War Daddy

This race is one of my favorite mixed surface events.  It is touted as the hardest MTB race in Kentucky for good reason.  Normally it is 68 miles with 9000 feet of climbing.  Even though there is roughly 20 miles of pavement and 15 miles of smooth'ish gravel, the remaining miles are filled with enhanced gravel, moto trail, and single track. It is rare to see a gravel bike at this event.

This year, due to torrential rains in the week leading up to the race, a good portion of the trails were unrideable.  So John made the decision to shorten the race to 58 miles, leaving out the mud boggin' moto trails and the last 6 miles through the old strip mine. I still made the decision to race my SuperCaliber with 2.1 Bontrager Saint-Anne tires.

I stayed at the Wendover B&B, which I have always done in the past.  It is the historic home to the Frontier Nursing Service, dating back to 1925.  It was only Nick and I who stayed here; surprising, because of its peaceful location and inexpensive rates.

This year the women's field was the biggest ever.  With some heavy hitters and unknowns, I had no expectations.  I was just gonna leave it all out there and let the chips fall where they may. The temp at the start was 60 degrees and by the end was 75.

9 am was the shotgun start by Trevor, who knifed open a can of cheap beer and chugged it.  Throwing the empty can down on the ground signified that the race had begun.  There was a police escorted 5 mile lead out down the highway and through the town of Hyden, at a pleasant warm up pace. I positioned myself towards the front, but as soon as the car pulled off, people attacked like it was a short track race.

I let all the greyhounds by, knowing that I would reel some of them in on the Owl's Nest climb.  This was the first gut punch of the day.  I settled in and over the next mile, reeled a couple women back in.  Once over the top, it turned to gravel.  I flew down the backside picking off a few more racers and then motored the rollers.

On the flat gravel section next to the Middle Fork of the Kentucky River, a fellow racer pulled up to me.  He looked familiar and told me that he used to ride the Outdoor Store Tuesday group ride back in the day. I had to ask for his name, to which he replied David Haines.  He now lives in Kentucky and has gotten back into riding.  That was so cool!  We took turns pulling, which was a blessing on this section.

Once we hit the second gut punch, War Baby, David lost my wheel and I was with a couple of single speeders.  It was here, only 20 miles in that my legs felt like 💩. Not really a surprise, as I haven't been doing any structured training this year. Too much time running with my doggos does not equate to being bike fast.  No regrets, however, as my life is evolving away from everything bikes and more towards a blend of adventure racing, hiking, running, strength training, and hanging with my "kids."

I had already drank one bottle, so I grabbed my second one.  As we all do, we grab the valve with our teeth, pull it open and then take a swig.  Well, the valve on mine broke off in my mouth.  That made it very interesting over the next miles trying to get water out of that broken bottle.  Fortunately that was the only mechanical of the day.

Once on top, it was an action packed descent, dodging mud holes and wash outs.  The Elkhorn section is always spicy, and even more so today, with the rivers of mud and water.

The third gut punch was War Dwarf.  This was the longest climb on the day at just over 2 miles, but felt like twice as long.  It felt like most of my watts were going into the ground as opposed to moving forward. It was definitely a slog. Once along the ridge, I began to feel a little better and then let'r rip on the Hell For Certain paved descent.  I came in too hot at the "T" in the road and overshot the turn.  

Twist N Sourwood was the next climb.  I felt somewhat better, reliving the 2019 edition where I met Jordan Sands for the first time on this section.  We were crushing it then and so I focused on this memory to see me through. At the top, around mile 34, I stopped at the aid station to swap bottles and slurp a gel.

I love the ridge riding of Grannie's Branch.  The gravel up on top is in perfect shape and you can rip on the rollers; hell, it feels like you are on an e-bike! I got some of my mojo back here, passing a few on the descent down to Big Creek.

I popped out on pavement for a 6 mile cruise. It was here that I befriended Yianni, a SS'r from Cincinnati.  Poor guy was spinning a 120+ cadence.  I got in front and pulled him along to give his knees and hips a break. I think he ended up 2nd in the single speed class.

Once we hit double track, the War Daddy climb was looming just ahead. But first I had to work my way along Mother Nature's cobbles (baby heads) of FR1600.  I believe the devil sprayed Miracle Grow on this section because these rocks had grown! Once I hit the War Daddy proper, my focus was on turning the pedals and not coming off the bike.  I have always been able to ride this and today was NOT the day for a hike a bike.

When you think you are at the top of War Daddy, the climbing is not finished.  There are a few more kickers along the ridge trying to break you.  But by now, I was smelling the barn, with 8 miles to go.  And there were a few carrots in my line of sight.  As bad as I felt, I just put my head down and time trialed it to the end.  When the legs started barking, I would stand and hammer some pedal strokes before settling back in the saddle.  This seemed to work and I slowly picked off a few more racers.  

At mile 55, it felt good to turn left instead of a right, signifying the beginning of the climb to the moto trail. I was kinda glad I did not have to slog through it and the strip mine section, as I was at my limit.  It was nice to finish off the final 3 miles on a paved descent.

I rolled across the line in 4:26, rounding out the podium in third place.  Mary bested me by 3 minutes and Sam slaughtered me by 29 minutes (silly strong youngster!). Although not my fastest time, I was pleased with the result.  I rode as hard as I could, had fun, and did not eat dirt ... all victories in my book.

There was plenty of post race food, a bike wash, and a shower.  I showered at the bike wash, after cleaning up Taz.  Hung out awhile for the podium and then headed back to Wendover for a proper clean up.  Later that evening there was an after party at the podium.  It was good to hang out with everyone and eat a home cooked meal.  Best after party of many a race I have been to over the years.

Those guys can play a mean guitar!

Put this one on your schedule for 2026.  And hopefully we will get to race the full monte.  And bring your mountain bike or you will have a 50% bad time.  You will NOT be disappointed.  And book a room at the Wendover.

Thanks to John Maggard and family for showcasing the hollers of Hyden, Kentucky where I was all smiles (well, maybe a few grimaces) all day.  And if you are an ultra runner, they are having the War Bird 100 in March.  Check it out!  

trailsick.com

War Daddy

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Creek crossing just before the War Daddy climb

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Reclaimed the helmet

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

Sandlin's Shred Race Report

 

Sandlin's Shred is War Daddy's little brother.  Even though it is only 32 miles, it has 5000 feet of punchy, technical gain. While War Daddy is touted as the hardest bike race in Kentucky, Sandlin's Shred could easily be purported to be the second hardest.  Race director John Maggard, aka Trail_Sick, puts on a wonderful event, what with tons of schwag, raffles, food, and beer. I love love love the vibe of this grassroots event.  The number of registered racers has grown throughout the years, from a small group of 40 in 2019 to 115 for this edition.

It has been 3 weeks since my knee injury.  I had an MRI done 3 days ago, but would not know the results until the week after the race. My doctor was worried about a meniscal tear, while I was hoping for a Grade 1 medial collateral ligament tear. With a rapid improvement in pain over the past 10 days, I was hopeful I could at least ride, if not race, the shorter distance.

Although it poured rain the day before, I woke up to a warm 60 degrees and clear skies.  Both races incorporate pavement, gravel/dirt, and trail.  I can count on my fingers the number of gravel bikes that have attempted either race since its inception in 2019.  I think I saw two this morning ... poor bastards 😆.  I chose Ripley, my Trek SuperCaliber, with 2.3 Bontrager XR3 on the front and a 2.2 XR2 on the rear.  I was running SRAM AXS with a 32T chainring and a 10-52 cassette. At 22 pounds, I would take the 3.5 pound penalty over my gravel bike.

After Trevor's shotgun start (he shotgunned a beer), it was fairly neutral for the first two miles on pavement ... well, until the e-bikes started up the climb.  Then everyone began to hammer.  I tried, but at this point my engine was not warmed up, and I was nervous about how my knee might respond to the increased wattage.  The past 3 weeks had been easy spinning.  So I let them go, along with 5 women.

Towards the end of the climb, I reeled in two of the women as we turned onto gravel.  This 8 mile section was beautiful and the rains has settled the gravel/dirt and made it fast.  I could tell my fitness was off, as I struggled on the climbs.  Fortunately my knee stayed pain-free, even when I attempted to put more power down.  This made me VERY happy, as the past 3 weeks had me fighting off the depression demon.  

I managed to catch another woman at the top of the Rattlesnake Run climb.  From there is was some fun descending down Gilbert Creek Road (gravel as well).  It was here that I reeled in Sarah.  I passed her on the descent, but when I turned off the gravel onto a short section of flat pavement, she was right back on.  We shared pulls until we turned off onto a rocky double track road, which soon pitched up to the heavens ... the War Daddy climb!  With an average grade of 11%, it climbed 600 feet over a mile.  Sarah slowly pulled ahead, but then lost traction on the loose chunky rock, and began HAB'ing.  I was able to make a pass, at a snail's pace, but I was still pedaling.  I was bound not to get off and push, as my knee clearly did not like dismounting and HAB'ing. 

Sarah soon caught back up to me as we crested the climb. Over the next 5 miles we would leapfrog each other as she was strong on the climbs and I was faster on the descents.  Around mile 16, I was treated with a "new to 2023" section of single track.  Old school and hand-cut, I giggled with excitement as I rode this 1 mile section.  I also managed to pull away from Sarah. It was in great shape, save for a few muddy spots.  As it dipped down into a creek and then abruptly turned up on the other side, I respected my knee's wishes, got off and walked it.  I knew that any out of the saddle bursts of torque were off-limits.  

Popping out onto more gravel, I motored over to the aid station at mile 18.  The volunteers were super helpful.  I was in and out in a flash, after topping off my bottle and grabbing a Gu.  As I headed out of the aid station, I glanced back, half expecting to see Sarah, but did not.

Even though the course was well marked, when I came upon the mile section of gravel which you repeat on Sandlin's Shred, I momentarily lost confidence in my navigation.  Memories of my navigational error at Gravel World's last year made me doubt myself now.   So I stopped for a moment and zoomed my map out ... all was well.  

I started pedaling again and began picking the pace back up when my left leg cramped!  Holy cow, that hurt!  At that moment I definitely knew that my fitness had tanked because I NEVER cramp.  I also must have been pushing a little harder with my left leg than my right leg with the injured knee.  I shifted into granny and began to spin easy until it released.  "Meter your effort" became my new mantra.

Soon I hit the 6 mile section of single track, part of the Redbud moto trail system.  The rains had made it muddy and slick.  I was wishing for a dropper through some of the trickier descents.  The HAB's grew in distance and number compared to last year when it was dry.  My knee began to twinge with some pain during them.  I managed to figure out how to place the right foot as to minimize any torque on the knee.  I also wisely chose to walk a couple descents for fear of re-injury, although the walking was almost as scary.

After a bazillion mudholes, riding some, but skirting around most, I popped out onto the coal mine section.  Only 6 miles to go, but damn, that's a long 6 miles!  Felt more like 10! I was so tired but had to keep hammering.  Around each corner I was hoping to catch a glimpse of first place.  When that didn't happen, I was desperately hoping that the road would turn downward to the final descent to the finish line.  That never happened!  Like for a LONG time!  I finally lost my shit with about 2 to go and started cussing the damn mine!😄😄😄

At last, there she was ... the rutted out, baby-head rocks galore gravel road!  At this point, I lost all concern with my knee and just let Ripley eat this descent like a lab "hoovering" up chow!  I rolled across the finish line in 3:11.  My goal had been 3 hours, but I will gladly take the additional 11 minutes, because today was a huge success. Today my fitness hurt more than my knee, but that is something that can be improved.  

And then I was told that I had won!  The woman who was ahead of me was in the e-bike category, so yea me!  Icing on the cake!

There was plenty of food and drink at the finish line, as well as a bike wash, so I cleaned up and then refueled while waiting the arrival of Dave and John, who raced the War Daddy.  I must say, it was nice to just sit, relax, and chat amongst the Shredders for a few hours.  I had briefly thought that I could have raced the big one, but realized, while icing the knee, that I had made the right decision.  I hated not being able to defend the helmet, but there's always next year!

Both John and Dave had a good race, with John getting a few bonus miles missing a turn.  Later that evening, there was an after party at Wendover B&B.  The race director's family and friends brought home-cooked food and there was plenty of beer and moonshine for those that wanted to get saucy!  After the meal, we all gathered around the fire and listened to guitar music, under a moonlit sky.  Now THIS is what I call a well run small town big country event.  Kentucky gravel is no joke!

Tips by Trevor:  how to read a GPS track

Love my Rescue Racing team mates!

Moonshine to the winners!