Dirty 130 ITT Race Report

 

This route, designed by Kim Murrell, is one of three races hosted by Tennessee Gravel.  This year it is happening as an ITT event, which I kind of like, because I got to choose my date, ensuring that at least I would not be out in the rain.  But not wanting to do it alone, I invited my Rescue Racing team mate, David Jolin, from Ohio.  A race of this magnitude would be much more endurable with a friend to share the highs and the lows.

We managed to start a little before 6 am.  The temperature was 40 degrees, but we warmed up quickly as the first 10 miles was all climbing. Knowing this route, I had not turned on my navigation, in order to conserve battery life.  We went by where the Great Pyrenees lives.  He barked but did not give chase.  My one and only navigational error came at mile 2.5, where I proceeded straight up the hill (Chestnut Mountain Road), as opposed to going slightly left onto what would turn into FS68.  My intuition immediately kicked in, but I stupidly chose to disregard it.  I turned on my navigation then, but it was confused and so I wasn't getting the "off course" message.  A half mile later, I finally realized the error, we turned around, and got back on track.

The sun began to rise as we approached the top of the climb.  As we headed on to FS 80, I stuffed a banana into my mouth.  No enjoying eating here because of the harshness of the terrain and it soon began going downhill.  This 6 miles of mostly descending was super chunky what with the embedded rock and several wash outs.  I descended cautiously, as I did not want to flat.  What warmth I had obtained in the previous climb completely left me about halfway down. Because I have Reynaud's, my fingers and toes became painfully cold. With extremities that felt like cinder blocks and eyes watering so badly I could hardly see the road, it was a miracle I stayed upright.  When I turned right onto FS 23, the descending and the misery continued. All I could do was endure, knowing that I would eventually warm up.  I was frustrated as I knew I could go faster, if I just wasn't so friggin' cold.  Garmin was registering 36 degrees.

Left onto FS 103, and my body slowly began to warm up. Climbing never felt soooo gooood!  The re-freeze began on the next descent down to Lost Creek.  Climbing out of Lost Creek, my little reptilian body began to feel the warmth of the sun, and I was almost done with this freeze/thaw situation. Hitting Hwy 30, I was finally 100% warm again and relishing life once more. Although I could have done without the 60 minutes of being miserable, it's this hard shit that makes me feel alive and so appreciative of the "easy" parts.

We stopped at Webb's Store for a pee break and bottle refill.  It was here that I enjoyed one of my rice cakes. Although the air was still cool, the sun's rays beemed down into my soul.  Pedaling on Hambright towards the creek crossing, a very aggressive pit bull mix shot out of the yard right where the road ended and the ATV double track began.  Fortunately I had just enough momentum to get around him before he latched onto a body part and just enough "runway" left before I had to brake hard to avoid the overgrown trail.  

We stopped at the creek to take our socks/shoes off and wade across.  Although there was a perfectly good railroad trestle over the river, it was off limits. This ate up a good chunk of time as we had to dry our feet and brush all the sand off.  But well worth it, as my feet would have been popsicles had I waded through with shoes on. At this point in the day (9:30 am) it was still in the mid-40's.

Knee deep for me, mid calf for David

Praying my foot would not find a fish hook or broken beer bottle.

After negotiating the multiple mud holes after the crossing, we hit the flat gravel section back to Hwy 315.  I had managed to get my shoes a little muddy in the process, but the annoying Sponge Bob sound I had been hearing like a metronome with each pedal stroke for the past 35 miles mercifully went away.  About the only time that I have been happy I sunk my shoe in mud.

FS 44

The Starr Mountain gravel was in primo shape.  It felt that we were through that section and sailing down the pavement to Hwy 315 in no time.  The sun was shining, the last of the bone-chilling cold left me, and my pistons were firing quite well.  The next 10 miles, on pavement, included Ivy Trail, Towee Falls, Epperson, and Hotwater.  It took almost just as long to ride those paved miles as it did the Starr Mountain gravel.  Some of the steepest grades of the day are on Ivy. The same dog gave chase on Towee as it did back in 2018.  But this time it's owner was not firing up its shock collar. Fortunately its aggression had mellowed, and deemed us not worthy of any extra calorie expenditure.

Enhanced rollers between Hwy 315 and Hwy 68

Although the Coker Creek visitor center was closed, we still stopped to take a pee break and eat another rice cake.  Looking at the elapsed time, I knew that today was going to be more than 12 hours, which what David had said in the previous week he was shootin' for.  I thought that his time was ambitious, and secretly I hoped it would be 12 1/2 hours of total time.

I was hoping to meet Zeke along the flats of Shuler Road, but we ended up seeing him on the descent off of Unicoi Gap.  We stopped briefly and I introduced the OG's to each other. The conversation was interrupted by a truck coming down the gravel.  Not wanting to get caught behind it on the descent, I told the guys that we needed to mosey along.  Zeke was doing hill repeats so he continued on up to the gap, while David and I cruised down to the flats of Shuler Creek.

We stopped at one point to filter water and I ate my last rice cake.  The remaining 7 miles before the Buck Bald climb, I tried to take it easy and spin a higher cadence because I knew one of the toughest climbs was about to begin.  Being 78 miles in, although the spirits were bright, I was feeling the fatigue start to set in.  1000 feet of mostly rugged double track in 5 miles; I set my mind to thinking about enjoying that PayDay up top and showing David the stunning view.  Half way up we were passed by 6 dual sport riders.  I thought to myself:  betcha we were covering more distance than they today! It was karma that at the top we videobombed the dual sport riders beginning their descent off the bald.

Buck Bald reward!

How many people get to enjoy a one of the best ride candy bars on one of the most beautiful balds in the Southeast?  We took several minutes to soak up the view and just appreciate life.

Caption this 😆😆😆

This guy:  so fortunate to have met him at the 2017 Marji Gesick.

The road back down to Hwy 68 had deteriorated since 2018.  The forest service must have put fertilizer down because the embedded rocks had grown tremendously.  Even though I wasn't going all that fast, I still managed to bang my rear wheel on one, which gave me a moment of concern.  Fortunately the tire held. A brief respite on Hwy 68 and then the cursed dog alley on Bailey.  As the big dog gave chase, the owner called out, "He is just wanting to play!"  Seriously?!?  

As the pitch steepened to 14%, I knew I was about to enter the "world of hurt." Why does time always seem to come to a crawl when the pain intensifies.  Over the next two hours, from Bailey Road to the top of the FS 236 climb (20 miles), I was a hurtin' buckaroo.  There are always lows in these races, but I do believe this was one of the longest ones.  I did have a brief respite when I crossed paths with Eddie O'Dea and Audrey Tanguye on Powerhouse, who were out for a 3 day bikepacking trip.  I stopped momentarily and talked with them.  Seeing their fully loaded bikes, I scolded myself for being a wuss.  Seeing them was exactly what I needed to regain my focus. I pulled out a caffeinated Clif double expresso gel, took a hearty dose of liquids, and kept a slow, but smooth pedal stroke up the FS 236 climb.

Eddie and Audrey

That climb was brutal, but I just kept telling myself that there was only one climb left.  Not to mention how loose the gravel was so that I could not even stand without the rear wheel spinning out.  For a large portion of the course, I do believe the graders had come in over the winter and just scraped up all the shit in the ditches.  At first when my energy levels were high, it was just bothersome.  But not as my fatigue grew, it was becoming evil! 

Even though there were 25 miles left, I told myself just 15, as the last 10 were all downhill.  I was trying to stay positive, even though the most heinous of climbs loomed ahead. Cresting 236 I inwardly screamed for joy.  Two tasks left:  find the piped spring and finish off the last climb.  The piped spring came at mile 108.  So ... dang ... refreshing!

No need to filter.

David had been a beast all day.  He would stand and hammer quite a bit on the climbs and never once had anything bad to say.  The perfect partner.  For the most part we stayed in our own little bubble, he always slightly ahead, but never out of sight. He paced off of me, never straying too far or going too hard.  

This last climb, I finally got my shit together, and felt strong again.  Perhaps it was the caffeine shot, perhaps I was smelling the barn, but I hit this 10 mile climb with renewed vigor.  Retired Navy Seal David Goggins, who always says you have more in you to give than you realize, popped into my mind and kicked the monkey out.

    "When your mind is telling you that you're done, that you're exhausted, that you cannot possible go any further, you're only actually 40% done."

I crushed that mountain (second fastest time out of the 4 times I have done this race). Once I hit the rough embedded double track section (McFarland Road) with grades approaching 18% at times, I shouted out expletives, not in anger, but to empower myself, willing myself to fly.  For once I took the lead, trying to pace David up that climb, as he now entered his own pain cave. That was exhilarating!  Once off that embedded rocky road, we had about another mile of smoother gravel before the final descent.  Although the sun was still up, we were now on the shady side, and I could feel the coolness in the air.  I was hopeful I could make it to the finish with plenty of daylight and warmth in my body.

I believe I used up most of that "60 %" I had left at the beginning of the climb.  Because ... that ... 10 ... miles ... of ... descending ... was ... the ... most ... miserable ... I ... have ... ever ... felt ... on ... the ... bike.

The rough road had my body vibrating so hard that I thought my eyeballs and teeth would yard sale.  And then I got cold.  And then I got nauseous.  And when I got light-headed, I had to stop and rest a couple of minutes.  During this period, I could feel my body "hum" with vibrations like a tuning fork.  Back on the bike to endure a few more miles of torture.  Stop again before I pass out.  God, just get me to the pavement!  David had gotten ahead of me on the descent but every so often, he would stop and wait for me. 💓

I was so happy to hit the couple of short climbs during this trek down off the mountain.  My head would clear and my legs worked out of the saddle, feeling like I was starting fresh again.  Finally the pavement and I could relax a bit.  The Great Pyrenees gave chase when David went through; I was about 30 yards behind.  The dog saw me and came within inches of taking me down as he charged towards me.  Whew!  I was thankful for that little bit of good luck, as that woulda no doubt caused some carnage to my body and bike.

We pulled up to my truck after 13 hours and 20 minutes (12:20 ride time).  I could barely throw a leg over my bike to get off.  We both sat on the tailgate and just watched our bodies shake in shear exhaustion/cold.  Damn!  What a day!  I don't know about David, but within 5 minutes, I was thinking of how I could improve on that time when I do it again 😂.  Despite feeling absolutely shelled not 30 minutes prior! Crack head!

Thank you, David, for one helluva day!  At least this time, I did not pass out post ride.  I am looking forward to our next adventure.  Thank you Kim for one beast of a ride and tennesseegravel.com for creating the platform of healthy competition.  Now, where's that pizza!

 

Tour de Liverance Ride Report

 

Post ride feels!

It all started with a simple FB group message from Monica.  She was gonna ride the intermediate course of Corvus Racing's Tour de Liverance.  I bit.  From there it morphed into a group of 5:  Monica, Lindsey, Farmer G, John, and I.  We decided to let it warm up a bit and began at 10 am.  This "race" was an OYO format.  A GPX was provided, but nothing else.  But there were multitudes of churches and running water for refills and a couple of C-stores, too.  

The course was 79 miles and 6500 feet of elevation.  Although I had put in some hard hours at the gym this week and knew I would be carrying some muscular fatigue into the ride, I still figured on a 6 hour ride time.  I brought 1600 calories and started out with 3 bottles, 2 filled with Skratch, and 1 with my Infinit Nutrition Triple G formula (200mg caffeine, baby!).

Punchy AF climbs ... all day long!

The beginning miles were pretty mellow and paved.  At mile 2.6, the first climb (on Flat Branch Rd -- misnomer) was at a punchy 10% grade and almost a mile long.  Needless to say, despite the 42 degree starting temp, I was no longer cold.  The first section of gravel was Wolfpen Gap at mile 8.  This was absolutely beautiful. At one point, along a flattish stretch, something made me turn around and look back.  I saw John leaning over his bike and my first thought was that he flatted.  I turned around and rode back to him.  When I got closer, I saw his bottles scattered across the road.  Uh-oh, that could only mean one thing: he took a digger.  He is going to have to work on his photography skills while avoiding pot holes. Fortunately it was only his ego that took a beating. A few minutes later, we got rolling again.

The smooth gravel soon morphed into a technical rocky Jeep trail (Harper Creek).  What with the 3 inches of rain in the few days prior, the trail was fairly water logged.

My element

Even though my legs had already started whimpering on that first road climb, it was here that I found my groove and the legs sprang to life.  I suppose it was the focus I was giving to the trail that diverted my attention away from my legs.

Lindsey "all the watts" Kenney

First of several enhanced sections

After a wickedly fun descent that dropped us out on Gates Chapel Road, we hit GA52 for a short bit to connect us over to about 10 miles of pavement leading back to Ellijay.  Mostly easy rollers, until we got to the "trailer park" climb, a section of rough pavement that seemed to go straight up, 19% at one point.  I was thinking to myself, "How the hell did they get all these trailers up here?!?"  The backside of this hill made for a much better approach in getting the tornado magnets to their destination.  Oooof!  That was one heck of a kicker!

The short section on Main Street was the scariest part of the day, as all sorts of humanity were out running the roads.  I about had my head taken off by a redneck pickup side view mirror!  Jesus!  As we worked our way over to Talona Mountain, this is where the wheels began to fall of the bus for me.  Even though I had not been doing much pulling on the road sections (Lindsey, with all her road watts, did the bulk of it), my perceived exertion in the draft was a 7-8/10.  This is where it began to get real for me and the mental game began.  But I had expected this, knowing what I had done during the week, and was ready to grin (grimace) and bear it.  I have the Dirty 130 on the calender in a few weeks and just needed to work on my mental toughness a bit.

Although the out and back on Talona Mountain was paved, it was still a SOB!  It reminded me of the straight up climbs at La Ruta.  This road would be perfect for prepping for this stage race!  At almost 2 miles long, it averaged 8%, but felt a lot more like 15%, what with several 19-20% kickers on it. I did stop half way up because I fell in love with this house.  This is my style of a retirement home.

Would kill for this house plan!

By the time I reached the top, everyone else was finishing up their picnic.  I hurridly pee'd, took some pics, fed my pie-hole, and hurried back off the mountain at a 43 mph top speed.

The view atop Talona

Take your pick:  Christ or 5G?

I was glad that the following 6 miles were slightly downhill.  It gave me some time to digest my little lunch and allow the legs to recover.  I had to shake the thought that I was only halfway done out of my head, lest it get the best of me.  The monkey was going to get some duct tape if it didn't shut up!

The next 10 miles were a mix of rolling paved and gravel country roads.  We were entering the heart of North Georgia wine country.  We crashed a wine tasting party at Chateau Meichtry looking for water.  After refilling our bottles, we continued on similar terrain for another 12 miles.  

Wine Country

Although we had made a couple of wrong turns early on in the course, now as we were probably all feeling the effects of 50+ miles in our legs, the wrong turns seemed to be increasing in frequency.  As I was not in the lead much, I had the lemming mentality and did not watch my Garmin screen as judiciously as I should.  Somehow we managed to end up at the washed out culvert bridge on Hill Road that the race promoter had changed the GPX tract so that we would avoid this.  So we had to climb back out of that steep descent and then got off course a few more times before finally getting it right 🤦.

Gap Jump

During one of our pee breaks, we met a young girl, probably 10 years old, on the coolest purple bike.  Her name, to beat it all, was Cadence.  She was riding alone, up and down on a short stretch of gravel.  Her Mom was sick with some sort of stomach virus.  She asked if she could ride with us.  My heart almost broke. So innocent and just wanting to hang out with people that were doing the same thing as she.  We talked to her for a while but then sadly had to part ways.

I am slowly realizing not to follow those who use a Wahoo GPS.  Or it could be the user 😆.  For whatever reason (and I have never used one nor seen one), but it appears that the breadcrumb trail is not as accurate as a Garmin??  Monica and I had to redirect John and Greg a few times after they missed turns.  But, to give them credit, some of these turns were pretty obscure, as it appeared that they were no more than a sketchy drug use or "Lover's Lane" area.

Roston Road, which started out as a sketchy two-track, but opened up into this beautiful stretch.

The second scariest bit of road was Hwy 52 near all the orchards.  It was just a 1/2 mile stretch, but traffic was super thick.  We meant to stick tight to one another, but John took off like a rocket, and my legs seized, immediately popping me off the back.  I slow pedaled and made it without becoming road kill.

Around the 65 mile mark, Greg was ahead but then immediately slowed and stopped.  As I approached, I saw that his rear wheel was flat.  I reached for my tire plug kit, but then he said the four words I did not want to hear, "I don't have tubeless."  A small part of me died.  I wanted to fall to my knees, lift my hands to the skies, and shout, "Noooooo .....!"  You see, I had been in this situation before with another friend last fall during a gravel ride.  His name will not be mentioned.  We all survived and made it to the finish, but it was an event in of itself.  

But I stayed positive.  We would be up and running in 5-10 minutes.  Well, 40 minutes and two tubes later, we got moving again.  But my legs went on strike.  That was a painful restart, but I just kept telling myself it is all part of the bigger picture of gaining that mental fitness.  It took about 20 minutes for me to convince my legs that we were almost home.

Then the real fun began as the course took us off a nice gravel road into the bowels of WMA hell!  A mix of chunky gravel, plowed two-track, steep ups/downs, and strewn with dead-fall (read derailleur killers), this was the most enhanced section of the ride.  Six miles of drudgery, seven if you relied on the navigational skills of your friend, with a bonus HAB section at 18%.  I shoulda stuck with my woman's intuition at the right hand turn onto that leafy, appearingly unused section of trail.  But instead I followed Greg and John onto a newly bull-dozed firebreak for a half mile before realizing the error and phoning John telling him to turn around.  At least we weren't the only dummies, as others had taken this same wrong turn.  And then had to bushwhack down to Hwy 52.

Optional fire break HAB, followed by wish I had a dropper descent.

Once back on track, the pace seemed to pick up, and for once, although my legs were cooked, there was just enough vapors left in the tank to finish off the final miles which included a 1.5 mile doozy of a climb on TurnipTown Road.  There was a reward at the top and that was the rollercoaster ride down Greenfield Road, on baby butt smooth asphalt.

John pulled us the final flattish few miles back into town and finishing at the bridge adjacent to Cartecay Bike Shop.  82 miles, 8500 feet, and 8 hours 17 minutes later, we all finished this gravel adventure.  This was definitely a much more challenging ride than I had envisioned.  Which is good and what I needed.  I must commend Chris Gray on the #enhancedgravel he included.  

Things I noticed about this route:

    -- all the chicken houses.  At least I was not the smelliest thing on the route.

    -- all the churches.

    -- all the momentum stoppers on the descents, be it stop signs or sharp uphill left-hand turns.

Thanks Monica for the invite.  I couldn't have thought of a better way to spend a warm spring day!

Fried Clay 200K Race Report

Both the Red Clay Ramble and Fried Green Tomato 50 events had piqued my interest in the past.  The opportunity just never presented itself.  So when John Switow posted on FB that he wanted to have a run at the Fried Clay, I decided that this would be a great way to kick off my first BDR (Big Dumb Ride) of the year. This was an OYO (On Your Own) race, meaning you could ride the course anytime during March and upload your start/finish time as well as a GPX file for verification. I watched the weather like a hawk in the week leading up to it because I had heard of the muddy horror stories of both the clay roads and horse trails.  Fortunately while my town got a thorough soaking, the conditions in middle Georgia remained dry.

Love beginning rides before dawn because this is the reward.

John and I started our ride at 7:15 am, after a 40 minute drive from our hotel and fumbling around a bit in the dark, readying our steeds.  I had stuffed about 2500 calories of food in my feed bag and top tube bag:  waffles, shot blocks, gels, 3 peanut butter filled dates, and a king-size PayDay.  I had 2 bottles full of Skratch and 1 empty bottle I planned on filling with water when there was a larger stretch between water refills.  We were doing this "self-sufficient," in order to get the 30 minute time bonus, so essentially we could not resupply at any stores, but churches were fair game for water refills.  I also had purification tablets, just in case.

With a 40 degree start, I had chemical warmers in my gloves and shoes.  The only saving grace was that the sun was supposed to come out and warm things up around 10 am.  The first few miles were chilly, as my core slowly warmed up with the effort.  After that, only my fingers were cold, and I slowly began to enjoy the undulations in the roads.  I mentioned to John that it felt like a chainless day so far and hope that it would continue.

Glad I started out in my cold weather HandUp Gloves

About 10 miles in we stopped in Hillsboro and checked out a very old school house, built in 1915.  This was just the beginning of our ride back through time, as the buildings and homes along the route were dated early 1900's.  Even though I was racing for the fastest time, I still wanted to take time to enjoy the beauty and history.

Ben Hill Schoolhouse

The first 20 miles or so of rollers were gradual and long, easy on the legs.  The clay sections were asphalt fast. We made fast time on them and even our skinny gravel tires roared along them. 

Redneck Interstate

Heading into the Piedmont National Wildlife Refuge, the rollers got grunty and the gravel got a little thicker.  Not enough to be soul-sucking, but made the cornering on the descents a little more exciting.  This is also where we began to encounter some creek crossings.  Being that it was still chilly, I slowed down and picked my way slowly through them.  But still managed to get one of my feet wet and kill that chemical warmer.  This was also the first time I encountered gravel roads with real street names and stop signs.  Very weird!  I suppose this was what it was like in many of the southern states not too long ago, as I remember a lot of my county roads were gravel back when I was in grade school.

John pushing the Jakroo pocket volume to its limits

Some controlled burns had recently taken place in the refuge and the ashy odor was still very pungent.  A few places were still smoldering.  Contrasting this were areas where small rivers flowed over flat rocks that would be great opportunities for swimming, sunbathing, and picnicking.  

We passed by New Hope Church (mile 30) as we both had adequate amount of water to get us to Juliette (mile 50).  At mile 33.5 we turned onto the Wise Creek single track, part of the Ocmulgee Bike and Horse Trails. This was a 4 mile section of tame and dry trail with a few short climbs.  It was hard pack with just a few roots, very gravel bike friendly.  

Wise Creek

Pine Ridge

I finally began to feel the warming rays of the sun and my fingers again.  Around mile 39, the trail began to show some wear from all the posting the horses do.  However, there was only one 100 yard section that we had to get off and walk around, plus a few short hike a bikes up washed out trail.

We watched our GPS breadcrumbs closely during this single track section, as there were a lot of trails and easy to get off course.  We ended up getting a bonus mile midway through.  At mile 44, we hit some pavement for a brief respite before more gravel that took us to Juliette.

At mile 51, we stopped at East Juliette Baptist Church to refill our bottles.  While refueling and refilling, thoughts of  "I am not even halfway done" began to fill my mind. While my legs were still feeling fresh, I knew that the mental game was going to be starting soon.  

A couple more miles of pavement and then we were back to the steep rollers of the refuge.  After 10 miles of this, my legs were beginning to bark a little.  John still seemed really fresh and would pull away on the climbs.  Our conversation, or at least my end of it, began to dwindle, as the first feelings of fatigue started setting in.  

I had been drinking quite a bit, and soon found myself looking for a water refill.  At mile 72, I saw a church, and pulled in looking for a spigot.  Score!  Sunrise Church had some great history to it.  After I shed my leg and arm warmers, I read a placard while John was doing his thing.  Apparently, this was where a great Civil War battle was fought.  Union Major General George Stoneman and his 2100 men got their asses kicked by Confederate Brigadier General Alfred Iverson and his 1300 men.

This church was rebuilt after Sherman's troops burnt it to the ground in retaliation.

Getting a history lesson eased my mind on what ordeal remained for me.  Next up was the lollipop section which was a little flatter and gave me time to digest what I had consumed at the church.  John also decided to try to make friends with some chasing dogs rather than doing an interval.  While he was sweet talking, I soft-pedaled on.  I was now at the point that if I stopped for any length of time, my legs thought they were finished for the day.  

Hwy 11 and Otis Redding gravel road were a bit of recovery as they were slightly descending for 5 miles.  Bliss!  But miles 90-115 were my pain cave.  The only blessing was that I was back on the east side where the rollers were not as steep.  This course was advertised with only 7500-8000 feet of climbing, but my Garmin had registered 8000 feet back when I hit mile 100. John was a great, in that he kept the conversation light and positive.  And when I needed to sit in on his wheel for a bit, he was gracious.  I had only hoped that I could repay his draft, and I tried, but I believe he was the stronger one today.

John riding like a boss!

John kept telling me that you always have 25 more miles in you.  Well, I was for sure looking for mile 112 because then, although I would probably be a suffering buckaroo, at least I might be able to catch a whiff of the barn then. We stopped at Ellis Chapel (mile 111), found the well house, but could not find a spigot.  I think our brains were both so compromised from fatigue that we didn't even think to open the door and look inside for the spigot (which we were told later that's where it was ... doh!).  Fortunately I still had almost a full bottle left.

There are three things I remember in the last 25 miles.  One was a 2 mile stretch of double track that was fairly flat, but by this time, all I wanted was a paved finish.  Two was a good stretch of buttery smooth pavement that felt so uplifting even though it was up/down/up/down/up/down ...  I was so OVER all the energy sapping chatter of the small loose gravel.  And THREE, the final 4 mile gravel climb to the finish.  John got a chuckle, when I yelled at the top of my voice, half way up the climb, "This ... is ... awful!" It was, at the most, a 3 1/2 to 4% grade 😆😆😆.

11 hours 20 minutes later and I still like this guy!

My 135 mile (which is not 200k, but 217k), 9400 feet of gain day was done.  My knees felt like the Tin Man's.  So much pedaling!  But I could not have done it with a finer team mate than John.  Well, maybe David, Scott, Lisa, Twan, etc., etc., because all my Rescue Racing team mates have great souls and a love to push themselves to their limits.

Done and done!

So glad I met John at the 2019 Boondoggle event, the Forty 5 MTB race.  Where, despite the fact that he was on his gravel bike 😉, I thought to myself that I probably ought to get to know this person more.  He is one heckuva rider, team mate, and friend.  And I forgive him for that little gravel bike ride, aka peanut butter mud-fest, up near Caryville back in February. 

One of the most important things I have learned in life while doing these BDR's is that you cannot know true happiness until you have survived the "bowels of hell."  I think that is why I like doing them.  I know it is going to be fun in the beginning, hard as hell in the middle, and a "smell the barn" moment at the end, where I can push myself just a little bit more, no matter how tired I am.  A rollercoaster of emotion, I suppose, is necessary to make life worth living.

And while this hasn't been one of my harder rides, the older I get, the harder these easier rides are getting.  Fortunately, I have gained enough wisdom that the mental game is not as challenging as it was in my youth.  

Already planning my next BDR ... 😈

Battle of Fort Sumter Gravel Race

How I wished I had my 46 year old legs today!

This is the first race in a series put on by Southeast Gravel.  I chose the long course which is 72 miles and 3700 feet of climbing, which, in my book, is flat.  Not possum road-kill flat, but lumpy gravy flat.  I figured that the first thing I needed to do coming out of hibernation was a good ass-kickin' to get me fired up for the season. So when I signed up, I entered the Pro Women's class.  Not because I thought I stood a hell's chance of stepping on the box (well, maybe 5th), but to help fill the roster and ensure that there were enough entrants for the $1000 pay out.  I shoulda waited 30 minutes.  Because right after I signed up, Southeast Gravel made a FB post about how stacked the women's field was.  I guess I could have emailed the promoter asking to be moved to my age category, but WTH, now my focus was not to be DFL! It is always good for the ego to be humbled now and again.

I would call this more of a "groad" race, since it was half pavement.  I also don't excel on the flats (my sustained power sucks), but I kept telling myself this was going to be great training for the mind as well as for the lungs and legs.  And it was going to be a short sleeve and bib short kind of day ... and I was all up for that!

After Covid crashed the party on many a race in 2020, cyclists came out in force for one of the first gravel races of the season.  Over 200 racers toed the line, everyone inching to be in the front rows and itching to throw down on some speed.  My warm up was necessary, but also put me towards the back, as most cyclists were on the line 20 minutes prior to the start.  Once the gun went off, there was no neutral roll out.  My average speed for the first 10 miles was 21mph.  Racers took up the whole width of the road and there were lots of jockeying for position and elbows rubbing.  It had been a long time since I had been in a mass start and I ... did ... not ... like ... it.  I was not ready to entrust my body to the abilities of 100+ others to hold their line.  There was a lot of squirrely riding in those opening miles.  And when we hit the gravel, dust and rocks were flying!

So I settled towards the back, knowing that I would eventually be yo yo'd off the back.  But not expecting to win nor podium, I did not want to risk a crash in order to "race" for 6-25th place.  Too early in the season to be Humpty Dumptied.

I got dropped somewhere around mile 12.  I was on my own for awhile, which was o.k. because the dust became non-existent: my lungs appreciated the clean air.  Legs were still feeling great so I was able to slowly reel in a small group of 4-5.  We hung together to the first aid station at mile 20.  It was there that I latched on to another group, which contained 3 Milligan College women. The first tunnel under I-26 I clearly remember as I was able to follow some riders through fairly quickly, even when it was dark and sketchy.  The group I was in slowly began to break up at mile 30 and soon I was just left with the 3 women and a couple of men.  Funny but I cannot even remember the second tunnel under the interstate, which happened around mile 33.  I think this was because the fun was ending and the grind was beginning.

When the rollers began to feel like mountains.

About the 2:30 mark, which was around mile 45, the wheels began falling off the bus.  After having sustained what felt like L4 training (7 x 20 minute efforts), my legs were fried!  Now it became an effort just to hang in the draft.  Our little group did some busting up and melding with others over the last 30 miles.  I don't recall much of mile 45-60; my eyeballs were bleeding and my mind was numb.  I was just totally focused on turning the pedals over with as much wattage as I could muster.  I was even beginning to feel some twinges in my quads and hamstrings, so I knew I was on the rivot.  It was even hard to keep a poker face and talk to the other women without them knowing just how fatigued I was.

With about 12 to go, our group had dwindled to 2 Milligan College woman, one CWA Racing woman and myself.  We had a great paceline and everyone taking equal turns.  With about 5 miles to go, 3 men come blowing by us.  One says hi, hop on ... and I instantly recognized him ... George Hincapie.  We hopped on their wheels and immediately the pace intensified. I fortunately found another gear (the Goggins affect) and was able to hang on along with 2 other woman.  One of the Milligan ladies blew a head gasket and fell off pretty quickly.  It seems that George had issues with keeping air in his tires, hence the reason he was behind me, until now.

He lead us into the final stretch.  I lost contact as we hit the final pavement uphill to get to the back entrance of the Clinton House property.  Riding through the field, I was slowly able to reel in the Milligan College woman.  As we hit the final 22% grade to the finish line, I was not gonna race her to the line, but I did encourage her with a little yelling to not let me catch her.  That was all she needed to sprint the final 10 yards.

I ended up with a time of 4 hours, 56 seconds.  I achieved my goal of not coming in DFL in the Pro category.  I did well against my age category.  This has given me the motivation to begin work on my limiters.  It was a glorious day on the bike!

If you want a good hard fast day on the gravel bike, this is the race for you.  The gravel roads were hard packed, with not much gravel, and little to no technicality except for 2 sketchy steep washed out descents.  No cornering skills necessary as the roads were pretty straight.  The organizers did a great job of marking the course (I never needed my GPS) and the post race meal was really really good!

I will do more of these events, but will definitely stick with my age category.

Southern Cross Race Report -- 3rd Person POV

 

I was honored to be asked by Lisa Randall of Mountain Goat Adventures to chaperone her daughter during the Junior Race.   Their race was 30 miles long and excluded the Noontootla loop.  Chaperones were allowed to provide mechanical assistance, but we could not be their mule or provide drafting. I had been watching Jayden's progress as a pretty darn good racer and was anxious to see it first hand.  Lisa asked that I provide a little coaching during the race as she thought Jayden would listen to me better than her.  

The race was started in waves, and our go time was 10:30.  There were 17 juniors and 5 in Jayden's class (14 and under).  Thinking the start would be neutral and not wanting to interfere, I stayed way behind the kids.  Nope!  It  was "balls to the wall," a race right from the beginning.  I was immediately dropped and over the next couple minutes slowly made my way back up to where I could get a visual on Jayden.

During the opening paved miles, I settled in next to Hailey's Dad and we chatted, all the while watching the race play out in front of us.  The whole pack had busted up, but the top three in Jayden's class were within sight of each other.  

Opening rollers

There were so many pieces of advice that I wanted to tell Jayden, but I stayed patient and allowed her to find her own way in the first miles.  Besides that, her competition was too close and I didn't want to interfere with any attacks.  So I hung back, watching, waiting, and reading her competitors' body language.

The first two juniors, Reagan and Hailey, were bigger than Jayden and would pull away on the descents and flats on the the first section of rollers. Jayden would make the time back up on the short climbs.  As we approached Winding Stair, Reagan got a gap and slowly pulled away.  Then, on the final short descent before the sustained climbing began, Hailey got away.  Now was my time to throw in a few words of wisdom along with a helluva lot of positive criticism.  It was super hard to read Jayden; she was a machine.  

The beginning of Winding Stair

I will not reveal any of my secrets, but let's just say Jayden listened and put them into play.  About halfway up Winding Stair we caught sight of Hailey.  Pedal stroke by pedal stroke Jayden reeled her in. She then attacked with 1/2 mile to go, on the steepest section of the climb.  Hailey popped quickly and I just kept giving Jayden reports of how far behind she was.  Jayden decided not to stop at the aid station.  I gave Loretta a high five as we motored on by.

Next we worked the rollers over to Cooper Gap.  Jayden would eat and drink on the flats, stand and hammer to crest the climbs, and pedal like a banshee on the descents.  She got her second wind when she caught sight of Reagan on the final climb to Cooper's.  But together we also noticed that Hailey had rallied and was no more than 20 seconds behind us.  Oh, man, this race was on!

Jayden couldn't catch Reagan and we lost sight of her as she crested the last climb and began to descent Cooper's.  But, we also had pulled away from Hailey a little bit. I encouraged Jayden to pedal as hard as she could on the descent, but also be mindful of oncoming traffic.  Good Lord, I shouldn't have said pedal.  She released her inner Tracey Hannah!  I was hard pressed to keep up with her on my gravel bike, what with my eyes tearing up so bad from the cool wind and trying to avoid all the embedded rock on my skinnies.  The Mom in me wanted to tell her to slow down, but the racer in me could see her skills and knew she would be just fine.  She even rode smart and stayed on her side of the road, so at least I didn't have to worry about her becoming a hood ornament.

Jayden only got squirrely once and that was on the final corner that led us to the 4-H camp.  It was there that Hailey caught her and passed her with fervor.  But on the next short rise, I could tell that she was riding on fumes.  Jayden caught back up to her and they rode together for a bit.  Then Jayden caught sight of Reagan, stopped at the crest of one of the many small rollers that would make up the final 5 miles of the course.  That was all Jayden needed to unleash the beast!

Jayden immediately dropped Hailey on this climb, and then proceeded to pass Reagan too. I knew that if she could just crush the hills, she would win!  Those final miles were nerve wracking for me, encouraging her to push through the pain and fatigue.  Jayden listened to my words and absolutely turned herself inside out.  She ... was ... on ... fire!  As she hit the Monteluce property, I told her to smell the barn and go for it.  

Holy smokes, she had another gear.  Hit that creek crossing and sprinted up the hill.  I was gasping trying to keep up with her and then, with an audience at the crossing, had to invoke all my skills not to keep from biffing it on the rooty ledgy climb out of the creek.  

Creek Crossing to Finish Line

Jayden crossed the line in 2:30:56.  Lisa was totally caught off guard, as she was not expecting her in until about 15 minutes later.  She lost her burrito trying to pull her camera out.  And missed the photo opp!

I am still awestruck by Jayden's fitness and skills.  I got to witness them firsthand and it was so so so cool to see this 11 year old just absolutely crush it ... with the face of the Terminator!  This will go down as one of my two most memorable Southern Crosses, the first of which was the inaugural one where I was on my 26" Specialized Era, racing in the most muddy of conditions, and catching the first place woman on the second to last climb, passing her, and then gunning it up Mulberry Gap's infamous hill to win.  Sorry, I just had to reminisce. 

Huge congrats to Jayden on her first gravel race win, of which I am sure there will be many more!  You owned that course today, lassie!  And just think, when I was 11, it was all about those Saturday morning cartoons.

The Terminator

Snake Creek Gap TT Race Report

 I had been hem-hawing the past two weeks over whether to race or not. Two weeks out, the weather forecast was horrible (cold and wet), so I was out.  One week out, it was looking really good (dry, sunny, and warm), so I was back in.  Then over the last few days before the race, the bottom was falling out, but not enough to take me out; just enough to make me think I could get a sub 4 hour time, but that I was going to be miserably cold doing it.  My Reynaud's has been acting up quite a bit this winter, and I was currently dealing with two toes that were painful and festering from a lack of blood flow that lasted a little bit too long during a cold hike in January.

David Jolin and Melissa Cooper arrived at my house Friday night and we hashed out our plans, mainly clothing choices, that changed 4 or 5 times through the course of the conversation.  My internal alarm clock had me up at 4:10 am, 5 minutes before my phone alarm went off.  Score!  As I absolutely hate the alarm clock jolting me awake.  We ate our breakfast on the drive down to the Snake Pit.  Melissa and David rode the shuttle, but as I was delivering a SS cog to Joe Urbanowicz, his father offered me a front row seat in his toasty truck.  Score #2!  I was able to stay warm right up until the race started at 8 am.  

As I hit the wood line for one last time to make race weight and butter up the chamois, I was just not feeling the racing mojo with today's 22 degree start.  Even with chemical warmers in my shoes and gloves, my extremities were so cold. I told myself to HTFU.

I noticed Melissa riding around and warming up, or so I thought. As I made my way back to the truck to grab my bike and head to the start line, she came up with a face of utter frustration.  Her dropper post was misbehaving and was not staying in the up position.  She had not touched the actuator lever, but when she would sit on the saddle, it just sank, all the way down.  That was weird. I know that droppers don't like 22 degree weather, but for the brands I have owned, you just don't mess with the lever and essentially you just have a really heavy rigid post.

Melissa had driven the day before all the way from Durham, NC, an 8 hour drive. You see, this was her first year racing The Snake, and she was eager to earn the buckle.  I could see it in her eyes; she was crushed!  And I could just not let that happen.  I made a quick and easy decision.  She was going to ride Blaze, my bike.  We quickly swapped pedals, put her number plate on the bike, made a saddle adjustment, and she was off to earn her buckle.

We were both all smiles.

It wasn't that hard of a decision for me.  I was just not feeling it today, and I could not let my good friend have a miserable weekend, but I could let her suffer through the cold and difficulty of the course. Score #3!  My only regret was slathering my chamois with Chamois Butt'r, because now I would have a cold, clammy chamois for the next 3-4 hours as I hung with Joe's Dad while he supported him.  Eh, a small price to pay.

Riding it like she stole it!

I saw Melissa come through the Snake Creek Gap parking lot, smiling all the way.  That was enough for me to know I had made the right decision.  I even got to see my favorite racer of the series, 10 year old Jameson Keith.  He slayed his January time (21 minutes faster) and finished under 3 hours.  He was on fire and looked great coming through the finish line.  I am sure he loved tucking in behind his Dad on the pavement descent, doing 20+ mph!

Melissa got her buckle, Joe had THE fastest 34 mile time overall, and David won his division in the 50 mile.  All in all, the day was an absolute success, with many Rescue Racing team mates on the podium.  At the finish, I did have a slight twinge of envy watching the racers crush their January times as the course was fast today. But, that quickly faded.  My January time was good enough to win my division and I will be back next year to give that sub-4 another go.  

AND, having not raced today allows me to be a Zwimp tomorrow 😄

The Snake Creek Gap TT Race Report

 

📷: Eric Henderson

Every year my mind is put through a gauntlet the day before the first race of The Snake.  Mainly because of the weather, as it is usually cold and wet.  And by my standards, cold is defined as a temperature below 50 degrees Fahrenheit (and that number seems to increase by 1 every year).  Why can I not just avoid these uncomfortable thoughts?  Because I do seem to survive it, as I have been racing the Snake for 17 years, ever since its inception.  I suppose it is because I still do have some high expectations of myself.  And with a new year brings uncertainty to how I will perform at my age.

Even though I have long since stopped trying to beat my PR (3:21), I feel compelled to at least beat last year's time.  As if this is a way to justify my existence as a racer. While I have learned over the years to let go of the need to compare myself, my fitness, my technical skills to others, I still want to compare myself to my former self.  In my 40's, I was climbing higher and higher on the fitness mountain and now I am riding the plateau.  And even though I know that one day I will be riding down off that plateau in terms of fitness and skill, I am still scared to death of that day will come sooner than I would like it to.

But back to the race.  My friend, Melissa, came over for her first "running."  She spent the night with me and we drove down to Dalton to hop on the shuttle for the ride to the start at Dry Creek. The bus was so warm I hated to get off, but the driver was gracious enough to allow me back on after I had collected my bike and registered.  Another 15 minutes of warmth, before heading back out into the cold (46 degrees).  I tried to stay warm by doing jumping jacks and air squats while waiting in line for the race to start at 8 am.  I was toward the front of the line, so I had a fairly clear trail ahead of me.  Fortunately I had dressed just right and once the gun went off, I was warm again.

The first two miles on the forest service road I rode conservatively, giving my legs ample time to warm up, as well as to negotiate the mud bogs safely.  The Bridge-Master had installed 1 or 2 more sections of the portable bridge, so I had a dry creek crossing of Dry Creek.  Yea to dry feet!  The climb up to the first section of single track was its usual sucky self and quite muddy through the corners.  I had decided to take it easy on the first half and see if I had a little more energy to negotiate the final 7 miles of tech on near Dug Gap.

Entering the single track, my legs felt fresh, but I held back and rode consistently.  Soon I heard Eric behind me and commend us ladies on our skills. Ladies?  I did not realize I had someone on my wheel.  Once the trail opened up, I asked if she wanted to pass.  As she did so, I was quite surprised as she looked very young!  I rode just behind her, wondering who she was, as I had never seen her before.  So smooth and so fast on the uphills, I was impressed!  She slowly pulled away from me, as we had to heave our bikes over this huge downed tree.  One of the few times I think it sucks being 5'5".  

As I was cresting the climb up to the fire road descent, I heard my name being shouted out from afar, "Go Carey Lowery, kill it!"  At that very moment, I didn't think I was the killer, as my pace was all about surviving this first half.  But it did give me a smile and a little bolster to my mental fortitude.  Thanks Eric!

Eric soon caught up to me on Pine Needle Hill, but did not seem too interested in passing.  Said he had been feeling a bit "off," the past week.  I asked if he wanted around on the descent to which he said no.  I then told him not to make fun of me on the downhill.  With eyes watering so bad from the cold wind, I descended half-blind, relying on memory and a prayer. As it leveled out, Eric passed me.  I secretly wished him a mechanical-less ride.  That poor guy ... he deserves one!

📷: Eric Henderson

I got my feet soaked at the second creek crossing.  I always take the little detour to the left, as it seems to be not as deep and a quicker way to negotiate the crossing.  However, just before I entered the water, a rock took my front wheel out from under me and almost kerplunked me into the creek.  I managed to land on my feet, in the water.  So be it for dry feet.  They did get cold but never completely froze, as the sun came out to play and turned a cold start into a wonderful mid-morning ride.  I didn't even complain about not being able to see sections of the trail for the bright rays raining down upon me.

I came upon Angie as I approached Horn Mountain.  Told her how we must be getting old as we were not racing our single speeds, like in years past.  The deep crevasse stymied her and she dismounted.  Having figured out the approach, even though it was getting deeper every year, I rode through it.  I ran up the short but muddy section after the water crossing, but then managed to ride everything else clean, including the short steep switchback. That first uphill is always an SOB, but I just shifted to granny and spun my way up.  The next three climbs on that mountain try to take your soul, but I was determined to clean them; almost did save for one short dismount when my derailleur decided to wrestle with a stick.

The remainder of the first half was a blur, as I just rode on autopilot to the SAG.  I hit the parking lot at 1:47, 2 minutes faster than last year.  Yes!  And with a lower perceived exertion for that first half, that gave me a confidence boost.  I was in/out like a NACAR driver, although I took a moment to talk to a volunteer who gave me words of encouragement. The initial climb up Middle Mountain was pleasant.  Still in my easy gear, I reigned myself in; I wanted to enjoy that last section of single track.  Back on autopilot, I enjoyed the trail even more, as it was dry on the ridges.  The descent down through the creeks was a little sketchy, what with the mud and deep water, the deepest I have seen them.  On the final double track climb, I could see the possibility of besting my 2020 time.  

As I hit the final stretch, I turned off autopilot and put it in Goggins mode.  As some of you might know, David Goggins is an retired Navy SEAL and now an accomplished endurance athlete, who is able to push limits like no other.  I embrace his 40% rule. I rode that last bit like a woman on fire!  I commended the two "kids" I passed while pushing up the Wall.  One, who was doing the 17 miler in a full face helmet and pushing a bike that was at least 75% of his weight.  He/she was probably only 10 years old.  The other, was the young girl who had passed me earlier in the first single track.  Her name was Brianna and she was only 15!  Very inspiring.  I gave her a few words of wisdom as I passed by.  Those kids inspired me to go all out on the last 4 miles.  My HR soared as I crushed the climbs, either by wheel or foot.  I had eagle-like focus on the descents and rode right up to my limits on them.  As I approached the rock garden where the bullhorn was, the lady behind it said it looked like I had done this before.  To which I replied, "Only a few hundred times!"  I cleaned the last rocky uphill between the two rock slabs, which has always been a 50/50 for me.  And rode the tower and paved descent like a rocket.

I came through the finish line at 4:03, 7 minutes faster than 2020.  Gave myself a big pat on the back and then joined in on the comradery with my friends at the finish.  Melissa had a good day as well ... and she was still my friend afterwards!  

While I may never again finish with a sub 4 on the 34, that doesn't mean I will quit trying. The only excuse I have now for not doing this race is death itself.  If I have to run that mental gauntlet every year, I will!  

Thank you to everyone who made this race happen!  Crazy that 250 + people were fired up this early in yet aother difficult Covid year to do a very difficult race. The stoke for an amazing 2021 is on!