Pisgah Monster Cross Race Report

This year's course was different, lollipop style and not using the Blue Ridge Parkway.  The "stick" was 20 miles and the "pop" was 31 miles, with 25 of that being new gravel and pavement.  I was glad to have endured an out and back drive from my home a couple weeks back to recon the "pop."  My weapon of choice was my Niner RLT RDO.  Although the new gravel had some chunk to it, there was not enough to justify the Niner Air 9 RDO.  I ran Maxxis Rambler 40/38 combo.

At the start, the temperature was a comfortable 68 degrees, and conditions dry.  I looked around to see both familiar and unfamiliar faces in the women's field.  With no pressure being placed upon myself, I was looking forward to a day of brutal fun, which is what I would expect from a Pisgah Production event.

The start was controlled until the turn off onto FS477.  After that, the dust kicked up as the front runners pulled away.  I was soon among a few slowly churning up the 5 mile climb.  While I was waiting for the engine to come to life (which these days seems like 1 hour), I felt twinges of tightness and slight pain in my left hamstring.  Not like a cramp, but like I had a slight pull.  When the gravel pitched up and I had to up the wattage, the hammie would start to complain.

Me:  Hammie, why are you being so fussy today?
Hammie:  Probably because you made me run twice this week.
Me:  Well that should not be a big deal.
Hammie:  Well, it is.  I don't like it.
Me:  If you keep whining, I am going to go to Revive Massage Therapy and have Virginia work on you.
Hammie:  Oh, GOD!  Please, no!  Not those hands of steel!  I'll be good.  Just give me another 30 minutes to loosen up.
Me:  15 and it is a deal.
Hammie:    O.K.

I endured the tightness up FS477.  Once on the ridge, I was able to connect with a small group and ride their coat tails down to Hwy 276 and over to FS475B.  Fortunately, the tightness and pain worked its way out on the short climb up FS475B.  As I was descending the 5 miles down to FS475, I was smiling almost the whole way, until I realized that I would be climbing back up this SOB in about 40 miles.

The first aid station was at the intersection of FS475B/FS475 at mile 15.  I had no need to stop and so motored on.

I felt life coming back into my legs as I climbed up FS475B and chatted with a JA King racer who had done the Ozark Trail 100, which is coming up in 3 weeks for me.  We were talking so much up the climb that we might have semi-annoyed another racer in our company.

The descent off Gloucester Gap had my eyeballs bouncing around in my skull with all the stutter bumps.  If that wasn't enough jarring to give me an "on the bike" concussion ... sheez!

Taking a right onto Hwy 215, I began the arduous 5 mile climb.  At least it was paved.  I settled into a rhythm which kept my heart rate in zone 3.  For the most part I was alone.  There was one group of 2 that passed me halfway up.  At first I latched on, seeking a little shelter from the wind, but when I saw my heart rate heading to zone 4, I knew I had to back off.

Then Mr. Squeaky Shoe showed up.  He passed me at a pretty good clip so I didn't immediately latch on.  And I really did not want to hear that god awful noise for the next 15 minutes.  But then he must have slowed up a tick or two as I was able to bridge.  Fortunately, the noise was a metronome for my breathing, so I just made a game of it and all was well.  I was able to push it slightly faster, get some drafting in, and do some good abdominal breathing the remainder of the climb.

Turning left onto FS4663, I passed Mr. Squeaky Shoe and saw some racers just ahead.  So now the carrot game ensued.  This section of gravel was more of a freshly graded dirt surface.  Mostly packed, but with some soft spots, I was grateful that it was not raining as this would have been a muddy mess.  This section was rolling and with just a few short kickers that I could stand and power over, I was in my zone!  Towards the end it turned down sharply and I had to be light on the bike as pointy little rocks began showing up through the dirt.

The gnarliest descent of the day was on FS 4663C, about 1 mile of pretty steep chunky and loose rock.  This was one place, albeit short, where a mountain bike would excel over a gravel bike.  I caught up to Rich here, but having a hard tail with fat tires, I soon lost sight of him.  I just told myself to settle and not do anything stupid, like bang a rim or slice a tire.  I had already seen at least 5 racers with flats leading up to this point.  I would rather be a bit tentative than have to plug or tube a tire.

Popping out onto Charley's Creek road, I rode onto the wheel of none other than THE Rich Dillen, who was questioning his decision to be out here today.  I am not sure what happened to his "old man watts" as he is usually far ahead of me.  Mebbe too much carbo loading the night before or mebbe (as I can attest to) being a parent of a teenager had his adrenals shot.  Whatever the case maybe, I think I stoked his fire a bit, as he passed me on the next section of gravel, Wolf Mountain Road.  This 5 mile section was fairly rugged on a gravel bike, what with dodging mud holes and wash outs, descending chunky embedded rock, and then climbing short but steep pitches.  My eyes were definitely glued to the "road."

I came into aid 2, mile 38, did a bottle swap, and gulped a caffeine laden gel.  Hopping back on the bike quickly enough so that my legs did not think the day was over, I hit the second deep gravelly descent (the first was just before the aid station).  Not fighting the bike but letting it go where it wanted to, I "skied" down to where the road turned to pavement.

I let go of the brakes and enjoyed some free speed off the mountain, about 2 miles worth of curvy ass road.  That ... was ... fun! Turned left, rode across a bridge, and then the road went straight UP!  Ouch!  This 1 mile grunt had my legs calling me all sorts of terrible names.  Cresting the top, I enjoyed some more free speed downhill before hitting the final 4 miles of pavement back to Hwy 215.  After looking behind me and seeing no one in sight (I was hoping I could latch onto a train), I put my head in TT mode and drilled it.

Hwy 215 came and went and then I was back on the "stick" portion of the route.  Indian Creek Road came and went as I had a racer pass me, which then encouraged the body to go a little bit harder. When I turned onto FS475 and hit the stutter bump section, I had to fight for every inch of that climb.  Too loose for me to stand and hammer, I had to sit and endure the back wrenching bumps.  Time seemed to come to a standstill here.  I finally hit Gloucester Gap.  My back still felt like someone was putting a hot iron to L5.  I endured the pain during the 4 mile descent, knowing relief would come during the 5 mile climb up FS 475B.

I think the caffeine finally kicked in on this arduous climb, as I flew by several racers.  One told me that I was the second woman.  That was a pleasant surprise, for all day long, I had no idea, other than Kaysee, who might be ahead of me.

It felt oh so good to just stand and hammer, giving the back some much needed relief. Standing for 20 revolutions, sitting for 20, I repeated this process until the short descent down to Hwy 276.  As I began the final climb back up the highway and onto FS477, I felt like I was carrying some pretty good speed.  But halfway up, I had a single speeder pass me.  I couldn't let him go without a fight.  I picked up my wattage and bridged the gap.  As we hit the rollers, I passed him slowly, allowing him to latch onto my wheel.  We stayed together until the gravel pointed downwards.  At this point I seemed a little more willing to take chances through the sketchy corners and dropped him.

As the road flattened out beyond the horse stables, I was in as low a gear as I could go.  I had two guys (who I had passed earlier on the FS475 climb) pass me doing mach 4 and didn't even have a chance to give chase.  They managed to just stay out of my reach.  Dang!  That would have been nice to tuck in behind them for the last mile or two!

The barriers make it Eric Wever legit!

Photo Cred:  Icon Media Asheville

Too tired to attempt barrier hopping, I at least managed to crawl over them without falling.  I finished with a time of 5:38:37, good enough for second.  But most importantly another coveted buckle!

No better podium company than these fine lasses!

HardFord 50 Race Report

This second running was a far cry from the first back in 2014.  Back then, Mother Nature unleashed her fury upon me and 50+ other racers in the form of rain, sleet, and snow.  Temps hovered in the 30's and the visibility was down to 50 feet at the highest points of the race due to heavy fog.  I dressed appropriately and survived.

2014 race attire!

I was much happier at the start this year in a sleeveless jersey and shorts.  I chose to race my Niner Air 9 RDO with 2.0 Bontrager XR0 tires.  This was a "six of one, half dozen of the other" course.  I chose the mountain bike more for comfort as this was a training race for me.

With sunny skies and a starting temperature of 70 degrees, the Knoxville SS Mafia (Gary, Chris, and Jimmy) paced us comfortably on the pavement to the first climb.  After the hard right, all hell broke loose and the race was on!  I chose to ride a comfortably hard pace up the first climb.  I wasn't sure where all the ladies were; well, save for Kaysee, who was probably in the lead group putting a hurtin' on the boys.

At the top of the climb I was feeling good, so stayed at that effort.  Rolling along the ridge line, I caught up to Sierra and hopped on her wheel.  She was on a gravel bike and not knowing her, I bided my time. I just kept it in my happy power place.  A short gravel climb had me slowly pulling away from her.  Not looking back, I just kept the pedals turning.

Further up the climb, Elizabeth caught me. We fist-bumped, chatted about how stoked I was to have my team wearing her socks ... and then she just rode me off her wheel.  WTF?!? After all the warm fuzzies she showered upon me, she abandoned me?  Nah, but seriously, she was going faster than I cared to so early on.

That 3 mile descent was a hoot!  I was loving the extra 10mm of tread, straightening out the corners, and passing several skinny tired bikes in the process.  I was extra careful in the corners as I did not want to become someone's hood ornament.

Crossing under I-40, I caught sight of Elizabeth on the pavement paralleling the Pigeon River.  This was a gorgeous stretch of road and with my legs feeling good, I decided to try and reel her in.  "Slow is fast," I kept telling myself.  I did not want to blow myself up, so just barely kept her in sight.  As the pavement turned to gravel, the forest enveloped me.  Shade was good!  This climb was 4 miles long, but at a "perfect for me" grade.  About midway up, Sierra caught me. She put the hammer down as she passed.  I didn't respond because I knew exactly what I needed to do to save it for the Max Patch climb.

For a short period, I lost sight of them both.  But at the top of the climb, I saw them turn left onto the gravel of Buzzard's Den.  Sweet!  I rallied a bit at the top and kept them within 100-200 yards as we rolled the undulations of this section.  I let them play the cat and mouse game over the next several miles and slowly caught up to them.  I was most impressed with Sierra's descending skills on her gravel bike.  It was all I could do on my bike to stay connected!  Had I been on my gravel bike, I would have had to take more risks than I would have liked.

Once the road pitched down for the 5 mile descent to Harmon's Den, I bridged the gap and we three rode as one.  The road was a bit slick and muddy in sections, what with all the heavy rains leading up to the race.  I followed their lines down the mountain.  Hitting the flat section just prior to the aid station, I checked my bottles.  One empty, one 3/4 full.  Perfect.  I would not have to stop at the second aid station.  And there would be one less bottle to drag up the 8 mile climb.  I knew I would be able to fill up at the third aid station at the top.

As the three of us approached the aid station, Elizabeth peeled off.  Sierra and I continued. We chatted for a couple minutes, her saying how sketchy the Buzzard's Roost descent was and me saying how she raged it like a pro, right on the edge and just barely in control!

Just before you begin the climb up to the heavens.

At this point, 25 miles in, the legs were feeling sparkly.  I turned the dial up on the wattage meter, seeing if Sierra would respond.  At first she did, but within a few minutes I had opened up a gap.  Turning it up another 10 watts, I decided then and there I needed to make my move.  She, as well as Elizabeth, were equally fast on the descent, and with the last 6 miles being pavement, I needed to put some time on them.

From bottom to top, I felt fantastic.  I once again played my little game of stand and hammer the steeps and sit and spin the "less steeps" in this case, as their were no flats or even false flats.  Towards the top, I caught sight of Jimmy.  In order to catch him, not only was I feeling really good, but he had to be feeling really bad.  He was a BIG carrot and I slowly rolled up to him, finally making the pass after the left hand turn.  He gave me words of encouragement and let me know that Kaysee and Eleanor were ahead.

I had my bottle filled at the third aid station in record time and tried to punch it to the top where the left hand turn onto 2250 was.  I must have been in oxygen debt, as I saw an unmarked left turn and swore that was where I needed to go.  I almost did, but circled around, hoping that Jimmy wasn't too far behind.  I probably only lost about 20 seconds, but it felt like an eternity!  I didn't turn left but stayed straight and soft pedaled.  Jimmy came around the bend and said I was on course.

Great descent for maintaining a healthy bone density, although you might rattle out a filling or two.

Back on the gas, it was that much further when I saw the arrows for 2250.  Turning left, I began the gnarly rutted, cat head littered descent.  Way more fun on the mountain bike!  Having suspension and fatter wheels, I felt like I was flying down it!  After a couple miles of descending, I came to a fork in the gravel road where I knew I needed to go left.  However, ALL the course markings pointed me to the right.  Even the "X" sign (meaning wrong way) was on the road to the left.  All the tire tracks went right.  So if I was wrong, I was in the same boat as everyone else.

This was a hard descent.  I had to be on point as there were washed out sections that I quickly had to bunny hop or maneuver around.  Although it was a net loss of elevation, there were some "ups" that had me feeling a bit of fatigue in the legs for the first time.  Fortunately they were short and I could just grit my teeth and power through.

Towards the end were two creek crossings.  The first was bottom brackett bearing deep, so I opted to cool off the feet and calves.  The second I rode through.  Then a short pedal and the road I was currently on connected back into the road which I should have been on.  I even saw the backside of the wrong way sign (on the road I had been on that I thought was wrong) as I turned right onto the correct road.  Indeed!  Hooligans and their shenanigans!  Fortunately it looked as if all racers had been tricked and at least we were put right back on track eventually ... instead of a 4 mile descent to a dead end!

A few more minutes of gravel descending and then I would be experiencing a time trial of paved hell to the finish!  But as I popped out onto the pavement, I saw my savior!  A Sycamore Cycles racer on a cross bike!  Hoo rah!  Bill made my day!  After hopping onto his skinny ass ... wheel, he pulled me 5 miles to the finish.  It was mostly downhill, but with my fat tires, it still would have been miserable.  And I would have had the added stress of Sierra or Elizabeth catching me. 

Another #bestdayever with me rolling under the finish banner in a time of 4:12:03.  Good enough for third!  I'll take it!  It had been a long time since my legs have felt that good.  I am hoping I am doing everything right and that spark doesn't fizzle out as my A race is September 28, The Ozark Trail 100.

The other podium shots were boring.

Shout out to Eleanor for raging it today on gears (is she getting soft?) and to Kaysee who has grown exponentially into a world class racer.  For me to grace the podium with these Knoxville power houses is humbling.  And I have no doubt that Sierra will be kicking my arse soon!

Not a bad way to finish a great day!

Iron Mountain 100K Race Report

Better put your "big girl pants" on for this one.

New to the NUE Marathon series this year, the Iron Mountain 100K was sure to surprise the average endurance racer. This 54 miler, with 8400 feet of climbing is about as raw and rugged as you can get.  These trails are old school hiking trails that follow fall lines, creek beds, and old logging roads reclaimed by Mother Nature.

Having raced this one 3 years ago and pre ridden portions of it last week, I knew what to expect:  a long ass day suffering in the back country of the Appalachian Mountains.  The course was going to be a little bit greasy due to the recent rains and a forecast which called for the potential for more.  I was ok with that, as I had pretty good experience being a pin ball.

Their were some heavy hitters here to play.  I had no big goals other than to go hard and let the chips fall where they may. In 2015 I had an awesome race, finishing in just a little over 6 hours, in similar wet conditions.  I was hopeful that I could come close to that time.

I chose to wear my Camelbak, as I would have a better time staying hydrated on the mostly technical single track course.  I also decided to refuel with what the aid stations had as opposed to leaving drop bags; I did not want to have to wait a long time for my drop bags to arrive back at the finish.  Hammer gel, bananas, Hammer Heed, and Coke would all work for this engine.

Thankfully no rains rolled in the night before.  The morning brought with it cloudy skies and a starting temp of 68 degrees.  Perfect!  While my Rescue Racing team mates were posing for the Boy Band Rejects calender, I was out on the Creeper trying to bring some snap to my legs.

The start was neutral through town.  Once we hit the Creeper Trail, the pace increased a little and I comfortably stayed mid pack.  About a mile from the road crossing and onto Beech Grove Trail, someone let the rabbit loose and the hounds gave chase.  I initially responded and the legs felt good.  But my heart felt like it was going to jump out of my chest!  I looked down at my Garmin and my heart rate was 180bpm!  Not good!  I hadn't seen that number since Michael Jackson was alive and playing on my Sony walkman.  Not feeling good with my heart beating like a hummingbird, I had to pull up and slow it down.

Beech Grove Trail is only 1 mile long but shoots straight up the mountain to connect into the Iron Mountain Trail.  On a dry day and by yourself, it is easily rideable.  But with a train of racers and rocks slicker n snot, I made it about 100 yards, hit a wall of racers, and began the long HAB up. Fortunately, this allowed my HR to stabilize in the high 160's.  At this rate, it did not feel like an alien was going to rip out of my chest.

Once on the Iron Mountain Trail, the trail began to roll along the ridgeline. But that didn't make it any easier.  Some sections were fun, fast, and flowy, but few and far between as the overall profile still had you climbing.  Mostly it was narrow and strewn with large rocks that would smash your pedals or kick your front wheel out from under you or straight up a wide, washed out, rooty nightmare of a climb.  Doable, but once you dabbed or spun out, it was a HAB.  My pace was slower than I wanted; my legs felt good, but anytime I tried to push the power, my heart rate would go in the red.

I was frustrated, but focused on the positive.  I told myself that by staying steady now,  I would have some reserves for the last long climb up the backside of Iron Mountain.  A short section of gravel allowed a short reprieve before hitting another HAB.  I rolled a short bit of ridge and then dropped down a nasty chunky descent.  After a hard right, I was on the Beartree Gap Trail, 3.3 miles of dropper down free speed!  There were a couple short sections of easy pedaling and it was on one of these that I passed by Lara, who was being assisted by another rider.  I found out as she caught back up and came around me rooster-tailing leaves as she sped by that she had dropped her chain and had a difficult time getting it back on.

Checking my CamelBak as I popped out onto Beartree Road, I still had plenty of Infinit and so did not need to stop at Aid 1.  I saw Lara just ahead on the pavement and decided to try to reel her in over the next 3 miles of asphalt.  The rain settled in here.  It didn't take long for the drizzle to settle into a steady downpour.  I whipped out my handy dandy Hampton Inn shower cap and covered my helmet.  Not knowing if this rain was going to last just 30 minutes or all day, I did not want a steady stream of sweat and rain pouring over my eyebrows and into my eyeballs.  This little trick keeps my vision clear and is easy to take off and on as needed.

Drafting off available men, I was able to catch back up to Lara. In am attempt to look back and assess where to hop on the train, her front wheel went off the pavement onto the muddy shoulder.  She narrowly missed hitting the pavement and taking out the train.  I felt bad for her as we rolled past and she mentioned something about her rear derailleur.  I could tell she was frustrated and I hate seeing any racer struggling due to a mechanical.

By the time I hit the Lum Trail, the rain had slowed and was just a drizzle.  This trail starts off relatively easy, but about a 1/3 of the way in, it turns into a beast of a climb.  Several creek crossings with steep entry/exit points and littered with slimy rocks, I struggled keeping the front wheel tracking where I wanted it to go.  At times it seemed to have a mind of its own and I would suddenly be off the trail and pedaling through brush and fallen limbs. I could only laugh at myself!

Passing the shelter, I readied myself for the descent.  Chunky and Pisgah'ish and now wet and slimy with the rains, I "ski'd" down it and hit the "marbles and banana peels" section of Iron Mountain.

0.7 miles of this shit and then later I get to go back up it!

I managed to stay upright and not wander off into the brush on this descent.  After riding through some muddy bogs, I was back on a more manageable section of Iron Mountain and heading for Skulls Gap.  Crossing SR 600, I began the 1 mile gravel climb up to Jerry's Creek Trail.  At 10% pitch, this one is a doozy.  I felt pretty good and my heart stayed in my chest.

Jerry's Creek descent ... a love-hate relationship!  Gets the adrenalin flowin' and the ass puckerin'!  Ahh, good ole half-track, side bench, off-camber, diagonal roots and algae-fied rock Jerry's Creek!  Throw in some rain and about 40 racers in front of me and it turned out to be a "Flintstoning" cuss fest all the way down the initial 2 miles.

This is one of the tamer sections of Jerry's Creek.

I swear my bike tried to buck me off a couple times due to her total embarrassment of my sudden lack of descending skills.  Left foot unclipped, pushing off rocks, and the use of the "butt" brake ... yeah, that was not pretty.  Glad no one saw!

I rolled into Aid Station 2, being manned by Mark Prater, of Karl's Kaleidoscope fame!  This was a full service fill up and windshield cleaning (eyewear, in my case).  Mark asked where Zeke was, to which I replied, "smart enough to have not signed up for this ass-whoopin'!"  After a quick pit stop, it was onto another gravel climb, albeit at a much nicer grade.  I loved the next section of single track, Barton Gap.  One mile up followed by a hoot of a 1 mile descent.  I suppose this was the flow trail of the course.  It was over way too soon.

Trying to get my legs to turn over the pedals on the next 3 mile (with 1000 feet of gain) gravel climb, I felt the first signs of fatigue.  The legs balked but after a few minutes gave in and began cranking out the power.  To make the climb go faster, I alternated between seated and standing.  Doing ascending/descending pedal revolution intervals kept my mind focused on numbers as opposed to how stinkin' long this climb was.  For me, playing these little games during times of suffering makes it a little less painful.  Racing is as much a mental struggle as a physical one; if you can get into the right mindspace, the miles and hours flow better.  And there will be less grimacing and more smiling!

The two mile descent on Iron Mountain Trail back down to SR 600 was where my day almost ended. This section is steep, narrow, and with thick underbrush, it is hard to see the trail at times.  I was in a rhythm of avoiding the baby heads and getting face smacked by rhododendron branches when I hit the two foot rock slab drop a little faster than what I wanted to.  Upon hitting the drop, my right foot suddenly unclipped from my pedal.  This caused me to veer off track and smack a tree with my left shoulder.

After a quick triage of bike and body, I continued on; a little rattled and a little slower, but still moving.  I stopped at Aid Station 3, ate a banana, and topped off my Camelbak for the final push.  Climbing back up the trail, I knew I had a bugger of a section to work through.  The "marbles and banana peels" section followed by a HAB back up to the ridge.  It was here that I thought about Grace Ragland and the Tour Divide.  Not only did she have many HAB's of hell, she had to push a fully loaded (I'm guessing 40-45 pounds) bike up and over Rocky Mountain passes.  Suddenly what I had to do to get up to my "mountain pass" seemed like nothing.

After riding the perpetual rock garden along Iron Mountain over to Shaw Gap, the descent down Chestnut Ridge pushed my forearms and calves to their limits.  By the time I hit the tight right handed switchback, followed by the free fall to the creek, I had lost most of my grip.  I closed my eyes and just sent it!  My Trek Top Fuel squealed with joy; she liked me again!

I stopped at Aid Station 4, chugged 3 cups of Coke, and began the loooong pedal back up to the Iron Mountain Trail.  I was glad that I had eased up at the beginning of the race because I had just enough left to clean the uphill, save for the last 10 yard steep pitch up Sawmill Trail.  During this grind up the mountain, I had caught fleeting glimpses of one of my team mates, Spencer.  He was sangle-spudding it and at times looked to have a cadence of 20 rpm.  Little did he realize but he was motivating me all the way back up to the top.

Feather Branch Trail was one of my favorite climbs as it had a gnarly creek crossing followed by a short HAB, but then planed out to a beautiful piece of single track.  I was able to catch my breath along this 4-6% grade and listen to the songbirds and smell the forest. I took a break racing and just soaked in the beauty of this place I was traveling through.  Damn!  I am one lucky lady to have the time, money, and fitness to witness the grandeur of this country!

Ok, time to focus my eye on the prize again.  I hit Iron Mountain with all 8 cylinders.  I knew it was mostly downhill and no more HAB, so I put my head down and pushed forward.  I thought I was in 5th place, which was cool, because that would earn me a ticket into this event next year, when I turn 50.

I finally caught Spencer; we rode together for a short piece, which reminded me of our travels over the final miles of the Snake Creek Gap TT earlier this year.  Something about riding with teamies that will bring out the best of you.

Then final descent down Moe Holler was beastly.  Steep, baby-head strewn, slick-ass rocks, had me pinballing left and right!  Eyes wide open, knuckles white, and dropper down, I hung on for dear life, relying on the steed beneath me to see me through to the end.  By the time I hit the pavement, I was smoked!  Looking down at my Garmin, I saw 6:31:36.  27 minutes slower than 2015, but I was alive and had made it out of the back country unscathed ... well, except for a sore shoulder.

Content to have rounded out the podium with these speedy lasses!

I really appreciate the hard effort of Chris Scott to bring back this race.  It is one of the hardest I've done, but a favorite.  To complete this beast is a true test of not only one's fitness but mental toughness, grit, and fortitude.  The week before, I had ridden or walked over at least 35 downed trees.  Today, less than 10.  I heard even Jeremiah Bishop was out sawing logs the day before;  one class act!

I must make mention of a fellow competitor I met while scarfing down my burger post race.  This young woman approached me and introduced herself as Nina.  She reads my blog (humbled that I have yet another fan) and told me how it helped her to prepare for this race.  As she was telling me how hard this race was and how much climbing it had, I was looking at her and thinking that she looked so young.  I asked her how old was she.  My jaw dropped and I just about fell over backward when she said 16!  Now that was MOST impressive.  Nina, YOU now have a fan!

Trying hard to remember what I was doing when I was 16, I think I was pretending to be a 5K road racer.  So remember this name, fellow racers:  Nina Machnowski.  I predict she will be a lethal machine in a few years!

As far as my heart goes, I have felt no ill effects of that rapid HR.  I am still not sure of what to make of it.  I just hope it doesn't happen again at the Tatanka 100 in a couple weeks.  And if it does, you betcha I will be calling my doc!

Pisgah Stage Race: Stage 2, Sunset Motel's Promised Land Route

Distance:  30 miles
Elevation:  4000 feet
Temperature:  36-63 degrees F
Time:  3:16:07

The sun does indeed shine in The Pis-gaaaaa!

Today's stage started out with a 6 mile "controlled" road start along Highways 276 and 280.  While I absolutely love my mountain biking family, when you mix coffee, asphalt, and 180 non road biking souls, you get chaos!  I was more worried getting taken out here than getting "squirreled" later in the course.  Although I managed to stay in the front 1/3, the accordion effect was still there.  I almost wished the police car would have pulled off and let the "real" race begin sooner than at the foot of TurkeyPen Gap gravel road.  I focused on staying far to the right so I would only have to deal with insanity on my left. 

Turning onto the gravel climb up to TurkeyPen Gap, I rolled by carnage that included Emily and another racer.  I said a brief prayer that she was ok and that Gordon would show mercy upon the other.  That 30 minute warm up was exactly what my legs needed.  The descent down South Mills was fast and fun.  The bike was dialed and soaking up the hits.  Hitting Mullinax, my last memories were of a slickety slidy muddy uphill, but today it was hero dirt.  The legs were happy, I was in my own little bubble, and my heart was full. 

Eager to hit Squirrel, one of my favorite trails, I managed to stand and hammer up the last bit of Mullinax before dropping in to the trail I give the utmost respect to.  Squirrel is half-track, with roots looming in the most inopportune places and bouldery sections to negotiate.  Being side cut, the price for failure is high, and I have the scars to prove it.

Fortunately it was dry and with the trail work that has been done in the past two years, it was easy ... with easy being relative.  As much as I wanted to attempt to clean the gnarlier sections, I had to make the smart decision and HAB more than I normally do.  Cleaning a good portion of the flattish or uphill sections requires a lot of bike handling and upper body/back work.  While my back was good on the descents, any time I tried to use force to work through an uphill rocky or rooty section, I would have pain eminate from my L5 area.  What kept me from pushing through the pain was that I envisioned my disc as a Cadbury egg.  I imagined the ooey gooey center exploding through the chocolate candy shell.  And that is what allowed me to hop off the bike, dance through the dicey sections, and remount with no pain at all.

On the right, what my disc looked like 3 weeks ago ... did not want a repeat event.

On Squirrel I passed John Lewer, from New Jersey, that I met on Day 0's opening ceremonies.  He hung with me for awhile, but towards the end of Squirrel I got a gap on him.  What is unique about this stage race is that although the stages are tough, you are not so blown at the end of the stage that all you want to do is go back to your room/house/motel and crash.  There is enough time to recover as well as enjoy the camaraderie of your fellow racers at dinner later in the evening.

Stephen "the squirrel tamer" Janes blew by me in a fit of sheer awesomeness.  He was ragin' on his single speed.  I tried to stay with him, but was not in his league.  Talk about a man on fire!

The climb up South Mills and Buckhorn was smooth like a highway and not too steep.  I was still feeling great at this time and chatted with several on the climb, including David Noletti, who was vying for a spot on the SS podium. 

The gravel descent down Clawhammer was sketchy!  Dry and loose and I could not seem to find my drifting skills.  Somehow I managed to catch up to Stephen Janes on the gravel.  We rode together down to the aid station, where he stopped and I motored on up Maxwell Cove.

After a 20 minute grind, I hit the Black HAB up to the enduro of the day ... middle/lower Black.  The last time I had cleaned this section was on a ride many moons ago.  Today was the day I would have justice.  Unfortunately, I got caught behind a racer whose reptile brain took over at the sharp short uphill with a quick turn to the right before hitting the wet rocky/rooty descent.  I clung desperately to a track stand but just could not hold it long enough to make a clean go at it.  😡😡😡

I had to dab down, but then quickly got by him and made short work of the steep rooty switchback to the right.  The rest of the descent was so ... much ... fun!  Only wish I had the cahoneys to go faster.  By the time I hit the bottom, my calves and forearms were dying. 

I won the stage and put a little more time into second place.  My bike was amazing.  Someone (who shall remain nameless) out in podcast land was poo-poo'ing putting a Fox 32 120mm on a Top Fuel.  While it probably wouldn't make sense for a 140+ racer to run this, for this buck ten, it has been a game changer!

Salmon, rice, carrots, and a salad

Pisgah Stage Race: Stage 1, Clif's Looking Glass Route

Distance:  25 miles
Elevation:  3400 feet
Temperature: 37-54 degrees F
Time:  2:34:56

Thanks to Scott's Bikes for Blaze, my trusty Pisgah steed!

I raced the first two editions of PSR and it took me 8 years to recover.  Why, you ask?  It might have had something to do with 45 mile days, 9000 feet elevation gain per day, freezing temps, multiple waist deep creek crossings, snow on Laurel/Pilot, Farlow Gap iced over, uphill both ways, etc.  2009 was insanely hard!  2010 was warmer, but still had a short prologue followed by long days.  Back then I was racing against the big guns:  Sue Haywood, Cheryl Sorenson, Amanda Carey, and Brenda Simril.

This time, I was racing in the Masters 40+.  I figured, at 49 years, I earned my way into this category.  I almost didn't get to race, as 2 1/2 weeks prior, I herniated my L5 disc.  But with some chiropractic work, and Dr. Stuart McGill's book, I was well enough to give it a determined go at it. 

Highly highly recommend for any of you low back sufferers

The first stage had us racing back down the gravel into Cove Creek campground.  Towards the end there is a fairly deep but rideable creek crossing.  So one can hit the crossing rubbing elbows with other racers, or play the waiting game and walk across a narrow bridge.  With everyone in stoopid crazy mode to get to Daniel Ridge which was the enduro section, I opted to take the time penalty and walk the bridge.  I did not come all this way to be taken out in the first 2 minutes of the race.

Hitting FS 475 and climbing up to the turn off to Daniel Ridge, guys and gals came by me so fast, I almost went into a tail spin.  My legs were HEAVY, but had only myself to blame for less than an ideal warm up.  The gravel single track climb on Daniel hurt like the dickens. I was happy to see the HAB (hike-a-bike) train when Pisgah greeted us with the first technical climb of the day.  Conditions were a bit slick as the rain the day before made the roots glisten and the rocks shine.

I took my time along Daniel Ridge, including the enduro section, as I waited on legs and body to re familiarize themselves with the Pisgah gnar.  As I popped back out onto FS 475, heading up to Butter Gap, I felt like I was at the back of the pack.  I was o.k. with that because I survived the first single track without any back pain.

Climbing up to Butter, I was greeted by the Hoffmeisters, James and Beth.  I have gotten to know these amazing people in the last year or so.  They were screaming at me, "You are our favorite racer!"  Awwww ... I blushed.  But as I went by and another racer approached them, they said the very same thing.  Hmmmm ...  come to find out, every racer was their fave!  They had me laughing all the way down Butter.  After the initial chunk and drops at the top, I found my groove and cleaned it all.  I had to make my way around several hike a downers and soon found myself behind Gordon and Emily. 

This was the first time I had ridden with these guys and let me tell you.  Emily had the bad-assery moves going on!  That lady has come a long way in a short time.  Her skills were poppin'!  I was most impressed and thoroughly enjoyed hanging out with them on Butter, LongBranch, and then descending FS475 to Davidson River.

I popped off their wheel as the climb up FS475B to Cove Creek began.  Emily had a G-bike on the climbs.  Occasionally Gordon would put his hand on Emily's low back and whoosh!  Up the road they would go, at a pace I don't even think I could match on a good day.  It was amazing to see the power output that Gordon produced.  Very cool!

Towards the latter half of the climb on FS475B, my legs finally came around.  I was able to get in a rhythm of standing and hammering, followed by periods of rest on the false flats.  Soon I was groovin' on the FS225 double track descent to Cove Creek.

The Cove Creek Trail had some major work done on it since the last time I had ridden it back in 2014.  Most of the spindly log bridges had been replaced by rideable wooden plank ones.  Now you could really send it!  I was having too much fun and almost face planted on one steep rooty drop.  How I managed to save it I do not know.  Thank God for a healthy set of reflexes!

I did miss the smell of hamburgers on the final drop in to the campground (from the Swank days).  But there were recovery drinks and plenty of food (chips, scones, bananas, and oranges) to eat at the finish. 

I rolled over to the results table where one could not only see your results on a screen, but also print them off, too.

After a not so strong start, I was just hoping to make any podium appearance.  I was pleasantly surprised that I had finished first in my class and had a respectable overall performance, too. 

After a brief stretch, I went and had a 15 minute massage. OMG!  If you are going to sign up for the race, you need to sign up for the post stage massages as well.  They are a leg and body saver!  It is well worth the extra $$.  I melted into the table!

With short stages, there is plenty of time left in the day to recover.  I went back to the house, showered, stretched some more, sat in my Elevated Legs, and then headed over to the Brevard Music Center for the evening meal and video/photo recap of the day.

Bacon-wrapped GF meatloaf, buttered Lima beans, roasted Yukon Gold potatos, and a salad.

The food was provided by Black Eyed Susan's Caterers and it rivals Mulberry Gap at quality and taste.  They even provided gluten free and vegan alternatives.  And as much as you wanted to eat!  Oskar Blues Brewing provided 1 beer per person per day.  Not being a drinker, I saved mine for Charlie (future kitchen passes!).

That leader's jersey felt good!

Having 15 minutes on second place, I was focused on playing it smart and safe on Stage 2.