Fool's Gold Race Report (up the creek without a paddle)

 

The Beginning

The last time I had raced this event was 2014.  Back then, it was only 54 miles and it didn't have the new "trail" just beyond Cooper's Gap. The weather had been great all week and I was looking forward to those mud holes I encountered the weekend before being all dried up.  As a light rain started while I was putting on my number plate, I swore I heard a "Muah-ha-ha-ha" from the heavens above.

Because of Covid, there was no mass start, which suited me just fine.  The Open Women had their own start at 7:42, 2 minutes behind the Open Men.  This was to my benefit.  Not being as strong as some of my competition, I am always on the struggle bus trying to stay with the Open Men during mass starts.  I am not a fast starter; it takes a while for my engine to fire on all cylinders.  And with mass starts, I usually fall off the main group pretty quickly.

So the beginning pace was quite nice and allowed a nice steady rise in heart rate.  We were all content to party pace the beginning miles of pavement.  But then the single speed men had to spoil my fun, as they rode steadily by us on a climb.  We all managed to jump on the SS train and hold their wheels for a while.  

On the first gravel climb is where the women's pack was blown up.  The men made a surge and Jen, Beata, and myself made the selection.  Although I had about 4 miles and 15 minutes to warm up, that first little climb was a kick in the arse!  I managed to hang on, but when the main climb up to Cooper's Gap started, I had to let them go as I began to get cross-eyed! 

I was currently 3rd woman and was gonna make damn sure to hold this position as long as I could. As leaders of the men's age groups began to pass me, I would latch on while I could, getting some free speed up Cooper's Gap.  A very light rain continued to fall and the higher I got, the lower the visibility became as I was enshrouded in fog.

At the 11 mile mark, the course took a turn off the main gravel road onto a double track descent.  Enough rain had made the rocks greasy.  I kept the braking to a minimum and just let the bike do all the work on the downhill, hoping that a stray loose rock would not take my front wheel out from under me.

The next climb was a gradual 3 miles up to Frozen Branch Trail.  This single track was old school, downhill, greasy technical with some chunky rocky areas.  Super fun!  Just wish visibility was a little better.  While most racers opted not to wear glasses, despite mine fogging up at times and accumulating mist on the outside, I kept mine on.  I value my eyeballs and many a time have had sticks and rocks hit my glasses, and don't want to chance losing an eye to a severe injury.  And secondly, I have "old people" eyes and cannot see my Garmin nor could I fix a flat without them.

Popping back out on more "civilized" gravel, I made my way up to Aid #1.  I stopped, grabbed my hydration pack out of my ZipLoc, deposited my empty bottle, and placed my drop bag in the return container.  I had been thinking this on the climb up, as I did not want a 15 minute time penalty.  I also had the volunteer throw me a couple paper towels my way so I could clean off my glasses.

A few more miles of climbing and then onto the Winding Stair descent.  It was as foggy as a Basic Training gas chamber, but fortunately the gravel was smooth, and the cars driving up were honking their horns, because I couldn't see shit!

Despite the light rain, Turner Creek was in good shape and I was able to let it rip.  I was in my own little bubble of high speed pleasure!  Popping out onto gravel, I pedaled my way over to Jones Creek TH.  There was a slight break in the clouds and for a moment, rays of sunshine washed down upon me.  As I climbed up Jones Creek, a racer hung onto my wheel.  Towards the top, I let him pass.  But on the subsequent series of switchbacks, he biffed it, and I almost rolled right over him, it all happened so quickly.  I got ahead of him and fell back into my groove, when I rounded a turn, and there lay another dude, playing Twister with his bike.  I came this close to rendering his derailleur inoperable.  I made sure he was ok, as I maneuvered around him.  He was very apologetic about impeding my progress, though.  The new Jones Creek re route over to Bull Mountain was very fast and very fun!

As I crossed the dam, more clouds rolled in and the sunshine disappeared.  A light rain started as I approached Aid #2.  Not needing anything, I rolled along.  As I began the never ending ascent up Bull Mountain, the skies opened up, and soon the trail became Class 1/2 whitewater.  At times, the water was running downhill so fast, I could feel the resistance trying to pedal up through it.  Leaves, small sticks, and other debris were rushing past my wheels.  The only good thing about this torrent of water was that somehow, some way, it made my mind perceive the trail as not being as steep as it truly was.  I lost track of time and before I knew it I was at the top. 

The descent off Bull was crazy insane! The trail was completely underwater and I was riding blind.  I only knew I hit a mud pit when I got all squirrely.  I had my glasses down on my nose like a librarian, trying to see where I was going as well as trying to keep the mud out of my eyes at the same time.  I was light on the brakes, since this soil is known to eat through pads at warp speed.  It felt like the descent took twice as long as the ascent.  I made a decision I have made only one other time in my life and that was at the 2007 La Ruta:  I pee'd my bibs.  I really had to go and what with the downpour, why bother stopping?

Despite the cooler weather and the rain, I still managed to drain my hydration pack.  I stopped at Aid #3 and grabbed my bottle out of my drop bag, once again, dumping my empty bag into the return container.  The rain was still coming down hard and I was secretly praying that we would be routed off Jake and just ride gravel back to the finish.  And my bike was hating me, making some god awful noises.  I stopped on the gravel climb up to the last bit of Bull single track, got off my bike, and spun my wheels.  OMG!  Two revolutions was all they made before they came to a squealing halt.  This ... was ... going ... to ... be ... a ... painful ... 15 ... miles to the finish.

I slogged my way over to the beginning of Jake.  Zeke was marshaling us onto the Jake single track.  I let out an exasperated sigh!  I could tell I didn't have much brake pads left, and I still had about 8 miles of sloppy single track left.  Now Jake is usually smooth, fast, and flowy, but after today's rain, it was anything but.  I tried to find the flow, but then I would suddenly be off the trail and into the underbrush, as I tried to brake for the corner, but there was no slowing down, as my bike shuddered and squealed.  Yep, I do believe it was metal on metal.  I think I repeated this scenario about 4 times.  Fortunately the landings were soft and I was able to muster a laugh or two.

Finally, it was just some gravel and pavement between me and the finish.  With brake calipers completely pushed out of their housing, the noises emanating from below was akin to waterboarding.  I kept apologizing to my bike and trying to keep my mind off of how my LBS was going to get my third place winnings.

I came upon a junior racer, who was a little climbing phenom up Bull, tackling the techy sections with ease, while I opted to HAB a couple, and save the legs.  I complimented him on his climbing prowess and motored on.  A few more years, young man, and you will have that endurance to crush it all the way to the end.

Thinking all the madness was over, I forgot about the grassy slip n slide down to the creek crossing.  With no brakes left at all, I was all over that descent and almost bee lined it into the briar patch.  Seeing the arch just up the hill  was like seeing the gates of Heaven.  I was soooo glad to be done.  I had anticipated a 5 1/2 hour finishing time, but ended up being out there without a paddle for 50 minutes longer.  

The Finish:  6 hours 21 minutes later

But not for the expenses to repair brakes and bearings, I would say I had a fun day on the bike.  How often do you get to ride through mud puddles all day long and not have your Mom yelling at you for trashing your clothes?

Thank you Lisa, Chris, and all the volunteers who made this race happen.  I know it must be mentally and physically challenging and exhausting to run an event during the Covid pandemic.   And with limited numbers of participants, it has gotta be hard to break even. I am happy as a tick on a fat dog that this race happened.

In great company!

 

Forty Five Race Report

So I headed back up to Kentucky to defend my title once again.  I told Keith that I was retiring (from Kentucky racing) after KGC, but I guess I was coming out of "retirement" for this one.  Besides, it seems like only Kentucky and Georgia are having racing during this Covid calamity. 

I have raced enough in bad weather to not let Hurricane Laura sway me from this one.  The forecast turned out to be wrong (how could that be?!?), and although there was rain the night before, it was not a deluge and race day turned out to be beautiful!

The start was a 1.7 mile climb, gaining 1100 feet.  I didn't know what was worse:  the "cold" start (not much of a warm up) or the lead vehicle's muffler-less exhaust, but I .. almost ... died!  And to rub salt into the wound, this itty bitty kid, couldn't have been older than 12 or 13, was kicking my ass going up this climb.  My ego deflated a bit as I drafted behind him 😆😆😆, but I figured he would blow up soon.  Nope, he did not.  Towards the top, with the lead vehicle long gone, and my engine finally hitting on all cylinders, I was able to bridge the gap to Mary and Julie and pass the little bugger.  He was like a horse fly, however, and kept buzzing just behind me.

Entering the single track, I forged ahead of Julie but stayed behind Mary and a group of guys.  I figured I would just settle in, hoping to catch my breath from the opening VO2 max effort. Although Keith had mentioned not once, not twice, but three times how slick the bridges were, on the second one, someone went down HARD!  He was just pulling himself out of the ravine as we approached. Fortunately two guys had stopped and said they would help him get out of there.  He shoulder was definitely not where it should be!

The single track was in surprisingly great shape despite the overnight rain.  The roots and rocks were a little slick and on a couple of tricky sections, the train I was in derailed.  I could sense Mary's and my frustrations rising the second time. I zipped my mouth and squelched mine. There would be ample opportunity to get around them and plenty of race left to "flex."  

Midway through the single track, during one of the derailments, the little guy managed to get around me.  I followed in his wake, keeping a respectable distance, and just shaking my head in amazement at how well he rode the single track.  I was riding a steady high endurance/low tempo just keeping him in sight.  

Popping out on the pavement at the dam, I noticed who I thought might be this kid's Dad ... same cycling kit.  I struck up a conversation and discovered their names were David and David, the son being 13 years old.  As little David was pulling a small group of us, I rode up to him and told him just how well he slayed that single track!  You should have seem him smile.  I took my turn pulling the group over to the Southern Loop. Little David took his turn at the front as well.

Little David has heart and grit!

As we turned on to the gravel, Mary and another racer passed us.  I latched on to her wheel and hung on while this big muscular racer pulled us on the initial gravel.  I noticed that he had rainbow stripes on his sleeves and knew that I needed to stick to his wheel as long as I could to try and get some free speed.

It was awful nice of the forest service to throw down some fresh chunky gravel.  I was glad I chose my hardtail mountain bike, for it afforded a little more stability and rubber on this loose and sharp rock.  Unfortunately, it did manage to eat a few tires that day.  I saw about 3-4 racers fixing flats along this 5 mile section.

On the climb just before Aid 2/3, Mary popped off the back.  Curtis, the fella with the world champion stripes, thought I was Mary, and turned around to say that he she popped, meaning me.  But when he saw me and not Mary, he looked a little surprised. As we neared the aid station, I took the lead as Curtis seemed to be slowing a bit.  I said what nice stripes you have to which he replied that this was his first mountain bike race in 5 years and that he is more of a velodrome type of racer. He definitely had a track racer's build; big and burly!

Not needing to stop, I motored on.  Soon enough the right hand turn to Middle Ridge approached.  I was cautiously excited, as their was a slight course change through here.  Of course there were the 20 mud holes, but having done KGC just 3 weeks ago, this was nothing compared to Horse Lick.  I still managed to sink my front wheel hub deep in what I thought was a safe ride around.  The last half (the new portion) of Middle Ridge was a hoot!  The trail was in great shape: downhill, fast, and smooth-ish!

I knew there would be some climbing once back on the gravel, leading up to the aid station.  I had to remain on the gas, despite some barking from my legs.  Mary is a powerhouse on the flats and I did not want her to get me back in her sights, as that is always a motivator for the chaser.  Curtis was right behind me, but struggling.  I was secretly hoping that he would stay with me, as I could use his horsepower on the gravel rollers and pavement back to the single track.  

I had to stop at the aid station to refill a bottle.  Curtis continued on.  I didn't take much longer than 30 seconds, but when I hopped back on my bike, he was out of sight.  He became my carrot.  For several miles I rode without seeing him, but after I respectfully maneuvered around a mule train, I could see him just off in the distance.  That was all I needed to throw out some more watts and slowly reel him in.  

He stopped briefly at the SAG wagon that was tending to a racer that had a mechanical.  I think he was desperate for some water.  I motored on, knowing that he would probably catch me once the road flattened out.  It took him longer than I anticipated, as he didn't make contact until I was on the pavement about a mile from the dam.  He pulled for a short bit, but had to pull off and let me take the lead as his legs were on the verge of a full on lock down.  He hung onto my wheel until the single track and then popped off once the trail began to undulate.  

I was back in my happy place, knocking off those fast flowy dirt miles, one by one.  The trail was clear and had dried up nicely.  I still gave the bridges plenty of respect, coming to a crawl as I approached them.  I enjoyed the techy rocky and rooty sections and managed to nail them, now that I had an open "road."

Once I hit that last mile, which was mostly up, I drilled it.  Tongue hanging out, eyeballs bleeding, legs on fire, and breathing like I was possessed, I wanted to empty the tank.  Coming across the finish line just under 3 hours 20 minutes, I was spent.  I am not used to these shorter races, but they hurt just as much as the longer ones.

That finish was NOT flat ... think 15% for the last 30 yards.

I took the win and am still undefeated in Kentucky.  I think I will now retire on that one ... at least in Kentucky.  Unless Keith comes through with a potential stage race in 2021.  Then I might just have to come back out of "retirement" again.

Three shout outs:

    13 year old David, who had a top 10 finish in the Open Men's

    16 year sister Elizabeth, who had a top 5 finish in Open Women's ... in her first MTB race

    Curtis, it was a pleasure to ride with a World Champion.

Kentucky Gravel Championship Race Report

Flatlick Falls

Last weekend was the 2nd annual Kentucky Gravel Championship.  I won it last year and was happy to be putting on a number plate amidst this Covid pandemic and defend my crown.  It is a grassroots level event but don't let that fool you into a complacent course of smooth gravel and gentle climbs.  This course is a mighty little beast with 64 miles and 6000 feet of climbing.  Although it had 22 miles of pavement and 24 miles of smooth-ish gravel, the remainder was made up of chunky ORV trail and the infamous Horse Lick section, where if you fell into one of the hundreds of mud holes, you might be found ... eventually ... by archeologists!

This weekends turn out was light, with 48 racers toeing the line.  I am not sure how many were scared away by Covid, or the course itself.  There was a shorter 32 mile version that allowed some fresh faces to give this gravel racing a try.  I was able to coax my team mate, David, out of Ohio, to come join in the fray.

There was no problem with social distancing, as I camped out at the venue, and brought all my food with me.  I chose my Niner Air 9 RDO with 1.95 Specialized Renegade tires.  This course had just enough "enhancements" that I knew I would be faster on my mountain bike.  A lower gear would also be nice on some of the steeper climbs.

There was some pre-race excitement the morning of the race. Around 6 am as I entered the women's side of the restroom, I heard some moaning/groaning coming from the men's side.  At first it sounded like an animal, but then I thought it was just a dude having some pooping issues.  About 30 minutes later, a Sheriff's car and an ambulance arrive.  Apparently the dude had passed out in the restroom and was drunk off his ass!

The race was a time trial format.  Groups of 5 went off every minute.  I was in the very first wave.  I knew nothing of my competition, other than they looked like legit gravel goddesses ... all of them.  I was going to have to stay on the gas ALL day.  I prefer to be the chaser, not the chasee.  Fortunately I had some strong guys that I hoped to be able to work with for as long as possible.  The first 5 miles was pavement and being able to draft would be of great benefit.  Jordan was in my group; I had first met him at the War Daddy last year and we developed a good racing relationship there and in subsequent Kentucky events.  He was on gears this time (he is a single speeder at heart), as he had broken a rib at the last BoonDoggle event.  He either heals fast or has a good poker face because he started out at a comfortably hard pace.

Our group was making great time on the pavement.  Rodney was single speeding and would pull on the climbs and Joe would take it on the flats.  I was just hanging on and watching my heart rate soar!  I knew I could not race this pace all day, but I at least needed to hang on until the first gravel section.  Just before turning onto the gravel, the arrows were sprayed on the pavement, indicating a right turn.  But there was also a freshly mown 4 foot wide section of a field that also was on the right.  Both Joe and Rodney turned right onto the grass.  Which got me all sorts of confused!  I knew that was NOT right, but my dumb ass brain made me stop and second guess myself.

Fortunately Mr. Kentucky himself, Brian Schworm, and his group were barreling down on us lemmings and reassured us that indeed the gravel was the way to go.  Probably cost me 15 seconds but felt like an eternity. I entered Schworm et al's wake and they sucked me into their draft down the sketchy descent.  I was bombarded by flying gravel and yard-sailing water bottles!

The Hwy 290 climb was not as bad as I remembered and soon enough I was pumping the rollers over to Indian Ridge. This descent was the first bit of gnar:  a washed out double track with embedded slabs of rock and a couple mud holes.  I opted to slow down just a bit and ride up and around them; poor Jordan thought they weren't that deep and plowed through them, but was handicapped with about a pound of mud coating his bike and backside.

After the descent, another 3 miles on pavement took me over to the S-Tree area, which started off with a nice 2 mile gravel climb.  I slowly reeled Jordan and Rodney back in.  Together we rolled along Carpenter ridge, taking turns at the front.  This section was hard packed and smooth.  I thought we were moving pretty fast, until a dude on a gravel bike blew past us at Mach 1.  Holy Hell!  I guess he did not want us latching on.  I knew he could not keep that kind of power up and would eventually see him again.  And sure enough, on the 1/2 mile steep gnarly descent (the one I had made the move on Mary last year when we rode it in the opposite direction) his skinny tire drop bar bike was no match for our mountain bikes.

After bombing down that descent, the next intersection is where the course overlapped, as we were to climb Raccoon Creek Road twice.  It was just a little confusing at this intersection, mainly because even though my Garmin showed the "breadcrumb" trail, it  was telling me that I was "off course" and to make a U-turn.  This happened about 8 times throughout the day.  Fortunately I had done my homework and was 88% sure I was going the right way. This climb was 2.5 miles at a nice grade where I could keep a steady pace.

I opted not to stop at Aid 1 at the top (mile 25) as my drop bag was at the next aid station.  I figured that Jordan and Rodney would eventually catch back up to me, especially on the Tussey descent.  Rodney caught back up and together we headed out on the 5 mile paved section.  Our little pacing party was quickly broken up by Eli Orth, as he passed us spinning a 120+ cadence.  We were able to latch on and then hang on for dear life.  

Unfortunately my "free ride" ended at Aid 2 where I stopped and swapped bottles.  Eli and Rodney motored on. No big deal as the next 3.5 miles was negotiating the 100+ mud holes of Horse Lick.  It was a little bit drier than last year which made it easier to pick the right line.  

What Horse Lick didn't take out of me, the subsequent Daugherty Wall climb did did its best to deal a death blow.  I was so happy to have a 32 x 50 to slowly spin my way up grades approaching 18%.  

Dry Fork School was chunky with loose 2 inch size gravel.  Another enhanced section I was glad to be on my mountain bike.  I was able to recover on the descent and then give'r on the subsequent climb back up to Raccoon Creek Road.  My engine began to sputter halfway up Raccoon.  Part of me wanted to look behind on the straight away and see if any ladies were close.  But that would only show anyone within sight that I was struggling. There was also the fact that if anyone was indeed that close, they would be at least 2-3 minutes ahead of me anyways, since they had started in the 4-6th waves. 

I took a couple deep breaths and willed myself to eek out some more power.  Sure enough, I still had some gas in the tank and topped the climb, catching Rodney in the process.  Poor guy was having a bad day with his crank arm falling off.  Knowing there was nothing I could do to help, I apologized for his bad luck and motored on passing Aid 1/Aid 3.  Knowing that there were 14 miles left and 2 more climbs, one of them being back up Indian Ridge, I told myself to just get your ass to the top of Indian Ridge without being caught and you will have it in the bag!

I was humming along on the descent down Lear Road when I hit a patch of briars.  Son of a gun!  A branch managed to catch and stick into my lip.  I actually felt my lip being stretched by the thorns before the branch finally let go and embedding two talons into my lower lip.  Dang!  Upon pulling the thorns out, I tasted blood ... for several minutes.  

The Indian Ridge climb was not as horrible as I had envisioned.  At least it was dry and not slippery like last year.  I did my best to TT the rolling gravel back to Hwy 290.  I kept the legs lightly spinning as I zoomed down the pavement descent.  That last gravel climb seemed to go on forever and the stutter bumps just rubbed salt in the wound.  On the last pavement section, I was trying to stand and hammer on the short ups and keep it steady on the flats.  But I had to back off when I felt twinges in my inner thighs.  Uh oh!  Not wanting to cramp myself out of a potential win, I shifted up to an easier gear and spun it on in to the finish.

I rolled through at 4:45.  Now the waiting game began.  I gave it a solid 10 minutes before I was convinced I had defended my title.  A few minutes later Julia rolled in.  I had the W and ended up 9th overall.

Your 2020 KGC Champion

David had a solid ride and won the 60+. We enjoyed a good cold river soak while discussing how our day went.

 

 

Thank you Keith for persevering through the difficulties of putting this event on, knowing that you would probably be lucky just to break even.  It was just the mental (and physical) boost I needed to keep that competitive fire alive. I am grateful that these smaller grassroots events are able to continue amidst this politically motivated viral reign of terror, stupidity, and chaos.

 

vEverest on the Alpe du Zwift

And so July 3 arrived.  In the few days leading up to this challenge, I was anxiously excited.  Prior to this, the longest I had ever ridden on a trainer (stationary bike) was 3 hours.  Today I was expecting 13-14 hours of pedaling.  I put my set up in Jamie's room at The Animal Clinic.  I had my Saris H3 Smart Trainer, my Niner Air 9 RDO mountain bike with 32 x 11/50 gearing, TV (for Zwifting), two coolers (one for ice, the second for my Skratch hydration, 2 mini Cokes, 1 almond butter and jam sandwich, and 3 rice cakes), and 2 fans (1 in front, 1 in back).  I also had a hodge podge of additional nutrition, including bananas, caffeinated gels, Cliff shot blocks, Honey Stinger waffles, and gluten free fig bars.

Getting in the mindset

I lubed up with Chamois Butt'r, put on some music, turned on Zwift, started my Garmin (for back up in case Zwift crashed), and began.  Prior to starting, I also made sure to turn the trainer intensity to 100%, an Everesting rule.  That is why I chose my mountain bike with the easier gearing, so I could spin a higher cadence (I am a spinner, not a masher). I started on the Jungle Loop, as that was the quickest way to access the Alpe.  12 minutes in and I began my first climb on the 7.7 mile, 3399 foot, 8.5% average gradient mountain.  I had to ascend the Alpe 8.5 times in order to achieve my goal of 29,029 feet.

I went easy on the first ascent.  The key to finishing these long endurance events is to start easy, with it feeling like it is almost too easy.  My good friend from New Mexico, Darby, joined me about 1/3 way up the climb.  Being virtual, you can "ride" with friends from all over the world.  I was stoked to have him on board for the first 3 laps, especially since he had to get up at 2:30 am.  I finished my first ascent in 73:58.

1 down, 8 to go!

On the descent, I am able to get off the trainer.  Being virtual, my avatar will descend on her own.  So I had 11 minutes to refuel, take a potty break, hit the happy bits with more Chamois Butt'r, and give the legs and sit bones and little respite.

1/4 AB&J per lap = a small piece of heaven

Ascent #2 felt just as easy as #1, but I had a quicker time:  69:48.  I managed to snag the polka dot jersey on ascent #3 with a time of 67:36, my fastest time up the Alpe.  Legs were still feeling really good at this point.  I was drinking one bottle of Skratch, 1/3 bottle of water, and either having a gel, shot block, or waffle on the climbs.

On the fourth ascent, now about 4 hours and 10,000 feet in, Erica Allen Peden, from the McMinn Regional Humane Society, stopped by and did a live FaceBook interview.  Despite talking for 5 minutes, I was still able to equal my third ascent with a time of 67:36.

Time for a rice cake!

I felt the first signs of fatigue midway through the 5th ascent:  achy legs.  I think this is where Max and Tammy from Georgia rode with me for awhile.  Nothing like riding with friends to take your mind off the pain. This lap was a little slower at 70:20.  After the 5th climb, I changed into a fresh cycling kit.

Time to bring out the big guns!

Ascents #6 and #7 were brutal.  I was definitely in the pain cave.  The mental focus to put pressure on the pedals and keep them turning over was a battle with my monkey brain.  Fortunately, several clients stopped by to give me moral and monetary support, which helped to stoke the fire.

Thanks to Nakeya, who went to Ingles and picked up a box of crackers for me, I was able to keep the motivation up by eating 1 cracker per sector.  Each ascent up had 22 switchbacks, anywhere from 0.22 mile to 0.77 mile in length.  Every time I turned the corner I got one precious peanut butter filled cracker.

Motivation can be found in many forms.

Ascent # 6 took 72:11 and # 7 took 75:00.  After lap 7, this was how I looked.

Make it stop!

The 8th ascent was the slowest and hardest.  No amount of food, hydration, or caffeine could make it any less painless.  I was in a dark place for awhile, but I have been there many times before, and knew it was only temporary.  I had Nakeya count the money in today's donation jar: $375!  That gave me the power to keep turning the pedals over despite my "Tin Man" knees.  For a little bit, anyways.  Despite a time of 77:47, I still managed to get back into the climber's jersey for the 4th time today.

I began to smell the barn on the 9th and final ascent.  I actually only had to ride up about half way to get the necessary elevation, but the OCD in me made me climb to the top.  I didn't drink or eat much on this lap, as I was just plumb tired of putting calories in my pie-hole.  Yet I was producing more power than my last two laps.  Factoring out the time it took me to ride over to the beginning of the climb, I Everested just under 12 hours.  1-2 hours faster than I had expected.

In the QOM jersey as I hit the 29,029 mark ... boom!

I finished out the 9th ascent/descent in 12 hours 51 minutes.  Man, was I ever so glad to be done!  Never would I have thought I would ever ride a stationary bike for this length of time.  Curses you, Zwift, for being so damn fun (type 2, that is)!

143 miles and 30,732 feet of elevation gained.

Thank you, thank you, everyone for donating to this cause.  The money raised is going towards indoor kennel renovations and enclosing the outdoor kennels so that the dogs that are brought here will have heated/cooled kennels until they find there furever home.

And the total dollars raised ... drum-roll please ... $7940!!!!!!

Mohican 100K Race Report

My gravelicious steed

I waited up until the last moment to register, as I wasn't sure this race was gonna happen.  NUE series director, Ryan O'dell, was able to formulate a Covide-19 mitigation plan that was approved.  Unfortunately the Ohio DNR did not issue the permit to use the 25 miles of trail within Mohican State Park.  Therefore, according to Ryan, the race was shortened to 40 miles for the 100K.  And I was 100% ok with that.  Having come off of my Massanutten Ring adventure two weeks prior, I did not know if my body was up for a 5 + hour race.  Since I was staying with my Rescue Racing team mate, David Jolin, we had already planned to ride the state park single track on Sunday.

The start was a time trial format.  Groups of 5-6 racers in 1 minute increments, beginning at 7 am.  I was set to go off at 7:36 ... one of the last waves.  This gave me the opportunity to get in a proper warm up, since I didn't have to fight for position in a mass start.

The first mile was a lot of ups and downs as I rode the single track through Mohican Adventures.  Our little group of 5 got busted up pretty quick and I ended up solo once I hit the pavement.

No draft buddies for the first 10 miles.

On the pavement, I adjusted hand positions to get as aero a position as possible.  With no way of knowing where my competition was, I just had to go HARD the whole stinkin' time!  All those short intense Zwift races were paying off now, as I felt pretty good putting my little hammer down.

Ohio may not have mountains, but boy do they have punchy climbs.  Giffin and Kay were short (less than 1 mile) but had gradients that approached 20% in spots. 

Once I hit the Big Hill climb, I knew that the Wilderness single track lay just ahead.  With skinnies on my bike (Bontrager XR1, 2.0), I was going to be slower than normal through the rocky single track.  With about an inch of rain the day before, the rocks were going to be slimy. 

As I approached the infamous rock garden, I came upon a "turtled" racer.  This guy was upside down wallerin' in the rocks with his bike on top, still clipped in.  Fortunately, only his ego was injured, and after I helped him, I made the choice to not hop back on, as all my greasy rock-ridin' mojo was gone.  I ran through the garden probably just as fast as I could have ridden it anyways.

The infamous rock garden

From there the trail mellowed and the flow was much better.  I still had to respectfully work my way around another half dozen or so racers.  I popped out onto the road and hit the aid station at mile 22.  Thinking I had another 18 to go, I stopped and swapped out a bottle.

Soulful single track

Back in TT mode on the pavement for a bit and then I hit the Valley Stream gravel road climb.  Typically this is a kick in the groin climb, coming so late in the race, but today I had matches to spare.  One more climb up gravel road 3232 and then on to the final piece of private property where there was a hellacious two track slickety slidy descent.  I felt on was more like on skis than a bike.  This trail dumped us into a fairly deep creek crossing where all the mud was nicely washed off my bike. 

I could see the paved road just ahead, but first I had to plunge into a mud bog of unknown depth.  There was absolutely no way around this!  Axle deep, I about toppled over but managed to hang on and ride it out.  My bike was now filthy again.  Somehow in the foray, I managed to roll a small bale of hay onto my cassette.  I had to stop as my shifting immediately went to shit.  It seemed to take forever to  detangle my cassette!

Around mile 27, I knew where I was on course and that the finish was just ahead.  I thought I had cut the course, since I was expecting another 13 miles.  I had that "Oh, shit!" moment ... thinking I was gonna be DQ'd.  But I had been paying very close attention to all the signage and confirmatory tape and had absolutely  no idea where I could have gone wrong.

So I raced back through the Mohican Adventures area, hoping that Ryan was wrong with his mileage, but willing to fess up that I cut the course if it was indeed 40 miles.  I crossed the finish line in 2:29:50 and immediately went to Ryan and asked.  He confirmed that it was only 30 miles.  And after the last short course woman came through, I found out that I had WON!  Now that was a nice surprise as the competition was fierce.  Talking post race to Lara, she said she rode some bonus miles on the 100 mile course.  And Mary said that she needed to lose a few Covid-19 pounds.

Ryan following the rules with 6 feet social distance podium

I want to thank Ryan for his persistence in having this race, despite all the social media negativity.  And a big shout out to all the volunteers who gave up their day so we could play. This put all of us back into a good headspace.

The one thing I will tell you is that the post race vibe was great.  A lot of laughing and a lot of beer drinking was happening.  It felt good to see some sense of normalcy again.  Being outdoors and being active are two things that will bolster your immune system, not being locked up inside unable to do anything but stare at the walls or the TV. 

And no, I did not die!  Nor has anyone else from the race.  Use common sense, live an active lifestyle, eat real food, get plenty of sleep, enjoy your family ... this is what will get you through this pandemic.  Don't wait on a vaccine.  The flu vaccine has been around for a long time and you see how effective it is.

And the next day, I had enough energy to ride the fast and dry trails within the state park, with friends.

Mohican Gnomes!

The Massanutten Ring Full Pull

Blaze and I ready to tackle The Ring

As I look at my battered, aching body, and beginning to record this journey on "paper," I am overwhelmed with emotion.  I have finished many brutally epic one day challenges/races, but this one may just top them all.  To accomplish this full pull took fitness, mad rock skills,a bit of luck, but most of all, grit, gristle, and gumption.

The Massanutten Ring is 70 miles, 13,000+ feet of elevation gain, and 95% single track, located in the George Washington National Forest near Strasburg, Virginia.  Historically, this is where George Washington was going to hole up as a possible winter retreat and last stand if his army were to be defeated by the British.  Originally the Ring was a foot race, as The Massanutten Trail was originally built/linked together as a hiking trail.  In 2012, Kyle Lawrence and Mike Carpenter, two mountain bikers successfully completed the first full pull.

Better bring your goat legs.

I cannot exactly remember how I first discovered this "underground" race, but I suppose I will lay part of the blame on Sue Haywood, the first woman to complete the full pull in 2017.  In 2015, she was my guide when we completed The Ring over a 2 day period.

Ever since that two day adventure, I knew I wanted to give it a go.  For 5 years, I patiently waited for my chance.  Every spring, I would start planning for a May attempt, but for whatever reason (work, health, weather, family, life in general), the cards just did not fall right.  But then the Covid-19 pandemic happened and with all the races being cancelled/postponed, here was my chance!

Almost thought about adding a spare derailleur to my carry on.

So I started watching the weather forcast for May.  I let David Jolin and Scott Morman know that I was going for it on May 15.  David was game; Scott unfortunately was nursing a running injury and had to pass.  And then on May 5, I got this text:

Muhahaha! Sucker!

Lisa Randall was also on board for this Type 2 Fun.  Having two hardened veterans of "doing epic shit," I felt better about my safety, knowing I would not be alone.  Although there are plenty of bail out options, this is still a back country trail, where an emergency extraction would be difficult.

On Friday morning at 2:45 am, I awoke to my alarm.  Christopher Bean Coffee and a slice of homemade strawberry bread warmed my belly.  We were out the door at 3:30, on our way to the Signal Knob Trailhead parking lot.  I was using both my Garmin Etrex 30x (for navigation) and Garmin Edge 830 (for recording).  I went with a back up, to ensure that I would have a file to upload at the end for verification.  While the Edge 830 has an awesome battery life, up to 20 hours even with navigation, I would be cutting it close. In the midst of turning them on, as I was about ready to roll, I heard David say, "I think I forgot my backpack."  Fortunately our AirBNB was only a 15 minute drive away, so we loaded back up and sure nuff, his hydration pack was sitting on the kitchen table.  We eventuslly got on the trail at 4:30 am.

This guy ... 💗 him !

This lady ... 💗 her!

On the climb up to Shawl Gap, I listened to my body.  The beating of my heart, the exhalation of each breath of air, the feeling in my legs as I turned the pedals.  All systems were a go; I was feeling good.  I took it easy up the climb, getting off and pushing was the more sensible thing when the trail got steeper and more technical.  I did not need to burn any matches this early and had nothing to prove by cleaning some of the more difficult sections.  I brought up the rear, letting my team mates go at their own pace.  I opted for a 28T chain ring on my Eagle drive train.  On the climb up, I was greeted with the cooing of the whipporwills and babbling brooks.  

Once at the top, the day came alive with a spectacular sunrise.  This first climb wasn't over as we continued on to Veach Gap. No rhythm here as I was off the bike quite a bit, but just for short stretches. David and I made short work of the descent off of Veach.  There was a lot of water flowing down the trail, but with such a rocky base, the mud was minimal.  Once at the bottom, we regrouped and began the double track climb back up to the ridge. I had a sense that Lisa was not feeling the love.  Back home, there are plenty of steeps like this at Pine Log and she would always out ride me.  I didn't say anything, but I was worried.

The ridge then rolled pretty well over to Kennedy Peak.  There was more dirt single track than I remembered from 2015; probably because it was easy, as I only seem to remember the painful parts.  I was finally feeling the flow.  I let David set the pace.  We stopped a few times to regroup, take photos, and eat.

Yes, rideable, just gotta keep your momentum.

I do remember one section along this ridge where the trail split.  Our track led off the ridge, onto a side cut trail.  Jesus!  It started off nice enough, but then became so narrow and steep, I had to get off my bike.  Pushing my bike was almost impossible, as the tread was not wide enough for both my bike and I.  I got so many pedal strikes to the calf, I lost count after 20.  I do believe I saw Jeremiah Bishop's tire tracks in the leaves a few times, as only those sections would be rideable by the locals who had "cut their teeth" on this gnar.

There is a trail somewhere in that mess.

After about 1 1/2 - 2 miles, it rejoined again with the probably much more rideable trail on top of the ridge .. of course.  As we continued to Kennedy Peak, Lisa began to fall behind.  During one of our waits, I told Dave I was concerned.  Sure enough, when Lisa approached us, her face said it all.  Unfortunately, the hike a bike was wreaking havoc on the aggravated nerve in her foot.  Not wanting to cause further damage and hinder our progress, she told us to go on.  At this point we were about 5 miles from our first resupply where Chris was waiting.  Dave and I were disappointed but also knew that had we been in her shoes, we would do the same.  In order to have any chance of completing The Ring, we had to keep motoring along.  

More rocks than dirt

Descending off of Kennedy was pretty darn fun!  A couple of sketchy rock gardens to carefully pick through, but otherwise a nice reward of speed.  We did have to dismount and walk our bikes around a group of horse riders; I was just thankful we didn't meet up with them at one of the high speed sections.  The last part of the descent after Edith Gap was chewed up by the horses.  And, of course, plenty of horse poo to motor through.  Thank God for my mud/shit fender!

Upon reaching Chris at the intersection of the trail and Camp Roosevelt Road, I told Chris about Lisa as we refueled.  This first 24 miles had taken 6 hours 25 minutes.  I drank my hydration bladder and bottle dry (90 ounces), so I made sure that this time I had a full bladder and bottle which would be a total of 120 ounces.  I enjoyed a couple rice cakes and an ice cold Coke.  I also made sure to slather more Chamois Butt'r on the important bits, after emptying my other bladder.  I calculated I had taken in about 800 calories on the trail and another 400 calories at the "aid station."

Crossing the road we entered the next section, which included some nice flowy and swoopy single track which led to the Duncan Hollow climb, a 5 mile 1300 foot climb up to the top of Middle Mountain.  I remember this being pretty trashed 5 years ago when Sue and I rode it, but today it was in relatively good shape, save for a few soft areas where water was flowing down the trail.  It was beginning to get hot and Duncan Hollow is exposed due to a wild fire that occurred many years ago.  I told Dave I was going to keep it chill up this climb to allow my food to digest and not have my head explode from the heat.

Top of Duncan Hollow

Working our way over to Waterfall Mountain, we both had our first crash.  Dave was descending a wide loose rocky section when he hit a baby head that washed out his front wheel.  He hit pretty hard banging his shoulder and leaving a shiner on his glute.  I had a spectacular slow speed fall crossing a creek, right in front of a hiker.  I was fortunate enough to have two saplings to grab onto to stop my fall.  Had it not been for my cat-like reflexes, I would probably have bounced down the ravine and that would have ended my ride.  I told the hiker that now she had a story to tell at dinner tonight.

Oh Waterfall, how I hate you.  Climbing 800 feet in 3/4 mile, with an average grade of 20%, I felt like Sisyphus pushing my 25 pound bike up towards the heavens.  It was two steps forward, one step back as I approached the top.  Dave was right behind me; I could hear his labored breathing over the bzzzz'ing of my I-9's.  We took a short break at the top and ate. Dave was looking pretty haggard.

Kern Mountain started out with an easy climb up.  I was still trying to recover from Waterfall and when we slowly passed a family out for a hike and the little kid said to his Mom, "Look Mom, we are walking as fast as they are riding," I felt a part of my soul die.  That was NOT what I wanted to hear. Once on the ridge, we had a short respite of easy riding.  I quietly passed by the spot where I had flatted in 2015, not wanting to wake the Gods of punctures.  Then the fun began.  I tried channeling the mad rock skilz of Preston Stempler, but all I got was crickets.  It was a constant battle of pinballing through the rock gardens, lifting the bike up on boulders, hopping back on, getting bounced off, butt slide down a rock slab, repeating this sequence a million times.  Midway through my wheel found a 29 inch hole covered by leaves.  I went OTB (over the bars), landing on my right side.  Upon getting up, I immediately felt warmth running down my forearm and leg.  Blood was flowing freely out of two nice wounds.  Fortunately only flesh was involved and I was able to continue, although my wrist throbbed, which made braking difficult for awhile.

Four miles later, of which it felt like I walked two, we were out of that minefield.  Stopping at Jawbone Gap for a pee break, Dave lay down in the middle of the trail.  Uh oh, not good, I thought.

10.5 hours and 38 miles in

I let him chill for a bit, while I tended to myself: eating and tending to my bits with a little more Chamois Butt'r.  I noticed that my kit was covered in salt.  Man, it was getting hot!  Garmin said 84 degrees.  The Jawbone descent helped to cool us off and recover a bit. Coming upon the Moreland Gap Road crossing, Dave asked if this was our next resupply.  I told him Edinburg Gap, which was another 10 miles.  He didn't say anything, but I could tell he was a hurtin' buckaroo and probably almost out of water.  Fortunately on the next gradual, smooth single track climb, we came across a creek.  We stopped and he grabbed his filter.  I was getting low myself so filled my bottle up and dropped in a chlorine tab.  Dave was moving very slow and not saying much.  I could see that he had that hundred yard stare. Damn!  I am about to lose another team mate.  Hoping that this water would revive him, we spent quite some time at the creek resting.

After a bit, we started riding again.  I was feeling surprisingly good.  Not trying to, I began pulling away from him.  I waited for him in the shade just beyond the FS 374 road crossing.  When he finally rode up to me, he asked if that sign said 8 miles to Edinburg Gap.  

This sign put the final nail in Dave's coffin.

I could tell he really did not want to pull the plug.  He said he felt like he was disappointing me.  I told him that he needed to listen to his body.  As much as I wanted him to continue, I did not want him to get into a bad situation.  8 miles of Short Mountain lay between here and our next resupply and although I could not remember how difficult it was, I could only assume it would be.  He told me to go on; he would sit here for a minute (or two) and contemplate.  I told him the gravel road we had just crossed would take him to our resupply should he decide to bail.  I left him alone in thought as I began the gnarly climb up to the ridge.

Yep, memories of just how difficult Short was came flooding back once I hit the first technical section.  Of the eight miles, I figured I rode 5 and walked 3.  I hoped that Dave had decided to take the gravel, as this section was a real test of how bad did I want it.

Brutally beautiful Short Mountain

It was here that I felt the first signs of fatigue.  Little efforts came with an increased PE (perceived exertion).  It was harder to swing a leg over the bike and I began dropping my seat as I dismounted so that it would be easier to remount.  Even though I was drinking, drinking, drinking, my mouth was still parched.  I was losing my appetite and forcing myself to take in calories.  Thank God I had packed some baby food (applesauce) at the last resupply.  That went down easy enough. It took over 2 hours to finish Short.  I did at least enjoy that last mile down to the gap; exposed side cut single track with expansive views.  No pictures, as I was focused on getting to get to my resupply.

That half mile gravel descent down to Edinburg Gap felt soooo good.  Chris, Lisa, and Dave were all there to greet me.  They seemed to be in good spirits, but I felt certain there was some sense of regret in their decision to quit.  As I ate more rice cakes and drank another Coke, they were all by my side helping me get ready for the final push.  Chris took my phone and turned on my Google location sharing so that they would know exactly where I was along the final 23 miles.  As I loaded more food into my CamelBak, I made sure to include another pouch of baby food.  I also grabbed my big battery for what could be a long night.  This second section, 23 miles, had taken 7 hours 20 minutes. Including what I ate at this stop, I had consumed 1100 calories.

Feeling renewed by cold fluids and the camaraderie of my Rescue Racing team, I KNEW I would finish.  Waonaze was first on my agenda: 1 1/2 miles (1000 feet of gain) straight the f*ck up!  I took it on like Donkey Kong!  I rode most and when I couldn't ride any more, I pushed.  Once on top, I had some more rock gardens to negotiate, but then there was a stretch of heaven.  Eleven miles at an average grade of -2%.  I felt like I was flying!  There was still sections of tricky rock crawling, but by far it was the easiest part of the course.  

The sun was setting and somewhere along this section, I stopped for one last nature break and then put my light back on my helmet.  As I hopped back on my bike, my bits were no longer happy.  No amount of Chamois Butt'r was going to soothe her. What with the constant off/on the saddle, heavy sweating, multiple pee breaks, the chafing was no longer bearable.  Oh, she let me know for the remainder of the ride, this experience was NOT the kind of pleasure she was used to. At the very least, it was enough to make me forget about how painful my feet, calves, and bruised/bloodied forearm felt.  

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

The Mudhole Gap descent was forearm and brake finger fatiguing.  I had to stop once for I began to have twinges of cramping in my calves and forearms.  I have never had upper body cramps before!  Finally down onto the 3 mile FLAT section of gravel.  All but hoo-ha were happy.  Able to finally give my mind a break off the intense focus I had on the trail.  Spinning along, I spooked a sleeping turkey.  He shot off his roost, bouncing off trees and breaking branches; how he did not break a wing amazed me!  Then a huge white tail bounded across the road and up the mountain in front of me.  What's next -- Sasquatch?  

My happiness was short-lived as I saw my glowing track on my Etrex directing me off the buttery smooth road onto more single track.  I let out a cacophony of cuss words that would embarass a sailor as I remembered the wet muddy, rooty ass trail that led up and around the Strasburg Reservoir.  While the perfectly good gravel road paralled on the opposite side.  

Finally off that sum bitch, I mustered what little energy I had left to crawl up the last 3/4 mile steep bit of road to Signal Knob.  You know, those steep gravel roads that give access for utility trucks to radio towers and such.  

Although I rode the section to Meneka Peak back in 2015, the fatigue had built up to such a level that I stumble-bummed my way over to the final descent.  Finally, I had reached the final 4 mile descent back to the parking lot where I had started my journey over 19 hours ago.  All downhill to the finish ... except this is Signal Knob, the MOST heinous, rock slide loaded descent I have ever seen.  To add salt to wounds, bugs by the hundreds were drawn to my light and began bombarding me.  Pinging off my helmet, crawling on my glasses, and finding their way into my ears!  I felt like I was in the middle of the locust plague!  The sections that were rideable, I was so fatigued that after 100-200 yards I had to stop, walk, and recover.  But then the fatigue of so much pushing throughout the day would cause my ankles to roll.  Fortunately I was holding my bike, which I was now using as my trekking pole, and that would prevent me from going down.  I was getting frustrated; I couldn't walk and I couldn't ride.  I felt tears well up in my eyes.  I couldn't quit had I wanted to.  There was no other way off this damn mountain.  

Focus, focus, keep your eye on the prize, said a little voice in my head.  The pain will eventually stop and victory will be yours. Only 4 women have completed this journey and you will soon be number 5!  All these positive thoughts came flooding into my brain about halfway down the Knob.  All the years I had readied myself to do this and here I was 2 miles away from the finish.  I WILL PERSEVERE!

And then laying across the gnarliest rock slide was the biggest damn downed tree.  No room to crawl under, no where to go around, I had to lift my bike like a cross fitter doing a clean and jerk in order to get my bike over this monster tree.  I actually had to take a moment and really think about it, I was so damn tired I didn't know if I could.

Once I got Blaze up and over, I had to, without letting her go, crawl up onto the tree in order to let her down one wheel at a time.  And then, barely keeping a hold on her saddle so she wouldn't go sailing down into the ravine, I managed to inch my way up and over the tree like a snake, finally positioning myself where I could safely crawl down the other side.  All this time, I was thinking about Aron Ralston who got his arm pinned under a boulder in Utah and had to cut it off in order to save his life.  And then the Alanis Morissette song "Ironic" started playing in my head.  Two miles from the finish, the rocks shift, I get pinned, and I don't get to finish The Ring.  Man O Man, I was drunk on delirium by this point!

I managed to avoid disaster and safely get my ass off that first rock slide section.  There were a few more of these to maneuver through, but I came through unscathed.  The trail finally opened up towards the end and I was able to shake the gas tank and get enough fumes to fuel the final mile.  

Pulling into the parking lot at 1:30 am, I was greeted by Chris, Lisa, and David.  They were hootin' and hollerin'. I was so glad to be done.  I slumped over my bike, making sure to save the ride on both Garmins. 

After that, I don't remember much, other than handing my bike to Dave and getting one final picture.

Shelled!

21:02, with a moving time of 18:02 was the final tally.  With an average speed of 3.3mph (4mph if you take out the stopped time), that just goes to show you how difficult of a trail The Massanutten Ring is.

When we say we left it all out on the trail today, do we really?  I can attest to the fact that I did. No sooner had I gotten back to the AirBNB and showered, I passed out in the kitchen while talking to Dave.  One minute I was savoring my last bite of pizza, and the next thing I knew, I was on the floor with a pillow under my head, and Dave staring down at me asking if I was o.k.  This was a first in my book

A fitting ending to this kick ass trail.  There are so many things that could have gone wrong.  So many others have tried and not succeeded on their first attempt.  So although it wasn't fast or pretty, Triple G managed to pull out another finish (which in my book is a win) outta my ass!  

Although my number one goal was to finish, I thought that I could do it in 18.  Boy, was I way off the mark!  Now I could probably list a half dozen excuses, but I won't.  I will happily take my 21:02 to the grave with me.  Right now, I cannot envision trying this EVER again.  This was the most physically demanding one day course I have ever done.  Today, as I write this, my whole body aches.  Well, all but my hoo-ha ... she good now!  I've got cankles and my calves and quads have disappeared in a sea of inflammatory fluid.  I am sure I will see them again, but it may take a few days, with some rest and clean eating.

A huge thanks to Chris for ensuring my caches would not get raided by the Virginia critters and to Lisa and Dave, who, despite having bad days themselves, kept up their positivity, ensuring that I could and would finish.

And to those in the Fellowship, here's to your tenacity, perseverance, fortitude, and grit.  I am humbled to be in your company.