War Daddy

This would be my third time racing this amazing course.  Last year, I was nursing an MCL tear and raced Sandlin's Shred, kid brother to the marquee event.  Morgan Faber ended up with the W in the War Daddy, and took the WWII helmet home.  I was determined to fight to get the helmet back this year.

At 68 miles and 9000 feet of gain, this course is a beast! Although it is a mix of pavement, gravel, double track, moto trail, and single track, 96% of the racers ride a mountain bike.  There are 5 punchy climbs that will have you crying for your momma, with pitches tipping north of 15%. And the further into the race you get, the harder the terrain becomes.

I was coming off a half marathon trail race the previous weekend.  That put me at 5 races out of the last 6 weekends. While not fully recovered, my legs felt decent. This course can have hellacious mud holes in the past, swallowing up racers that have dared to charge through them. But with very little rain leading up to the race, the course was sure to be the fastest yet.  David Jolin and Alan Miner, two Rescue Racing team mates, were also here to join in the fray.

The starting temperature was 60 degrees. This year's event had 132 racers total, with 90 toe'ing the line for War Daddy, including 7 women, the biggest field yet.  I opted to ride Taz, my gen 2 SuperCaliber, with 2.2 Trek Sainte-Anne tires. Trevor called the start by shot gunning a beer. We were led out by a side by side through the town of Hyden, for 5 miles.  This was a great chance for my engine to warm up.

At the 7 mile mark, the first climb of the day, Owl's Nest, began.  This was a 1 1/2 mile paved climb.  There were several women who took off fast. Knowing my limits, I marked them as they began to pull away. Towards the top, I was able to bring two back and make a pass.  I knew Julie "the mountain goat" Durkee, was still ahead, but hoping I could reel her back in on the descent. The back side of Owl's Nest turned to loose gravel.  It was nice to have a dropper this year, allowing me to gain just that little bit extra speed, while just maintaining enough traction to not fly off the mountain. I did catch up to Julie and made the pass on a clean stretch.

The descent was followed by a series of rollers, which had my legs begging for a little mercy.  Not quite how I wanted to feel so early into the day.  Fortunately, I was able to bridge up to a group of 8-10 racers and we had the most beautifully orchestrated double pace line along the river leading to War Baby.  Free miles ... all smiles!  The group broke up at the first aid station at mile 20.  At mile 21, the War Baby climb began, 1.2 miles straight up to the heavens. It starts off paved, but that pavement has not seen any love in many years and is beginning to break up. Towards the top, it turns to good ole Kentucky chunk, that will have you walking if you are not on your A game.  For some reason, it seemed to have grown in steepness.  It was all I could do to muster out 50 rpm's. 

After a short bit of tame ridge riding, the course descended down a creek bed for 1.5 miles.  Employing Trevor Tip #1:  see the line, become the line, and stay the line ... that line being the flowing water!  I felt the flow and set a PR on this section, passing several racers in the process.  Catching my breath on the short flat'ish gravel/sand section, I prepared myself for War Dwarf.

War Dwarf is the longest climb of the day, at a little over 2 miles.  Today I was on the rivet; definitely not able to employ Trevor Tip #2: hard charge it.  Let's just say that my granny gear got a good work out. Finally topping out, I clicked down a few gears and enjoyed the Hell for Certain descent.  It starts off with a short bit of gravel, makes a hard right, and then buttery smooth single lane pavement down, down, down!  Four miles of mostly descending made the legs happy again.

The Twist N Sourwood is a 2 mile climb, but not as steep.  This is a beautiful section of the course with several rock formations along the road.  It seemed to be in rougher shape this year or perhaps it was because I was already in the pain cave at this point. I had my first low moment.  Alan Miner caught me and passed me, as I floundered in his wake. 

At the top around mile 32 was aid station 2. I stopped just long enough to swap bottles and have my glasses cleaned.  At the last moment, I also decided to drink a few ounces of pickle juice, a first for me. The next section was Grannie's Branch:  5 miles of ridge rollers followed by a sweet 2 mile descent.  As I was getting into a groove on this section, the War Daddy media crew rolled up to me in a side by side and started filming.  So of course, I had to get on the gas pretending to chase down Sofia Gomez Villafane 😆

I was glad they were there to amp me up as the next few miles seemed to fly by.  After the descent off Grannie's Branch was my least favorite section.  5 flat miles of pavement, into a headwind, and no other soul around.  Back on the struggle bus I went.  Around mile 44 is aid station 3.  Not needing to stop here, I was motoring on by when I saw Morgan (last year's winner) standing there cheering me on!  Later, as she and I were talking post race, she said she was so glad I caught her because then she could finally take it down a notch! 

Well now I needed to kick into another gear.  Pass, gap, and bury quickly became my mantra. I don't know if I truly ramped it up or not, but those last couple of flattish miles felt like I was punched in the face.

Creek crossing just before the War Daddy climb

After I crossed the creek, I knew War Daddy was looming just ahead.  Mustering up every ounce of fortitude, I imagined I was absolutely crushing this 1 mile loose double track climb with an average gradient of 11%.  Even though I was going at snail's pace, I still managed to pass a few who had given up on pedaling and were now walking.  When you think you are finally at the top, there is still a fare bit of climbing left as the course continues to roll, but in an upward fashion.

Just get me to that new 1.5 mile single track section.  Last year, it was a bit slimy and with my injury, I had to baby my way through it.  But today, dry and injury-free, I was determined to slay it!  Boy, was it a hoot!  So fast, I was at the limit of what my eyes could process.  However bad I may have been hurting on the gravel leading up to this, once I hit that ribbon of bliss, I had renewed energy.  So ... much ... fun!  I was sad to see it end.

Back out on the gravel, I made my way over to the final aid station at mile 55.  There I stopped, refilled one bottle, and took a gel.  I forgot to hit another shot of pickle juice (foreshadowing). The last 13 miles are filled with 6 miles of moto trail and another 6 miles of riding through a reclaimed mine, the profile of which both look like Paul Bunyan's cross cut saw.  

Through the trail, I played a game of cat/mouse with several racers, one being Al Wade, a single speeder who looked like a linebacker.  Her initially blew by me like he had just been unleashed right at the beginning of the trail.  So strong I thought he might end up turning his machine into a pretzel he was churning out so many watts!  Along with a couple of others, I would catch them on the climbs/HAB's and they would catch back up on the descents.  Although mostly dry, there were a couple of mud bogs that I tip-toe'd around.  One fella ended up kerplunking knee deep after he tried skirting around the edge.  

The two HAB's I embraced and smashed!  Thanks to Honcho, all these hikes/runs we have been on has really solidified my bike walking skills.  After the first HAB, when I got back on the bike and turned the pedals over, and flexed my left hip, my left groin cramped!  No, no, no, I cried out, threw it immediately into granny and spun it out. It was touch and go for awhile, as I could feel that muscle wanting to seize.  Fortunately, I was able to mitigate it by keeping that leg extended whenever I had a chance to coast.

Once I saw the abandoned gas grill, I knew the exit to the trail was near.

Even though I knew knew knew that the chunky mining road was a never ending one and seeing the mileage on my Garmin, I still expected to see the final descent around each and every corner 😝😝😝.  Normally my Garmin reads a mile or so short of the actual GPX tract, but no, not this time.  So hopeful that it might be only 67 miles, once I hit that number, I was still climbing.  And so I let out the obligatory "GD it!" followed up immediately by "Lord, I apologize for that there" -- Larry the Cable Guy.

Most of the mud holes along the mining road had ride arounds, save for one.  And of course I chose the wrong side.  Trevor and some other members of the TrailSick crew were there for photo ops.  I chose the right side because at least I could see tire tracks.  There used to be a ride around to the right, but it was overgrown with briars.  I ended up getting off the bike as my tires sunk to their rims in mud.  Not wanting to risk tipping over into the muddy waters on my left, I told the boys that I was being a princess about this one, to which they laughed.  Trevor also responded "You're almost there."  How many times have I heard that in a race?  Calling BS on that, I proceeded to get back up to speed and shed the 5 pounds of mud that had accumulated on my tires.

Off in the distance, I saw Alan.  Sweet, he was gonna be my carrot for the last few miles.  Slowly I began to bridge up to him, fighting for every watt as my body was screaming "STOP!"  Finally I could see the final descent.  Hallelujah!  Although a lot more blown out than usual, I still crushed it, catching Alan, and then passing him.  My goal was to finish under 6, a far cry from my previous two times, but nonetheless, I wanted to leave it all out there.  And I did. 

I rolled in at 5:55:38.  I do believe I saw double for a brief moment after I stopped.  Despite the course being in the best condition ever, that was the hardest one to date for me.  No doubt a combination of the amount of racing I had done leading into it plus the fact that I ain't getting any younger.  Even though I was slower, this one was the most rewarding.  For I had pushed my body harder than ever and for the most part, it responded.

Morgan rolled in shortly after and then the kid, Claire, absolutely crushed her 2023 time by over an hour and claimed the third spot.  And, she is only 14!  Holy smokes, so inspiring.  At her age, I thought a 5k race was hard!

Reclaimed the helmet

Once again, a huge shout out to the John Maggard and his army of volunteers who put on a hell of a race ... and an afterparty with never ending home cooked food, overflowing kegs of beer, and enjoying the company of others, telling war stories of their day by camp fire.