Marathon National Championships Race Report

The spectators' favorite #.  For me, it was a finishing time to shoot for.

The butterflies were thick as I completed my warm up.  I managed to stay away from the start line until they called us single speeders up to the start.  After a few brief pleasantries were said to my competitors, I clipped in and took a few deep breaths.  This was the day I had been preparing since January.  Although there were a few hiccups along the way, the last 2 months had been very promising and my fitness was exactly where I needed it to be.  My competition was unknown, but they looked super fit with impressive quads and glutes! Yeah, don't tell me you don't size up your competition just like I do!

When the gun went off, Desiree took the lead, and I followed her wheel.  LaJuan hopped onto mine. The first lap was a 4 mile loop, of which 2.5 was relatively flat pavement which then funneled us into the last 1.5 miles of the 25 mile course.  It was a nice warm up, as I could only spin so fast.  Sitting behind Desiree, she seemed to be spinnier, as her butt bounced on the saddle.  I was running a 32 x 18, so it looked to me that she might have been one gear easier.  Turning onto the double track climb, Desiree made a move.  I stuck to her wheel like glue.  Towards the top and with no let up in sight, I was hoping this was just a little test and not something she could sustain for 50 miles. We began catching the age group men right away with this burst of speed.  Towards the top, LaJuan popped off and it was just her and I.

Finishing up the start loop, she once again surged ahead on the initial climb up Yellow Trail.  I was able to counter and hold her wheel.  She was definitely setting a hard pace.  I felt pretty comfortable matching it, but knew it was a bit faster than my race pace. With only 5 miles into the race, I began to see carnage:  first a saddle in the middle of the trail ... and then guys off their bikes working on flats. This course was loaded with sharp pointy rocks and it was definitely better to be a ballerina than a bulldozer!

Finishing up the Yellow, I had a short bit of pavement before the Green Trail.  Desiree and I passed a group of old farts, powerful ones I might add, and one of them called out, "I LOVE you Carey!"  It was The James Hoffmeister.  I am so glad he did that as it made me feel so special and gave me just a bit more "umph" to my race.

Beth and Jim, Senior Speed Specialists!

Heading up the long, arduous climb of Green, I felt that Desiree was backing off a bit.  Thank goodness, my heart rate had not left zone 5 for a very long time.  Halfway up, an age group woman passed us, paying us a nice compliment.  At the top, Desiree told me it was my turn to take the lead, and so I did.  I held the pace steady for awhile, but towards the end of Green, decided to pick up the pace for a couple minutes and see what happened.  I slowly pulled away and by the time I crossed the pavement and hit the Orange Trail, she was out of sight. But definitely not out of mind. 

The Orange, Blue, and White Trails went by in a blur.  I was still feeling great at this point and wanted to get as much distance between myself and second ... or at least not have her close the gap down.  The Green trail on the way back is one of the funnest sections of the course.  It is mostly downhill and has several neat rocky features.  As I was beginning the initial descent, my left foot felt funny,  My Xpedo pedal has some float, but not as much as I was feeling.  I shrugged it off initially, just overthinking it I told myself, but over the next few minutes it kept getting worse.  Oh, shit!  As much as I did not want to, I pulled off the trail, sat down, turned my foot over, and saw that my cleat bolts were 1 turn away from falling off my shoe.  Unbelievable!  I had checked all the bolts on my bike the day prior, but forgot to check my shoes.

I don't recommend this for your "A" race

I pulled out my Park IB-3 tool and attempted to tighten the bolts that I could barely see. I have presbyopia and use 2.5 reading glasses. I was having the fight of my life!  What with the dirt caked in the bolts and the #4 allen wrench being less than a mouse dick in length, I could not firmly seat the tool and had no leverage.  Normally I carry my trusty Park IB-2, but was thinking I needed to carry the bigger one because it had a chain breaker.  Finally, after what seemed a life time, but in reality was 90 seconds, I got it tightened.

As I stood up to hop back on the bike, Desiree comes flying by.  Great! Just great!  I took off after her, not like a bat out of hell, but with steadfastness.  No sense blowing up as there were still 29 miles to go. Slowly, over the remainder of the Green Trail, I reeled her back in.  As we hit the pavement connector back to the remaining Yellow, she asked if I had a mechanical.  To which I responded that I came close to having a one-legged race.

Getting the lead back, but not for long.

We pulled in the pits together.  Zeke was there.  I handed him my spent CamelBak, chugged a Red Bull, and then got my fresh CamelBak. My frustration level was rapidly rising as the tubing somehow managed to come undone from the strap to which I had attached it to. As I spent precious seconds re-securing it, I watched Desiree pull out of the pits. I had to tell myself out loud to calm down. By the time I entered the trail to begin Lap 2, she was out of sight.

Having used up my adrenaline during the past 30 minutes of playing catch up, I was hurting on the initial Yellow climb.  I needed that Red Bull to kick in soon!  I got caught behind some traffic on the second switchback climb on Yellow and had to get off and run a few short yards.  When I remounted, I felt IT.  The cleat was loose again!



So ... after finishing the descent down to the pavement connector over to Green, I pulled off, sat down, got my tool out, prayed, and began to work.  This time, all the while answering questions of the volunteer who was seated next to me, I got the damn thing tight!  This time I lost 2 minutes.

As I pedaled to Green, my heart was heavy.  All the training, all the planning, all the eating clean, all the recovery ... all for naught.  Now I was racing to hold on to second.  I had a good ole pity party as I struggled up Green.  Moving on to Orange, I was not only beating myself up mentally, but the trail was dishing out a pretty good ass-whippin', too.  My body was fatigued and I was beginning to feel like a pinball in the rocks.

Something changed, however, when I hit the Blue Trail.  Maybe it was the caffeine kick from the Red Bull or maybe it was just the fierce competitor in me kicking the monkey off my back.  But my attitude changed, and I was not going down without a fight.  I hit the White Trail with wheels a smokin'!  This trail is the flowiest, rippin'-ist one of the bunch and I enjoyed every mile of it.  As I was making my way up a climb, I passed a dude who told me that Desiree had passed him about 5 minutes ago.  That was what I needed to hear.  I yelled back, "The fat lady has not sung yet!"

Yellow Trail with multiple short, but sketchy creek crossings.

Hitting the Orange, I came upon the mud puddle from hell.  This time, instead of going left I hit it full throttle through the middle.  It swallowed my bike and almost sucked me under!  I lost sight of my bottom bracket and feet.  Fortunately I came away unscathed and worked my way up the climb, crossed the road, and entered the Green Trail.  As I was approaching the spot on the first lap where I had to stop, I checked my pedal while coasting through a section.  It was still tight, and I exhaled a breath of relief!

Towards the end of Green, on a climb, I passed a dude.  He said that "she" was just up ahead. I have heard this line before and a bit skeptical.  As I motored on, I drank several big gulps and swallowed a gel ... just in case.  I hit the 0.6 mile pavement connector to the Yellow.  No one in sight. I kept my cadence high, came around the corner on the straight away.  Saw a dude just ahead.  Kept pedaling. Saw someone beyond him way up ahead.  Kept pedaling.  Got closer. Jersey looked familiar.  Got closer.  Were those two pigtails coming out from under the helmet?!?  As I got within 100  yards, I knew it was Desiree!  The game is on!  I have got a race ahead of me!

She hit the single track about 75 yards in front of me.  At this point it was almost 2 miles to the finish. I began to inhale deeply, saturating my lungs with oxygen.  I needed to close the gap by the time we hit the double track climb.  There were two slightly sketchy creek crossings ahead.  Focus and stay steady, I said to myself.  No stupid lines here.

I caught her just as we crested a slight climb that would bring us to the left hander onto the double track.  I passed her, using every fiber of my being to max out the torque.  It felt like I was going to rip my handle bar off.  On to the climb, I fought like a criminal on an opiod high!  I prayed that my quads or hamstrings would not seize up.

I needed to open a gap on this 0.6 mile climb!  Desiree hung on for an uncomfortably long time ... and then she cracked. I unleashed a monster inside of me, breathing like I was at 14,000 feet, and embracing the lactic acid that had filled my legs!  I passed 3 or 4 others on this climb, who thankfully let me on by immediately.

I powered through the final rock garden. and then flew like a peregrine falcon down the powerline descent, praying a sharp rock would not rip my tire to shreds.  At the bottom of the descent, I looked back and did not see her.  I still turned myself inside out on the final stretch to the finish.  I crossed the line at 4:26:32, defending my 2016 National Championship title!

A-freaking-mazing!  It was true!  I won!  I was so spent; I started seeing stars and had to sit down. Desiree crossed the finish line a mere 30 seconds back.  After feeling life flowing back into me, I went over to Desiree and we gave each other a great big hug.  She said, "That is what racing for a national championship is all about."  Words well spoken from a truly amazing woman and competitor.

We ended up being 3rd and 4th overall (excluding the Pro/Open).  I say this not to brag, but for the mere fact that she is 54 and I am 48. Proving that age is but a number and that you are never too old to strive for the top step.  And if you ever line up next to Desiree White, be afraid, be very afraid!

Lady SShredders!

Thank you to my sponsors who helped make my way along this path to victory a little easier:

• The Outdoor Store
• Niner Bikes
• Industry 9
• Christopher Bean Coffee
• Xpedo
• Chamois Butt'r
• Endless Bike Company
• Revive Massage
• HandUp Gloves
• Backcountry Research
• Swiftwick

I must give Lynda of LWCoaching a big shout out, as without her 12 week plans, I would be a little lost puppy in a pack of wolves

Marathon Nationals Race Report

Third time is the charm!

In the week leading up to the event, I kept checking the registrant list, as I was the lonely single speeder.  Finally, with only hours to spare, Rebecca Bubp chose to join me in the USA Cycling shenanigans.  There would be only two of us, but that did not lessen the challenge.  My race extends beyond the borders of class or age:  all women and dudes with one gear are fair game!

With Augusta not having any rain in awhile, the course was going to be dry and fast!  However, Mother Nature would do her best to challenge me.  The starting temperature this year was just shy of last year's finishing temperature:  81 degrees.  Waiting on my call up at the start line, the air was hot and heavy, like a warm, wet blanket.

At the gun, I went out hard.  The 19-29 and 30-34 groups had started 2 minutes ahead and I was hungry!  I also wanted to open a gap between Rebecca and I early on, knowing that "out of sight, out of mind," would be to my advantage.  The first few miles of the Bartram Trail came and went quickly.  By the time I had hit the double track flats, I began to reel in several of the women that had started in front of me.  I came upon Melissa during one particular flat stretch and welcomed the draft. I also had the opportunity to say some words of encouragement to her, hoping that those ahead of her in her class would battle it out with each other, fall apart, and be swallowed up by her in the latter miles.  I passed a couple more as they spun in their grannies up those steep climbs, while I mustered every bit of my 111 pounds to keep the pedals turned over.

Across the highway through the pastures, creek crossings, and powerline climbs, I felt the sun's blazing heat. I was like that poor little ant being under the magnifying glass of some 5 year old boy, on the verge of combustion. On one particular long grassy double track descent, I suddenly knew what it felt like to run a series of moguls.  It took all my cat-like reflexes to keep the rubber side down, the ruts being camoflaged by 3-4 inches of grass.

After the final grunty climb back up to the road crossing, I was getting light-headed. I made myself slow down for the 16 miles of Bartram back to the start/finish to keep the engine from overheating. Even though I settled into a slightly slower, but sustainable pace, the flow of the Bartram is amazing. I felt like I was in a Star Wars movie, riding a speeder bike.

About 18 miles and 1 1/2 hours into the race, I sucked on my hydration hose leading to my 50 ounce bladder.  Nothing.  I grabbed my CamelBak, jimmied it around, and sucked.  Still nothing! Fortunately I had a 1/2 full bottle of water on the bike.  Although I had not planned on stopping at the first aid station (mile 20), I was thankful to take a short respite.  Being the only one there at the time, I was treated like a Queen.  I did not even have to get off the bike.  While one volunteer refilled my bottle, another poured ice cold water down my back.

During the remaining 10 miles of Bartram, I caught a couple more women, and started passing some of the younger age group men.  I was pleasantly surprised by how respectful all the men were in letting me by.  As I approached the start/finish, my time was just 3 minutes slower than last year's. The first half of the course was exactly the same, so that was promising.  I stopped and swapped CamelBaks while professional pit crewman Zeke poured ice water down my jersey.

The first portion of the next 30 miles was the Keg Creek Trail.  Due to a road bridge being under construction, this portion of the race was different than last year's.  I would be riding most of Keg first and clockwise.  This part and all of its seemingly 1,532 roots would be the death of me!  Even though the trail was shaded the canopy held in the heat which approached a high of 95 degrees.  The balls of my feet and my left big toe hurt and it felt like someone was stabbing me in the lower back. What kept me hammering, though, was knowing that I did not want to be caught by Mary, who I had seen coming down into the start/finish as I was leaving.  Mary had spanked me pretty good in the Big Frog 65 and I did not want a repeat.  So I motored on, ignoring the pain, and constantly scanning the horizon for signs of the bridge work, as that would tell me I was about to  leave Hell.

After Keg was a 2 mile stretch of pavement.  It was a nice break from the teeth rattling I had just experienced.  And uphill so I wasn't spinning my legs off.  Once again, I drained my 50 ounce CamelBak in a little over an hour.  As I hit the 1 mile Purgatory Pasture, I began to feel a little better. All the pains disappeared so that I could focus on the task that lay ahead.  At the third aid station halfway through the field,  Zeke was there with nutrition in hand.  While I drank my Red Bull, he refilled my CamelBak.  I also managed to pack enough ice into my bra and down my bibs to have a cooling effect on me for the next 30 minutes.

As I approached the Mistletoe single track,  I was greeted with some cloud cover.  Instantly the temperature seemed to drop 10 degrees.  I felt great going through this 7 mile section of single track. The creek crossings were all shallow and rideable.  I did miss one turn during a creek crossing where I went wide left and ended up going left on the other side as opposed to right.  I realized my mistake pretty quick and only lost about a minute.

This crossing was almost completely dry this year.

I only had to HAB a couple short, grunty climbs, the one after the ledgy drop into the creek and the other being the cross tie climb back up to the park entrance.  I passed a few more guys, one of whom gave me the biggest compliment of the day as I passed him on a climb while he was walking. The guys were most gracious today!

As I left Mistletoe enroute back to Purgatory Pasture, I looked at the time and realized that I was really close to my time from last year.  I knew I was a little slower, but with the reroute, the second half of the race was about 1-1.5 miles shorter.  So I challenged myself with another mini-goal:  try to beat last year's time.  After stopping at the fourth aid station, drinking a coke, pouring ice down my kit again, I struck off with a vengeance.

I was all spinny coasty on the 2 miles of slightly downhill pavement back to Keg, Whenever I would get my cadence up to 120, I would feel the burn in my quads.  I had to back it down a bit and just relax.  I had witnessed alot of racers cramping today, and I did not want to become a victim.  Entering the last bit of single track, I pushed on, eager to get to the rolling gravel that would take me home. Spirits were high, but legs were heavy.  Having ridden this section the day before, at least I had some sense of the distance.

An unbelievable amount of work went into these rake n ride sections

The rolling gravel road back to WildWood Park and the finish was like a mini Dirty Kanza.  I would hammer the climbs and rest on the descents. Up, down, up, down ... "K to go" signs would pass by and on I plodded. I eventually caught up to a racer who I drafted behind on the descents and could eek out a few more mph.  As we were climbing one particularly steep hill, he happened to look down and see that I was single.  He said a few expletives, albeit complimentary, and then suddenly died.  I was on my own.

Once into Wildwood Park, I seemed to gain a few more watts and rode the last 1K as hard as I could. I was bombing down a double track descent just before the 500 yard to go mark when a deer shot across my path.  I closed my eyes for a brief second hoping that she did not have a friend that was going to plow me over.  Whew!  Close!

It was a little surreal crossing the finish line in 5:27 and snagging a stars n stripes jersey.  Three years of chasing my dream had finally come to a close.  I also managed to place third overall (5th, if you include the Pro division).  I would also like to give a big shout out to Rebecca, who had a hard day, but finished with a smile.  This lady, if you don't know, is one tough cookie.  She raced the Shenandoah 100 last year on a single speed; no small task!

My time was only 6 minutes slower than last year.  Not bad, given the Hades Heat!  I went through 180 ounces of fluid and it took two hours and two bottles of water before I had the urge to pee!

I must give a big shout out to the race promoter and the volunteers. There were quite a few hiccups last year, but all were fixed.  The course had tons of marshals and markings.  I only got off track once and that was my fault.  The aid stations had plenty of neutral support and were well stocked.  The t-shirts were made on site and you could choose your size and color.  And the Mega Slurpee I purchased with my meal ticket was icing on the cake!

Cahaba 50 Race Report

Not really excited about camping out at the venue, but not wanting to pay upwards of $150-$200 for a one night hotel stay, I chose the lesser of two evils.  The Talledega 500 was this weekend as well and the hotels decided to cash in on it.

Thankful for mild conditions.

After a restless night of sleep, in which I determined my sleeping pad to be unacceptable for future camping trips, I rolled out of my tent, prepared some coffee by headlamp, and enjoyed the 60 + degreee temps.

Knowing there was the potential of a $100 bill awaiting me at mile 9.5, I had a good deep warm up. The race crowd was quite small and I was able to settle in the second row for the start.  A fast start had me spun out of my 30T chain ring on the flats.  I was still able to jump in the single track in the top 20 with Laureen breathing down my wheel. The trails were super loose and my speeds were, for once, not governed by my barking legs, but by my skills.  As I finished up the first sections of single track and popped out onto the Red Road climb, I no longer heard Laureen behind me.  With the pressure off, I settled into a pace I could hopefully sustain for the remainder of the race.

The ringing cowbell signaled the top of the KOM/QOM.  With John calling me out as the QOM winner, I took the next two miles along the ridge to recover and ready myself for Jeckyll and Hyde. Fall was definitely in the air and I breathed in the crisp fresh smell of fallen leaves.  A couple guys caught up to me as my heart rate was coming off my hummingbird high.  No worries, I caught back up to them along the technical Hyde section.  Happy for all 4 inches of travel, my Niner floated over the rocks, which had apparently grown in the past year.

Traction at last!

Hyde seemed effortless, but Jeckyll, on the other hand, had my legs burning with lactic on the short climbs.  I suppose the XC pace during the first 10 miles of the race had caught up to me.  With 35 miles still left to race, I needed to recover quickly in order to finish strong. Making myself eat and drink, I also spun a high cadence to try to flush my legs.  I also tried to ride efficient, using gravity and technique to roll pump track parts of the trail.

Popping out onto Pea Vine Road, my legs felt better.  The 3 mile climb back up the mountain on the paved road was not as suffery as I expected it to be.  Hitting the green-red connector over to Blood Rock, I was back in race mode.  This trail was really sketchy and I almost swapped ends a couple times.  The 20 or so yards leading up to the rocky drop on Blood Rock was by far the hardest section of the whole course.  The two tight switchbacks were littered with loose baby-head rocks that did their best to take the front wheel out from under me.  Blood Rock was the driest and easiest it has ever been.  And no one in my way this year ... small victory!

Caution = Fun!  Photo credit:  John Karrasch

Flying down the rest of this trail, I tried to make up precious time I had lost when my legs were hangry (heavy and angry).  Crossing Pea Vine Road, the volunteers let me know I had 4 to go.  I tried pushing it a little bit climbing up Johnson's Mountain.  I was going to have to stop and refill my CamelBak and did not know if Laureen was going to stop at the pits.  Finally cresting the top, I enjoyed dropping back down to the remaining 2 flattish miles to the Start/Finish area.  Rolling through the pits, my first lap was 2:09.  With 40 seconds of pit time, I was off for the second lap.

The first 10 miles was a grunty sufferfest.  Definintely much slower this time, I was running on fumes towards the top.  Rolling the ridge for the second time, I kept telling myself just one more climb (although there were several more).  Hoping to trick my legs into submission, it seemed to work.  Jeckyll and Hyde flew by and seemed easier this time.  The "last climb" up Peavine was a manageable grind.

The flow of Jeckyll

For the remainder of the course, I felt like I was on autopilot.  Going on muscle memory, I went as hard as I could on Foreplay and Rattlesnake Ridge.  Watching my speedo, I knew that this lap was going to be alot slower and so was trying to minimize the difference.  I rolled through the finish line with a time of 4:26, the second lap being almost 6 minutes slower.

Laureen finished a close second and Tiffany third.  It had been several years since I had seen and raced Laureen.  We spent some time catching up with each other.  She is truly a great competitor and humble person.  And ... I got to meet her mechanic, "full-face" Kenny of JRA fame.

In the presence of bike knowledge awesome-ness!

I want to thank Kenny for working his arse off to make Chainbuster Racing what it is today.  Eddie Freyer has some big footsteps to fill, but am confident he will be able to get it done.  Looking forward to scheduling some of his races in 2016!

And with that, I broke down my campsite and drove up the road to race the 3rd Coast Enduro Series at Coldwater on Sunday.  But not looking forward to that damn sleeping pad!  Now I understand what Zeke means when he says his hips ache at night if he has to sleep on his side.

Snake Creek Gap TT Race Report: The Full Monty

I love maps!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Schwag!

Karl's Kaleidoscope Race Report

Kalber family farm nestled in a valley at the very end of Hungry Mother State Park

This first time event was organized by the Kalber family and Mark Prater in tribute to Karl who passed away last November.  Karl was the patriarch of the Kalber family and an awesome mountain biker who got a late start to this amazing sport ... it seems he had to beat himself with football, moto's and paragliders first.

It is called the Kaleidoscope because Karl touched everyone he met in a different, yet positive way.  I am sorry I did not get the chance to meet him.  I am sure he was looking down on us and laughing his butt off as we made our way through 50 miles of amazing Virginia countryside.

I knew from past "first" events that I needed to do my home work.  And so I did, studying my National Geographic Maps and the GPS track from the website.  I also pre rode the trails within Hungry Mother State Park to get a feel for its flow.  I also carefully listened to Mark Prater's pre-race meeting where he gave a very complete run down of the course.  I soaked up his directions like a sponge.

There were 25 of us in the 50 miler.  Shortly after 8 am, one of Karl's sons grabbed a pistol and fired it, marking the official start.  Other than one "squirrely" racer who stayed ahead of the pack 50 yards or so, the rest of us started off at a nice casual pace.  My feet were completely numb from the 48 degree start; that was a nicety as I did not have to endure any burning sensation or electrical jolts that my metatarsalgia had been giving me over the past few weeks.

After a delightful 2 mile warm up, the race revved up once we hit the single track.  I managed to enter fourth.  The pace was still quite comfortable for me ... yea! for happy legs.  As the trail came to the boat dock area, I had to re direct the others as they missed a turn.  The signage was there, but hard to see.  There were also no confirmation arrows anywhere!  This was going to be an adventure for sure.  I had to totally focus on the trail and my memory banks.

A group of about 8 of us formed on Mitchell Valley Road.  The countryside was gorgeous as I got a chance to view the area I was racing through.  We stayed together through two farms, dodging fresh piles of cow poo and shoo'ing away a few who were in our way.  We motored on Bear Creek Road.  I took my fair share of pulls as my legs were feeling quite sparkly.

Once we hit the first single track of Crawfish Mountain, the pack quickly broke up and I found myself in the midst of David Cook, Cory Rimmer, and Shawn.  I had the chance to get to know Cory better during this race and he is a most respectable young man.  I have never seen anyone do this before, but when he blew his nose (I was right behind him) he actually used his hand to catch the spray.

This single track was a delight!  Even though it was "flat-ish", there were enough mud bogs, creek crossings and fast flowy sections to give me the giggles.  The four of us popped out onto another double track section.  We zipped by the second aid station and almost beat the "moto-man" to his checkpoint.  No sooner than he had turned his bike off than we came upon him.  Rather surprised, it took him a second to locate his Sharpie and mark our number plates.

From here began the 4 mile hellish ascent up Walker Mountain.  All was good on the smooth fire road, but it soon turned to a soft grassy/leafy double track.  And a lot of sticks thrown in for good measure.  Here is where Cory turned his after burners on and left the 3 of us.  I had to slow up a bit and settle quickly into a sustainable pace.  Shawn slowly pulled away and I hung with David until I got my second wind.  Then I pulled away from him and slowly clawed my way back to Shawn.  At the very top, just when I thought the downhill was near came a really steep, leg-burning pitch.

The 2 1/2 mile descent off Walker Mountain was very similar to Heartbreak Ridge.  However, the first half mile was hard, not only because of its "bouldery" technicality, but it wasn't really a trail.  Just a series of yellow tape stringers leading you through the woods.  It does not get ridden much and therefore had no real footprint.  I spent too much time looking for the next piece of tape and so had a hard time negotiating the rocks.  With a little more work this trail would be friggin' awesome!

Shawn had gotten ahead of me on this section, but I soon found him trail side trying to dig his derailleur out of his wheel.  Ouch!  He did not need anything short of a small miracle, so I motored on, now in second place.  Finally the trail became a lot clearer and I was able to let loose, but still rode conservative as I did not want to follow in Shawn's shoes.

Towards the bottom Shawn caught back up to me.  Indeed a small miracle left him with 3 gear choices.  He was itching to make up lost time, so I let him pass.  I figured as tired as he looked on the Walker Mountain climb, I could catch him on the final 2 mile paved climb up Hwy 316.

I back tracked on some of the Crawfish trail before turning right on some really sweet and fast double track which led to a nice 2 mile descent back to Bear Creek.  Retracing my steps back through the farm land and cow pastures, I some how managed to get on the other side of the fencing and had to throw my bike over a 5 foot high fence and then climb over.  Well, I did not exactly throw my Niner Jet 9 RDO; I gently eased her up and over the woven wire.  That cost me a few precious moments, but better than riding back a 1/4 mile to where I made my mistake.

Finally I hit the backside of the Hungry Mother State Park lake side trail.  I had new found energy as I had stopped at the final aid station and grabbed some Gatorade.  I also had Shawn in my sights again.  The trail had some activity on it as the park was busy with people.  I wove my way through the walkers, runners, and easy-riders.  The state park trails were rippin' fast, but were also loose over hard pack and I had to take the corners with care.

I caught up to Shawn just before the last climb.  He was battling cramps.  I gave him some words of encouragement and then began to climb.  I was feeling strong and thinking I could crack 4:10.  And then a mad Bassett Hound came at me in a full charge.  I was going up the road and he was coming down, with every intention of sinking his teeth into my wheel or calf.  I had to unclip my right foot and kick him in the head to ward him off.  He howled and continued to run down the road.  I clipped back in and then immediately my right leg went in to a full on cramp!  Ow, ow, ow, ow ... I came close to falling over, but managed to gear down to granny and one-legged pedal for a few revolutions.

Although I did not have to stop, I had to slow down to a crawl up that last 1 1/2 miles.  Damn dog! I was never so happy to see the top of that climb.  From there I had a 5 mile descent with 4 small climbs.  That descent was super sketchy.  I need to learn how to drift!  I was fortunately I was able to regain my momentum and finish strong.  I came through the finish in 4:20.

I was wondering why all the spectators had this "aghast" look.  Apparently Cory had gone off course, mis-directed by a state park ranger, and repeated a section of single track.  And so I had finished first overall.  I later joked with Cory that he should not have dropped his "orienteer" on the Walker Mountain climb.

Cissy was on fire today!

This kaleidoscope tops my list of favorite trophies.  You can oftentimes tell just how much a promoter loves his/her race by the trophy.  This one came all the way from England.

Cooness factor of 10 +!

I really enjoyed the course.  It was a delightful mix of trail, double track, fire road, and asphalt.  I could see where the organizers had done a lot of trail work.  I enjoyed hanging out afterwards and getting to know the Kalber family, FB friends, and the mountain bikers of Virginia.  Virginia has a lot to offer my Niner and I.  I will be back for seconds!

TNGA

It is 10 am on Monday September 5.  At this point I had expected to be pedaling up Strawberry Mountain, not blogging about calling it quits with only 13 hours and 115 miles into this monster of a race.  I had what I thought was a solid race/fueling/rest plan but I was also mentally prepared to adapt to hiccups along the way.

Pumped at the start!

I felt great at the start.  We all took off at a conversational pace.  Once we hit the first gravel climb, the pack broke up.  I was in my happy all day pace and slowly watched people pass me one by one.  A lot of standing and cranking going on around me while I just sat and stayed all spinny, using granny early on.  The roads were in good shape; there had been some rain the day before and the gravel was a bit more settled than when I had reconned this section back in July.

I slowly started reeling the others back in once we hit the climb up to Blackstump Gap along FS155.  This is a doozy with steep pitches and super loose gravel.  A couple times I had to get off and push a bit as my rear wheel would lose traction and spin out.  No worries, though.  Walking was good as it kept me from digging too deep too early.

I walked my bike down the Darnell Creek Horse Trail until I got to the purple painted tree.  Here I dropped trowel and urinated.  It was 10 am.  I then motored on and enjoyed the gradual descent down to Hwy 441.  I refilled my 70 ounce bladder at the post office; they had an outdoor spigot.  It was now 11:15 am.  A little over 3 hours in and I had drank close to 80 ounces of fluid.

From there I began the arduous task of climbing up to 3 more gaps before I would hit the fun descent down to Moccasin Creek State Park.  I was feeling great at this point and my mantra was, "Don't force the climbs.  Let the gaps come to you."  I alternated between my middle ring and my granny as the terrain dictated, keeping my feet light on the pedals.  I continued to drink every 15 minutes and eat every 30 minutes.  I kept my mind busy by going over my refueling plan and making sure my body was taking in enough.

I never really felt hot, but was later told that temperatures hit 96 degrees.  Granted I had sweat dripping from my nose and elbows, but I felt o.k.  That is, until I picked up FS164 off of Hwy 76.  This is at about mile 58.  When I started descending, I started getting "hot foot."  The pain was intermittent and more of a nuisance at this point.

I rolled into Moccasin Creek State Park at about 3:30 pm.  I stopped at the campground for water and a short break.  When I kneeled down to open my Camelbak, my left hamstring cramped.  Yowzer!  I stood back up and the cramping stopped.  It was then that I noticed just how salt-stained my shorts were.  After refilling with another 60 ounces of water, I ate a Hammer bar and took a few Endurolytes.

Although my chain was holding up quite well, what with all the creek crossings, I decided to do some preventative maintenance and lube it up with some ProGold Extreme.  When I reached in to my back pocket for the tiny bottle, I found nothing!  Apparently it had yard-saled itself in the past 3 hours.  I guess now I would get to see just how good of a product ProLink has. (BTW, the chain was quiet all day!)


After about 20 minutes, I headed for Addis Gap.  The climb up Wildcat Creek (FS26-1) is gentle compared to the previous climbs, but was not any easier.  It was here that I had the first inkling of fatigue.  I figured that this was just my 60-70 mile slump period which I usually have when doing hundies.  So as I climbed, I counted calories and ounces and was right on track.  However, I was continually interrupted by the nagging pain in my feet which slowly began radiating up my toes.  By the time I got to the top, it felt as if someone was stabbing the balls and toes of my feet with a searing hot dagger.  I stopped at the top for a moment.  I dropped trowel and attempted to pee ... nothing.  Let me remind you that this was about 7 hours after my first pee.  Not good!

I applied more Chamois Butt'r, forced myself to drink 10 ounces immediately and began the descent.  Man o man, that was some sloppy, stupid descending.  Every jolt sent waves of pain through my forefoot.  I was lucky to stay upright.

The climb up Tray Mountain was miserable.  This 10 mile loose gravel climb did me in.  What normally takes me 1 1/2 hours on a loaded bike took a little over 2 hours today.  Each pedal stroke hurt and then my knees started to hurt.  This was probably due to a sloppy pedal stroke caused by me trying to find a painless way to pedal.  I got off the bike and tried to walk; that hurt more.  So back on the bike. 

This was just not fun anymore.  Yeah, I love to suffer, all ultra-endurance racers do ... but not in this fashion.  With night falling, I made the decision that if the fun did not come back by Helen, I was out!  I got to ride Hickory Nut in the dark.  Thankfully, the 4 racers ahead of me had cleaned it up a bit.  As riding was less painful than walking, I rode more of it than I ever had.  Got squirrely a few times, but managed to keep the rubber side down.

I stopped at the convenience store at the intersection of Hwy 356 and Hwy 75, went inside, and purchased some food to see me through to the next refueling point.  By this point, it was 9 pm.  My feet actually felt slightly better, so I motored over to Wendy's, eat, and reassess my body.

Hoping this would make me feel better.

While waiting in line for my food, I started getting light headed.  I then began to see stars.  Sensing that I was going to pass out, I immediately sat down.  The dizziness subsided, but I got some strange looks from those around me.  I guess they were not used to seeing (or smelling) a fully kitted dirty mountain bike racer who had just raced 102 miles through the Chattahoochee National Forest.

After eating one of the most delicious Wendy's meals EVER, I made the decision to ride up HogPen and find some place to settle for the night.  I went to the restroom and urinated.  A decent volume but pretty yellow.  This was my second pee of the day. 

My feet were still hurting a little, but I was praying that the pain would eventually turn to numbness.  I called my family and told them of my plans.  I left Wendy's at 10 pm.

I was feeling o.k. riding out to the base of Hogpen.  But once the pavement started going up, my body imploded once again.  It was taking me 12-14 minutes to ride one mile and my foot and knee pain returned with just as much intensity as before. 

With no regrets, I stopped at a pull over and called Zeke.  At 11 pm it was game over!  Continuing would only be stupidly selfish on my part.  I had not only myself to be worried about, but I have a loving husband and wonderful daughter who need me.

Looking back at that day now, I could have made some choices that probably would have prevented my moderate electrolyte depletion/dehydration.  I could have stopped and layed over at Moccasin Creek or Helen, replenished, and rested.  At the time, I did not think I was dehydrated.  During the first 12 hours, I had drank 200+ ounces of  fluid. Apparently I was sweating it out faster than I could take it in. 

However, I don't think that would have fixed my foot issue.  In prior races, I would have bouts of metatarsal pain, but it always went away.  Today it did not go away; it only intensified.  Ultimately, I would have had to throw in the towel at some point. 

Then there was the fact that Tropical Depression Lee was fast approaching.  Prior to my debacle, I had accepted the fact that I was probably going to have to ride for 12-18 hours in the rain.  On a good day, I have the strength and will power to do that.  But when my body started failing, so did the mind. 

I guess my only regret is that I did not make it to Mulberry Gap.  I was so looking forward to the camaraderie and Ginni's fabulous grub.  Bailing there would have been a lot more fun!

Live and learn to race again!

Syllamo's Revenge Race Report

The night before the race did not go quite as planned.  Zeke and I invited Lindsey over to our motel room for dinner.  We had the most wonderful time getting to know her.  Then Todd called and told us to turn on the TV.  When I did, there were three tornadoes heading our way.  And then the tornado sirens started.  Wow!  Never heard that before.  Needless to say, the three of us spent an hour in the bathtub with a mattress over our heads.  Poor Zeke, in the shower with two women, at the same time, but with clothes on!

A few more wicked storms blew through during the night, but on race day, it, was pleasant outside.  Thankfully, the front that was supposed to stall on us bringing more rain Saturday moved on over to Nashville and then stalled.

The start is crucial.  A mile double track climb at 10% gradient and then the single track begins which is very tight and difficult to pass.  I did a 30 minute warm up so that I would be ready for a fast start.  Last year I entered the single track in poor position.  This year I wanted to be up with the leaders.

When I lined up, I thought I was on the first row.  But racers kept stacking up in front of me and pretty soon, the start was 30 yards up the road.  There are no call ups for this grassroots race:  every man for himself. Ready, set, go!  350 racers headed towards 50 miles of single track bliss.  I treated the start as a 10 minute TT.  I slowly weaved amongst the crowd and made it into the single track in the top 20.  Zeke also had a good start and won his own little race, which was to beat me to the single track.  However, he was wise enough to pull to the side and let me enter first.

The Yellow Loop (Jack's Branch Tr.) was in amazingly good shape, considering the 2" of rainfall the night before.  I opted to put the mudfender on and was glad as this kept my line of sight crystal clear.  Toward the end of this loop, I ran into a group of guys who I will collectively refer to as "The Bumbles."  I am sure they are at every race, but just more prominent here on the technical rocky trails of the Ozarks.  The Bumbles raced to get around me, some of which nearly hit my front tire as they cut back in front of me.  Then they proceeded to go no faster, essentially clogging my field of view.  Now a couple Bumbles did manage to slowly ride off the front.

As we turned onto the Blue Loop (Scrappy Mountain Tr.), the single track became much more technical with lots of mud, rock gardens, and large slabs of flat rocks just slightly off-camber, which when wet were super slick.  At this point I smartly backed off the Bumble train.  One by one, over the course of this trail, they flailed about on the rocks, doing spectacular endos, face plants, and smack downs.  Quite entertaining!  I maneuvered around the carnage.

I stopped at the first aid station only long enough to have my number plate marked.  Then I was off to enjoy the Green Loop (White River Bluff Tr.) and the Orange Loop (Bald Scrappy Tr.).  These are the most technical of the race. The Green is like the last ridge line section of the Snake but only half the length.  A lot more rideable this year and a joy to do battle with a couple more guys on this one.  The beginning of the Orange has a 1 mile steep descent then slowly climbs back up with a few short, steep pitches separated by false flats.  But all of it is like riding in a rocky creek bed with a few large rooty areas to negotiate.  I was lucky enough to ride behind Zdenek, a gentleman from the Czech Republic who now resides in Missouri.  "Z" had great lines and I could not have descended any faster than that.  I distinctly remember last year that there was water flowing down this descent.

The climb back up to the Blue was easy as I was still quite "sparkly."  I was able to stand and mash when needed and sit and speedily spin as well.  Once on the Blue, I encountered the first creek crossing, about 20 yards long, knee deep, and refreshing.  I missed the left hand turn onto the single track that paralleled the creek, but was able to bushwack back down to it after pedaling 50 yards on a gravel road and knowing that this was not right.  Some guys weren't so lucky and had to back track much further.

I rolled into Aid Station 2 (25 miles in) at the 3 hour mark.  Todd was there and I swapped out Camelbaks and gel flasks.  Thanks, Todd!  From there it was back onto the blue and another creek crossing, which was ride-able.  Then the heinous climb of death, about 1 1/2 miles of ascending back up the bluff.  Lots of wet, slick rocks, switchbacks, and finally the Stairway to Heaven.  This is a series of flat rocks in stair step fashion that takeyou up through a rocky crevasse and back on top of the mountain.  I was thankful for the running Coach has been having me doing, because it made the hike-a-bikes so much easier.

On this last section of the Blue, I finally caught up to the last Bumble.  I could see him about 50 yards ahead on some of the rideable sections of this climb ... well, at least for me.  It appeared that he was fighting his bike more than riding it.  After going down hard a few times, I finally caught up to him.  And this is what he said,  "I'm not so good on the technical sections, but I will probably catch you on the flats."  As I passed him, I replied, "Just let me know when you want around."  And I never saw him again.  Well, I did briefly, as the trail came out onto a logging road which was about 0.3 miles long and climbed slightly before jumping back onto more single track.  He was about 40 yards back on this "flat" section.  I put the final nail in his coffin when I dropped it into a slightly bigger gear and disappeared from his field of view.  I mean, really, would he have said what he said if I had been a guy?


At this point, there were 18 miles left and most was pretty buff.  Feeling frisky, I kicked it up a notch and settled into a rhythm of hammering the flats, railing the curves, and using my friend momentum to crest the small hills.  I flew through the last aid station.  14 more miles!  Unlike last year on the Red Loop (Bad Branch Tr.) where I was riding on a bed of sticks and having to yank them out of my spokes and derailleur every few miles, this year it was in perfect shape.  The Red had very little elevation change so I continued to hammer.  However, at miles 37-42, I think I paid for my earlier efforts.  I seemed to stall and a couple guys came around me.  Even the small hills hurt.  I sucked down the remaining gel in my flask, drank some fluids and waited.  30 minutes later, I started to come around and was able to pick it back up for the remaining 4 miles.

Finishing up the Red, I was directed onto the Yellow and the volunteers shouted, "Two to go!"  How I loved to hear those words.  I dug deep and hammered up the final climb, popped out onto the double track where just a little over 5 hours ago I was time-trialling up.  Screaming down this road at 35 mph was much more fun!  I rolled under the finish banner in 5:16, first woman, and good enough for 8th overall.

A wonderful day to race, with blue skies, finishing temperature of 75 degrees, a Specialized Era that kicked trail, and a body that was at its best.

Unfortunately Zeke had a day of troubles:  two flats and two knockdowns.  I guess he did not escape the Bumbles.  As he was not having fun anymore, he pulled the plug at Aid Station 2.

Thanks to Steve and crew for putting on an awesome event with the coolest trophy ever, weighing in at 36 pounds!