finished if I would ever think of doing the hundie again and I said, "Hell, no!"  But that damn buckle continued to haunt me.  When Todd released news of the 1000 mile buckle, I told myself that is something I could make happen.  Just 4 more hundreds (cuz 2022 would count double mileage) and 1 more 50 mile version and the buckle would be mine.  It would be a 5 year plan.  That desire in me to do hard things kept rearing its ugly head on the drive home from Marquette.  By the time I had arrived home after a 17 hour drive, I was tired and delirious.  Perhaps that contributed to my decision to try and get that damn buckle in 2022, by racing the Marji Gesick Duathlon: ride the first 65 and run the last 40.  

Have I fucking lost my mind?!?  Pretty much!  My longest run has been 14 miles, and now I think I can do 40 ... after riding my bike for 65 miles on some of the hardest single track this country has? Challenge accepted.  I live for this!  Crushing limits, pushing farther than ever, embracing the pain cave, seeing what this 53 old body can do.  

But I am not stupid, either.  I have got a plan ... that started 3 months ago.  2-3 runs/hikes/walks per week to start a slow build and get used to the pounding that running places on your body.  Mind you, I have also been dealing with a low back facet arthropathy that has me in pain quite a bit.  Stretching, chiropractic adjustments, and the occasional steroid injection helps.  I also had the RFA procedure (radio frequency ablation) that is supposed to kill the nerves and provide long term (to permanent relief).  Well, I suppose I have nerves of steel, as I fell into the low percentage category of it being ineffective ... meh.

To add insult to injury, I also hit menopause in 2021.  Talk about a full body slam!  Where did all the watts go?  Why is my ass growing?  And when did my bed turn into a sweat lodge?  For you men, the equivalent would be castration and your testosterone dropping to a big fat 0!  While HRT has helped, it is just not as good as what your pre-menopausal body can produce (in the way of estrogen, progesterone, and even testosterone).

But with all that, I talked to my Coach, Lynda Wallenfels, to help me out with the training aspect.  She recommended Mike Schultz, owner of  Highland Training, as he has much more experience with athletes that both bike and run.  Lynda has been my coach since 2009.  I have much respect for her, both as a person and a coach.  While a bit hesitant to leave her, I trust her.  I talked to Mike yesterday for a solid 30 minutes.  He has over 20 years of coaching experience and a wealth of sciency knowledge. I am excited to say that he will be coaching me for 2022!  If anyone can turn this cyclist into a part-time runner, he can.

To jumpstart my training, I have joined forces with some of my cycling friends and co-workers to do the Whole 30 in January.  For those of you who do not know, it is 30 days of no sugar (real or artificial), no grains, no legumes, no dairy, and no alcohol.  It will be a great cleansing experience and I hope to rid my body of any lingering inflammation, as well as just feeling better all around.  Being celiac, intolerant (to some degree) of dairy and legumes, and not liking alcohol, it won't be as hard a jump as for my friends.  Chocolate and I have a loving relationship, so this one will hurt.

And I am also competing in my local gym's Result Resolution for the month of January.  Because why not do all the hard things during my birthday month.  

I am hoping that Coach Schultz, the Whole 30, and Result Fitness will kickstart my ass into being the fittest (and happiest) I come September 24, I will have the day of my life riding and running some of the hardest damn trails in the United States.

#marjigesickduathlonorbust

Fall Invitational Race (or Ride) Report

 

The brainchild of Tennessee Gravel's Shannon and Jedi course master Kim, the Fall Invitational is an invite only race that begins out of Fireside OutPost , near Gee Creek State Park.  In order to get an invite, you must finish at least one of three ITT's within a year's timespan, which runs from July 1 through June 30.  I did all 3, because that is how I roll.  And, it is in my "backyard"  and the routes are heinously hard, but also stunningly beautiful.

A handful of us bike crackheads showed up, some from as far away as Colorado and Michigan, to tackle this course on a beautiful fall day at the peak of color.  Not sure the exact number (25'ish) as the start was at 7 am and in the dark.  It was going to be a surprise course, meaning no GPX tracts provided, just cue sheets, but then Kim got soft as the starting temperature was right at freezing and did not want us to suffer with trying to pull paper out of our pockets with our Michelin Man hands all bundled up in winter gloves.  So she sent us the course the night before.  Turns out it was about 70% of the D130 course, but in reverse.

Lost Creek area

Although the start was chilly, I was able to stand by the campfire right up until Shannon said, "Go!"  My fingers and toes were sandwiched in between layers of wool, latex gloves, and chemical warmers.  I was able to hang with the fast guys for most of the way up Spring Creek Road, staying close to the draft while still allowing me to visualize the road and skirt around the dozens of potholes.  The legs were surprisingly there, but it was just a tad bit too fast once I hit the pavement so I let them go.  

Turning onto Lost Creek Road, I was excited to be making good time at my comfortably hard pace.  But once the climbing began, my lower back began to moan, groan, and then full on seize up. WTF!  There had not been any previous indication in the week leading up to this event, and I had taken a chill pill from the gym to ensure all body parts would be happy.  But it was like someone was sticking a knife between L4 and L5 every time I tried to make power on the downstroke.  Hoping that this would only be temporary, as I have been dealing with this issue intermittently over the past 4 years, I kept the pace up and just dealt with the pain.

The gravel was groovy through this section.  Hard packed and fast!  I got to watch the world wake up.  The fog lifted revealing the stunning palette of color.  When I turned onto Smith Mountain Road (FS80), I realized that my race was quickly turning into a ride.  The pain had intensified and the grades of 15-18% on this stretch of chunky gravel made me think about bailing on the long route and just doing the shortie.  This was a SOB of a climb, even when everything is working.  Finally making it to the ridgeline, I was greeted with a spectacular view.  I stopped to photograph the vista and stretch out my back.

This view never gets old!

I made it to Graham and Cassandra who were manning the first checkpoint at mile 30.  Their support lifted my spirits while I threw down a banana.  Back on Kimsey Mountain Hwy, I wish I could say I blasted down to McFarland, but this road has really become eroded over the years and is quite chunky now.  

McFarland Road only got gnarlier.  More of a double track over slabs of off camber rock and now covered in leaves, I was wishing I had a squishy bike and more rubber.  I soon came upon a fellow by the name of Tater who was fixing a flat.  I stopped to make sure he had everything he needed, which he did, and then motored on.  The rugged condition of this road had my back and bladder in an uproar.  I could fix the bladder part, so I stopped.  After the nature break which also helped to stretch out my muscles, I continued on.  At least it was mostly descending.  Tater caught back up and passed me back.

Crockett, the right bike for this adventure ... for the most part.

Just before I dumped out onto Kimsey Mountain Highway, I found Tater again, wheel off and looking pretty frustrated.  I stopped and asked  again if he needed anything. He had flatted again and this time he was out of tubes, CO2's, and his hand pump was broken.  At the point farthest from rescue, I gave him one of my tubes and CO2 (I always carry at least 2 of each, along with a patch kit).  After a brief chat, I continued on. There was nothing more I could do anyway and I was getting chilled and there was a big descent coming up.

Final climb on Kimsey

Back on smooth grav grav, I hauled butt down for several miles.  The brief stop to help Tater also helped my back.  I was able to put some power back into the pedals on the final climb back up to FS236. It was roughly at this point that I began to see a few other cyclists out and about.  I was amazed that there were so many, but later came to realize that at least 4 or 5 in the event did the course backwards, by mistake.  As Chris Joice stated later, they took the Etrex route 😆😆.

FS236 came and went and soon I was crossing the bridge at the Appalachian Powerhouse.  Then for some buttery smooth pavement where I could do some on the bike stretches.  I stopped at one of the outhouses, applied some Chamois Butt'r, and changed out gloves and removed my ear warmer.  The sun was out and it had finally started warming up around noon.  Tater stopped to make sure I was ok.  I was glad to see him with working tires.  Together we rode to the next checkpoint at mile 53. During this time, he told me a little about himself: that he grew up on Childer's Creek Road, how an Indian medicine woman cured him permanently of getting poison ivy, and where the old still used to be.

Shannon's wife was manning the checkpoint.  I grabbed a caffeinated gel and a banana, thanked her for being there and headed out on Towee Pike.  I absolutely love this section of gravel. Tight twisty, both left/right and up/down, it flows well and for the most part is smooth.  I couldn't rock it out like I wanted to, but having Tater there to keep me entertained made my day.  I slowly pulled away from him on one of the stouter climbs and hit Towee Falls and then missed the turn onto Ivy Trail.  The reason being, is that Ivy got tar and chipped.  I was used to seeing asphalt and today it looked more like a gravel road.  

I liked the past Ivy Trail much better.  Although rough in spots, at least I could hit the corners at speed.  Not today; too much loose tiny gravel.  Kinda the same feeling as when the forest service throws down a ton of #2 rock on the fire roads: no bueno!  And dayem!  Ivy seemed to go on forever today.  Tater caught back up to me as I was starting up Bullet Creek Road.  Being the final climb today and already into 9000 feet of elevation gain, along with a jacked back, my little goose was cooked!  

We party paced this one, talking bikes, Litespeed (where he once was a welder), fork trail, and all kinds of nerdy goodness that allowed me to focus on something other than my spine. I was glad for the popping leaves and tree cover, as although the temps had risen 20 degrees, there was still enough chill in the air to where I did not have to shed any layers and then have the complicating factor of where to stash them.

Final switchback on the Starr Mountain climb

The final checkpoint was at the top of the Starr Mountain climb at mile 70.  Low and behold who should I see but my favorite Tennessee gravel buddy John.  He had been able to stay with the leaders much longer than I, so I had not seen him all day.  One more banana and I was ready to finish this beast: just 15 to go and mostly downhill.

I was glad to have John there to get me through to the end.  We each chatted about how our day went and I would draft off of him when I could.  Tater caught back up to us along Spring Creek Road and we ended up riding into the finish together.  Whew!  What a day of both highs and lows.  It was a different kind of pain cave for me today.  I think I like the dead leg ones better.

Anyways, since I was the only female, all I had to do was finish to get the WIN.  For me it was a hard fought battle between me, myself, and I.  The two things that kept me from pulling the plug were Tater's attitude and those three letters ... DNF.

Today, my back is still very sore, but at least I have a beautiful Sunday for some stretching and yoga.  And good memories of yesterday to reflect upon.

Thanks Shannon, Shannon's wife (sorry forgot your name), and Kim for an outstanding ITT series and final event.  I have enjoyed the battles I have fought and won (for the most part) along the way.  

Oh, one more thing.  Always add 1000 more feet of gain to whatever is published on the website 😆

As much as I enjoy traveling to other parts of the country to participate in gravel races or rides, it just can't quite compare to what I have got right here, 30 minutes from the house.  Appalachia just has my 💓.

  

Death March Revival ITT Ride Report

Over the years, there have been variations of the Death March Loop.  The first time I did it was probably 15 years ago, just about the time the Cohutta 100 came to be.  Then, it was just a group of friends riding for funsies in the Cohutta Wilderness.  I suppose I could say this was my first official gravel ride.  Then it was just 74 miles, started from Thunder Rock campground, and did not include the Mulberry Gap loop or the Big Frog section.  And I still died at least twice!

Since then the fine macabre folks at tennesseegravel.com have enhanced the route with more miles and a crap ton more of elevation.  Now back to its original start at Thunder Rock campground, they added the Mulberry Gap loop which allows you to climb up to Potato Patch TWICE and replaced a nice flat section with the Big Frog section.

The rules of the ITT are simple.  Start on your own, ride on your own, and finish on your own.  Although you may do it with a friend, there is no drafting allowed and you cannot share nutrition, gear, and any mechanical must be dealt with no outside assistance.  You must take a photo of your bike computer at the start and finish, showing the time of day and the mileage. 

So a few weeks ago, one of my favorite riding buddies, Jeff Cohen, messaged me and asked if I was up for some gravel.  To which I replied, how about the DMR?  Funny, he said, he had been thinking about the DMR as well.  

I had first met Jeff at the Cherohala Crossing a few years back.  Since then, we have been thrashing each other on many a gravel BDR.  A few times a year, we can get our busy schedules to mesh and grind out big days in the Appalachian mountains.  Always positive, he keeps me focused on not just the numbers, but on appreciating our surroundings, our capabilities, our families, and our now, our dogs, Honcho and Ellie.  Good stories come out as we are knocking out the climbs.

Smiling while we can.

We started at 7:30 am with a temperature of 66 degrees.  The high was supposed to hit the mid-80's but I was hoping we would be at the higher elevations mid-day. I was unsure of how the body would respond as I was just two weeks post-Marji and had an out-patient spinal nerve ablation two days prior.  The doctor said I could resume "normal activities" in 48 hours.  He might have extended that out a bit had he known what is "normal" for me 😆😆😆.

I outfitted "Freedom," my 2017 Niner Air 9 RDO with a small top tube bag and a Revelate Designs Mountain Feedbag.  I wanted all my nutrition easily accessible on the bike, pre-cutting the packaging on my waffles and shot blocks, to minimize stopped time. I carried about 3000 kcal, 750 of which was Skratch drink. I also carried 800 kcal in the form of gels.  The remainder was waffles and shot blocks.

Flat section after Tumbling Lead.

The climb up FS 45 was pleasant, the heart rate came up nicely, and the legs felt good.  I made it a point to stay around tempo on the climbs and spin easily on what few flats there were, as I knew the day was gonna be long and I wanted to feel good even at the end. The 3 bitches came and went, and that was a good thing; they did not feel as hard as in previous rides.  

This route is touted as being 100% gravel: it almost is, but there is one short stretch of maybe 1/2 mile at the most of pavement leaving Tennessee and heading into Georgia. 

The gravel over to Watson Gap was in great shape.  I stopped briefly for a nature break.

It was nice to finally descend down to Jack's River campground.  Mmmm ... the smell of burgers!  Now the real test began:  the slow grind up to Potato Patch.  But first, stopping at the piped spring about 0.7 miles up from the campground (mile 26.7).

Cold and tastes wonderful!

The next 25 miles was my low point.  The gravel on the ensuing climbs had been chewed up by vehicles so it was like riding on marbles.  Jeff was looking strong and slowly pulled ahead.  I was going as hard as my tempo heart rate would dictate, but I was in my granny gear alot (32 x 50) and not feeling the love.  I knew that "this too shall pass" would eventually end, but I also feared it might continue for the remainder of the ride. It was also getting hot out and the direct sunshine was not helping my mood.  

Jeff descending Potato Patch

The descent off of Potato Patch should have been fun, but knowing that I was going to have to climb right back up did not make it so. I stopped at Mulberry Gap (mile 41) and made it up to the bath house to relieve myself and refill my bottles.  Still being in a sour mood,  I did not have the energy to pedal uphill any further and see Kate and Andrew.  Bad Carey! I was in a dark place knowing that I had to go back up to Potato Patch (2000 foot climb); I wasn't in a very talkative mood.  I waited on Jeff, as he went up thinking he could purchase some cold water, but ended up getting some Biolyte instead (no ice cold water). 

Grimacing on the inside

We rode quietly now, both of us lost in our own thoughts (mostly negative for me) as we made our way back up to Potato Patch.  Jeff was still going strong and once again pulled away from me on the climb. At this point, only 47 miles in, I was wondering if I had enough juice left.  I began to contemplate cutting out the Big Frog section, but told myself that there were many miles before I needed to make that decision and my mood probably would change, as it always has in the past.  Looking back now, it is funny how I seem to have the same exact conversation with my inner demons every stinking big ride or race.  Sometimes it is a short one, but today it seemed to go on forever.  

Just one of many vistas.

Once I got to the top, I started feeling better.  Jeff had pulled over to break out his PayDay bar.  Seeing how strong he was, I told him I was going to motor on, thinking that he would catch me either on the never ending rollers on FS16. As I hit the game check station, I was almost completely out of the two 28 ounce bottles I had refilled at Mulberry Gap.  I was surprised Jeff had not caught me, but I figured he would pull up as I was refilling at the next piped spring on the initial Big Frog climb (mile 71).  The next 6 miles flew by and I had gotten my second wind; the caffeinated gel I had taken just before the FS17 descent probably helped.

Just one of many short "ups" on FS 16, which one would think would be all downhill.

I arrived at the piped spring and immediately stuck my head under the cold water and washed all the sweat and grime off my face.  Feeling refreshed, I refilled my bottles and stretched out my lower back.  After about 15 minutes, I started getting concerned.  What if he had a mechanical?  What if he had crashed and was lying unconscious somewhere?  No cell service so I couldn't just call.  So I started pedaling backwards on the course.  Fortunately, Jeff was only a hundred yards from the Big Frog turn off.  Come to find out later that he was at his lowest point of the day, having run out of water about an hour ago.  Had I not shown up when I did, the "bail-out demons" may have convinced him to skip the Big Frog section.  He was very apologetic, saying that "screwed the pooch" for me getting a good time.  I instantly replied that it was my choice and I would not have forgiven myself if something bad had happened to him. 

Getting my mojo back after a cold shower at mile 71.

Now that I knew he was safe, I told him I would see him at the finish.  And if worse came to worse, I could always drive back to him.  But I wouldn't have to, because Jeff is not a #quitter.  With that respite, I had renewed energy and that heavy leg feel that often happens when I stop for an extended period of time did not occur.  I felt like I was able to attack the last 22 miles.  Well, except for the hard climb up to Big Frog followed by the wicked descent.  The roadbed was RAW!  And by that I mean, chunky embedded gnar.  Holy crap!  This section just continues to deteriorate over time.  Definitely "enhanced."  The last thing I wanted was a flat or crash, so I rode cautiously up and over.

This is the smooth section of Big Frog

Exiting the Big Frog section, I took another caffeinated gel. I hard charged it to the end, knowing I only had to pedal 6 1/2 of the remaining 10 miles, the final 3 1/2 being all downhill, baby!  I hit multiple short climbs with gusto and even got a Lance Armstrong shout out by a local as I was climbing out of Big Creek.

I got back to Thunder Rock at 6:19 pm, 10 hours and 42 minutes after starting this adventure.  Jeff came rolling in a bit later, looking pretty ragged but in good spirits.  The first time, he told me, that he not only had a physically tough day, but a mental one as well.  

Jeff kept apologizing for keeping me waiting.  Although my official time might not have been as good as I wanted it, I had a great time riding this route with him.  And wouldn't change it for anything.  In the long run, I will forget my clock time, but I will never forget the day spent with a great friend riding in what I am blessed to call my "backyard."

Physically whooped but emotionally overjoyed.

Right at 10 hours moving time; very happy with that