12 Hour Nite Nationals Race Report

Having raced Double Dare the weekend prior and still carrying quite a bit of fatigue, I was not overly motivated about this one.  But, the weather forecast improved as the week went on; with a low of 52 and 0% chance of rain, I was doomed to race throughout the night.   The equal payout was very enticing:  $1500, $1000, and $500.  So I pretty much did a gut check and headed down to Auburn, Alabama.

All business.

The turnout was disappointingly low.  There were only 3 women and 5 men in the money classes.  Chainbuster Racing does an outstanding job and has quality races.  Perhaps it wasn't promoted enough outside the Southeast.  Maybe college football takes precedence over racing, although I find that hard to believe.  It has been a long season and what with the gazillion races to choose from, it is possible everyone was just as tired as I was.

The day leading up to the 9pm start was the ... longest ... one ... ever.  I did my best to stay off my feet.  I tried to take a nap, but failed.  I ate a big breakfast and lunch and went light for dinner.  The cup of coffee at 7 pm was a perfect fuel additive for my engine.  By race start, I was primed.

No better way to lose a night of sleep.

The course was 11 miles long, 700 feet of gain, and 99% single track.  It was held in Chewacla State Park.  The local SORBA group, CAMP (Central Alabama Mountain Pedalers), worked long and hard to get this course in tip top shape.

Here is a summary of my race by lap.

Lap 1:  Jill Martindale, a Mini-Me of Danielle Musto, had go go gadget legs.  I barely held on to her wheel.  During the more technical second half, I was able to take the lead and get the fastest lap award ($100).

Lap 2:  This was my settle down and maintain lap.  I really had no upper end power, but could crank out a steady aerobic endurance pace.

Lap 3:  Around mile 8-9, I swore I was pedaling through a Bath and Body Works.  And around mile 10, the odor of  cinnamon rolls elicited a Pavlovian response.  Your sense of smell and hearing are much more keen when night racing.  The flowery smell persisted all night long.  This was motivating, as I knew I was close to the finish of each lap.

Lap 4:  The first half of the course was on the aptly named  For Pete's Sake Trail.  It was equivalent to a person's small intestine.  5+ miles of so much twisting and turning that I could not tell if the lights around me were racers in front of or behind me.  This was the "Dr. Hyde" section.  I just kept telling myself that this evil would lead to pleasure ... Falls View and Creek View Trails.  These were "whoo hoo" fun.  Fast flowy descents with a few small rock gardens interspersed.

Lap 5:  Glowing eyes and large crashing sounds through the woods just next to me.  Hoping the deer, Sasquatch, or whatever it is doesn't decide to jump in front of me.

Lap 6:  Finally finding "zen" with the trail.  Knowing when to brake, when to accelerate, when to coast, and which lines were the smoothest.  In a race of this length, it is not just about the power you can generate, but using your engine efficiently.

Lap 7:  I started naming the roots:  Little Focker #1, Little Focker #2, Little Focker #3 ... you get the picture.

Lap 8:  The most painful lap.  Everthing was beginning to hurt:  taint, upper back/neck, feet ... in that order.  I began to daydream ... err, nightdream, to not think about the pain.  I tried to name all of Ursula's 5 dogs and 6 cats.  I designed my dream truck.

Lap 9:  Began to go through some mental calculations to determine how many more laps I would need to secure a win.  Try doing math in your head at 5 am with 95 miles in your legs!  At least it made the lap go by quick enough.

Lap 10:  The sunrise lap ... my favorite lap of these type events.  It is amazingly beautiful  how the trail slowly comes to life and you begin to see the terrain you have been riding through the past 10 hours.

The Jet 9RDO made for a much smoother ride.

Lap 11:  Came through the pits after the 10th.  I was told Jill was about 30 minutes behind me.  What with the time remaining, I had to go out for this 11th one.  Tired of carrying a Camelbak, tired of carrying lights and batteries, I shed all this equipment.  I didn't even want the weight of a full bottle so I drank about 8 ounces at the pits and rode away, "bare bones" style.

I finished at 7:52 ... plenty of time for a 12th lap, but not necessary.  Jeff, my teammate, finished 2nd, and James won the Ultra division.  A great showing for SuperSport!

C.A.M.P.  treated us to a delicious breakfast.  Bacon, sausage, eggs ... had I died and gone to heaven?

$150 per lap 

A special thanks to NiteRider for being the title sponsor.  This race could not have happened without their support.

Double Dare Day 2 Race Report

4:45am.  I am the first one up, as I do not see a single light elsewhere.  I turn my vehicle's engine on and eagerly await the heat.  Only partly bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, I try to put my clothes on while still retaining the fastly fading warmth of my sleeping bag.  At least I know there will be a pot of hot coffee waiting for me in Cam's RV.

Not really hungry, but shoveling food in hopes of staving off the fatigue monster, I make my way over to the RV.  Kip is still in his bag, moaning and whimpering ... not a morning person, I gather.  The pot of coffee is percolating ... ever ... so .... slowly.  I begin to wonder if it will finish before the 6am start.  It does, and I have my grande salted caramel latte, courtesy of a Gu gel pack.

The running shoes I had purposefully purchased just for this event and had carried around ALL DAY yesterday and not used were still attached to my pack.  I had high hopes of a hiking CP today, so I kept that extra 9 ounces strapped down.  Once again, we were treated to a TT to get our passports.  Eric said the passports were at the top of Farlow Gap.  Cool,  a nice warm up on the road.  But, no!  I swear I saw horns come out of Eric's head as he told us we would be going up Daniel Ridge and Farlow Gap Trail.  2000+ feet of gain in 6 miles!

Kip was worried his tiny commuter light would not be enough.  I quickly told him that at a 3mph pace, it would suffice.  It was much warmer than last year, 48 degrees, and we both had to stop along Daniel Ridge to shed a layer.  Once we got to Farlow, the shit hit the fan for me.  I had tweaked my right wrist the day before.  Pushing and hoisting the bike over boulders that were shoulder high caused a sharp pain in my wrist.  My bike and gear together weighed 32 pounds; doing the math, I was having to carry 31% of my body weight up that friggin' trail.  I am not ashamed to admit, I was a hurtin' buckaroo.  I likened myself to Sisyphus, with my bike being the stone that kept rolling backwards.  Curses you, Zeus, aka Eric Wever!

Kip helped when he could, lifting my bike up to me on a couple ledges, giving me a push every now and then to keep my momentum moving forward as opposed to "turtling backwards."  Several teams passed us which frustrated me because I knew I was faster than them, if I could only ride.

Farlow Gap Trail.  Photo Credit:  Rebecca Bubp

The sun began to rise as we reached the top.  This did wonders for my morale.  Two hours into the day, we hit the top.  Mind you, yesterday we rode 25 miles in 2 hours to get our passports. I think I have a love/hate relationship with Pisgah.

Grabbing our passport, we plotted a course.

Trying to crush our souls by putting the mandatory CP lightyears away from Farlow Gap.

There were 3 CP's near Farlow.  We decided against 140A/5003 (a mistake we realized too late).  Our first one would be 215/Indian Creek Road.  We put our jackets back on for the fireroad descent, and even though I had 2 layers on my hands, I lost feeling in them within 5 minutes.  With an air temp of 30 degrees and speed of 15mph, I estimated a wind chill of 10 degrees coming off of Farlow Gap.  As we approached Hwy 215, the sun was shining brightly and felt absolutely wonderful.

Hwy 215/Indian Creek Road

Riding back up to Gloucester Gap, we saw several teams coming down to go get that same CP.  These teams had beat us up to Farlow Gap, so at that moment we knew that we made a mistake in not obtaining 140A/5003 CP.  In amongst those teams was Sam and Trish.  We thought that after the first day we were "tied" with them; therefore, we had a fighting chance in the Coed Division to climb aboard the top step.  But once we saw them motoring down Indian Gap with grit and determination written all over their faces, we would need "Lady Luck" on our side.

Our next CP would be Butter Gap/Art Loeb Trail.  Climbing back up to the gap, the feeling in our appendages quickly returned.  The pace up to the CP quickened as the day progressed and my legs slowly came back to life after the grueling HAB.

The reward for getting here is a rippin' descent!

Butter was in great shape and we arrived at the Fish Hatchery in no time.  Funny, completely unscathed coming down Butter, but EVERY STINKING TIME I forget that thin almost invisible chain stretched out across the road to the parking lot.  Damn, that was close!

By now, I realized there would be no bonus hikes, so Kip and I hid our shoes at the hatchery.  Our next CP was Pink Beds.  I was NOT looking forward to climbing 276 AGAIN!  But the other option was just as evil ... climbing Clawhammer.

I was faster today on 276 than yesterday ... go figure!  We arrived at the parking lot and went over to the faucet to refill our hydration packs.  When we arrived, there was a little group of Double Darer's doing the same.  Barnabus was there and he made a statement that this was the first time he was wearing more layers than I!  Sure enough, every body part of his was covered save for his face and ankles.

The rookies to the right thought this was the Pink Beds CP.  Fortunately for them, we told them it wasn't.

On our way to Pink Beds/Barnett Branch Trail, Kip noticed his rear tire was really low.  We stopped and aired it back up, hoping that perhaps he had just burped it coming down Butter.

No, I did not sucker punch him in the cheek.  That is 2-3 dill pickles he was working on when this was taken.

We then rode out to the end of Pink Beds.  After doing a bit of math, we decided to ride up 5018 to grab our fourth CP at the top of Horse Cove.  The last time I had ridden this road was during P36.  It was cold and deep in snow.  And it seemed to take forever.  Today was not so bad.  But, Kip's tire was losing air again.  At the CP, he made the decision to tube it while I enjoyed a Red Bull.  As we were changing the tire, David and Dan arrived shortly thereafter.  David pulled out a small bag of crushed potato chips that looked divine!  I had an immediate Pavlovian response and so had to get out a few salty tiny potatos to munch on while Kip finished up.

Horse Cove/5018

After about a 15 minute stop, we hurried down Horse Cove Trail to Squirrel Gap Trail.  Our 5th CP would be Wolf Ford.  I love riding Squirrel this way since it is mostly downhill.  And only one vertigo moment when my eyes wandered over to one of the steep drop offs in a tight turn.

Wolf Ford

Then began the long, but flowy gradual climb up South Mills and Buckhorn.  Once again, we saw Sam and Trish; they were headed down.  Funny how we saw our main competition multiple times during this race that encompasses thousands of acres.  They were absolutely on fire today!  At this point, if we could finish only 1 CP down to them, I would be completely satisfied.

We were headed up to get the mandatory at the Buckhorn Gap shelter on Black.  Oh, how I love the Buckhorn Gap Trail this way with its 6-8 right hand turns that all look the same.  It's one of those evil little trails where you think you are finished but then there is more, more, and more.

At the mandatory, we could get a 1/2 bonus CP by playing hackey sack or each eating a jalapeno pepper.  We chose the pepper.  Two bites, two chews, and two swallows later, it was down the hatch, along with a chocolate gel for a cooling effect.  Easy peasy!  Katie, Patrick's partner, begged to differ.

Like a kid trying to swallow a pill for the first time.

I am sure her belly sloshed around for some time after downing that bottle.

It was now about 2:30 pm.  That would give us 3 1/2 hours to get 3 more CP's.  Next up was Pressley Gap.  That was pretty easy:  just bomb down Clawhammer for a few miles (the 1st warm fire road descent of the weekend).  Then cruise on up 5099 and grab CP #7.  I use the term "bomb" and "cruise" lightly as about now we were 140 miles in and close to 18,000 feet of climbing.  Still yet, we managed to pass a few weekend warriors.  One I almost caught with his pants down as he was about to butter his chamois.  Hehe ... he was more than a little embarassed.  Once at the top, I myself needed a reapplication of Chamois Butt'r to my nethers as it felt like I was sitting on two jalapenos.  The cooling effect of some new Butt'r lasted a good 30 minutes.

After descending back down to the stables, we were going to climb up Bennett to get the CP at Coontree Gap.  I let Kip go first, to be fodder for the Enduro demons.  Luckily it was late enough in the day that they had probably finished their runs.  We once again met up with Rebecca and her team mate and rode/HAB'd with them up to Coontree Gap.

Another crazy fun descent.

Kip rocked it on this descent.  He made me look like a rookie, despite his hardtail with no dropper.  I was tired and when I get that way, my brain begins to battle my body.  This leads to all sorts of confusion and you don't need that when trying to ride some steep shit with all its tangled roots and drops.  Needless to say, I had to walk one section.  A little frustrated but glad that I had left my ego at home this weekend, for it would have gotten me into trouble.

Popping out on 276, we had plenty of time to do an out and back on Daniel Ridge to get our final and 9th CP.  We decided to leave our bikes at the point in the trail when it was unrideable and run up to the intersection of Daniel Ridge and Farlow.  I was done pushing my bike uphill.  My wrist and ankle were o.k. on the bike, but screamed like banshees anytime I had to get off and push:  overuse tendonitis.

Guess who we ran into for the umpteenth time?  

It was about a 25 minute out and back from where we had stashed our bikes.  Once back on them, I could smell the barn.  We flew back down Daniel Ridge to 475 and then pedaled back into camp.  With 72 miles today and another 10,000 feet of climbing, that put us with a total of 160 miles and 20,000 feet of climbing for the weekend.  16.5 CP's netted us 5th overall and 2nd Coed.  We were both stoked.  I defended my QOP and Kip cracked the top 10 with a solid 9th!

Put a fork in us, we are done!

I have been very fortunate to have great partners for this event:  Lisa last year and Kip this year.  The memories we created will live with me forever.  Even the suffery ones will be welcomed as it makes the victory and accomplishment that much more rewarding.  Thanks Kip for one helluva weekend!

Arguably the HARDEST endurance mountain bike series in the U.S.

Double Dare Day 1 Race Report

Pisgah Productions' Double Dare race is the fifth and final race in the King/Queen of Pisgah series.  It consists of two segments, the first beginning at noon Saturday and the second beginning at 6am Sunday.  Each team has 12 hours each day to collect up to 10 checkpoints with one CP each day being mandatory.  At the mandatory CP's you can earn addtional points by completing a special test.  You must finish each day by the cut off time or be DQ'd.  At midnight Saturday, there is also another special test where you can earn more bonus points.

I was teamed up with Kip Clyburn (who had been trying to get me to do this race for years, saying what better way to spend a weekend than wandering and wondering hours on end in one of the most difficult National Forests to pedal a bike).  Last year I partnered up with Lisa Randall for DD ... and had the absolute best weekend of my cycling life.

Faith, my trusty steed.

I had a fairly good cushion on second place Brenda Simril.  All I had to do was ride safely, grab the mandatories and a couple others, and finish.  However, Kip wanted a top 10 KOP finish and I was all for going hard to achieve this goal.

At 12pm Eric told us that our passports would be awaiting us at the intersection of South Mills River and Bradley Creek.  THAT was on the other side of the map from the start at Cove Creek Campground!  And the first 3 teams there would get bonus points.  Kip and I contemplated route options:  in the end we settled on 475 --> 276 --> 1206 --> 5015 --> Bradley Creek.  Eric had the teams go off in 30 second increments.  This would keep the tag-a-longs to a minimum.

I hoisted my Camelbak onto my shoulders ... and about  went belly up!  I had not worn a pack since PMBAR.  I swear that pack felt like I had just put a toddler on my back!

13 pounds of mandatory gear + running shoes

As we headed out, my legs were in complete rebellion mode.  They wanted no part of climbing 1000 feet right out the gate.  Kip, on the other hand, was like a squirrel who had just emptied a bag of nuts laced with speed.  As other teams caught up to us and passed us, he was doing his best to start up a conversation on the meaning of life.  I knew he was just being his usual happy self, but I'm sure the other teams thought this was a strategy to slow them down.

Once we hit 1206,  I found a happy place and began to work with Kip to grind out the miles to the passport checkpoint.  Trish and Sam found us here; it was good to see them being able to race together.  Although Trish was very cordial and chatted with me a bit, Kip later said that as Sam passed him, Sam gave him the "I am gonna rip your legs off" look.  I told Kip to not take offense as Zeke is one of the few people I know that can get Sam to crack a smile, especially during a race.

25 miles and 2 hours later, we arrived at our destination.  Two other teams were already there.  We were the third team in, but since we had started off in 30 second intervals, there were 2 other teams that beat us there "time-wise."  So we did not get any bonus points.  However, being in the top 5 at that point gave me many motivational points.

Curses you, Eric, for the "no flow" CP gathering today.

Ever since I started riding in Pisgah, I have been told by the locals to NEVER RIDE TURKEY PEN from east to west.  So when I saw where the mandatory was, I let off a string of expletives (in my mind).  At least I would not be suffering alone, as all 30 teams would be slogging up The Wall.  As we mostly pushed up to the mandatory, we ran into several teams coming down Turkey Pen.  Poor souls!  They chose to get to the passport checkpoint by riding ALL of Turkey Pen.  I wonder what their faces looked like when they saw the mandatory CP at Wagon Gap.

Once at the CP, we could get an additional 1/2 point by hitting a beer can with a slingshot/acorn or write a haiku.  So I wrote:

Pisgah Productions

Suffering on the bike, oi!

Spiritual cleanse

3 hours and 29 miles later and we had our first CP.  Ouch!  That called for a little reward, so I pulled out some bacon from my FeedBag. As the motto goes, "Bacon makes anything better," including hike a bikes of death.  From there we decided to go collect Cantrell Creek Lodge and Saddle Gap via South Mills River.  I got to ride a "new to me" section of South Mills.  It was fast and I consider  anything greater than 6mph fast in Pisgah!  

As we were approaching the Lodge, a team came upon us.  One was on a single speed in crazy greyhound mode. He almost took Kip out just after a river crossing.  As they passed us, Kip informed me that the guy on the SS was Bob.  Bob Moss, I asked?  Kip said yes.  I was in awe that I had been ahead of Bob "The Hammer" Moss, whose thighs are like tree trunks!

Kip getting a pic of the Lodge and I while I was getting proof that I was riding with Bob and Dave.

After attempting to bribe Bob with some salty baby potatoes in exchange for carrying my pack up Cantrell Creek, we saddled up for some riding/some pushing up to Squirrel.  Bob, who had burritos in his pack, could not be persuaded.  Cantrell Creek is loaded with loose baby heads, making pedaling difficult.  But at least you did not have to worry about destroying your derailleur when HAB'ing.  At the top of Cantrell we came upon Trish and Sam who were having a picnic.  Being the superhumans they were and having their map in their heads, they could afford to chill.

I was glad to be on Squirrel Gap.  Following a contour line, it is totally rideable.  But still tricky, as I would call it half-track.  And a mistake here could easily send you tumbling stright down 50-100 feet.  The scaries part of my whole race was right here, where a root grabbed my front wheel and I just about launched off into a ravine.  The only "Oh, shit!" moment of my whole race.

After grabbing our 3rd CP at Laurel Gap, we headed down Laurel Creek and over to 5015.  We were going to grab the 3 CP's in the North Mills area.  Laurel Creek was the dryest I had ever seen it.  I had an enjoyable time cleaning most of it.  At one point I felt something hit my rear wheel ... or so I thought.  A few moments later, Kip catches up and tells me I have a stick in my derailleur.  I stop, dismount, and look in amazement.

Close call!

That stick was jammed so tightly that Kip had to break it in two to dislodge it.  Lady luck was with me today, for sure!  From the bottom of 5015, we retraced our steps back up to 1206.  At the top, we took a moment to eat and put another layer on.  It was now about 5:30 pm, the wind was whipping, and the sun and temperature was dropping.  I downed a Red Bull and some dates. Sam and Trish caught back up to us and headed down to North Mills River.  Knowing that their route was very similar to ours gave us a boost of confidence in CP choices.  

At the campground, we stopped and replenished our water.  It was nice not to not have to resort to purifying creek water; a time saver.

We decided to get Bear Branch first.  This area had been logged over the summer and so looked quite different.  We turned onto 5001 and began climbing.  This road had seen lots of logging.  There were many new roads off 5001 that led us to question if we were headed in the correct direction.  We looked for tire tracks, but with it dry and hardpack, it was difficult.  At one point we thought about turning back and going up the single track to nab the CP.  That decision would have cost us precious time.  Kip convinced me to go just a bit further.  Fortunately I listened and within a 1/4 mile we realized we were on the right track.

We made it to the intersection, snapped a picture, and then put on our lights for the descent down Bear Branch. This was my first night ride of the year, so I was a bit tentative.   I'm sure this trail would be a blast in the daylight, but I took it a bit easy, allowing my eyes to adjust to the setting sun and the 450 lumens my Lupine was casting out.  

From there we headed over to the Hendersonville Reservoir CP, motoring along on 142.  

Henderson Reservoir

We then took Spencer Branch to get to Middle Fork.  This trail had a couple creek crossings.  Although the creek crossings earlier in the day felt quite good, we were both reluctant to get our feet wet now.  The first one we made it across successfully, but the second, Kip took a little plunge trying to maneuver across some rocks.  Nothing hurt but his pride; he laughed it off and kept motoring.  Where Spencer Branch was tight, twisty, and thick with undergrowth, Middle Fork was smooth, straight, and fast.  Once again we exchanged hoots and hollers with Sam and Trish as they came cruising in the opposite direction.  

CP # 6, Middle Fork

We headed back the way we came.  Kip wanted to take Fletcher back to the reservoir.  Even though Spencer was a bit of a pain, with the creek crossings and multiple downed trees, I knew it.  Fletcher was the unknown.  I won; we stayed on Spencer.  

As we were climbing back up to Yellow Gap, we began to do some mental calculations to see if we had the time to try for a seventh CP.  At this point we were 63 miles in and had 2 1/2 hours left to midnight.  A seventh was possible, if all went well and we encountered no mechanicals.  Not willing to take the risk (if we came in after midnight, we would be DQ'd and no QOP for me.)  We both decided to head back to camp.  Right after our decision, the wind began to whip and it started raining lightly.  I was also getting cold, so I tucked in behind Kip and drafted off him.  On 1206, we once again came upon Sam and Trish, who were stopped alongside the road.

In hindsight, we probably would have had plenty of time to snag the CP on Bennett.  But we had both completely forgot about this one.  

The descent back down 276 was bitterly cold.  It seemed to take just as long to go down as it did earlier in the day to climb up.  Towards the end all I wanted to do was climb and get warm again.  Those little kickers on 475 after the fish hatchery were leg killers!

We arrived back at camp at 10:48.  I had enough time to eat and put on some new clothes for the special test at midnight.  This was going to be a short track race through the campground.  10 laps with time bonuses for 1st, 2nd, and 3rd.  Each lap took about a minute.  It was all easy save for the 3 foot log you had to lift your bike up and over, unless you were Sam who bunny-hopped it 3 times I believe.  

After 88 miles and 10,000 feet of climbing, and with a 1/2 CP for finishing the short track, we had 7 CP's for the day.  

Afterwards, I treated myself to a nice hot shower in Cam's RV, ate/drank some more, and then curled up in my vehicle for a few hours of restless sleep.  Looking at the stars through my moonroof, I smiled.  Today was a good day.  Beautiful country, new to me trail,and lots of laughs with an awesome partner.  Could Day 2 trump today?  

Nutrition on the bike:  6 dates, 6 energy squares, 2 gels, 1 Red Bull, 1 RX bar, 2 Larabars, 6 baby potatoes, 4 strips bacon, and 110 ounces of Skratch.

Pisgah 111K Race Report

Pretty much sums up my day.

In case you have never ridden Pisgh, 1kilometer = 1 mile.  This was the third year and my third go at it.  Each year the course has been different.  After last year's epic weekend I told myself I would not do it again.  Well, time seems to erase all memories of pain.  At least this year, I did not have to start out in my shower cap.  There was, however, a 30% chance of afternoon showers.  I was hopeful to outrun Mother Nature, but I did place a shower cap and kitchen sized garbage bag at the third aid station.

It was a cold, but dry start.  90 toed the line; I wondered how many the forest would devour throughout the day.  This race is as much about attrition as fitness.  The start was slow, even by my standards.  Although my legs appreciated it, I anxiously awaited the pace to increase so I could try to put some distance on my competition.  The legs had some spark and I wanted to take advantage of that.  Once we turned off 477, the rabbit was let loose and the greyhounds gave chase ... only to come to a complete stop at the gate.  We all scurried around it and were off again.  Greg was just ahead of me and knowing how strong he is on gravel, I let him pace me up Clawhammer.

Right on Black and so began the numerous HAB's (hike a bikes).  On this section there are several rideable sections.  I pick and chose some to ride and just pushed the rest.  Over the years, experience has taught me that just continuing to push takes less effort than mounting/dismounting and if the pace is the same, it just makes sense.  After 5 years of riding Pisgah, my body knows the trail, what is around each corner, the rock or the stump where I can easily step up and mount my bike, where to quickly dismount before it is too late, etc.

Kip, my Double Dare partner joined me here.  His usual jovial self was music to my ears.  Amazing how that man can ride a single speed and talk comfortably while grinding upwards.  I look forward to our weekend of adventure this fall.

For this race, I made a couple adjustments to my Niner Jet9 RDO.  Off came the bar ends, despite my hands' best efforts to dissuade me.  I swapped from a 2 x 10 to a 1 x 11 with a 30T chain ring.  I also invested in a Rock Shox Reverb 100mm dropper post.

Left on Turkey Pen and the hour of heinous downhills followed by steep pushes upwards toward the heavens.  The descents were definitely easier.  It was amazing how much better control I had by being able to lower my center of gravity 4 inches.  I felt so confident, I tried the sharp rooty left hander before the hardest downhill.  Would have cleaned it, too, had it not been for the large tree that grabbed my bar and slammed me down.  Having hurt nothing more than my pride, I motored on down the remainder.

The rhododendrons were thick through Turkey Pen and were all grabby-feely.  Being of small stature and with no bar ends to get tangled, those sections were easier, too.  I felt like I was riding a speeder bike on Endor!

I motored on through the first aid station, down South Mills, up Mullinax and Squirrel to Laurel.  It had been a couple years since I had been on Laurel.  The top section was a flowing river over multiple water bars.  A little puckering went on here.  After crossing the creek several times and working my way through sticks and roots, the last half was probably the second best descent of the day for me.  Fast and flowy with no deadfall!

Going into the third hour on the climb up 5015, I felt the first signs of fatigue.  Knowing my body, I knew this would pass.  Drinking and eating helped my engine to get back on track.  I stopped at the second aid station long enough to swap CamelBaks, gel flasks, and get a good whiff of bacon!!!  I chose to pass on that delicacy as bacon + L4 HR + arduous climb = rock in the gut.  Kip had different thoughts and pulled up a chair to enjoy brunch!  Eventually he caught back up as I was riding Mark's wheel and following his lines.

I was eager to get to Pilot to see what I could do and how fast I could descend on my rocket ship.  The additonal weight penalty of the dropper post is well worth it.  I am not a Sue Haywood nor a Rich Dillen by any means, but today I felt like I had conjured my inner Sue and Dicky on this downhill.  A lot of firsts happened for me.  The biggest was cleaning the Humvee section, even though by that time my forarms and triceps were so pumped my hand/bar connection was not the best.

With that little boost of self confidence, I got my second wind for the Pilot Cove-Slate Rock section.  Little did I know that I would definitely need that energy boost.  (Thanks, Rich, for suggesting this loop.)  A new to me trail, it starts out lulling you into a false sense of security with its peaceful flat ribbon of trail through the cove.  And then you turn to the left and up up up the trail goes.  Rideable if you are fresh or have a 22-34!  It has enough waterbars, roots, and loose rock to make it energy sapping to put forth an effort pedaling it.  So I pushed for 20 minutes.  Looking forward to the downhill, when I come to it, some expletives also came to my mind.  Tight, steep side cut with enough roots and mud to make me think twice about negotiating some of the more difficult sections on the bike.  Mistake = broken bike and/or body.  Let's just say there was alot of CX practice going on.

Popping out onto 1206, I ground some gravel to the third aid station.  Here I caught up to team mate Van Mixon, who was having some bike issues:  broken water bottle mount and broken tension spring in the right pedal.  He was still in good spirits, though, and motored off while I chugged my Red Bull.  Last year, I could not pop the top on the can with my gloves on.  This year I had transferred it to a water bottle, thereby buying precious seconds and having it go down the hatch easier with less fizz.

I made short work of South Mills and Buckhorn, catching back up to Van.  At the intersection, Josh of Threshold Provisions pointed us to take a right.  Huh?  What?  I am supposed to go left, like last year or so I thought.  In my oxygen deprived state of mind (and that's the story I am sticking with), I actually questioned Josh after seeing the 3 strips of tape leading up to the right.  He nicely replied, "Yes, you are going up that way."  Once I began to climb the stairs, I came to my senses, laughed out loud at myself, and apologized to him.  And then I continued to laugh at myself for probably the next 10 minutes. (So that is why Eric mentioned Avery Creek this morning at the pre race meeting.)  After the HAB on this section of Black, I was thankful of this course change as I don't ride this section of Black very often and Avery Creek is just so friggin' fun ... well, at least until you get down in the hole and have to claw your way back up.  Mean, Eric, just mean, when you could have directed us onto Buckhorn!

Once I saw the horse stables for the second time today, I began to smell the barn.  Up Clawhammer to Maxwell to Black.  A short HAB up, where Kip caught up to me once again, and then we let it rip down the Black descent.  We rolled under the finish line together in 7:56 after 61 miles and 11,000 feet of climbing. 

1 tallboy = 1/2 kitchen pass. Have my eye on a 2nd one come Sunday.

Knowing what lay ahead for Sunday, I did not partake in any post-race shenanigans.  A walk over to Davidson River to soak the pistons while recovering with my chocolate almond milk concoction.  Then off to the Sunset for more fuel and some leg squeezing courtesy of Elevated Legs.  A big shout out to Zeke for tending to Faith, my trusty Niner steed.

Snake Creek Gap TT Race Report: The Full Monty

I love maps!

Having spent the first part of 2014 fighting a respiratory infection, my training has been less structured than what was planned.  I was nervous how my body would respond to the demands of The Snake.  Temps were in the upper 20's at the start and I appreciated Paul lending his jacket to me while I waited in line to start.  I was probably about 75 people back.  Not where I wanted to be, but, in the end, it was probably a good thing.

The road leading to the creek was frozen and fast ... and surprisingly, no mud bogs to traverse.  As I settled into a steady tempo, I knew it was going to be a good day.  Funny, I never know how my legs/body/lungs are going to respond until the race starts.  From the time I wake up on race day to I toe the line, there is a nervous energy revving my engine.  Fortunately for me, the diesel was burning clean and the legs were sparkly.

The creek crossing was 4 inches deep.  Half pedaling, I kept my feet dry.  The double track climb up John's Mountain was amazingly dry; there were only a few sketchy muddy spots.  Traffic was heavy, but it kept my RPM's down and allowed for a good thorough warm up.  The same went for the single track over to the forest service road.  I kept my cool, knowing that what energy I did not blow now would be there when I asked for it later.

I had a couple SuperSport Athletic Wear team mates around me.  Tyler Martin just ahead and Randall just behind.  It was motivating to see those green kits ... proud to be racing with a team of good people.  The forest road was closed to vehicular traffic, so I was able to open it up on the descent.  This area had a controlled burn a few weeks ago and the acrid smoky odor was still in the air, but not thick enough where it had any affect on my lungs.

By the time I started climbing up Pine Needle Hill, traffic had cleared and I was in my own little bubble of happiness.  About an hour of racing had gone by and my body was ready to kick it up a notch.  Faith (that's what I call my Niner Jet 9 RDO) was behaving wonderfully.  With flawless shifting and suspension dialed, the trail was as smooth as butter.  Yeah, I name all my bikes ... and I still sleep with my stuffed Dalmation that I have had since I was 4.  You got a problem with that?  Let's settle it on the race course!

The remainder of the first half was in superb condition.  Even the usually muddy uphill leading to the Horn Mountain single track climb was dry and rideable.  Score!  I came into the Snake Creek Gap parking lot at the 1:34 mark.  Not my fastest, but not my slowest either.  I made short work at the pits, swapping bottles and grabbing a gel.

The climb up Middle Mountain is usually a kick in the pants, but today was all about unicorns and rainbows.  Having conserved some energy in the first half, I felt really good.  I slowly reeled in my teammate Tyler on the climbs, but then he would quickly dispatch me on the descents.  This was good motivation for me and kept my mind off any fatigue that might have been slowly making its way into my muscles.

As I came upon the section that I flatted last month, my mantra was "float like a butterfly."  It worked.  A clean run down to the multiple creek crossings.  I caught Tyler on the muddy climb up to "fun" single track.  I goaded him bit, knowing that he had more in him that he was showing.  If the roles were reversed, I would hope that my teammate would do the same.

My bike was pretty clean ... up until this point.

 I rinsed this mud off in my backyard, hoping that it will grow some rocks!

I always look forward to the last technical bit of single track.  Even more so now that I run I-9 wheels.  The instant engagement has allowed me to clean obstacles I have had trouble with in the past and clean other obstacles quicker.

 I came upon another teammate, Lisa, in this section.  She was rockin' the descents, but having a bit of trouble on the steeper climbs.  (I have no doubts that in due time, she will be back to her former mountain goat self).  Even though no words were exchanged, in our own way, we helped each other "get after it."

I opted out of attempting The Wall.  I knew it would be faster and more efficient to just run it and save myself from a potential cramping episode.  Except for a couple sections where I had to run around other racers, everything else was rideable.  I was hoping to catch the coattails of a Big Kahuna on the final pavement descent to the finish, but alas, I was all alone.  So I pedaled, pedaled, pedaled!

I raced it to the finish for a time of 3:32:45.  Not too shabby for not having much of a structured training program the past two months.  Now if I can just finish out the winter healthy and have my Coach break me down and build me up, March should be fantastic!

Schwag!

5 Points 50 Race Report

Taking place atop Lookout Mountain, Tn/Ga, this race was a Jeckyl and Hyde kind of course.  Race director, Michael Long, did his homework well when laying out this course.  It had a little bit of everything, from pavement to smooth flowy fast trail to tight, twisty rooty trail to rock gardens to creek crossings.  The further you got into the race the harder it became ... at almost an exponential level.

I had just come off a much needed rest week, especially since I had raced the 3 weekends before.  I hadn't done that in a long time, and it hurt!  This aging body needs more time in between efforts to recoup and it wasn't until the Thursday before the race that I started feeling good again.

The starting temperature of 49 degrees was perfect.  There is nothing like uncontrollable shivering at the start to keep my mind sharp and focused.  Once the race started, I was on the gas and forgot the cold.  The lead out on the pavement was only neutral until the first hill.  And then I was digging deep to stay with the lead group.  My goal was to hang with Paula and any other women on the road, even if I had to burn a match or two.  I fell off the lead group but managed to stay with the second group and slowly bridged back up to Paula who had been in no man's land for a while.

Closing in on the 5 Points single track, it was Paula, Elizabeth, Namrita, and I.  With less than 100 yards to go, I knew it was imperative to get the hole shot, so I surged ahead of Elizabeth and Namrita and rode Paula's wheel into the woods.  We were on the connector leading to the climb up Fugget Lift when I shifted into my little ring up front ... and the chain decided to wrap itself around my bottom bracket.  Crap!  Off the bike, looking upside down at this ridiculousness, and trying to unravel this mess, my heartrate shot up as racer after racer passed me.  Monty was kind enough to stop and offer assistance, but by that time (it seemed like many minutes later) I had fixed the mechanical.

For the next 30 minutes I played catch up.  I shifted minimally for fear of a repeat and so spent the most of the 5 Points trail system in my big ring, grinding my Jet9 RDO up the climbs like it was a single speed (that would come back and bite me later).  My full suspension rig was a little overkill on the sweet flowy 5 Points trail system, but would later be to my advantage.  I enjoyed the flow and slowly bridged back up to Paula and Elizabeth.  I was able to make a pass as Elizabeth overcooked a turn and ride Paula's wheel through the CapRock section.

Upon entering the Ascalon trailhead I took the lead, did not take a feed, and rode the short pavement section to the newly cut single track.  It rolled fairly well, but was off camber in a lot of sections and strewn with loose small rock.  As I entered the rock garden, Paula was on my wheel.  I pushed just a little harder.  When I heard Paula falter, I drilled it for a few minutes, trying to shake her off my wheel.  Mission accomplished, I caught up to two guys.  They were riding a good pace so I used them to focus on keeping my tempo up through these 5 miles.

Coming through the Ascalon trailhead a second time, I felt my Camelbak, and knew I could make it to the final aid station before needing a feed.  It was on the Tailing's Run trail that I felt the first signs of fatigue.  This tight, twisty trail with its short punchy ups and downs was working on my hamstrings and quads.  I was glad to finally be on the CCT and racing back to Lula Lake Land Trust.

The CCT was fast!  I really enjoyed the full suspension here as it was chunky in places with lots of loose cathead rocks.  I came upon Shane who was attempting to fix a double sidewall flat (a 9 penny nail had gone through both sidewalls!).  I stopped for about 30 seconds, massaged a CO2 out of my saddle bag for him, and told him that he had better catch me.

I really enjoyed the 2 mile section off the CCT.  It was primitive single track  ... I think some old hiking trails. In some areas, had it not been for the orange flags, I would have lost the trail.  It felt like I was deep in the forest, miles from civilization.  The creek crossings were challenging, but rideable.  This was the second section that I saved precious seconds by having full suspension.  The last crossing had a short hike a bike and this was where Shane caught me.  He was riding like a bat out of hell!  Popping out onto a high end subdivision, I rode past multi million dollar mini-farms and stopped at the aid station.  I opted to drop my Camelbak and pick up a bottle for the final 12 mile push.

And a long push that was going to be!  There was a 1 mile section of mostly uphill pavement to get to some private property that would lead to the Lula Lake Land Trust section.  When I tried to go a bit harder, I felt a twinge in my right hamstring.  Not good!  I immediately slowed up, trying to avoid a full on cramp.  It worked, but this was the first time that I got worried about the competition behind me.

The section of ATV roads leading to Lula Lake was like riding the spine of a stegosaurus:  long steep ups and downs.  Luckily my bike was behaving and the granny was put to use ... alot.  Finally I was onto the trust property and was introduced to some kick ass trails!  The one trail I remember is the B Trail, aka the Jedi Trail.  A gently rolling smooth flowing trail, it weaved through the trees.  I had my groove again.  This section was laid out so that you would climb on double track and descend on single track.

At one point, I saw the start/finish area through the trees and across Rock Creek.  I crossed the creek on foot allowing the cool water to soothe my feet and calves.  Then it was onto a gravel road climb, followed shortly by a steep section of single track that was so tightly woven amongst the pine trees, I had to slow considerably just to get my handle bars through.  After about 3/4 mile, I was directed out onto the pavement for a 2 mile rolling climb to the final section of single track.

It was here that my engine died.  That rolling pavement did my legs in ... and that reoccurring twinge in my right leg reminded me how close I was to completely blowing up.  The racers in front of me appeared as tiny ants.  Finally I was at the left hand turn.  A short bit of pavement, somebody's private drive, and then I was directed right ... up THE POWERLINE CLIMB.

I cracked!  Off the bike pushing and suffering.  Suddenly I heard a rider come up behind me and then pass me like I was standing still, which I pretty much was at this point.  It was Elizabeth!  She had seen me on the pavement, smelled blood, and charged!

As she pedaled away, up the powerline climb, I did a little soul searching.  Was I satisfied with second?  Did I even have a chance of vying for first?  Would I be caught by third? While I was thinking about what happened and what could be, I pushed just a little harder, hopped on the bike, and pedaled a little harder.  After a few minutes, I could still see her.  I dug a little deeper; I got a little closer.  The gap was closing!  When she turned around to see where I was, I knew then I had a chance of vying for first!  I caught her on a descent.

With about 3- 3 1/2 miles left and the single track being tight, I had to wait for her to make a mistake.  At one point, I tried passing during a log hop, but she surged ahead and we almost locked bars.  I backed off, not wanting to take us both out doing something stupid.  I laughed and she said something like, "This is a real race!"  We came to a descent and I was right on her wheel; the trail veered sharply to the right.  Elizabeth was carrying too much speed and went straight.  I made my move!

I turned myself inside out over the last 2 miles.  I had never seen my heart rate that high so late in a race!  I suppose I can now rule out any sort of heart condition, as that was a true test of its performance.  And it was over this last section I was at an advantage on a full suspension.  The trail was pretty technical both on the ups as well as downs, with large rocks and roots to climb over, and some pretty good ledgy drops on the final descent leading back to the pavement.

I never looked back, even on the short pavement section back to the gravel drive that led down to the finish.  I buried myself in my machine, turning the pedals over as fast as I could ... hoping that my legs would not seize up.  I rolled through the finish line in 4:27.  Elizabeth came in 2 minutes later.

I had asked of my body what I thought was possible, but not probable.  Now knowing what I am capable of, I can never just "let her go," which will make future races all the more interesting.

Pain cave, I have entered you not knowing, and have exited with the excitement of knowing that I can push my body to its limits, and not only survive, but succeed!

Epic trails + happy volunteers + organized aid stations + equal pay outs + tons of usable schwag + a great post race meal (watermelon!) = MUST DO NEXT YEAR.  But be forewarned, the course will test your limits.  The last 12 miles are brutally fun.

New Hampshire 100 (K, that is) Racing Report

With tight trail and trees, I opted to run the GS1's

Morning came early at 4 am, with the alarm being a rumbling snore from the room next to Zeke and I.  Rice and eggs were washed down with Seattle's Best as we headed out the door for the hour drive to the venue.  This gave me time to decide what to race in as the temperature was 50 degrees.  Having not seen the 50's in months, I went through several options, settling on jersey, shorts, arm warmers, and embrocation for the legs.

The start was uncharacteristic with the hundies in two waves and the 64's in the 3rd wave, 1 minute behind.  I went from shivering uncontrollably to being warm in 2 seconds.  Ughh ... now I would have to wait 26 miles to drop the arm warmers and hope the embrocation would not light my legs on fire as the temps rose.

The first 3 1/2 miles blazed by as it was either pancake flat or slightly descending on a mix of asphalt and dirt roads.  I was through the single file bridge without incident before I knew it.

A bottleneck that never came to be ... nice!

I had a nice group to work with over the next 18 miles or so of  road (dirt/pave), rail-trail, double track, and short sections of trail.  Taking my share of pulls, my legs were allowed to warm up at a good pace, rather than the typical crazy VO2 max type of starts that are typical for this type of race.  There was nothing really technical about these miles, save for the tight trail alongside the RR tracks.  Riding here required heightened attention to not clipping my pedal on the ties or disaster would ensue.  The short bits of single track that seemed to wind through back yards appeared to be newly cut and was narrow, off-camber, and came with a healthy dose of slick roots and rocks.  That compounded with the sudden changes from the bright light of the roads to the darkness of the "King Arthur forest" made for a few "Oh, crap!" moments.  My photochromatic lenses were unable to keep up.

And then, BANG!  At mile 21, the road pitched up to a 20% grade for a mile.  I encountered HedgeHog Hill.  Holy crap!  What a leg shocker!  The group immediately broke up as we each settled into our own sustainable rhythm.  After a brief respite, BANG! again ... the Powerline Climb.  It was much like the powerline climb at Haw Ridge, except for a few energy-sapping mud bogs.  This put a real hurtin' on my momentum, and by the third one, I cried Uncle, and proceded to hike.  My feet began to bark.  "Shut up, feet!"  Only when I was able to hop back on the bike did they relent.

I rolled into aid station #3 (mile 26) where I had my first drop bag.  I had my own pit crew of volunteers who helped me get in/out in less than 20 seconds.  NASCAR style!  Huge shout out to the 100+ volunteers who made this race happen.

Everywhere I looked there were orange vests!

Somewhere along this next section of a series of climbs, I heard The Fiddler.  I tell ya, he would have given Charlie Daniels and the Devil a run for the money.  I must have heard him for a solid 5 minutes before I came out of a break in the forest and saw him.  Awesome and morale boosting!

The next 10 miles was undulating soft trail and double track.  I felt sluggish, not because of a lack of energy, but because I was either pedaling on loamy single track or recently logged double track that had been turned into one long mulch bed.  This section brought back TransRockies memories. It was here that I embraced the endorphin monster and began feeling really good when it happened.    I struck a large rock with my big ring and immediately went from 20 gears to 8.  My drive train was so gummed up with dark mud that I could not determine the specific issue other than my chain kept dropping off the large ring.  Not knowing how far ahead I was of second place I chose to diagnose while on the bike:  it was either a bent ring or a bent tooth/teeth.

After surgery.  Several broken teeth and 1 bent to the inside.

However, this was not too much of a problem as the remainder of the course was so technical with tons of short punchy climbs that I did not miss my big ring too much.  I also chose not to use my smallest two cogs as weird noises would ensue.  I was fearful of my derailleur wrapping around my cassette or spokes while I would be spinning down a super bumpy descent.

The promoters claimed the race was 29% single track.  But the double track was so heinous and at times more difficult than the single track.  All told, I would say the course was 75% trail, a real mountain bikers course.  "Old school raw," as Cheryl so aptly stated.  The elevation gain is only 7000 feet, but what they don't state is that 90% of that gain comes in the last 40 miles.

Throughout the single track there were stone wall crossings, most of which were ride-able.  The ones that weren't the guys in front of me were kind enough to lay themselves down over them and allow me to use them for traction!

About 10-15 of these I had to cross.

Miles 41-53 were by far the hardest for me.  I tend to have a soul-searching stretch about 2/3 into any race, no matter what the distance.  My legs were starting to burn on the punchy climbs, my feet were wanting to be finished, and I was getting pretty darn tired of pedaling 120+ rpm on the flat or descending sections.  I suppose someone at one of the aid stations might have been able to help me out with my big ring dilemma, but I was fearful of them doing more harm than good.

At mile 48 I came into aid station #5 where my second drop bag was.  Awaiting me was another NASCAR style volunteer pit crew and a Red Bull shot.  I don't care if it was a placebo effect or a real "buzz" but about 30 minutes later, I was finding my rhythm and beginning to smell the barn.  But first I had to wade through a chamois deep 30 yard pond/watering hole at mile 53.  I saw a couple racers attempt to ride it, but even on a 29'r, the water was above the BB and hubs.  I chose to carry Faith (my Niner Jet9 RDO) across the pool.  My feet greatly appreciated the cool water.

Miles 53-59 flew by quickly.  It was a mix of snowmobile, jeep, and ATV trails.  I don't recall any single track.  The climbs were not too bad and the descents were blazin' fast.  I just had to be constantly on the look out for the rogue rocks, you know, the ones that either like to take out your front wheel out or launch onto your shins!

The last 5 miles were courtesy of the Greenfield Trails Association.  Tight, twisty, and occasionally flowy single track.  Even though the trails were well groomed by New Hampshire standards, those miles were tough; no downhill road finishes here.  Yet enjoy them I did, because soon the game was going to be over.

The last section of single track.

I had plenty in the tank to make this a fun section.  I rode it at cross country pace, or so it felt.  As I approached the finish line, I was happy with my performance.  I rode strong all day, my feet were relatively pain free, and although I had a mechanical, it was manageable.

The finishing stretch ... so glad I only had to see this once.

I really enjoyed this race.  It was stinking hard!  Harder than the Ouachita or ORAMM.  I rode through, 1st woman, and 17th overall in 6:12.  Even though my legs could have done another 35, my feet would not have let me.  I have absolutely no regrets changing to the 100K.  I am beginning to think the 50-70 mile distance is what's best for me.

Icing on the cake!

Zeke finished as well ... on his SS.  This was definitely an unfriendly course for single speeders.  At  least here he could not bail; the shortest way back to the venue was to just ride (or walk)!  I could only imagine the names he must have been calling me during the last 30 miles; after all, it was my idea to race this new (to us) course.

I was happy to have chosen my Niner full suspension.  Even though it was a bit more bike to drag on the flats, it was awesome in the techy stuff.  Never once did my back complain (I had injured L5 four weeks ago).

Thanks LW for telling me it is ok  to race shorter distances.

Rolling With The Punches

I love to suffer on the bike.  You know, that kind of eye-ball popping, lung-busting, leg-burning pain as you push yourself to the limits.  This type of pain is an endorphin-releasing monster that I welcome with open arms.  It is one of the many reasons why we endurance junkies race.

However, in the last few months, that "fun" kind of suffering has been replaced with a burning, stabbing, and sometimes even an electrical searing pain.  With each step or pedal stroke, I am constantly reminded that my neurological system is full functioning, albeit in a negative way.  If I am lucky enough, the pain is eventually replaced by numbness.

The pain is most definitely worse off the bike.  It hurts to stand, period, and walking barefoot is almost impossible on hard surfaces.  The only respite is when I sit, swim, or sleep.  Weightlessness is my friend, gravity my foe.

On January 15, 2012 when I registered for the New Hampshire 100, I was super excited to be headed to a new race.  LW had my plan dialed for me to peak for this one.  I was salivating at the thought of a 100 mile sufferfest and competing against some of the best endurance ladies in the US.

Fast forward to today.  I am headed to New Hampshire to race, but LW and I have re-set my goals.  As she so eloquently put it, "Setbacks that occur as your race career progresses are called insults.  Always frustrating and demoralizing.  When you have a series of setbacks holding you back from where you know you can be, the best course of action is to place a higher focus on the joy of riding/racing and less on the suffer part."

I have always placed the fun factor of racing first, closely followed by safety and seeking that top podium spot.  So I have decided to race the 100K.  At this distance I feel I can still have the "euphoric" level of suffering, yet not be hindered/frustrated/demoralized by the pain.  And at this distance, I will be able to enjoy 2 days of riding the Kingdom Trails afterwards.

In the meantime, I am following my doc's recommendation of using a trans dermal cream to help placate the nerves in my feet.  Two days ago I visited Choice Orthotics to get fitted for a pair of custom insoles.  Richie told me that my arch is super high and my metatarsal fat pad is non existent.  The insoles will help displace my weight more evenly along the entire foot.  I will get a properly placed metatarsal button and there will be a gel pad to help cushion the metatarsal heads.

They can also fit Ossur Cheetah carbon fiber foot prosthetics.

Right now the forecast looks pretty good for the race.  The 6:45am start will be a little nippy in the low 50's.  Zeke will be racing his Niner A9C single speed and I will be on my Niner Jet 9 RDO.  The legs are tuned and the GI is happy so hoping the rest of the body follows suit.

At least there is no target on my back!