Fried Clay 200K

I was not too thrilled about racing this one, as John and I drove down in the rain, and then listened to it rain most of the night while in our hotel room.  I had heard horror stories about how the red clay roads turn to pottery mud and can render your bike useless in a couple of pedal strokes. But, as one of the many Marji mottos go, "Finish what you start."  

At least the rain had stopped by morning, the temperature was a warm 55 degrees, little to no rain was forecast for the day, and John loaned me his rear fender, so that my new kit would not be ruined by flying red mud. Pat Patterson, the mastermind behind this event, looked more like he belonged in an 80's hair band, than creating a gravel event. I loved his pre-race meeting.  He said, "The single track is fucked up. But for those of you who do the full course, you all will have bragging rights and be bad asses forever. You now have 45 seconds before the race starts; aw, fuck it, start now!"

I started mid-pack, but quickly made my way up to the front.  The roads were not bad at all; more water spray than mud, but I still kept my distance from the wheels in front.  The group was still rather large and I wanted to keep the mud off my glasses, and be able to avoid any sketchy riders.  For the most part, the roads were firm, but there were occasional sections where it felt like I was riding on a sponge. I glanced back occasionally to see if I could get a glimpse of John, who had started further back.  Eventually, a few smaller groups formed, and I stayed in the second one, not wanting to go that hard that soon.

By the time we hit the Piedmont Wildlife Refuge around mile 15, my group had thinned down to just 3 or 4, including Jen Coleslaw.  The last time I had seen her was at the Vista 5 or 6 years ago.  I have always admired her bike pack racing tenacity. She was riding strong, and I offered to share some pulls.

Piedmont Wildlife Refuge

There were 3 creek crossings in this section.  I attempted to ride through the first, but the waters were muddy, and I did not see the large rock that kicked my front wheel out from under me.  Fortunately, my cat-like reflexes saved me from a total submersion.  Needless to say, I walked the others.

Water was knee deep.

John caught up to me at the second creek crossing.  He said he was surprised to see me, thinking I would be much further ahead.  He ought to know me by now;  that while I am not the fastest one, I am the one who tends to slow down the least.

For the next 19 miles, Jen, John, myself, and a couple of other fellas rode together through the Piedmont and then onto some drier dirt and a nice stretch of pavement.

📷: John, the man who has 13,000 photos on his IPhone

AT mile 35, the single track began.  It was nice and flowy ... for the first 1/2 mile.  Then the shitshow began.  The trail quickly turned into a chocolate peanut butter smoothie.  John and I lost Jen through the beginning miles of trail.

The River Trail

Knowing I did not want to destroy my bike or end up carrying an extra 5-10 pounds of mud on it, I got off quickly and began the hike-a-bike.  Fortunately, there had been a recent controlled burn and there were areas of it adjacent to the trail that I could ride. It turned into more of a cyclocross race here; I must have dismounted and remounted a hundred times.  

There were also many downed trees and in some places so thick with deadfall that I had a hard time seeing the trail and so relied on my GPX track to stay on course.  

Shoe-sucking mud

Multiple creek crossings tested my slick n slide skills as well as the strength of my ACL's.  Somewhere in all this mess, I slowly pulled away from John. All total, I would say that I walked 3-4 miles of the 15 miles of single track.  I did end up catching the first place woman about 2/3 of the way through as she appeared to be struggling on the HAB ascents.  

A rideable section

I passed her on one of the uphills, but then later I went off course on a steep descent.  As I was making my way back to connect with the correct trail, she, Caitlin, caught up to me, but continued on the wrong trail, despite me saying to her that I thought we were off course.  

The last few miles I thought would never end, but approaching some hikers on the trail, I knew the muddy misery was almost over.  But in true FU fashion, the trail crossed a road and then disappeared.  I pushed up a wide trail, only to discover I was off course ... again.  Another racer came upon me, and together we were able to find the correct trail, under leaves.  This led to FS 1127, which was a beautiful grassy double track.

FS 1127

Until it wasn't. It turned into gravel soup, a freshly graded road with deep gravel and waterlogged dirt, that went straight up!  The two guys ahead of me pushed, but I refused to give in to the HAB ... yep, I was so over taking my bike for a walk or giving it a piggyback ride. After 2 hours and 45 minutes, I was relieved to be back on nice gravel/dirt roads again.

I rode by the town of Juliette and continued another 20 miles to the neutral aid station at Hadaway Hunt Camp.  This section saw me at my lowest point of the race.  I suppose it was due to the huge expenditure of energy in the single track.  The only thing that kept me pushing hard was the fact that Caitlin was somewhere behind me.

River Road, hero dirt finally!

Through Juliette, the course detoured off of JH Aldridge Drive onto Williams Street for a 1/4 mile.  Why we did not just stay on Aldridge for that short bit, I don't know, but I almost got eaten by a German Shepherd.  Fortunately his owner was outside and recalled him.  I did not need that adrenalin hit!

I don't remember much about this 20 mile section, save for the Little Rock Wildlife Road, which was beautiful and that I got off track a little here and had to back track.  Coming into the town of Round Oak, I knew the aid station was close.  A few minutes later and I was pulling into a most welcome sight.  I knew I had to be quick, as I had no clue how close Caitlin was.  I pee'd, reapplied Chamois Butt'r, refilled my Camelbak and 1 bottle, threw my trash away, and then quickly downed a Coke and a bag of chips.

Pat told me I was indeed the first woman in.  But as I was wiping the mud off my sunglasses, in rolled Caitlin.  Pat yelled out to her, "Your belt is about to leave."  Meaning me!  I high tailed it out of there and was super fortunate to latch on to Sandals.  Now this fella was the essence of the "spirit of gravel."  With a braided ponytail and Chaco sandals, he pulled not only me, but 3 other racers 13 miles.  And he was strong like bull!  Even in his draft, I was suffering.  But I knew that I would suffer even more if I got dropped.  

Sandals was a game changer.

Finally he pulled off and allowed me and the others to pull.  I told him that I owed him a 6-pack after that effort.  I am a woman of my word, Chris.  If we cross paths in the future, I will see to it. For the next 26 miles, we took turns pulling.  Our group lost Chris a few miles later and then another one halfway through.  We were down to 3:  Ian, Emory, and I. But then on a red clay road we picked up Marcos.

Ellis Church Road

We did encounter 2-3 miles of sticky red clay that had not quite dried out from the previous days' rains.  It was touch and go for awhile as we had to carefully pick our lines and avoid the build up of mud on our wheels that would inevitably shut down forward progress.

At some point, Emory dropped something on the ground and went back to pick it up.  Everyone then stopped at a crossroads to wait.  Knowing Caitlin was trying her best to chase me down, I had to keep pushing.  A few miles later, I turned onto a grassy double track forest road.  This 3 mile section I was on the struggle bus, as it was a constant up and down on thick gravel.  

Just 10 more miles.  I rode like a scalded dog, visualizing Caitlin bearing down on me.  Every little climb, I stood and hammered as hard as I could.  I would recover on the descents and then repeat the effort back up the next hill. Once I was on Firetower Road and saw Dumas Road off to my left, which we had turned upon during the beginning of the race, I could smell the barn.  I turned myself inside out those last 2 miles.  The Checking Station sign was a sight for sore eyes!

I achieved the Win with a time of 10:46 and an elevation gain of 9500 feet.  I managed a 7th O/A.  It was definitely a race of attrition, with more than half the field either opting out of the single track, or short-coursing it after being beat down by the single track.  I am so glad I was in the right place at the right time and able to get in with a good group of guys to push the pace after the neutral aid station.  Had it not been for that, I do believe Caitlin would have caught me, as she finished only 9 minutes behind me.

Thankfully my bike's paint job and bearings survived this mud fest.  But my legs took a thrashing from all the bushwhacking during the single track.

John finished 21st O/A, finishing up a little after dusk. All told, there were 44 finishers, out of 150 that signed up, and 100 that started.

I have a championship belt being mailed to me, fashioned after a WWE style championship belt.  That ought to be interesting.