Gravel Worlds Race Report

Sniper held up her end all day long

As I enter my 4th day of "bike hangover," I will try to put thoughts to "paper." This BDR really whooped my ass, but my recovery has not been ideal either (15 hour drive home plus 2 ten hour days at work). 

I raced this last year and got 3rd age group, despite a navigational error that cost me 60 minutes and gave me 17 bonus miles.  So this year I was back for redemption.  I also got John to join me with the allure of miles and miles of gravel seas through the countryside and farmlands surrounding Lincoln, Nebraska.

We arrived two days early so that we could check out the start and the finish.  Boy, it was hot!  100+ degrees and the gravel was dusty! The gravel here is small pea gravel/sand mixture.

Nice of them to stir it up for us.

There was also an air show happening the same weekend, so while we were pre-riding, the Blue Angels entertained us. It gave me goosebumps to see them in action!

My bike was a Trek CheckPoint with Bontrager 40mm GR1's.  Drivetrain was SRAM AXS with a 36T chainring and a 10-52 cassette.  I chose to not use a hydration pack and ran 2 28 ounce bottles.

Friday night we went to bed knowing that there was a 40% chance of rain.  Always the optimist, I figured it would be just enough to settle the dust and looseness of the gravel. Well, those thoughts changed when I was rudely awakened to thunder and rain beating against the hotel window.  In 3 hours, Lincoln was hit with 2 1/2 inches of rain!  Aye yai yai!

The organizers decided in the early morning hours to re-route the first B-road at mile 12'ish.  They sent out an email with a new GPX track. And for those that did not see it, they had volunteers at all the turns along the re-route.  I commend them for making this last minute decision.  It took NOTHING away from the difficulty of this event, but saved everyone's bike and probably a few souls.

It was still raining at the start and the temperature was a chilly 69 degrees.  I kept a plastic trash bag on just until go time.  John had a little mishap when half of his nutrition fell into the porta potty as he was making race weight.  He told me he actually thought of retrieving it ... if only for a second. 😆😆😆 

Start time was 6 am, so I ran a Bontrager Ion 200 RT.  It didn't throw much light, but I was counting on being close enough to others.  I did not want to lug around a larger light for 10+ hours when the sun would be up in 20 minutes.

The start on pavement was neutral until the gravel.  I was motoring along at a fast pace and then hit the gravel mush.  The water does not run off the roads here like back home, but rather the fine gravel/sand/dirt mixture soaked it up like a sponge. My speed was immediately cut in half as I entered the chocolate smoothie and I had to back off the wheels of those ahead of me.  Now it was all about surviving and keeping forward momentum as I slipped and slided my way through the next 3 1/2 hours of hellacious kilojoule-sapping mire. More than once I thought about just tucking tail and turning back, after seeing many people off their bikes looking at their drivetrains and playing with their chains.  

But Sniper, my steed, was plowing through this like a champ. I was having zero drive train issues.  My brakes were taking a beating, as the road grime was splashing up on the rotors and wearing down my brake pads, even though I hardly used them. I kept telling myself that it is going to get better and faster and that everyone is in the same boat. The rains eventually stopped and the sun came out.  The roads were still sludge, but I knew eventually they would dry out and the fast lines would reappear. I tried not to spend too many matches, but sometimes it was all I could do just to keep the bike moving forward on some of the climbs.  Many were walking.

The conditions didn't allow for groups to form and I spent 90% of the race riding alone.  The headwinds were not brutal, but still pretty harsh at 15mph. There was a decent amount of cloud cover and the winds were cool all day. I found a small group of 3 that I kinda hung with for a few miles until the first oasis (water stop) at mile 32.  Their pace was inconsistent so I was unable to get the full benefit of the draft, but every little bit helped.  And one of the guys had Pandora playing, so that was nice.

I had one of the volunteers fill a bottle for me, which took less than 20 seconds and I was on my way.  The group I had been with broke up and once again I was on my own.  When I went to get a swig of water from my bottle, it squirted out all over me.  The volunteer had cross-threaded the lid! Not wanting to stop and waste time, I was able to nurse the remaining water out of the bottle and not lose any more.

I hit the checkpoint at mile 54.  There was a short, 0.4 mile cross course I had to do, including riding through a barn, before I hit the aid station. Last year it took 3:25 to go 54 miles; this year, 4:30. I was over an hour behind last year's time.  Here I took a pee break while volunteers filled my bottles.  Fortunately there was not much grit/muck in my chamois, but I still took the time to re apply some Chamois Butt'r.  Stopped time at this CP was 4 minutes.

Leaving the CP, the gravel was indeed drying out and I was elated to see my average speed increase.  There were still some slow going miles, but for the most part, the slurry riding was over.  However, within a few miles I turned right and headed North, into a heinous headwind, for 5 miles.  

North of Lincoln, the area is called the Bohemian Alps, named after the Czech immigrants who settled here.  Full of rolling hills, one after another after another.  None are long, but all are steep.  This year's course, compared to last year's, had more of this.  The first half of the course was mainly a northerly or westerly direction. And with a headwind, they are brutal.  I was grateful for having banked so many singlespeed miles up in Michigan last month, as I felt I had the strength to hit these hills harder out of the saddle than seated.

Death by a thousand rollers

As I rolled through a little town called Brainard, I found a well spigot near a park.  Knowing two bottles would not last to the next CP (mile 110), I stopped and topped off mine.  There was a c-store at mile 88, but I did not want to waste time ... I was on a mission.

The course turned south and I had free speed for 6 miles.  The ground was also firm; seeing speeds of 20+ mph made me happy!  I hit the first B-road around mile 70 and I felt like I was on a single track ribbon of dark chocolate.  There was a 18 inch wide path of firm ground on this road, but to either side it was sticky mud.  As long as I held the line, I was fine.  It was groovy!

The course from here generally headed east with some southerly bits where I got to enjoy the tailwind.  I was even grateful for the crosswinds because the day was beginning to heat up by now, but the winds were still cool.  Miles 80 -100 were the hardest for me, as I was beginning to tire from the monotony.  But this is also where I engaged my mental game.   I smiled and gave words of encouragement as I passed those who had passed me earlier in the day.  Most were grateful; a few were rather irritated that an old lady was "chicking" them. I also began to smile outwards and say out loud what I was grateful for.  All these tactics made it easier on the legs and the mind.

I hit the second checkpoint (mile 108) in 8:37.  Here it was a rinse and repeat of the first CP, which also took a little over 4 minutes.  Only 42 to go; just get through the next 25, I told myself, as the remaining 17 are all downhill (and with a tailwind). I passed a few young bucks through the grassy field leaving the CP.  They apparently did not like this, as they caught back up to me in the next few miles.  I hopped onto their train, but after a few minutes, it was harder than I could manage, and I did not want an epic meltdown so close to the finish.  So I let them go.

I hit two more B-roads, both of which were the dark chocolate ribbons of fastness!  I thoroughly enjoyed these roads and were grateful they had a dry track.  But from what I heard, the front runners entered it while it was still wet and sticky.  See, some times it pays to be slow!

At about mile 130, I caught the boys, who were now on the struggle bus, having expended all their matches.  "Toodles, kiddos" I thought to myself.  I had no intention of slowing up and allowing them to hop aboard my train after they dropped me like a bad habit after that last CP.

The last 20 miles seemed to fly by; it might have something to do with the 200mg caffeine pill I took at the last CP as well as the 3 gels I had consumed, each having an additional 90mg of caffeine.  Vroom vroom!  My effort may not have been any harder, but it sure felt easier!

Once I hit the final small town around mile 142, I could smell the barn. The corn fields were whipping on by and the tailwind made for an easy 8 miles.  Now, my thoughts were, was it good enough for first?  I rolled under the finishing banner in 11:34.  Jason Strohbehn (the face of Gravel Worlds) was there to give me a fist bump.  Volunteers handed me an ice cold Coke and a wet towel.  I made my way over to the sidewalk, gently laid down Sniper, and then plopped my weary ass down.  I was spent!  I left it all out there and had no regrets!  What a challenging and rewarding day!  I am so grateful I have the ability to do these crazy events.  

While the course may not be as "fun" and have as much eye candy as what I ride back home, I love the vibes of Gravel Worlds and how no one is more important than another.  We are all equal here! The race organizers are wonderful people and have their shit dialed!  They work tirelessly for days to make sure our experience is a positive one.

Mother Nature sure through a curve ball, and I almost knocked it out of the park.  I ended up 2nd in the 50-59 category, 11th woman, and 75th overall.  

By the numbers:

                                    Normalized Power        Average Speed

First 52 miles                    147                                11.9

Middle 56 miles                134                                13.6

Final 42 miles                   132                                14.5

BTW, after getting home and tending to my bike, I have no parts to replace.  Thank you Gravel World organizers for making a good decision and saving close to a 1/2 million in bike repairs.

Dirty 130

 

Always love the pre dawn starts

Hi.  I am Carey and I am a bikealholic.

I have done this race/ITT 5 times now.  I could probably just cut and paste from my previous reports. Even though the DMR YoYo was just 2 weeks ago, I decided to give it a go, as I had the opportunity in the calender to do so. I also had a camping trip with my family that started in 2 days, so I wanted to get all my "zoomies" out of me in order to not have any bike FOMO while vacationing. I invited John Switow to join in my madness, as he is a sucker for BDR's. 

Must document start and finish

This is the first time I chose to ride my Niner Air9 RDO.  The combination of age and route deterioration had me wanting bigger tires and front suspension.  The time I figured I would lose on the road sections would well be made back by the comfort over the long haul and on the fast chunky descents. I rode Maxxis Ramblers 50mm.  I chose 2 28 ounce water bottles and was able to put all my nutrition and tools on my bike (Revelate Designs feedbag and Oveja Negro top tube bag).

Even though we started at the same time, I made sure to follow the rules set forth by Kim Murrell and TennesseeGravel.com. The only thing we shared was conversation. 

It was a muggy 68 degrees at the start (dew point of 70).  Highs were expected in the upper 80's, with only a slight chance of showers (which I was hoping for).  As we began the 10 mile climb up Kimsey Mountain Hwy (FS 68), the legs felt surprisingly good, not sparkly, but way better than I had expected.  However, what I wasn't expecting was lower back pain halfway up the climb. I already knew this might be a problem, as I had woken up to my usual stiff lower back.  Normally,  I try to avoid NSAID/s the day of a big ride/race, but I took 2 Aleve.

Occasionally I would stand and pedal, which alleviated the pain.  I was hoping that my back would sort itself out over the next hour, because there was no way I could handle this amount of discomfort all day. The sunrise was spectacular as I crested the climb.  The beauty of these mountains surrounded me in comfort and awe and I descended Smith (FS 80) with gratitude, for my ability to play these games.  Smith had gotten some "love" earlier this year, but Mother Nature was determined to take it back to its chunkified state.  It was nice to descend this rowdy section on my Niner.

On the way over to Lost Creek, my back kept getting angrier.  Part of me was beginning to have thoughts of pulling the plug once I hit Hwy 30, but the mental game was strong and the other part of me just said to give it some more time.  Since the legs were feeling well, I stood and pedaled quite a bit on this section over to Webb Store.

Stopping at Webb's, I pee'd, refilled my bottles, and then stretched for 5 minutes while I waited on John to do his thing.  That helped some and then we were off to Hambright Road. Once the pavement turned to two-track, then to single track, I weaved my way around the mud and downed trees.

Making use of my fine bushwhacking skills

While I have heard through the grapevine that some riders opt to walk along the railroad tracks on the gravel, go through the creek, and then continue on the railroad gravel, that is NOT the official route.  FYI, the official route is on the mud-hole filled, over grown road bed, which lies 10-50 feet from the railroad.  If you want an official ITT time, you must take the more difficult path.

The crossing was almost chamois-deep for me.

Climbing up Starr Mountain, I began to feel the warmth of the day, like a hot heavy blanket draped over me. My back pain came back with a vengeance, and once again those thoughts of quitting entered my mind.  "I could finish this gravel section and pedal on nice flat pavement back to my truck.  I don't have to prove anything to anyone.  Haven't I done this route enough?"  While these thoughts kept playing on repeat, that gritty and gristled side of me wanted to prove to my weaker side that I could endure and persevere.  I told myself, just get to Coker Creek, enjoy a Coke, and stretch some more.  The pain will eventually leave if it realizes it is not going to win out.

I was able to rally on the ridgeline and felt good on the gravel descent down to the pavement.  I slowly pulled away from John on Ivy Trail; I think the heat was beginning to get to him.  Those 10 or so miles on pavement felt so slow, probably because of the mountain bike I chose and the fact that I was thinking I should be able to go at road bike speeds.

I made it to the Coker Creek visitor center and ate a rice cake ✔, pee ✔, apply Chamois Butt'r ✔, soak head/face in sink ✔, drink Coke ✔, refill bottles ✔, stretch back ✔. I multi-tasked to be more efficient, but it was kind of hard to eat my rice cake when I was bent over touching my toes 😆.  John arrived while I was almost finished and told me to go on, as he was in the middle of dealing with his own pains, cramping specifically.

That 13 minute stop was what I needed and miraculously I had no more lower back pain for the remainder of the ride. The miles over to Buck Bald were quite pleasant, as the gravel/dirt was hard packed. It was a slow go up to Buck Bald, as the heat was sweltering by now. But knowing that this was a day for adventure and not for PR's, I was in the right mindset, and I embraced the warmth.

Toasty!

The 17 miles back to Reliance was tough, not gonna lie.  The heat was getting oppressive and I did not want to blow a head gasket, so this was one of my slowest sections. I stopped along the Hiwassee and cooled off in Towee Creek for about 10 minutes. 

Keeping the bits happy after cooling off the engine.

I cooled off once again at the piped spring (mile 107) by sticking my head under the pipe.  Man, that felt so good and refreshing! By now early evening was upon me, leaving me with the final climb, but a doozie at 11 miles, with the last 4 being spicy!  It was still warm, but the sun's rays were no longer searing hot.  As I turned onto the double track of death climb, it was hard not to love life and hate it at the same time.  This is a beautiful stretch of road, but rugged as hell. I was elated to have persevered through the pain earlier in the day, where I had thought of quitting 13 times, but now it was replaced by extreme fatigue.  I was trying to remember how many steps there was to this climb: 3? 4?  Try 5!  Every time I thought that this was the last, I would round the corner and the road went back up. Finally I hit the short little descent that would drop me out on Kimsey Mountain Hwy (FS 68).  And I felt like a pinball , pinging off the gazillion baby heads.

This section of Kimsey, that climbs for 2 miles back up to the intersection of Smith Mountain was no better.  Because it was essentially a Paris Roubaix-like cobbled climb.  All the dirt had eroded, leaving a conglomeration of wicked, lumpy rocks. I couldn't hold it in any longer and my sailor mouth erupted in expletives.  That actually made me feel better and I bounced my way back up to the intersection.  From there, the road smoothed out and I knocked out that last little bit of climbing with renewed energy; guess I was smelling the barn.

The descent was SO MUCH MORE pleasant on my mountain bike.  My teeth didn't feel like they were gonna rattle out, and my eyeballs weren't bouncing around in my skull.  I was able to sit on the saddle quite a bit, which then allowed me to hit those few little kickers towards the end with gusto.

I finished with a time of 13:35 (moving time of 13:01). It never is easy (well, maybe the 2018 version), but I swear it keeps getting harder as I get older, although today's difficulty was probably a combination of the heat and only being 2 weeks recovered from the DMR YoYo. But deep down inside, I love these challenges.

I rested awhile on the concrete; it felt so good to just be still.  I waited on John, figuring he would probably be about an hour behind me.  But when dark thirty approached, I started to get nervous, thinking the worst.  I should have gotten the link to his Inreach, but later he told me it had died several hours ago, so it wouldn't have helped anyways.  Finally around 9:45pm, I saw bike lights off in the distance.  Whew!  John pulled in, looking like a corpse.  He had a helluva second half, working through cramps and ended up walking more than he wanted.  But he stuck it out and finished this beast.

Death March Revival Yo-Yo

The Death March Revival is a 95 mile gravel route deep in the heart of the Cohutta mountains of Tennessee and Georgia. TennesseeGravel.com puts on an ITT series, of which this is one of 3 routes. I have done some sort of version of this route every year for the past 20, as this is in my "backyard," stunningly beautiful, and hard AF (14,000+ feet of elevation gain and 99.5% gravel/dirt).

Having accomplished both a road and virtual Everesting event, I had left to do a gravel version and a single track version.  It was also time for me to pay it forward again by raising money for my local animal shelter.  So, what better way to combine the two than doing a yo-yo version of the DMR: riding it clockwise the first lap and counter clockwise the second lap.  BDR's (Big Dumb Rides), as I affectionately call these adventures, are always better with friends.  Earlier in the year I baited the hook, and landed David Jolin, one of my Rescue Racing team mates, and a solid friend.

I chose Ripley, my Trek SuperCaliber, with Ikon 2.2's, for this ride. The slight weight penalty was well worth the added comfort of full suspension.  I was able to get away without having to use a hydration pack and that was a plus as well. I was a little concerned about the 4 inches of rain we had in the 4 days leading up to today, but it ended up making the course "hero." Sure, there were the usual mud holes to skirt around, but the gravel and dirt was hard packed, no stutter bumps, and no dust ... yea!

The Beginning

We started at 7:30 am.  Temps would be pleasant today (60-78 degrees) and with the cloud cover and tree canopy, we wouldn't get hot.  As we began the climb up FS 45, I reminded Dave to settle in at 24 hours pace.  Sometimes he likes to get a little too frisky early on.  I was riding on feel alone: no power meter, no heart rate strap, and my Garmin screen was blank (battery save mode).  I had no goals other than to take it all in (scenery, wildlife, sounds, and all the feels) and finish.

Climbing up to Dally Gap

The first descent down FS 221 heading towards Tumbling Creek was blown out, with massive exposure of bedrock. It used to be that the only rough section were the "three bitches," a series of 3 punchy rocky climbs, but now every up and down along this section was a bitch!  I cautiously made my way through the chunky sections, very mindful of placing wisdom above the "need for speed." Once the road paralleled the creek, the surface became smooth and remained that way for most of the day.  Bluebird skies with puffy clouds and the birds singing their songs had me smiling.

At about 20 miles in, we stopped at Watson Gap for a quick pee break.  As I went behind the Cohutta Wildlife Management sign and dropped trou, I began to squat when all of a sudden I realized my bits were right over a yellow jackets' nest.  Oh, shit! I immediately began running away down the gravel road, bibs down around my ankles, with my ass exposed for the world to see!  Fortunately, I was only stung twice on my legs.  It coulda been so much worse!  At least Dave got some comic relief (one of the things I am good at on these adventures).

Moments before the full moon 😂

The miles over to the Potato Patch piped spring were uneventful.  I kept the pace easy and occasionally pedaled out of the saddle just to test the legs.  They didn't bark, so I was good. We filled up at the spring and then placed a bunch of deadwood on the road adjacent to it, so that when we were on the second lap, it would be easy to find if we were in the dark, or our mind was numb.

We arrived at Mulberry Gap (mile 41) at 12:30 pm.  That was about 20 minutes slower than my last DMR's pace, which was where I wanted to be.  I did the usual: selfie in front of the sign, pee, purchase a Dr. Pepper and a candy bar, talk to Kate, and refill bottles. BTW, if you are a cyclist, hiker, or just want to unplug from the matrix, you gotta check them out.  And the food is 5-star!

On the 6 mile climb back up Potato Patch, even though I was feeling great, I had to shake the thought of having to do this again ... aye yai yai. Descending on West Cowpen (FS 17), I was coming around a sharp corner, when there appeared a bear (young, probably last year's cub) hanging by one paw on a small dead tree, like a monkey.  I think I saw his eyes swell with fear, as the tree broke, and he fell to the ground 10 feet below.  This whole scene played out in about 2 seconds ... it was spectacular and hilarious! It is those times when I wish I had a GoPro.

A quick stop at the game check station for a pee while Dave refilled his bottles, and yes, I scouted my pee spot very carefully this time, and then off to the Big Frog section.  I stopped at the piped spring at the beginning of Big Frog to refill mine; love the mountain water!  This 10 mile section was also super blown out.  I can remember when I used to ride this 10-15 years ago and it was smooth! I cannot imagine trying this now on a gravel bike.  Even on my full sus bike, I was wishing for wider tires and more squish.

The miles were winding down on this first lap.  Normally when I do the DMR, I am beginning to smell the barn with 15 to go, and I tend to bury myself to finish it.  But today, even though I was still feeling great, I had to keep it easy and in the moment.  I tried not to think about the second lap at all.  But it definitely creeped in my mind a time or two.

We finished up at 7:15 pm. So that was 11 hours and 15 minutes; right on a pace I had wanted to set (40 minutes slower than my last DMR).  And I did, all without any help from my Garmin.  See, living in the moment, going by feels, without technology, can be good.

Knowing that a shower would help to "reset" me, I grabbed my bowl of rice and eggs I had prepared the night before, and headed over to the campground bathroom. Some people drink in the shower; I eat 😆. I let the hot water pound out the knife between my shoulder blades while I rinsed off the day's build up of sweat and dirt.  A fresh kit and 600 calories of real food felt so good.  Then I went to task of readying my bike for the night lap:  Lupine headlamp, Outbound Lighting bar lamp, and a spare Lupine in my jersey pocket. I decided to wear my vest for additional pockets and warmth.  I also stashed a wool base layer and arm warmers on my top tube.  Even though the temps were only supposed to get into the low 60's/upper 50's, I know just how cold I can get when I am fatigued. I refilled my Revelate Designs feedbag with more food.  

At 8:00 pm I was ready to roll, but Dave wasn't. For me, it is all about staying in motion, keeping that engine idling.  If I sit/lay down and shut it off, it is so difficult to get it started again. We managed to get going at 8:15. I could tell that Dave was thinking too hard about what we were about to do.  And that if I let him linger any longer, his lizard brain might convince him to call it quits. So I told him to let's just focus on getting to Mulberry Gap and reassess then. But what I was really thinking was that if I can get him to commit to Mulberry, then at that point he has to finish it, because there are no bail outs at that point in the course.

Don't think, just do. Getting ready for lap #2.

I could feel the legs on the FS 45 climb up, but I expected it, accepted it, and quickly put it out of my mind. I looked forward to nightfall, for it is exciting to me.  It gives a fresh perspective on everything and the sense of space, time, and speed becomes distorted. The second lap was in the opposite direction, which also helped to keep things "fresh."  On the plus side, the previously arduous climbs became fun descents.  And as night fell on the rollers of FS 221, the climbey bits felt less climbey.  I suspect it has something to do with not being able to see the road grade or the horizon.

It was good to get the chunky Big Frog section out of the way during the beginning of this lap, while I was still somewhat fresh. Even with my lights on high, it was sketchy AF! Two miles in, we came upon a truck, going the opposite way, loaded down with wife and kids.  He looked a little worried, as he was lost. And his truck was not overland worthy.  Fortunately, the worst of Big Frog was behind him.  I gave him directions on how to get back to civilization, for which he was most thankful.

top of Big Frog at 10:30 pm

Descending off the backside of Big Frog, my only navigational error of the ride was thinking I had gone past the piped spring and back tracked a 1/4 mile before pulling out my TrailForks app and realizing I was one switchback off. Finding the piped spring, I filled one bottle with water; no Skratch added this time as I was about to be "sweeted out."

Although I had done well with my nutrition on the first lap (3000 calories and 6 bottles of fluids), I was having difficulty eating once the sun set.  For me, it is a combination of palate fatigue, getting tired of eating, and my GI tract not used to working beyond 6 pm. I knew I had to take in at least 150-200 calories per hour.  The waffle I had at the top of Big Frog, a bottle of Skratch, and now the shot blocks I was forcing myself to swallow at the game check station were the only calories I had taken in the past 4 hours.  I wanted to just refill with water again, but added about half the usual amount of Skratch.  Gotta get those calories in somehow, someway.

Turning onto West Cowpen (FS 17), I was not thrilled to be starting this climb.  It was gonna be a doozy!  10 miles and 3000 feet.  The first half rolled quite a bit, but still, the climbs were steep.  And then it got real:  6 miles straight up to the heavens! It was here that the wheels began to fall off the bus. My easiest gear was a 32 x 52 and I was needing more.  At this point in the ride, the fatigue hit hard, and my sit bones hurt.  So I got off and walked quite a bit; it wasn't that much slower.  But it did help the muscles, the taint, and the mind.  And I got to watch the bats dive down at the bugs attracted to my lights, which was really cool!

Once at the top, I put my arm warmers on.  The remaining gravel to Mulberry Gap was downhill and it was getting chilly at elevation. The descent down Potato Patch was mentally draining.  Lights were working great, but at the speed I wanted to go, I had to keep my eyes peeled for obstacles, like big embedded rocks waiting to take my front wheel out from under me.  And the palms of my hands were getting sore.

We got to Mulberry Gap at 3:30 am.  I kept on task and stopped at the bathroom first.  Then I made my way to the barn, as Kate had mentioned earlier about an option for hot tea or coffee.  Something warm with caffeine would be the bomb!  When I got there, Dave was already comfortably slumped in a chair ... with cushions.  In my mind, this could be disastrous.  I wanted to kick the chair out from under him, but figured I would give him 30 minutes and hope for the best.  

Just a few minutes ... what he said 😏

I tended to myself.  Coffee was of the instant kind, so I opted for black tea.  A warm mug of this, with a little honey, did me some good.  I got my bottles filled with water, cleaned the garbage out of my pockets, and then PayDay-boarded my pie hole until I got the whole thing down the hatch. It was now 4 am.  I told Dave I was ready to head out. He looked shell-shocked.  He said, "Are you leaving?" I told him not without you. He said he needed another hour.  So I drank another cup of tea and tried to power nap.  But I began to shiver uncontrollably.  It wasn't that cold, it was just that my body was tired and my core was not generating heat. 

I needed/wanted to get back at it, but a heavy shower hit around 4:30 am.  As the rain was ending around 4:50 am, I woke Dave up.  He then said he was just gonna sleep some more.  I told him I had to go, as I was freezing.  He had the course loaded, so I was 90% confident he could find his way to the finish, as long as he did not have a mechanical.  But he also had Zeke's phone number, so an "Uber" was indeed possible, if he couldn't get hold of me (cell service is unreliable at the start/finish).

Once I got back on the bike, I immediately warmed up and had to shed the layers I had put on at Mulberry Gap.  That extra hour also allowed some digestion of my earlier force-feeding which made the 6 mile climb back up Potato Patch not as hard as I expected. 

Sunrise at Bear Creek overlook

I always enjoy riding into daylight.  The sun rising got my circadian rhythm back on track, and my energy levels rose, despite my inadequate caloric consumption. 35 miles to go ... I got this!  I began visualizing the remaining miles in sections.  Just focus on getting to the piped spring at Jack's River.  And so I did, not letting the 3 or 4 grunty kickers knock me off my mental game.  I saw the stack of deadwood we had set out earlier, so I stopped and refilled my bottles here.  That water was cold and tasty.  

I live for these sunrises!

The next section was getting to Watson Gap.  The climb out of Jack's River campground was pleasant, but I forgot just how long it was (2.5 miles).  The hip bone pain had been replaced by achy patellar tendons.  Now my knees were feeling like the Tin Man's.  I got some relief when I could get out of the saddle, but then after about 15-20 pedal strokes, my quads were blowing up. 

At Watson Gap, I now had 20 miles to go.  Just get to Tumbling Creek campground, a 10 mile pull, and mostly downhill.  But there were 2 short climbs that tried to break me.  Nope, not gonna happen.  The body may be falling to pieces, but the mind was strong and unwavering.  I was now riding on sheer will power, as I had not been able to eat anything since I washed a peanut butter date down with spring water 15 miles ago.

The biting flies and gnats found me on the final 1 mile climb halfway through this 10 mile stretch.  I could only laugh at my predicament: 171 miles into this adventure trying to eek out an extra 25 watts to get above fly speed, wildly waving one hand to keep the little bastards from biting me and maintaining balance on no sleep for 28 hours. Cresting that last climb, I finally gapped them!

Riding past the campground, I had 10 miles and the final 2 climbs.  Now, I was smelling the barn.  This was the same chunky blown out section we had descended over 24 hours ago.  I walked a couple short steep sections for my fear of stalling out on dead legs and falling over.  Yep, I was that tired.

Rhodos were poppin'

Then I saw the FS 45 intersection.  I was so happy I woulda cried had I had enough water to form tears.  Those next 2 1/2 miles descending down to the finish were ... the ... best ... ever. 

I had just accomplished something I had trepidations 48 hours ago of completing. And I completed an Everest on gravel.  Well, maybe 263 feet short of the "official" mark of 29,029, but close enough to check that one off my bucket list. The one goal I did miss was the 24 hour completion mark.  While moving time was under 24, total time was just over 27. But I am ok with that.

Feeling like a cicada shell

Not that this is necessarily the hardest thing I have ever done, but relative to my age, yes.  Even though in my mind I still feel young, my body has told me otherwise these past few years.  It takes a lot more relative effort these days to execute  BDR's.  But I am very grateful I still can.  And that I can find like-minded individuals to play the game.  

I showered and tended to my gear. I still did not feel like eating and besides, I had forgotten to bring any post-ride food.  I pulled out my yoga mat and anxiously awaited Dave's arrival.  He finished up a couple hours after me, having left Mulberry Gap around 6:30 am.

He, too, was shelled, but had enough left to crack a smile.  For both of us, this has been our longest effort, time-wise, in one go.  And I do believe that we may be the first to have done a DMR double. 

I want to thank everyone who donated to my local animal shelter and held me accountable to finish this beast.  Together we raised $3475. One of my mantras during the difficult sections was "One paw-stroke at a time."  You and the critters helped me to keep my mental game strong.

Now, off to eat whatever I want, guilt-free.  I think I have some calories to make up for.

T Minus 6 Days Until Death March Revival Yo-Yo +

 

A reminder that playing bikes is fun!

As the day draws nigh, self-doubt tries to burrow its way into my soul.  While years of doing these grand adventures has forged my mental fortitude into a magnificent weapon, the physical struggle to finish them is undeniably getting harder.  

While I have done the Death March Revival many times, I distinctly remember the feeling of finishing with absolutely nothing left in the tank.  And now, I am going to turn back around and do it in reverse, and then add 2 additional climbs up FS 45, in order to get 29,045 feet of gain in this one ride.  That is 200 miles!  In less than 24 hours!  Fuck!

So I have been focusing on people that have made an impact in my life and drawing strength from their character.  Both Michael Rasch and Graham Skardon have done adventures much tougher than this.  Their strengths lie in being consistent, focusing on the now, and enjoying the ride, no matter how hard it gets.

There are the ladies older than I, who are still out there crushing it on the bike:  Lynn Sims, Nancy Waddell, and Beth Hoffmeister, to name a few.  I will lean heavily on them during my low moments.

And when I feel the "poor, pitiful me" moments, I will tell myself that I chose to endure this struggle. I will remove any negativity from my mind by thinking of those, both human and 4-legged, who are struggling every day through no fault of their own, but by the hands of others or just pure bad luck.

I am also very grateful that I have friends who are willing to endure this challenge with me.  Thanks, Dave, for stepping up to play my insane game.  

So while it may not be fast, pretty, or fun all of the time, it will just be ... my impossible route.

Pedaling for the Paws ... Again!

 

I have the desire to scratch this "pay it forward" itch that has been hounding me the past 6 months or so.  It is just the challenge that comes with it is daunting.  Back in 2020, I raised $8000+ for my local animal shelter.  I did this in conjunction with completing a virtual Everest on Zwift ... riding repeats of the Alpe Du Zwift climb in one single activity, until I ascended 29,028 feet.  A feat which took just under 13 hours.

Now I could just ask for donations and do nothing else.  But, for me, I need some sort of physical/mental challenge to accompany my requests for money from YOU.  It makes me feel that I am earning your dollars. And these days, I understand that budgets are tight.

I currently have 2 Everesting events under my belt.  The one I mentioned above and a road version I did prior to that on the Foothills Parkway, with my Rescue Racing partner, Scott Morman.  My first thought, was to do another, on gravel.  But then, another of my Rescue Racing team mates, David Jolin, wanted to join me. 

The more I thought about it, having David drive 8 hours from Ohio, to only get to see one 3.5 mile section of relatively boring gravel, 30 times, would just be cruel.  He should be able to ride through some of the best parts of the Cherokee National Forest and the Cohutta Wilderness.  So I have decided to do a Death March Revival yo-yo.  

94 miles, 13,800 feet of gain

What's a yo-yo, you ask?  It is riding the course in one direction and then, upon completion, turning around and riding it in the opposite direction.  This plus doing an extra climb on FS 45, will give me the elevation gain equal to the height of Mount Everest.  This won't be a true Everesting event, because the elevation gain must take place by doing repeats of one climb only. Nonetheless, it will be excruciatingly hard ... right up my alley of #doinghardthings.

I am planning my adventure for sometime around the summer solstice.  I will choose a date, either on June 22 or 23, depending on weather.

Since my virtual Everest in July 2020, the animal shelter has acquired a new building.  It is much larger and in a better location.  But, a lot of renovation needs to be done.  And for this, money is needed.  With this larger space, they will be able to house more animals and in a controlled environment.  

I am humbly asking you to give what you can.  Every little bit helps.  I am telling myself that the more I raise, the easier it will be to finish it😏.  My goal is to raise $2500 and perhaps find a "Ellen" or a "Rachel Ray" who could match it.

I am going to set up a FaceBook fundraiser where you can donate.  By donating here, I will be able to tell exactly how much I raise.  But if you want to donate directly to the animal shelter, here is the website for the McMinn Regional Humane Society.  If you donate directly, please tell me the dollar amount in the "Comments" section, so I can keep a running total.

Thank you and Happy Tails and Trails!

Carey

PMBAR Race Report

With no rain the day before, night of, or morning of, I questioned whether of not I was in Pisgah, or some altered dimension, as I was standing at the Start/Finish, in just a jersey and shorts, not shivering. Waiting for the shenanigans to begin, I was in my happy place.  While PMBAR is both physically and mentally demanding, it is also SO GOOD for the soul.  

Four weeks ago, I was trying to come up with another partner for Lisa, as my knee was so swollen and painful, it hurt to walk, and I could only spin at a recovery pace.  But there was still hope and I did all the things: ate well, slept well, mobility exercises, ice/heat, and many easy spins on the local rail trail.  Fortunately, healing vastly improved in the two weeks leading up to the event.  And just two days before, I got good news from my MRI:  a grade 2 tear of the MCL.  My doc said no surgery needed and I was halfway there to being fully healed, and to keep doing what I had been.  Hallelujah!  No meniscal tear and my ACL was happy!  

So I was ecstatic to be able to play bikes all day with my number one bestie.  Although my fitness had tanked the past 4 weeks, what no better way to get back at it than this.  Time was drawing near to the 8 am start, and I noticed there was no box of passports lying near Eric Wever's feet.  Josh, who was down from Ohio volunteering for the day, only snickered when I made mention.  Hmmm ... where were we gonna have to pedal to get our passports, I wondered?

Eric began the pre-race meeting and said the passports were at the intersection of Buckhorn and Black Mountain ... and that we had to take Black Mountain all the way there.  So up, up, and away we went.  It was a mad start as 200+ racers began sprinting up Black.  I put it in chill mode, as chill as one can get climbing 2800 feet in 6 miles, and let the wild bucks go.  The knee felt great, even at the higher torques; I was only disappointed that I could not do any wheel lifts or pedal out of the saddle when needing to get that extra "oomph."  So I had to dismount several times and HAB some sections, that under normal circumstances, were rideable.  

Black was in awesome shape, only a few spots of wetness, from springs. The re-route was so enjoyable and rideable.  The HAB's of middle Black were still SOB's and some of the descents were frustrating as there were conga lines and riders up my ass, who wanted to pass.  Trying to be patient and polite, I let them go, even though it stalled my forward progress ... by minutes.  Why couldn't they be all like Gordon Wadsworth and Scott "Smooshie" Harper, who knew this was NOT the day to try to "clean" the descents, but rather just allow the race to thin out and then enjoy putting your skills to the test?

I let Lisa ahead of me mid-way up, as I had a slightly easier gear and wanted her to ride at her pace. Six miles and a little over 2 hours later, Lisa grabbed the passport and we pulled out the map and began plotting our course.  We opted for a clockwise route, grabbing the mandatory CP at Club Gap first.  My only request in the days leading up to this race were to plot the best route with the least amount of HAB, as that is when my knee would get angry.  So we chose to go for only 4/5 CP's and leave out the one on Laurel Mountain, as the net gain in getting a 2 hour time bonus (for going for 5) would only be minimal, if not canceled out altogether, by the time it would take us (especially me) to grab that 5th one.

Upper Black was in primo condition.  On one hand, it sucked not being able to ride the rideable sections, but on the other hand, I realized how lucky I was just to be out here, in spectacular weather, and around great people. Putting the ego aside, I started calling myself  "Cripple Carey,"  after a Barbie doll my Dad had given Carly years ago, nicknaming her Cripple Becky.  Those fun memories, as well as making fun of myself, made getting off and on the bike a bit easier.

Club Gap CP passport puncher and SS extraordinaire, Chris Joice

After nabbing the mandatory, we rode down Club Gap (a first time that direction for me) and hopped on 276 up to FS 1206. We rode gravel over to Pilot Cove-Slate Rock and once again connected with Gordon/Emily and Scott/Todd.  It was a joy to ride and HAB with them up to the next CP.  Gordon talked almost the whole way; boy, did I feed off his good vibes!

Goodies from the CP volunteer

We stayed only long enough for Lisa to refill her bottles from the volunteer's BeFree water filter bottle.  The remainder of this trail was in the best shape ever!  So dry, so rideable, and so beautiful as it ran next to Slate Rock Creek.

Popping back out on FS 1206, we decided to not to go down Bradley Creek Trail, but to continue on the gravel over to FS 5015.  Why we had even thought about doing the trail I do not know, other than it appeared quicker on the map.  We were rewarded for the extra miles with Eric Nicoletti's grilled cheese stand at the intersection of 1206 and 5015.  Stephen Janes would be proud!  While I could not participate in the cheesy goodness, I did find an ice cold Dr. Pepper that went down the hatch mighty fine.

Lisa made inhaled her grilled cheese and then we made quick work of the gravel descent.  At the intersection FS 5015 and Bradley Creek Trail, there was a meeting of the minds as we came upon Gordon/Emily, Scott/Todd, and another pair.  We decided to go up Laurel and then do an out and back on Squirrel Gap to grab the CP.

But first, Lisa and I stopped to filter again.  This was the first time we used her BeFree water filter and I noticed hers did not flow near as fast as the volunteer's at the previous CP.  Needed some Popeye forearms to fill up my bottle.

I 💓 Smooshie!

That was the first time I had ridden Laurel in this direction.  The bottom half was not too bad, just a little laurel whacking on the shins and negotiating oncoming racers.  The upper half was a pretty steep HAB, to which my knee, now over 4 hours in, was beginning to complain. Lisa patiently waited for me on all the HAB's today, as I was a lot slower than the "Usain Bolt" of hike a bike. Although the pedal on Squirrel was only 2 miles to get the CP, it felt more like five, as it was all uphill.  It was here that I had my first "whine" out loud.  I sounded like a fussy 7 year old who was tired of walking with her Mom at the mall 😄.  It was short-lived, as I could only laugh at myself.  

Riding down Squirrel Gap was super fun and the fun continued on Mullinax.  We turned onto South Mills River and I could not believe how dry the trail was.  South Mills was like a highway!  We motored quickly over to the CP, grabbing our 4th and final one for the day. We continued on South Mills, crossing two nice bridges, and thinking how fast we were gonna go, heading to the finish.

Mullinax

We had ridden the first 3 miles of South Mills in just under 30 minutes.  And then as we continued left on South Mills at the intersection of Cantrell Creek, the adventure began!  Unbeknownst to us, we were entering Purgatory, the section of South Mills that you just don't go.  Never having ridden this section, you don't know what you don't know.  And so I say to all my cycling friends that are veterans of Pisgah, who never mentioned this "purgatory"  ... F*ck y'all!  

After cresting that short climb, we descended into hell!  And for the next 90 minutes it took us to cover that 4 miles, we battled thick laurel undergrowth that lashed our legs, crossed the river 12 times, of which 6 of those were waist deep and slick as snot, and rode/pushed through 6 bogs.  Oh, and negotiated no less than 30 downed trees.  Poor Lisa had to hear my sailor's mouth a few times.  

The 11th crossing of South Mills River

Despite how arduous this section was, it was amazingly beautiful.  With some massive trail love, this section could be outstanding!  I have no regrets making this choice; Lisa might beg to differ!  Now, I can say I have ridden ALL the trails in Pisgah ... yep, including Riverside and Vineyard Gap.  There ought to be a buckle for that!

The Forbidden Zone

Finally we made it to Wolf Ford.  My knee and I survived, although a downed tree did grab my foot and yank me down backwards, tweaking it some, with me exclaiming, "I am officially tired!"  Pisgah was determined to not let me go completely unscathed.

Filling up our bottles one last time, I struggled with Lisa's filter.  Fortunately a fellow Marji masochist, Richard, lent me his.  My forearms and hands thanked him.  I ate the last of my food, two gels, with 100 grams caffeine each.  Vroom! Vroom!  Back on the good portion of South Mills, we seemed to float up it to Buckhorn.  I couldn't believe how smooth and hard-packed it was!

Then down Clawhammer gravel and back up to Black on Maxwell gravel.  It was so nice to be able to keep on riding instead of the short HAB in year's past.   Once at the tippy top, it was 2 miles and and a 1300 foot drop down to the finish.  The trail was primo, but the caffeine burst I had the past hour was gone. The descent hurt.  My eyeballs were bouncing around in my head and my brain felt like it was being concussed. I had to slow down as I was getting dizzy ... weird.

We rolled across the finish line in 9 hours and 33 minutes.  Having ridden 52 miles with 8000 feet of climbing, I was exhausted but my soul was full.  

Thanks, Lisa, for an amazing day in the forest, and being patient during my struggles.  You are one helluva partner, and I look forward to our next adventure.

I am grateful for my healing.  I am grateful for being able to do what I love.  I am grateful for all my trail friends (and hope we still are Gordon and Emily, after that little bushwhack 😉). I am grateful that Eric continues to take pleasure in pushing us to our limits. I am grateful for my I-9 wheels who chewed up and spit out an unknown amount of sticks on the South Mills "forbidden section."  Lesser spokes woulda caved!  I am grateful for Chamois Butt'r coming to my taint's rescue after being submerged during all those river crossings.

Strong women up there!

Pisgah "ride all the trails" completion buckle