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| 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.
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| 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!
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| 📷: 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.
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| 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.