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!