Dirty Bird Productions hosted this 4/8 hour race at Panther Creek State Park near Morristown, Tennessee. Not having ridden single track in what felt like forever, I could not resist to race on this course which is mostly fast and flowy, with a few sections of rocks and roots, but nothing too technical.
Each lap was 8 miles with 900 feet of gain. My goal was to ride smooth and steady for 3 laps and then drop the hammer on the 4th and final lap. I don't know where spring went, but race morning it was bone-chilling cold ... 36 degrees! My warm up consisted of riding up the grassy hill to use the state park restroom (which was heated), and then coast back down to the truck riding the brakes to minimize the wind chill.
I started out with all the warmers (leg, arm, head, and chemical). I was nicely surprised by how calm the mass start was. No elbow rubbing or handlebar swapping, my kind of start. I knew this first lap was going to hurt due to lack of warm up. So I started slow-ish and as the legs warmed up, I slowly accelerated.
The one and only bottleneck was at the rock drop. Meh! I lost some time as several ahead of me opted to walk it. Seriously, I thought it was more dangerous to try to walk down it then just send it. Nothing like slick metal cleats on a flat rock at a 45 degree angle.
The aforementioned rock is in the background.
Upper Trout Lily Trail had a nice rooty climb, but then you were rewarded with a couple of tight but flowy descents. Pioneer had some slightly rocky grunty climbs and loose over hardpack curvy descents. The Outer Farm Loop was wide open, smooth and fasssst. I could really fly through this section and carry my momentum. Then onto the Piney Cove Trail for a few more roots and then finally I hit the punchy final climb up to the crest of the grassy field and finished the lap off with a screaming 1/2 mile descent. I knocked out the first lap in 48:01.
Final descent
I stopped at my pit to take off all my winter gear, as the sun was shining and the temps rising. Lap 2 was pretty uneventful, I got to hit the rock slab at full gas, and the field had spread out so that I felt like I was just doing a hard training ride.
Upper Trout Lily
I finished the second lap in 47:56. I stopped briefly to swap bottles and take a gel.
The third lap was the hardest as the climbs seemed to grow a little. The one memorable moment was when I was passed by a gentleman racer. I call him a gentleman and not a dude or fellow because he was very polite and paid me a compliment. He was wearing a black kit with horizontal red and yellow stripes across the jersey. If just half the men would say something positive to the women they pass, it would be so empowering to these ladies. It would make them feel like they belong and I believe would get more women racing.
Pioneer Trail
I finished the third lap in 48:16. Once again, I stopped at my pit to take a gel. I had enough fluid to get me through the final lap. Now it was time to turn it up to 11 and see what I had left in the tank. I treated this lap like it was my one and only. The legs felt way better than the previous lap. I stood and hammered where I could and focused on conserving on the descents and just killing it on the climbs. Tongue lolling, eyes bulging, I pushed through the lactic, and finished that lap in 46:26. Hell yeah!
Outer Farm Trail Loop
I still had plenty of time to do a 5th. But I knew better. I had already secured 1st, accomplished my goals, another lap could only do me harm. I have been nursing a hamstring pull and it was beginning to get tight on that fourth lap. So I finished with plenty of time to recover, refuel, clean up, enjoy lying in the grass soaking up the sun's rays, and cheering on the 8 hour racers.
This was a cool low key grassroots event. Thank you, Ryan, for giving us the opportunity to play bikes. I know how much time you sacrificed in order to give us frenzied bike crack heads our fix.
Congrats Wes on your 4 hour win: 6 laps in 4 hours = flying!
It was good to see Mitch DeYoung in the flesh. He took the 8 hour win, with Mr. War Daddy himself, John Maggard, a close second. If I hadn't held him up for a few minutes talking about his gravel race, after his 5th lap, who knows what might have happened?
Every year my mind is put through a gauntlet the day before the first race of The Snake. Mainly because of the weather, as it is usually cold and wet. And by my standards, cold is defined as a temperature below 50 degrees Fahrenheit (and that number seems to increase by 1 every year). Why can I not just avoid these uncomfortable thoughts? Because I do seem to survive it, as I have been racing the Snake for 17 years, ever since its inception. I suppose it is because I still do have some high expectations of myself. And with a new year brings uncertainty to how I will perform at my age.
Even though I have long since stopped trying to beat my PR (3:21), I feel compelled to at least beat last year's time. As if this is a way to justify my existence as a racer. While I have learned over the years to let go of the need to compare myself, my fitness, my technical skills to others, I still want to compare myself to my former self. In my 40's, I was climbing higher and higher on the fitness mountain and now I am riding the plateau. And even though I know that one day I will be riding down off that plateau in terms of fitness and skill, I am still scared to death of that day will come sooner than I would like it to.
But back to the race. My friend, Melissa, came over for her first "running." She spent the night with me and we drove down to Dalton to hop on the shuttle for the ride to the start at Dry Creek. The bus was so warm I hated to get off, but the driver was gracious enough to allow me back on after I had collected my bike and registered. Another 15 minutes of warmth, before heading back out into the cold (46 degrees). I tried to stay warm by doing jumping jacks and air squats while waiting in line for the race to start at 8 am. I was toward the front of the line, so I had a fairly clear trail ahead of me. Fortunately I had dressed just right and once the gun went off, I was warm again.
The first two miles on the forest service road I rode conservatively, giving my legs ample time to warm up, as well as to negotiate the mud bogs safely. The Bridge-Master had installed 1 or 2 more sections of the portable bridge, so I had a dry creek crossing of Dry Creek. Yea to dry feet! The climb up to the first section of single track was its usual sucky self and quite muddy through the corners. I had decided to take it easy on the first half and see if I had a little more energy to negotiate the final 7 miles of tech on near Dug Gap.
Entering the single track, my legs felt fresh, but I held back and rode consistently. Soon I heard Eric behind me and commend us ladies on our skills. Ladies? I did not realize I had someone on my wheel. Once the trail opened up, I asked if she wanted to pass. As she did so, I was quite surprised as she looked very young! I rode just behind her, wondering who she was, as I had never seen her before. So smooth and so fast on the uphills, I was impressed! She slowly pulled away from me, as we had to heave our bikes over this huge downed tree. One of the few times I think it sucks being 5'5".
As I was cresting the climb up to the fire road descent, I heard my name being shouted out from afar, "Go Carey Lowery, kill it!" At that very moment, I didn't think I was the killer, as my pace was all about surviving this first half. But it did give me a smile and a little bolster to my mental fortitude. Thanks Eric!
Eric soon caught up to me on Pine Needle Hill, but did not seem too interested in passing. Said he had been feeling a bit "off," the past week. I asked if he wanted around on the descent to which he said no. I then told him not to make fun of me on the downhill. With eyes watering so bad from the cold wind, I descended half-blind, relying on memory and a prayer. As it leveled out, Eric passed me. I secretly wished him a mechanical-less ride. That poor guy ... he deserves one!
📷: Eric Henderson
I got my feet soaked at the second creek crossing. I always take the little detour to the left, as it seems to be not as deep and a quicker way to negotiate the crossing. However, just before I entered the water, a rock took my front wheel out from under me and almost kerplunked me into the creek. I managed to land on my feet, in the water. So be it for dry feet. They did get cold but never completely froze, as the sun came out to play and turned a cold start into a wonderful mid-morning ride. I didn't even complain about not being able to see sections of the trail for the bright rays raining down upon me.
I came upon Angie as I approached Horn Mountain. Told her how we must be getting old as we were not racing our single speeds, like in years past. The deep crevasse stymied her and she dismounted. Having figured out the approach, even though it was getting deeper every year, I rode through it. I ran up the short but muddy section after the water crossing, but then managed to ride everything else clean, including the short steep switchback. That first uphill is always an SOB, but I just shifted to granny and spun my way up. The next three climbs on that mountain try to take your soul, but I was determined to clean them; almost did save for one short dismount when my derailleur decided to wrestle with a stick.
The remainder of the first half was a blur, as I just rode on autopilot to the SAG. I hit the parking lot at 1:47, 2 minutes faster than last year. Yes! And with a lower perceived exertion for that first half, that gave me a confidence boost. I was in/out like a NACAR driver, although I took a moment to talk to a volunteer who gave me words of encouragement. The initial climb up Middle Mountain was pleasant. Still in my easy gear, I reigned myself in; I wanted to enjoy that last section of single track. Back on autopilot, I enjoyed the trail even more, as it was dry on the ridges. The descent down through the creeks was a little sketchy, what with the mud and deep water, the deepest I have seen them. On the final double track climb, I could see the possibility of besting my 2020 time.
As I hit the final stretch, I turned off autopilot and put it in Goggins mode. As some of you might know, David Goggins is an retired Navy SEAL and now an accomplished endurance athlete, who is able to push limits like no other. I embrace his 40% rule. I rode that last bit like a woman on fire! I commended the two "kids" I passed while pushing up the Wall. One, who was doing the 17 miler in a full face helmet and pushing a bike that was at least 75% of his weight. He/she was probably only 10 years old. The other, was the young girl who had passed me earlier in the first single track. Her name was Brianna and she was only 15! Very inspiring. I gave her a few words of wisdom as I passed by. Those kids inspired me to go all out on the last 4 miles. My HR soared as I crushed the climbs, either by wheel or foot. I had eagle-like focus on the descents and rode right up to my limits on them. As I approached the rock garden where the bullhorn was, the lady behind it said it looked like I had done this before. To which I replied, "Only a few hundred times!" I cleaned the last rocky uphill between the two rock slabs, which has always been a 50/50 for me. And rode the tower and paved descent like a rocket.
I came through the finish line at 4:03, 7 minutes faster than 2020. Gave myself a big pat on the back and then joined in on the comradery with my friends at the finish. Melissa had a good day as well ... and she was still my friend afterwards!
While I may never again finish with a sub 4 on the 34, that doesn't mean I will quit trying. The only excuse I have now for not doing this race is death itself. If I have to run that mental gauntlet every year, I will!
Thank you to everyone who made this race happen! Crazy that 250 + people were fired up this early in yet aother difficult Covid year to do a very difficult race. The stoke for an amazing 2021 is on!
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.
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.
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.
It has been a little over a week since I announced my commitment to the McMinn Regional Humane Society. We have already hit $2300 in donations. That gets me excited. My brother Todd helped to design the logo you see above. My husband Charlie created a flyer for me to post around town. Eventually I will create an event page to spread the word and hopefully have some friends on board (virtually) to help me tackle the vEverest on Zwift on July 3.
My LBS, Scott's Bikes, has informed Saris about my event. I am hoping to secure a deal on a Saris H3 Smart Trainer. Initially, I was just going to use the shop's H3 the day of the event, but a cycling friend made me aware that in order to "unlock" the climbs on Zwift, I have to accumulate experience points. So I am gonna have to "pony up" and get on the Zwift wagon sooner than I expected to.
I have also emailed a potential major donor to match the private funds I have been receiving. Fingers crossed I hear back from her with pawsome news. I have another option or two, in case it doesn't happen. But this person does have a soft spot for shelter animals, so please, if you are reading this, consider this a great cause!
I am also working on some raffle items, for both cyclist and non-cyclist donors alike, in appreciation of your hard earned dollars.
If you have already donated, thank you!
And if you have not, please consider. Even if just a dollar ... in the end it all adds up. I am still one of those who picks up pennies in parking lots.
I have never forgotten the pain of childbirth, but apparently I had forgotten the pain of the February 2013 edition ... 22 degrees at the start, riding through 2 feet of water at the Dry Creek crossing when there was no bridge, and the snow/ice that accumulated during the second half of the race. Because here I was, lining up at the start, knowing it had rained 4 inches in the last 2 days and now was snowing flakes the size of chicken feathers.
DJ was in da house, so there was no way to bail from this one. David had driven down from Ohio, with the snow in tow. Since we were signed up for The Appalachian Journey in April, we both decided to race The Snake together. With these conditions, it would be a true test of our abilities to ride as one.
My toes and fingers are my Achilles' heel when it comes to cold weather racing. Because I have Reynaud's Disease, I put a set of chemical warmers in my shoes and duct taped them. And in between two layers of gloves, I inserted 2 more sets of chemical warmers. My core was quite toasty with my wool baselayer and thermal bibs.
Apparently I am gonna have to give David a lesson in poopin' in da woods, as I waited on him to use the restroom. Meanwhile, all the 34 mile racers departed, leaving me to do deep squats and jumping jacks to stay warm. We finally took off and soon came to realize that starting so late left us with a clear trail ahead. We deftly dodged the mud holes, which had doubled/tripled in size compared to last month.
Approaching the bridge across Dry Creek, I noticed a handful of racers off to the side. Becoming a little nervous, I watched one roll up on the bridge and upon exiting it, being completely swallowed up by the creek (now river). Before I could have any second thoughts, I hit the bridge with some speed. F = ma was repeating in my head. Unfortunately the m part of my equation is not enough to overcome the 2 1/2 foot depth of the creek on the far side. I stalled out and both feet ended up in the drink.
Dry Creek not so dry after 4 inches of rain
Whelp, there went all hopes of my toes staying alive. Pedaling up the watery fire road, my feet slowly froze and felt like blocks of concrete. David was feeling good and so kept a spicy pace up to the single track. Despite my poor toes, my core was warm and my spirits were still good.
The snow really started coming down as we hit the single track. Soon, we began to pick up the end of the race and conservatively made our way around them. Rolling down the fire road covered in snow, an ice cream headache attacked me with a vengeance. Snowflakes began piling up on my glasses like a team of rugby players in a scrum. Are you kidding me?!? Now I couldn't see shit and my forehead felt like I had been hit with a hammer. It was at this point, I knew it was gonna be a long and arduous day.
Even the climb up Pine Needle Hill could not rekindle the fire. My core temp began to smolder, and my fingers froze. I really need to design a pair of chemical warmers in the shape of a hand and that you can put on like a glove. I fared the second creek crossing well, and slip n slided my way to the muddy HAB climb. During the four pitchy climbs along Horn Mountain, my mental game began to slide away into the depths of hell.
I was thinking of every way to pull the plug at the SAG:
You don't have to prove anything to anyone.
Better to DNF than to risk an injury.
You are not going to improve on last month's time.
Don't lose a finger or toe over a silly race.
You don't want to do anymore damage to your bike's bearings.
You have enough buckles.
Then a memory of Grace Ragland washed over me. It was during the 2015 running of The Snake, when we rode together along this section where I was now wallowing in self pity. Believe me, she was having a hard time of convincing me NOT to hop into a warm vehicle at the SAG stop. But I could not get out of my mind how much she had suffered over the thousands of miles during the Tour Divide. And here I was, with only 20 miles left. She and the monkey on my back got into a WWE style wrestling match for a few miles. But as Grace had done many times in her life, she booted that monkey off in the end.
2015 Edition of The Snake
As I pulled into the aid station, I told Grace I would tough out these next 17 miles. But first, I stood by that heater to semi-thaw out my fingers and toes while the volunteers cleaned my glasses and filled up my bottle. I ate a frozen banana and squeezed my flask of frozen gel until I was able to get a couple swallows of it.
David asked how I was doing, to which I could only respond with slurred speech. I was too cold to even form words! He led the charge up Mill Creek Mountain. I doggedly followed. My bike felt so heavy on this climb. I looked down to see nothing but a block of ice encasing my rear triangle, crank, and derailleur. No wonder my shifting was less than optimal!
The snowfall began to slow a bit. I noticed that there were less tracks this half of the race. Hmmm ... I suppose quite a few had bailed at the halfway point. I didn't have to worry about line options because there was only one. If you got off track, the snow would ball up on your tires and stop you dead in your tracks.
Funny, but the second half was surreal. With 3 inches of snow, nothing looked familiar. It didn't even seem like I was on The Snake. My thought processes were in slow motion due to me being so cold. This must have been a protective measure on my body's part, because before I knew it I was descending down to Swamp Creek. The road up to the last section of single track was a slog! Now instead of snow on my glasses, I had red mud droplets. I stopped at the aid station briefly for a bananasicle. I had not drunk anything since the halfway point, so forced myself to take a few gulps.
About 2 miles into the single track, I began to feel my fingers again. And I noticed that the snow was melting a little, what with big chunks of it falling from the trees and hitting me in the face and head. I had plenty in the tank to propel me through the techy bits and the climbs, but the trail conditions began to deteriorate with the melting snow. I ended up HAB'ing more than usual and then trying to clip back in with snow/ice/leaf debris packing into my cleats, well it made for some interesting expletive runs. I began to say Larry the Cable Guy's famous words in my head, "Lord I apologize." That made me smile and the day began to get a little bit better. With Grace in my heart and David offering words of encouragement, I could finally smell the barn.
So happy to see that banner!
Today I definitely got my money's worth, with a finishing time of 5:00. Longest 34 mile Snake ever! But I am grateful to have had DJ by my side the whole time. I think we are gonna do aite come April.
So how many of you racers checked your inbox when you awoke, praying for an email that said the course would be shortened due to inclement weather? I searched but found nothing. Had it not been for wanting to support Lisa, I probably would have bailed. It had already rained at least an inch during the night and it was not projected to stop until 3pm.
#enhancedweather
At least I had made preparations the day before to try to waterproof myself. Shower cap (a not so pro tip I learned at the 2007 La Ruta), latex gloves, Gore Tex shorts, and a Gore Tex jacket. At least the temps were not too terrible, 50-55 degrees. If I could keep my core, fingers, and toesies warm, I had a chance of having a semi-fun day. The shower cap works well for me in that it keeps the rain from running down into my eyes and is not hot like a cycling cap can be.
We rolled out of the Ocoee Retreat Center at Lisa's "neutral-ish" pace, which had my HR pegged at the first little hill. After turning right onto the main paved road, I tucked in behind Amy. Now she is a beast! Had it not been for her bouncing on her head down the backside of Addis Gap during the Georgia Gravel Grinduro, she would have schooled all of us ladies on gravel racing. I was hoping to just hang onto her wheel as long as I could. Well, that lasted about 10 minutes. She slowly rolled away from me on the first climb after we hit gravel. I knew my limits and did not want to completely implode within the first hour, so I just had to settle into my own rhythm and hope for the best.
Just add fog, rain, and leaf cover.
FS 302 was still fast despite the rain and the leaves. Traction was good and the road bed was firm, making for quick work of this section. But then FS 1333 ... oh, how I loathe you! This was a 4 mile section of double track with lots of sharp turns and loose chunky rock. It was also a little bit sloppy. And complicating matters were my glasses fogging up. I did not want to take them off because at least they were keeping the mud out of my eyes. My lower back was beginning to hurt and whenever I would try to get out of the saddle to give it some relief, my rear wheel would spin out over a loose rock. Finally I saw the intersection of FS 55 and was able to escape this "gravel purgatory."
The next two miles were downhill to flat, so I was able to stretch out my back and eat/drink. I whipped out my gel flask and sucked down some needed calories. I kept the flask tucked in my bra so as to make for easy extraction: try to fight a rain jacket to get to your flask in a jersey pocket and you will know why I chose this option. It also kept the gel warm and fluid.
Not needing anything at Aid #1, I threw a friendly wave to Paul, and began the 1.5 mile slog up to the start of the Big Frog section. At least the ground was firm. I stopped at Zeke's truck at the intersection and cleaned my glasses. Then I began the 10 mile loop of pain. This is the hardest section, as it is chunky and has a 3 mile climb, followed by a treacherous, rutted and rocky descent ... now covered in leaves. Despite my back becoming cranky again, I turned off all emotions and just gutted it out. I told myself that once I got through this part, it would be easy-peasy to the finish. Yeah, I lied, but sometimes necessary in order to get into the right mindset.
Halfway through, I heard a rattling on my bike. Looking down, I saw that one of my bottle cages was just about to launch itself down the mountain. Fortunately, I was able to stop, grab my multi-tool, and tighten the screws that had loosened. The last few miles of this loop were mostly downhill and I was able to find some flow and punch some power coming out of the corners. Despite the weather, course conditions, and achy back, I was actually having fun!
A beautiful course with 6500 feet gain in 52 miles
I made a hard right onto FS 221 and although the road was flat, there was plenty of energy sapping mud to knock the wind out of my sails. My drive train was making all sorts of death wails. I saw a rider ahead of me, so that became my carrot, allowing me to focus on him and not the road. It took FOREVER for me to catch him, but I did, as the climbing began on Sheed's Creek Road. He asked how far Aid #2 was and I think I popped his balloon when I answered 5 miles.
I welcomed the short bits of pavement. The gravel section of this road had been recently graded and what with the heavy rainfall and hunter traffic, it was like pedaling through a milkshake (perfect wording, Chris!). I tried to find the firmest ground to pedal, but the descents were super sketchy. I would be riding on hardpack only to suddenly find myself hitting a section (always in a turn) where it would turn to soup. I learned quickly to let go of the brakes and trust my front wheel to find the way.
I stopped at Aid #2. Jayden kindly refilled my bottle while Kathleen helped me clean my glasses. I kept the stop short, so as not to give my legs any indication that the day was over. I managed to keep pace with another racer on a MTB. He had a strong steady pace, a little more painful than what I really wanted to endure, but endure I did. My back pain had eased up some, and I was able to apply more power to the pedals. With firm ground beneath me again, I was able to stand and pedal when the grade dictated. This switching between seated and standing afforded me a little more oomph to get over the climbs. We then caught up to Chris (whom I had met at Pine Log a few weeks back). Together the three of us pushed each other to the finish (misery loves company!).
I rolled through the finish line with a time of 4:37:57, 2nd woman and 18th overall. This was a great way to end the season, knowing that I still have the grit, gristle and gumption to persevere in less than ideal conditions.
Hmmm ... maybe this was why I had squealing brakes and less than stellar stopping power.
All in all, this is a nice addition to the Chainbuster Gravel Series. Lisa pulled out another great race despite the horrid conditions. I do hope that this one will continue, although perhaps moving it up a month or two might attract more racers and better weather. The venue is awesome (bike wash, hot showers, beer, and food), the course is beautiful and punchy, and schwag and prizing are abundant.
Kudos to all those who toed the line and to the volunteers who also had to endure yucky conditions!
I came into this race with a pretty lofty goal: sub 12 hours. I planned my season around this one. I tried to dial everything in: training, nutrition, recovery, sleep, equipment. I needed to be able to eek out every ounce of fitness I could. I knew that a buckle was not probable, but I kept a healthy attitude of anything is possible. The week leading up to the race, the weather was getting dialed in nicely: dry and mid-70's which was perfect for me. I pre rode Gurly and Doctors on Friday and was feeling fantastic on the techy bits. With optimal conditions and a body that was ready to rock, I had no excuses to "find my limits and destroy them."
This greeted us at the start.
It was a LeMans start: 0.5 mile run. I placed my bike close to the start of where the bike course began. It would be a lot easier to run a little more, making my way through 350+ bikes on foot, and not have to worry about someone trampling my bike as they ran to theirs. I also started off in running shoes, opting to keep my feet as happy as possible, and taking a wee bit longer to transition to the bike.
The race began sharply at 7:30 am after the traditional electric guitar National Anthem. We were led out by a unicorn. It was chaos. I kept my feet light, hoping not to be trampled by the masses. After the first 1/4 mile, the crowd thinned out. I came back around on this running loop, feeling great! Once I found my bike, I changed into my cycling shoes, put my CamelBak on, and headed out.
I was running a Garmin 830, with the screen on the map mode. I did not want to spend my ride looking at numbers and fretting all day, so I opted to be a "free spirit" and go by PE (perceived exertion). I have been racing long enough to know how my PE relates to heart rate and wattage. Although the course was well signed, the trail systems were like spiderwebs. It is easy to blast by a turn, and I did not want any "bonus" miles.
I had a great start and although I was in a conga line, it was moving at a comfortably hard pace. Around the 4 mile mark, I felt a catch in my pedaling and then my chain completely locked up. I could not move the pedals at all. WTF! I pulled off the trail and looked at my drive train. It took me a minute to figure it out, but something had caused my chain to get jammed down between the lower pulley and the derailleur cage. Meanwhile it felt like at least 50 racers passed me. As I was struggling to unjam my chain, I heard someone ask, "Are you ok?" I angrily mumbled to myself "Well if I was, I would be on my damn bike." After what seemed like an eternity (but was probably only 60-90 seconds), I got rolling again.
But now I was in a new wave of racers, going slower than what I wanted. "Patience, grasshopper." From years of racing, I knew that it was gonna be a long day. "Matchless" opportunities would arise for me to get around the slower racers. As I was approaching the sharp left hand turn onto Jedi, which is the trail that leads to Top O' The World, a bunch of racers had overshot the turn. Score for me! At the Top, there were too many off their bikes walking the descent to get a clean shot (I had cleaned it at Marji Camp), so I made the wise decision to run it. I passed 12 guys by doing this. Another score!
The remainder of the trail around the Harlow Lake area I was a good girl. Staying happy when sooo many people were off their bikes and hiking the rocky sections I would have preferred to ride. Focusing on the positive: the perfect weather, dry trail, effortless pedaling that would pay off later. On the 1.3 mile climb back up to Forestville, I caught up to Megan Doerr. We chatted, me momentarily, but she continued to be a babbling brook of happiness. I was thinking about all the watts she was losing through her mouth 😁.
Once I hit the ski trail, I started catching women. I found Lisa, who was looking strong. She told me that there were a couple more ahead. I slowly passed by her to reel them in. I finally caught up to the leader (Hannah). She gave some good words of encouragement as I went by. On a fast two track descent I missed the right hand turn back onto single track. Ugghh! Lost a few places and Hannah managed to get back in front of me.
I rolled through the campground and hit Ramblin Man at full speed. At the road crossing, a yellow jacket smacked my temple, stung me, and then crawled into my helmet. How I managed to dislodge that little bastard before he tagged me again (and remain upright) I don't know. At least the pain kept me on point. I felt frisky on Wildcat, one of my faves. It continued onto Pine Knob. I was glad I had pre ridden this at Marji Camp. I found my flow here and aside from the mandatory HAB sections, I cleaned ALL the descents. (A big thank you to the frustrated racer walking down one of the descents who was making room for us riders, but voicing his opinion about the difficulty of getting off the trail for us. I saw your struggle and appreciated your sacrifice. You have a free place to stay in Tennessee should you ever want to shred some Brappalachia trails).
I rode up on a small train on racers on Blue Heron. I settled in on their wheels and used this opportunity to refuel and feel the flow. I managed to pass Hannah again, as she was taking a nature break. By the time I hit Collinsville, I was ready to get after it again, feeling the pressure to put some distance (if I could) between Hannah and I. I made multiple easy passes and embraced the upward flow trail leading to Lowe's. Thanks Dustin for the encouraging words out on the trail!
The Lowe's trail was a freaking blast. In years past, it has always been a slip n slide, but today it was dry and only one short walky section. But the ride into and through Lowe's made up for that with the super sandy double track and the nice soft grass ride into a headwind. A Marji theme is to route you on some nasty energy sapping "trail" when a perfectly good paved road is right next to said trail. For "safety" reasons, they say ( insert eye roll).
Chris was waiting for me just after the highway culvert crossing (mile 29) near Best Buy. I refilled my CamelBak and grabbed a Honey Stinger Waffle to go. I rolled through the timing mat and made my way to the Iron Ore Heritage Trail (IOHT). Here I met Timo, who introduced me as a friend of fellow Rescue Racing team mate Alan. My, how small of a community we are! I had a brief reprieve as I followed his wheel along the IOHT.
Along the Black Trail, I made a courteous pass around Timo, to re enter my flow state. Time seemed to pass by effortlessly along Black, Greywalls, and Sandman, and Smiley. The trails were hero dirt and my energy levels were good. Eh line was meh. I am a natural feature kind of gal and don't particularly care for these types of BMX'ish trail. It works my quads more than I want, which probably means my form is subpar.
I rolled through the South Trails trailhead, saw Chris and grabbed another waffle and topped off my water bottle. I proceeded on to Gurly with people shouting out my name and "go get that buckle!" I was most appreciative and humbled that people actually knew who I was. The support along the trail so far was unbelievable! There were pop up aid stations at least every 5 miles. People who gave up their day and dollars to lend a helping hand.
Gurly gnar
After Gurly and Doctors, the infamous climb up to Scary began. 0.7 miles with an average grade of 11% had several off their bikes and more weaving back and forth across the road. With my 28T chainring and pie plate in the back, it was easy peasy for me. The one thing I hate is to be so gassed at the top of a climb that it makes the upcoming descent sketchy and dangerous. There were a few spectators at the root-strewn off-camber rock slab, warning that it was slick. I got a chuckle out of this because I have seen it in way worse conditions. Today Scary was all sh!ts and giggles for me. When I rolled by the area that had a token check point back in 2016 and 2017, I did get a little nervous not seeing anything, but figured that they had just chosen new spots for this year.
New to me New Yellow Trail rocked! Oh the flow! And the icing on the cake was Zueg's Trail. OMG! This rock lover enjoyed working her bike on this section. My half-assed track standing skills paid off here. Lots of work and love went into this 0.9 mile section, what with all the ramped rock features. I got gassed on this trail as it was all climbing.
Zueg's Trail. 📷: Jeff Carlson
Back on the New Yellow Trail over to Ezy Rider I had time to recover. Ezy Rider was chunkier than I remembered. I had to work hard on this descent to keep the rubber side down. Rolling into Marquette Mountain Ski Area, I was once again greeted by Chris. This guy ... always on point! He had me refueled and back on course lickety split. I was going through the fluids quicker than I expected. Chris told me that first place was just a couple minutes ahead. Hmmm ... I thought I was in first. Was there someone else up ahead or had Hannah snuck on by at the last aid stop? So many people were cheering me on to catch her. Totally amazed by all the support.
Going up Down Dogger was technically challenging. Big boulders littered the trail and there was lots of ratcheting to avoid pedal strikes. I must say that my instant engagement Industry 9 wheels were da bomb for this section. Once I hit Off Grade I felt the first bit of fatigue begin to sit in. I tried to settle in and ease off the power a little now that the trail smoothed out a little. Pipe Dreams was a hoot. Imagine riding on top of a metal pipe with a diameter of 4 feet at 15 mph. The trail footprint was about 18" wide and although most of the pipe was buried, it was still sketchy in a few parts.
From there Ezy Street led to about 5 miles of ORV trail. Sandy, loose, and slightly uphill, it was a "I should be going faster than this" section. Then on into the township of Eagle Mills where there was a mile section of slogging through sand with a perfectly good county road just 5 yards to my left. Seriously?!? I just kept telling myself, "not as bad as it was in 2017."
I caught the mystery woman just as I hit the IOHT. It was Hannah. She had stopped and got a Coke from a pop up aid station. We formally introduced ourselves and rode together for a bit. I took the lead on this cinder rail-trail. From here it was a 5 mile false flat push into a headwind (of course). I was hoping we could find some big burly powerhouses to tuck in behind, but not today. Soon after this thought Hannah popped off my wheel and I was alone to duke it out with the winds. Thunderstorms were in the forecast and the winds were not playing nicely.
Up until this point, I had not looked at the clock, my elapsed time, nor the distance. I had calculated that I needed to arrive at Jackson Park by 2:15 pm in order to have a chance at a buckle. As I approached the only official aid station, I swiped my screen and saw 3:13. I wasn't really disappointed and quickly readjusted my goal to going for my third win. I was still pushing a comfortably hard pace and having an absolute blast doing it.
I rolled over to where Chris was patiently waiting. While he helped me refill my CamelBak and swap out gel flasks, I ate 2 gluten free fig bars. (For the first 65 I had consumed 100 ounces of Infinit Nutrition electrolyte/calorie mix, 30 ounces of water, 6 Hammer gels, and 2 Honey Stinger gluten free waffles.) Another notable note is that I had not urinated since 7 am and had no urge to go. One of my secrets to gaining some time on my competition is to turn off the plumbing. I was back on the course in less than 2 minutes. As I was pulling away from the tent I happened to see that Hannah had just hit the timing mat. Good deal, I had a tiny buffer.
It was nice to hit some "flattish" trail in the beginning of this 25 mile loop as it gave my body a chance to process the 250 calories I had just wolfed down. It was eery riding through a ghost town now swallowed up by nature. I hit the stair case going up, which the first year I did it I thought it to be a very odd feature. I rode on broken up sidewalks, near an old retaining wall on Humpty Dumpty, and down a 3 flight staircase. Despite the fatigue, I was still pleased with my uphill efforts on the fence line climb and the subsequent grunty rocky and rooty sections.
Somewhere in this 25 mile loop, I came upon the first token check point. I love the way Todd and Danny f*ck with us, labeling this as #3 on the bucket of tokens, making the rookies think twice about missing 2 check points. My heart didn't even skip a beat. I grabbed a second token further on in this loop as well.
The Last Bluff climb was a bugger, but I still managed to clean it all, save for one switchback, where fatigue got the better of me, and just did not have the "umph" to lift my wheel over a root and not enough forward momentum to roll it. Past this portion of the first loop out of Jackson Park, my memory starts to get fuzzy. After 80 miles of racing, no amount of nutrition was keeping the legs out of the "weighted blanket" fatigue zone. I remember the subsequent climbs of BrokeBack, New York, Partridge Knob, the Hampton's, as being much harder than when I rode at Marji Camp.
As I passed by the finish line at mile 85, I waved and shouted to those in the beer tent, "See you in a few!" Even though I was beginning the struggle to race at any amount of speed, mentally I was as happy as a head louse in a barber shop. I was yo-yo'ing with a young lad, who was in the same struggle as I. However, as I hit Sissy Pants, which I thought was the last climb before Jackson Park, he was off his bike and told me he didn't think he could finish. I slow pedaled and tried to give him all the encouragement I could, but I could see the defeat in his eyes. I sure do hope he was able to pull it together and finish.
Knowing a short break was just around the corner, what did I see around the corner but The Hampton's Climb. "FUCK!" immediately flew out my pie hole. Head down, I ground out yet another frickin' uphill slog of death.
Back into Jackson Park, dusk would soon be upon me. I took a few minutes to chow on some more Fig N Jammies, chug a Coke, swap out CamelBaks, and put a light on my helmet. ( In this 25 miles I had drank 50 ounces of Skratch, 20 ounces of water, and 2 gels). Still no urge to urinate, so I was in and out within 5 minutes. As I was preparing for the final push, I paused to look around me. Bodies and equipment were scattered across the grass like a Civil War post battle scene. Most faces displayed "the stare." Although I did see several smiling ones ... or were they grimaces?
I drew my sword and charged directly into the line of battle. But be it for a bike mechanical, I knew I would finish this journey. I had begun to encounter some 60 milers and runners around mile 75, and during this section, they became more numerous. I made sure I gave each and every one of them a shout out. Knowing how difficult it was for me, I couldn't imagine being in their shoes. They had more grit, gristle, and gumption than I, to be where they were in their journey, at this hour, and knowing they had many more miles to go. They gave me inspiration to try and pick my pace up a bit.
Whose idea was it to ride that small but steep loose rocky, sandy section just upon leaving Jackson Park the second time, only to turn left at the top and go RIGHT BACK DOWN to the IOHT I just left? I was Yosemite Sam'ing it up this climb!
I was grateful the afternoon thunderstorms had held off. People were complaining of the hot temperatures, but after living/riding in 90+ degrees and 70+ humidity most of my summer, a breezy overcast 75 degrees was right up my alley! The off camber Dirty Mary was enjoyable in the dry. I turned my light on as I hit Flannel Shirt. Dusk is the hardest time of the day to read the trail and avoid obstacles. More than once, due to lighting and fatigue, I smacked a tree. I laughed out loud at myself more than once making these silly mistakes.
As darkness enveloped me, I became a little more cautious in my line choice. However, there were times that before I knew it I was bombing down a slick rock slab and just had to trust in my abilities to stay upright and hope my front wheel did not find a huge rock to catapult me over. I did have a few "Oh, shit!" moments but Marji Camp body memory saved me. As well as turning off my monkey brain.
The third token was in this final 15; once again, my memory of exactly where fails me, but what I do remember is that the sign was facing away from direction of flow and I had to stop and turn around to read the sign to see that it was indeed my third token, albeit labeled #1 on the bucket.
On Suicide Hill I came across some young high school age ladies. When asked if I was doing the hundred, they said I was awesome! To which I immediately responded, "And you are, too! Keep it up and you will be kicking my tail soon!" When I was their age, I thought a 5K run was hard.
The rock slab HAB was unusually hard this time for me. Bike on the left, feet up on the dirt, I used Blaze for a crutch to make my way up that steep section of hell.
I heard the lapping waters of Lake Sally at mile 99. My mind began wandering and I began recalling the movie Lake Placid. Imagining a giant crocodile chomping down on me was enough to squeeze my adrenals and pick up my pace a little.
When I saw white flags on a freshly cut trail, I knew that Cry Baby had begun. Danny may put on this sweet old man persona, but his true evilness shows in his trail work. Off-camber, with so many twists and turns and ups and downs, if I was any older, my vertigo would have kicked in. And what about those 29'r sized holes in the midst of some of those turns. Good Gawd! And those 2 or 3 steep ass HAB's almost made me cry for my Mommie. The only saving grace was that I was beginning to smell the barn.
Only Jasper Knob was left. I was so tired, I couldn't even make the initial climb up onto the trail. I pushed to a point where I could hop back on and finish the climb. Upon getting there, the last check point bucket had no tokens, only acorns and pine cones, with a Ha Ha! message from Todd and Danny. I enjoyed listening to the rookies remarks upon seeing this. More than one "FU!" was said!
The descent back into town was pure joy! I had finished my 3rd Marji, with each one earning me a dollar bill. Yeah, the buckle was out of reach, but that wasn't my only goal. As I have often said, my #1 goal for every race is to have fun. #2 is to not get hurt. #3 is to finish, leaving it all out on the trail. Usually, when I accomplish my core goals, I have a great day on the bike and a good placing.
I rolled through the finish line at 14:26. 1st woman and 39th overall. Not too shabby, considering this Marji had eaten many of its young, with a 63% DNF rate.
Too tired to stand.
This was my slowest time of the 3. But every year I have done it, the course has gotten harder, with more technical trail added. But, this was probably the funnest one, as the course was in the best shape I have ever ridden, allowing me to find more zen moments of pure bliss on the technical ascents as well as the descents.
I want to give props for everyone who toed the line, no matter the distance. To sign up for this event took guts. To finish took an unbelievable amount of mental fortitude and strength. And to those who found their limits, next year you will destroy them.
To all the ladies out there, you guys are amazing. I don't remember one woman who did not have a smile on her face as I passed by. You are my heroes! Your strength gave me smiles for miles ... and I think I found some free trail out there this year because of you!
Thank you Todd and Danny for all your hard work to push us beyond what we thought was possible. What an amazing soul searching journey!
Thank you to all those who shouted out my name and yelled at me to go get that buckle. I cannot believe so many knew who I was. It gave me little boosts of speed and happiness all day!
The volunteer support was utterly amazing. There must have been at least 20 unofficial aid stations. When I first raced this in 2016, I was on my own on the 25 mile loop and 15 mile push to the finish. This year, there were people at almost every road intersection! The communities of Marquette, Negaunee, and Ishpeming, as well as all the Marji folks are incredible.
Rescue Racing was well represented! Congrats to team mates Lisa Randall on getting that damn buckle (100 mile duathlon), Scott Morman (9th overall, 100 mile bike), and David Jolin (4th Master's, 60 mile bike). Shout out to Kathleen Tokuda, who got 11th in the 60 mile women's Open.
