Mohican 100K Race Report

 

Ripley ate this course up

With the start being at Mohican Adventures, instead of downtown Loudonville, Ryan added additional single track this year.  Effectively, the course was 33 miles single track and 33 miles gravel, with 8300 feet of elevation gain.  My race started at 9 am, but that additional 2 hours of sleep cost me  an extra 10 degrees of heat at the start, at an already steamy 74. I was racing Open Women, as that was the only category.  We had a good field at 32.

I opted to start with my Camelbak, as the first 22 miles were all single track.  I did get a decent warm up in and lined up in the 3rd row.  The start was a narrow gravel road that dumped us into single track after 0.4 miles.  I was able to work my way up into what I thought was in 10th place before I entered the trail.  Thankfully everyone in front was able to climb that first steep pitch, but the second one we were all off our bikes.  Fortunately it was short and I got back up to speed pretty quickly.  While my legs were nowhere near "sparkly," I thought they were going to be alright.

The state park trails were hero dirt and I settled in behind two other ladies.  The pace was not blistering, but something I thought I could hold for the day.  For the most part the state park trails were smooth and flowy, occasionally interrupted by a short section of roots or rock gardens.  One of the ladies in our little group was a little hesitant at flying over the rough stuff, so Janet and I passed her about a 1/3 of the way through.

I gotta call Janet my flow sister, as it was fun to follow her lines. I was able to dial down the focus just by following her wheel, which gave me some brain power to ensure I was eating and drinking adequately.

Probably around mile 11 where the covered bridge climb began, I knew the day was going to get ugly.  I was only a little over an hour in and already feeling subtle signs of fatigue. Even though I was shaded from the sun, it was beginning to feel like a sauna. I told myself to just get through the next half and let's see what happens.  

Janet was feeling it too, as she started to slow on the climbs.  I got around her just as we approached the largest rock garden in this system.  This was a fun section for me, and for a few minutes I was able to block the pain that the heat and fatigue was causing.  

The state park trail felt unbelievably long, especially when the single track "crossing guard" said he would see me again in 3 miles.  Three miles!!!  It took me 28 minutes to do this section.  Let the suffering begin!  Or not, as I came really close to pulling the plug when I hit the pavement after the waterbar-less horsey trail downhill.

I had a deep inner conversation with myself as I climbed the horse trail on the opposite side of the SR97. What I tried to block from my monkey brain was my strategy to finish:  just get to Camp Mohaven, the furthest point from the finish and then you will have no choice but to finish.  But could I keep this hidden from Mr. Monkey, who wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of the day lying in a cold creek?

That horse trail climb reminded resembled a muddy Club Gap climb; I was off/on the bike quite a bit until I hit the top.  Then I had to negotiate mud bogs along the ridge before finally descending down to gravel.  Oh, and apologizing to the ladies on horses as I rounded a corner with my I-9's buzzing.  Fortunately the horses stayed calm during this meet up.

The gravel roads over to The Outpost were a slight reprieve. I hadn't planned on stopping at Aid 2, but they had me with a Coke hand up.  Such a little slice of Heaven.  I didn't stop long for fear of the "Q" word.  The single track leading out was pleasantly dry.  

There was a nice 2 mile pedal over to the Mohican Wilderness single track.  It was now "Hot as Hades" in my book.  With not much tree cover on the gravel, I was hugging the side of the road that afforded any bit of shade, even for just a few yards.  I came upon another woman; we commiserated briefly, but she sped up as we closed down upon the single track.

As technical a trail as the Mohican was, I actually felt pretty good through this 5 mile section.  Once again, I had to focus on the rock features and not the fact that I was dying a thousand deaths.  I cleaned all the rock gardens, save for a "dab" on that final right hand turn through it ... a small victory I will claim.

I was slowly closing on the woman who I briefly met on the previous section of gravel.  We hit the aid station together.  She was looking pretty cooked! Alyssa was there supporting her husband Jordan, as well as several others, including me.  Sweet!  I dropped my Camelbak and she handed me two bottles and I was in/out before I could even consider quitting.  I also made it out before the other woman.   

At this point in the race, I was 36 miles and 4:22 elapsed time.  I knew I was slow, but damn!  I had expected to reach Aid 3 in 4 hours.  I rode a short bit of pavement over to the heinous powerline climb portion of the Wilderness system.  Although it was only a mile long, it was a sum bitch.  I died a little more here, pushing some sections.  

Just one of a few shady sections of grav grav.

The trail finally dumped me out onto Wally Road.  I then pedaled a miserable 5 miles of gravel over to Camp Mohaven.  At least it afforded me the opportunity to do some 1-legged pedaling in an attempt to relieve my left foot of some pretty intense pain, that had ratcheted up in intensity on the last bit of single track.  Hot foot, as what most cyclists call it, where it feels like a hot iron is being placed on the ball of your foot. 

Entering Camp Mohaven, I was familiar with this 5 miles of single track.  As I began the climb to the top, I passed several guys that were off their bikes, just sitting, beaten down by the heat. I made it to the top and got another ice cold Coke hand up.  Ahhh!  The volunteers were rocking it today.  In and out after a 15 second guzzle, I motored on, hitting the techy sections with ease.  So thankful for a course that was near perfect condition.

Camp Mohaven rock drop

Finishing up Camp Mohaven put me at the furthest point from the finish.  So now I knew I could get it done; it wasn't going to be pretty or fast, though.  I pedaled the gravel, once again doing some 1-legged drills to give my left foot a break.  As if I didn't have enough problems, my front rotor began to make some metronomic wailing noises.

Aside from the initial 20 miles in the state park, I had been riding by myself most of the day.  I was so relieved to be able to latch on to a fellow racer's wheel, if only for a couple of miles.  That little breather felt so good.  But once the gravel pitched upwards I was on my own again.  I came upon Nina about the 53 mile mark.  She was off her bike, pouring water over her head.  As I rolled by, I told her to catch me.  I first met Nina at the Iron Mountain 100K, where she had a fabulous day on the bike, at 16 years of age.  She was now a freshman in college and a bright young fiercely determined racer.  I don't foresee me ahead of her in many more races.  We rode together up the climb, but towards the top I slowly pulled away. I latched on to my drafting buddy and gained a few mph on the descent.  (Whoever you are, I still owe you a beer!)

With about 11 miles of racing left to go, something told me to look behind me.  As I did, I saw my team mate Dave about 30 yards back.  For  just a millisecond I was disappointed because one of my goals was not to let him catch me, but that was immediately replaced with joy.  His presence gave me an astronomical morale boost.  Perfect timing, too, as we hit the last section of single track before aid station 4.  And it was a beast of a sloppy climb.  I let David take the lead and pace me up that hill.  This was followed by a heinously steep descent where I did get squirrely and off track, but managed to save face.  The swinging bridge was rideable, but I flintstoned it across, not trusting my balance to keep me from getting entangled in the support cables.

I stopped at the final aid station to refill 1 bottle for the finish.  My stomach had held up good all day, but after 6 1/2 hours of intensity in the heat, it would tolerate no more than plain water.  Dave and I left out together and together we tackled the Valley Stream climb, followed by several more miles of gravel, and then that last ugly mess of trail which dumped you into the mud pit (I tiptoed around it, not wanting to go axle deep into that petri dish of mud).

I was so happy to see that the final bit of single track in the state park and the Mohican Adventures campground. Although my bike wailed like a banshee all the way home, at least my hot foot subsided.  We crossed the finish line together.  I finished in 7:29 (only 6 minutes of stopped time) which put me in 6th in Open Women.  Dave finished in 6:59 giving him a third place in Masters.

Well done ... as in how do you like your steak

I was completely shelled after that one.  The BDR the previous weekend probably didn't help matters any, despite all the recovery tactics I employed.  Dave and I took a 30 minute soak in the cooling waters of the Clear Fork River. Normally, I am ready to eat and drink right after I finish, but today although I did drink, it took me 3 hours before I felt ready to put food in my belly.  Now THAT was a hard fought finish.

And now to try to heat acclimate for the next one ...

Fool's Gold Race Report (up the creek without a paddle)

 

The Beginning

The last time I had raced this event was 2014.  Back then, it was only 54 miles and it didn't have the new "trail" just beyond Cooper's Gap. The weather had been great all week and I was looking forward to those mud holes I encountered the weekend before being all dried up.  As a light rain started while I was putting on my number plate, I swore I heard a "Muah-ha-ha-ha" from the heavens above.

Because of Covid, there was no mass start, which suited me just fine.  The Open Women had their own start at 7:42, 2 minutes behind the Open Men.  This was to my benefit.  Not being as strong as some of my competition, I am always on the struggle bus trying to stay with the Open Men during mass starts.  I am not a fast starter; it takes a while for my engine to fire on all cylinders.  And with mass starts, I usually fall off the main group pretty quickly.

So the beginning pace was quite nice and allowed a nice steady rise in heart rate.  We were all content to party pace the beginning miles of pavement.  But then the single speed men had to spoil my fun, as they rode steadily by us on a climb.  We all managed to jump on the SS train and hold their wheels for a while.  

On the first gravel climb is where the women's pack was blown up.  The men made a surge and Jen, Beata, and myself made the selection.  Although I had about 4 miles and 15 minutes to warm up, that first little climb was a kick in the arse!  I managed to hang on, but when the main climb up to Cooper's Gap started, I had to let them go as I began to get cross-eyed! 

I was currently 3rd woman and was gonna make damn sure to hold this position as long as I could. As leaders of the men's age groups began to pass me, I would latch on while I could, getting some free speed up Cooper's Gap.  A very light rain continued to fall and the higher I got, the lower the visibility became as I was enshrouded in fog.

At the 11 mile mark, the course took a turn off the main gravel road onto a double track descent.  Enough rain had made the rocks greasy.  I kept the braking to a minimum and just let the bike do all the work on the downhill, hoping that a stray loose rock would not take my front wheel out from under me.

The next climb was a gradual 3 miles up to Frozen Branch Trail.  This single track was old school, downhill, greasy technical with some chunky rocky areas.  Super fun!  Just wish visibility was a little better.  While most racers opted not to wear glasses, despite mine fogging up at times and accumulating mist on the outside, I kept mine on.  I value my eyeballs and many a time have had sticks and rocks hit my glasses, and don't want to chance losing an eye to a severe injury.  And secondly, I have "old people" eyes and cannot see my Garmin nor could I fix a flat without them.

Popping back out on more "civilized" gravel, I made my way up to Aid #1.  I stopped, grabbed my hydration pack out of my ZipLoc, deposited my empty bottle, and placed my drop bag in the return container.  I had been thinking this on the climb up, as I did not want a 15 minute time penalty.  I also had the volunteer throw me a couple paper towels my way so I could clean off my glasses.

A few more miles of climbing and then onto the Winding Stair descent.  It was as foggy as a Basic Training gas chamber, but fortunately the gravel was smooth, and the cars driving up were honking their horns, because I couldn't see shit!

Despite the light rain, Turner Creek was in good shape and I was able to let it rip.  I was in my own little bubble of high speed pleasure!  Popping out onto gravel, I pedaled my way over to Jones Creek TH.  There was a slight break in the clouds and for a moment, rays of sunshine washed down upon me.  As I climbed up Jones Creek, a racer hung onto my wheel.  Towards the top, I let him pass.  But on the subsequent series of switchbacks, he biffed it, and I almost rolled right over him, it all happened so quickly.  I got ahead of him and fell back into my groove, when I rounded a turn, and there lay another dude, playing Twister with his bike.  I came this close to rendering his derailleur inoperable.  I made sure he was ok, as I maneuvered around him.  He was very apologetic about impeding my progress, though.  The new Jones Creek re route over to Bull Mountain was very fast and very fun!

As I crossed the dam, more clouds rolled in and the sunshine disappeared.  A light rain started as I approached Aid #2.  Not needing anything, I rolled along.  As I began the never ending ascent up Bull Mountain, the skies opened up, and soon the trail became Class 1/2 whitewater.  At times, the water was running downhill so fast, I could feel the resistance trying to pedal up through it.  Leaves, small sticks, and other debris were rushing past my wheels.  The only good thing about this torrent of water was that somehow, some way, it made my mind perceive the trail as not being as steep as it truly was.  I lost track of time and before I knew it I was at the top. 

The descent off Bull was crazy insane! The trail was completely underwater and I was riding blind.  I only knew I hit a mud pit when I got all squirrely.  I had my glasses down on my nose like a librarian, trying to see where I was going as well as trying to keep the mud out of my eyes at the same time.  I was light on the brakes, since this soil is known to eat through pads at warp speed.  It felt like the descent took twice as long as the ascent.  I made a decision I have made only one other time in my life and that was at the 2007 La Ruta:  I pee'd my bibs.  I really had to go and what with the downpour, why bother stopping?

Despite the cooler weather and the rain, I still managed to drain my hydration pack.  I stopped at Aid #3 and grabbed my bottle out of my drop bag, once again, dumping my empty bag into the return container.  The rain was still coming down hard and I was secretly praying that we would be routed off Jake and just ride gravel back to the finish.  And my bike was hating me, making some god awful noises.  I stopped on the gravel climb up to the last bit of Bull single track, got off my bike, and spun my wheels.  OMG!  Two revolutions was all they made before they came to a squealing halt.  This ... was ... going ... to ... be ... a ... painful ... 15 ... miles to the finish.

I slogged my way over to the beginning of Jake.  Zeke was marshaling us onto the Jake single track.  I let out an exasperated sigh!  I could tell I didn't have much brake pads left, and I still had about 8 miles of sloppy single track left.  Now Jake is usually smooth, fast, and flowy, but after today's rain, it was anything but.  I tried to find the flow, but then I would suddenly be off the trail and into the underbrush, as I tried to brake for the corner, but there was no slowing down, as my bike shuddered and squealed.  Yep, I do believe it was metal on metal.  I think I repeated this scenario about 4 times.  Fortunately the landings were soft and I was able to muster a laugh or two.

Finally, it was just some gravel and pavement between me and the finish.  With brake calipers completely pushed out of their housing, the noises emanating from below was akin to waterboarding.  I kept apologizing to my bike and trying to keep my mind off of how my LBS was going to get my third place winnings.

I came upon a junior racer, who was a little climbing phenom up Bull, tackling the techy sections with ease, while I opted to HAB a couple, and save the legs.  I complimented him on his climbing prowess and motored on.  A few more years, young man, and you will have that endurance to crush it all the way to the end.

Thinking all the madness was over, I forgot about the grassy slip n slide down to the creek crossing.  With no brakes left at all, I was all over that descent and almost bee lined it into the briar patch.  Seeing the arch just up the hill  was like seeing the gates of Heaven.  I was soooo glad to be done.  I had anticipated a 5 1/2 hour finishing time, but ended up being out there without a paddle for 50 minutes longer.  

The Finish:  6 hours 21 minutes later

But not for the expenses to repair brakes and bearings, I would say I had a fun day on the bike.  How often do you get to ride through mud puddles all day long and not have your Mom yelling at you for trashing your clothes?

Thank you Lisa, Chris, and all the volunteers who made this race happen.  I know it must be mentally and physically challenging and exhausting to run an event during the Covid pandemic.   And with limited numbers of participants, it has gotta be hard to break even. I am happy as a tick on a fat dog that this race happened.

In great company!

 

Mohican 100K Race Report

My gravelicious steed

I waited up until the last moment to register, as I wasn't sure this race was gonna happen.  NUE series director, Ryan O'dell, was able to formulate a Covide-19 mitigation plan that was approved.  Unfortunately the Ohio DNR did not issue the permit to use the 25 miles of trail within Mohican State Park.  Therefore, according to Ryan, the race was shortened to 40 miles for the 100K.  And I was 100% ok with that.  Having come off of my Massanutten Ring adventure two weeks prior, I did not know if my body was up for a 5 + hour race.  Since I was staying with my Rescue Racing team mate, David Jolin, we had already planned to ride the state park single track on Sunday.

The start was a time trial format.  Groups of 5-6 racers in 1 minute increments, beginning at 7 am.  I was set to go off at 7:36 ... one of the last waves.  This gave me the opportunity to get in a proper warm up, since I didn't have to fight for position in a mass start.

The first mile was a lot of ups and downs as I rode the single track through Mohican Adventures.  Our little group of 5 got busted up pretty quick and I ended up solo once I hit the pavement.

No draft buddies for the first 10 miles.

On the pavement, I adjusted hand positions to get as aero a position as possible.  With no way of knowing where my competition was, I just had to go HARD the whole stinkin' time!  All those short intense Zwift races were paying off now, as I felt pretty good putting my little hammer down.

Ohio may not have mountains, but boy do they have punchy climbs.  Giffin and Kay were short (less than 1 mile) but had gradients that approached 20% in spots. 

Once I hit the Big Hill climb, I knew that the Wilderness single track lay just ahead.  With skinnies on my bike (Bontrager XR1, 2.0), I was going to be slower than normal through the rocky single track.  With about an inch of rain the day before, the rocks were going to be slimy. 

As I approached the infamous rock garden, I came upon a "turtled" racer.  This guy was upside down wallerin' in the rocks with his bike on top, still clipped in.  Fortunately, only his ego was injured, and after I helped him, I made the choice to not hop back on, as all my greasy rock-ridin' mojo was gone.  I ran through the garden probably just as fast as I could have ridden it anyways.

The infamous rock garden

From there the trail mellowed and the flow was much better.  I still had to respectfully work my way around another half dozen or so racers.  I popped out onto the road and hit the aid station at mile 22.  Thinking I had another 18 to go, I stopped and swapped out a bottle.

Soulful single track

Back in TT mode on the pavement for a bit and then I hit the Valley Stream gravel road climb.  Typically this is a kick in the groin climb, coming so late in the race, but today I had matches to spare.  One more climb up gravel road 3232 and then on to the final piece of private property where there was a hellacious two track slickety slidy descent.  I felt on was more like on skis than a bike.  This trail dumped us into a fairly deep creek crossing where all the mud was nicely washed off my bike. 

I could see the paved road just ahead, but first I had to plunge into a mud bog of unknown depth.  There was absolutely no way around this!  Axle deep, I about toppled over but managed to hang on and ride it out.  My bike was now filthy again.  Somehow in the foray, I managed to roll a small bale of hay onto my cassette.  I had to stop as my shifting immediately went to shit.  It seemed to take forever to  detangle my cassette!

Around mile 27, I knew where I was on course and that the finish was just ahead.  I thought I had cut the course, since I was expecting another 13 miles.  I had that "Oh, shit!" moment ... thinking I was gonna be DQ'd.  But I had been paying very close attention to all the signage and confirmatory tape and had absolutely  no idea where I could have gone wrong.

So I raced back through the Mohican Adventures area, hoping that Ryan was wrong with his mileage, but willing to fess up that I cut the course if it was indeed 40 miles.  I crossed the finish line in 2:29:50 and immediately went to Ryan and asked.  He confirmed that it was only 30 miles.  And after the last short course woman came through, I found out that I had WON!  Now that was a nice surprise as the competition was fierce.  Talking post race to Lara, she said she rode some bonus miles on the 100 mile course.  And Mary said that she needed to lose a few Covid-19 pounds.

Ryan following the rules with 6 feet social distance podium

I want to thank Ryan for his persistence in having this race, despite all the social media negativity.  And a big shout out to all the volunteers who gave up their day so we could play. This put all of us back into a good headspace.

The one thing I will tell you is that the post race vibe was great.  A lot of laughing and a lot of beer drinking was happening.  It felt good to see some sense of normalcy again.  Being outdoors and being active are two things that will bolster your immune system, not being locked up inside unable to do anything but stare at the walls or the TV. 

And no, I did not die!  Nor has anyone else from the race.  Use common sense, live an active lifestyle, eat real food, get plenty of sleep, enjoy your family ... this is what will get you through this pandemic.  Don't wait on a vaccine.  The flu vaccine has been around for a long time and you see how effective it is.

And the next day, I had enough energy to ride the fast and dry trails within the state park, with friends.

Mohican Gnomes!

True Grit 50 Race Report

I thought I was in the desert, but WTF!  The rain began Thursday night and did not let up until an hour before the race. Having ridden here in 2011 at Camp Lynda, I knew that this dirt would turn to peanut buttery mud.  I questioned my sanity as I affixed my number plate and prepped for what was going to be a mentally as well as physically challenging day. I put my trust into the race director that she knew what the trails could endure.

Fortunately I have ridden in these conditions before.  Think Dirt, Sweat, and Gears 2008 and LaRuta 2009.  So I went into the local bike shop the day before and picked up a Muc Off Claw Brush, aka mud scraper.

Best $6 investment ever!

Insider knowledge told me that Green Valley and Cove Wash area would be nasty, but once past that, conditions should improve, unless the rain started again ... 40% chance according to local reports.  Oh, well, I didn't drive 2000 miles to sit on my ass.  And what with all the COVID-19 event cancellations, this might be the last race of the season.

Coach Lynda was at the start to grab some extra clothes I decided to shed at the last minute.  At least the temperature was a comfortable 48 degrees.  I decided to enter the Pro/Open class as opposed to the Master Women's 50+.  The biggest advantage was that we were the first to go off as compared to being sent off in a later wave that would have me possibly having to pass a lot of racers.  And since I was racing the NUE Marathon series, there is no Master's division, only an Open division for the ladies.

The start was 1 1/2 miles of pavement before we hit a steep 1/2 mile climb up to the Cove Wash trails.  Believe me, it was NOT neutral.  I was quickly off the back, but I expected this.  No worries, as I knew this was gonna be a BIG day.  These days I am more the tortoise than the hare.

As soon as we hit the double track access road it was a slippery red muddy mess!  At first it was like the February Snake, with the mud watery enough that it didn't gom up on the bike.  There were a few miles of this and then ...  the mud gumbo, think QuikKrete.  Three pedal strokes was all it took before the wheels stopped turning.  I hopped off, pulled out my scraper, removed what I could, and then picked my bike up and carried it 150 yards of so until the conditions were rideable again.  As I was walking, I grew about 2 inches in height as this mud stuck to my shoes.  I instantly gained 10 pounds and was walking like Frankenstein.

An accurate representation of what my wheels looked like.

Of course, where the trail was rideable, it was uphill.  I felt like I was dragging a truck tire behind me.  On the next slickety slidy descent, I shed most of the mud that had accumulated on the tires. Focusing on staying upright on the greasy trail,I failed to notice all the racers off their bikes around the next corner, beginning another climb.  I was wheel deep in mud once again.  (FYI, anytime you see light bluish dirt out here, after a rain, avoid at all cost!) This time there were also pebbles and small rocks that gathered on the wheels and began finding all the nooks and crannies of my full suspension Trek to wedge themselves into.  It was at this point, I had a mini meltdown.  I looked back towards town and saw several bail outs.  The monkey began telling me all sorts of more favorable options:  riding the roads, riding the greenway, going for a hike. soaking in a hot tub, filling a grocery cart full of canned goods, toilet paper, and while you are at it, a carton or two of dairy free salted caramel ice cream.

David Jolin came by me as I was throwing my pity party and attempting to lift my bike to carry it up the hill of truth.  He offered some words of encouragement and HAB'd on.

I resolved myself to making it out of this mess and giving Waterfall and Zen a chance to bring me back to my happy place.  Once I was able to remount and ride again, after spending another 5 minutes of so scraping mud off my bike and shoes, I motored up the approach to Waterfall.  There were a cluster of racers just ahead.  I was bound and determined to NOT walk down this double black.  As I was readying myself to go over the edge, I heard a racer dude say (as he dismounted next to me), "It's too wet and slick to ride!"  Hehe, obviously he has never ridden Pisgah, I thought to myself.  And with that, I went over, calling out "rider back," as I weaved in and out of a walkers. In no time, I blew through the final tricky part at the bottom and was on my way over to Zen ... smiling again!   It's on like Donkey Kong! That's what I am talking about!

As I came into the Zen aid station, Coach Lynda was there cheering me on.  She bolstered my spirits even more.  I did not stop, as I thought my nutrition/fluids were good and began the long first climb.  I remembered last year being passed by quite a few racers here, but today I was the one making moves.  Despite the rains, the slickrock was mostly dry and grippy.  There were a few sections where mud being shed from tires accumulated on the rocks, but not enough to make any real difference. I was able to nail all the tricky descents and most of the ascents.  Where I had planned to dismount and walk/run up, I did with ferocity.  I was continuing to reel in one woman after another.  I had no idea where I was in the pecking order, but I was bound and determined to give it all I had and let the chips fall where they may.

Zen Pre Ride

Coming out of Zen, the sun had begun to shine!  Hallelujah!  Because the forecast had showed a 40% chance of more rain from 11am - 2pm. I was getting warm so stopped and gave some layers to Coach.  I began the climb up to 3 Fingers; seeing Heidi (who was doing the hundie), I offered some words of encouragement.  I was also very happy NOT to be doing 2 laps.  Stepping over the gate, I began the descent.  I knew I had to go left to avoid the steep drop off the middle finger, but I guess my head was up my a$$.  Before I could stop, scream, or cry for Mommy, I hit that drop!  Thank goodness my body knew what to do and I hit the landing clean.

Bearclaw Poppy Trail was el primo!  Dry, hard packed, and fast!  No signs of the rain deluge the day before.  Three miles of pump track with lots of line options (along with cleaning the Waterfall and finding Zen on Zen) made up for that first 10 miles of misery ... err, adversity.

But then, Stucki Trail. And I was out of water. Six miles of climbing up to Amen Corner.  It's an easy climb, nothing technical, and fortunately no head wind.  But ... 6 miles of just trying to put myself into TT mode after 3 hours of intensity, the body was saying no.  The bike was, too.  Blaze sounded horrible, like she was dying.  The mud had sucked out every bit of lube on the chain and the noises that were emanating from her were almost comical.  I knew I was losing precious watts just moving that chain through the derailleur pulleys.

And then I ran out of water.  Just get to the Corner.  There was a trail angel there last year who had water.  I desperately hoped he had some lube as well.  I saw two racers off in the distance.  One had a pink kit, one had a ponytail.  Could it be two women?  That gave me the motivation to press on, even though my quads were screaming.  Slowly I reeled them in over the next few miles and then passed them, making sure I did so on a little downhill. I did not want to have them latch on, especially knowing I was going to have to stop soon.

Climbing up to Amen Corner, I saw my angel.  I breathed a sigh of relief, as this is not a designated aid station, but a local who gives up his day to help us racers.  He helped to refill my CamelBak and then quell the banshee in my chain.

Both ladies had gotten ahead of me again, but not by much.  With big tailwind and a lubed chain, it felt like I was on a e-bike all the way back to Rim Rock.  I managed to pass back the two women.  I caught another woman on the climb up Rim Reaper.  I followed her along Rim Rambler and then passed her just before hopping back over the gate.  Down Rim Rock, the caffeinated gel I took 30 minutes ago breathed some life back into my legs.  I was beginning to smell the barn, what with 8 miles to go.  I flew up the tricky Cove Wash climb and entered Barrel Roll determined to leave it all out there.

2-D just doesn't capture the chunkiness of this section of Barrel Roll

Barrel Roll was in perfect shape!  The off camber climb was not as intimidating as before.  On the drop into the saddle section, I remembered to stay left, skirting along the cliff edge, and rolling the rock drop.  I made the first tricky ascent, wisely dismounted at the knuckle-breaker rock, ran up the chute, and then remounted.

Stay left for the best line down the saddle, but not too far left!

Once I rolled the cattle guard, there were about 4 miles to go, mostly downhill.  That was when my gas tank light came on.  Running low on fuel, but high on spirits, I cautiously rallied the final miles.  I did NOT want to flat now.  Even though this section was fast, it was by no means buttery smooth.  Lots of rocks to maneuver through or over and many had sharp edges.  Lo and behold, about half way through this section, I saw my competition fixing a flat.  Not how I like to gain a position, but after asking if she needed anything, I motored on.

On the final single track descent, my triceps attempted to raise the white flag.  This course was so upper body demanding and my arms finally went from al dente to overcooked.  I finished up the descent and put my head down for the final pavement push to the finish line.  I rolled across the finish line in 5:13.  What a ride and what a day!

My bike hates me!

5th in Open

Unfortunately Cimarron got a lot of hate "mail" with her decision to let the race go on, from a trail destroying aspect.  First and foremost, the muddy miles were on ATV double track and the single track section was freshly cut to work around housing construction. This rutted out trail will eventually be in someone's basement soon as the development continues to expand over the next few months.  So no damage was done.

I am so glad I persevered through the mud, because the rest of the course was AMAZE-BALLS!  This year has definitely started out #doinghardthings.  I have had to push through some mentally challenging conditions.  Glad to represent Rescue Racing and Scott's Bikes with grit, gristle, and gumption.

Now on to the next adventure, as racing has been temporarily suspended due to COVID-19.