Morton's Neuroma Surgery Follow Up Report

Well, it has been 9 months since I had that nasty little bugger of a neuroma cut out from between my third and fourth metatarsal heads on my left foot.  Let's just say that if I was a horse, I would have been shot by now.

And here is how it goes!  The surgery had gone great and 3 months later I was in Arizona at the SSAZ riding without pain.  I rode my SS for 5 straight days, 25+ hours, and who knows how many miles.  Only on the last day did my feet start to bother me a little bit.  I experienced some mild numbness and tingling across the balls of my feet, save for the surgery site.  There I experienced nothing at all.

Everything was going great, I was winning the spring Chainbuster 6 hour series on my single speed.  Then in May (7 months post op), my feet started taking a turn for the worse.  After the Chainbuster race at Winder, I noticed the tingling, burning, and painful sensations returning across both feet.  I also noticed that the scar tissue from the surgery appeared to be getting thicker and more tender to the touch.  It became uncomfortable walking barefoot, especially on my left foot.  Where the scar was, every step felt like I had a large rock under my foot.

At work, I was miserable, having to stand 10 hours a day.  I did my best to sit every moment I could, but we are a very busy practice and that was difficult to do.  And then, to make matters worse, I began to have electrical jolts of pain just proximal to the surgery site.  That did not feel good at all!  I was having to soak my feet in ice baths 2-3 times a day to make the pain and electrical stimulation go away.

The funny thing, however, is that my feet hardly bothered me at all while I was on the bike.  I know that the long hours in the saddle had to be affecting them, but to me the days at work made them hurt 10 times as much.

I was apprehensive about the Pisgah 111 and afraid that I would have to DNF, given the amount of hike a biking. I started out conservatively, just waiting for the pain to appear.  Funny thing, that day, my feet were great!  After about an hour I was able to pick up the pace and forget my feet.  Only towards the end on that last Black Mountain hike a bike section, did they start to bother me.

In between the Pisgah 111 and Karl's Kaleidoscope, my feet went back to their former painful, burning, tingly selves.  After Karl's Kaleidoscope, I went back to see my podiatrist.  I have had a history of cheloid formation.  This is basically a scar gone awry, laying down granulation tissue instead of maturing into a nice healthy small scar.  Cheloids can be painful and even entrap the end of the severed nerve, causing the nerve to fire.  It was either that or I was developing a neuroma at the site where the nerve was cut.

After discussing this with my doctor, he ultrasounded the surgery site looking for evidence of a new neuroma.  After not seeing one, we decided to inject the scar with dexamethasone, a type of steroid.  Within 3 days, the electrical jolts had stopped and I had less tingling, burning sensations when I walked.  Whoo hoo!  Small victory.  However, I was still experiencing numbness across the entire balls of my feet.

Since then, I have had a second injection and am still seeing improvements. The scar is beginning to soften and decrease in size.   I am now able to walk barefoot some and the days spent at work are not as excruciating.  I have also made some other adjustments which are helping as well.  Although it is killing me, I have not single speeded since May 5.  I am sure that mashing the pedals aggravates those other neuromas that I do have.  I have taken up swimming to replace those easy recovery rides.  And I have switched from wearing Keen's to Chaco's.  The Chaco's support my arch better so that more of my foot is taking the impact.

Next week I will be going for a second opinion to a foot surgeon (who is also an athlete) on this issue.  I am hoping that she has a miracle cure ... other than a bullet!

Karl's Kaleidoscope Race Report

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cissy was on fire today!

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

Cooness factor of 10 +!

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

Pisgah 111 Race Report

Mad hike a bike skilz are a prerequisite.  Photo by Brado.

Deciding what to take and what to chance not taking was a difficult task the day before the race.  A hydration pack was a no brainer.  It was going to be hot and I was most likely going to have a death grip on my bike for most of the race.  However, there was going to be lots of time spent pushing, carrying, and lifting my Niner Jet 9 RDO, which weighed 22.6 pounds, through the mountains.  The less weight I had to carry was going to add potential horse power to the machine.  Being little does make it easier to climb, but ounces can feel like pounds.

The Pisgah gods love sacrifices!  They are hungry for flesh and metal.  Knowing this I decided to take two tubes, pump, tire lever, tire patch, tire plugs, derailleur hanger, a few chain links, and a quick link.

My legs were not sparkly race morning, so I took it easy on the climb up Clawhammer.  The race would not be won here, but it could definitely be lost.  I focused on my heart rate and fortunately only saw Lisa pull away; I was able to stay on the wheels of Kim and Elizabeth.  Once at the top, my legs were ready!  Buckhorn and South Mills could have been stupid fast, but I had enough sense to settle and let the trail come to me.

Squirrel Gap was a pleasant surprise as I had not ridden it since the trail work had been done.  It was still evil in spots as evidenced by the crashes in front of me, but I showed my respects and left it unscathed and with a smile on my face.  It was here that Kim let me by as she bobbled on a creek crossing.

Cantrell Creek was a first for me.  What a gnarly derailleur gnasher, front wheel basher of a descent!  I let several guys go past me; it was obvious that this was their back yard as they flew by.  It was hard to see what was around the corner; the undergrowth was so thick!  I caught up to Lisa who was having some chain suck issues and motored after I slowed to ask her if she needed anything.

Aside from the occasional mud bog on South Mills, it was pretty uneventful.  Having go go gadget legs and not needing anything from aid station #1, I continued on to Bradley Creek.  The crossing felt "oh so good" on my neuropathic metatarsals.

The demi god of bike portaging, Lisa Randall, blew by me in one of the many creek crossings.  I managed to catch back up to her on FS 5015.  Together we took turns pulling each other up the fire road climb.  Life was good ... reminded me of our Trans Rockies days.  We stopped at aid station 2.  The volunteers were waiting on us hand and foot.  I love it when they have their sh!t together!  I refilled my hydration pack, drank a Coke, and grabbed one of my salty red potatoes ... food for the soul!  Lisa pulled out just moments before me.  I caught back up to her on the descent with my gravel road surfing skills.  Together again we rode up FS 5000.  Even though it was a smooth consistent climb, my legs were beginning to bark a little.

Once we hit Spencer, my legs were happy again.  It is just something about single track.  Spencer Gap --> Spencer Branch --> Never Ending Road -->  Fletcher --> Lower Trace was a sh!ts and giggles experience, save for having to maneuver around two dudes on the Lower Trace.

I didn't particularly care for that "little" hiccup of a hike-a-bike (at the beginning of Yellow Gap, I think).  Basically a 3 foot ditch at a 20% grade for a tenth of a mile.  Not enough room in the ditch for both you and your bike, so you either had to walk the ditch with you bike high on the rim ... or both you and your bike had to skirt the edge of the rim, hoping the bank did not give way or a rhododendron grab your bars and send you plummeting down the ditch with your bike on top of you.  Yea ... I played out all these scenarios as I pushed my way to the top.

After climbing on Yellow Gap, I then popped back out onto FS 1206, going the opposite way I had come, meaning I now got to climb for 2 miles.  With a squeaky chain, the climb seemed infinite!  Upon returning to aid station 3 (which was also aid station 2), I asked for some chain lube.  Thank you whoever worked on my bike; I was squeak free the rest of the race.  I also refilled my hydration pack again, grabbed another potato, and motored on.  As I pulled out, Lisa was pulling in.       Well that sent my adrenals into overdrive!  Had I slowed on that 20 mile loop, or was Lisa's second wind kicking in?

The remainder of the race was going to indeed be interesting as Eric decided to treat us with a "fanny-kicker" of a 20 mile section.  The appetizer was Laurel Mountain:  a spectacular presentation of blooming laurel and its spider webs of roots to the nth power and bike portaging spread throughout.  All I knew was that I had to giv'r the whole time or else Lisa would catch me.  As I was struggling up the last but most brutal hiking portion of Laurel, I came upon a racer in a TVB kit.  I just had to ask him if HE was the one in the Knoxville, Tn personal injury lawyer commercial.  He said, "No," but still seemed kind of embarrased.  I agreed that it was a corny commercial and he graciously let me by; probably did not want to partake in any more of that conversation.

Hking AGAIN on Laurel Mountain.  Photo by Brado 

Next on the plate was Pilot Rock.  I would consider this the dessert, kind of like a dark chocolate cheesecake.  The first few bites are deliciously rich and mouth watering, but by the time I am half way through it, I am full.  Since I cannot take it home, I  am forced to finish it.  Those last few bites hurt and my body is ravaged by its richness ... or in the case of this trail, the bone/muscle jarring 3 mile descent where I am jack hammered all the way down.

After a blistering section of fire road, a mostly level South Mills River, and what seemed like a never ending ascension of Buckhorn Gap (all the right-handers look the same!), I arrived at Black Mountain.  (Insert a coup de grace here.)

Black Mountain, the last course on the menu.  This reminds of when my Mom making a big pan of super cheesy 5 layer meat lasagna when I was a little girl.  But then the veggie side is a heaping pile of brussel sprouts.   No way!  Lasagna is a meal unto itself; I shouldn't have to be tortured with these "alien heads."  And that is Black.  Only 6 miles, but 2 are pure hell, 2 connect the "pure hell" sections, and 2 are heavenly.

Smiles ... or grimaces?

The final 6 miles took me about 47 minutes.  I finished with a winning time of 8:02:43.  I am glad to say I survived another one of Eric's potential "soul-crushing" events.  However, for me as well as all the others who survived the day, I think we can say that this was a "soul-lifting" event.  Jeff Papenfus may not have been there in body, but he was with each and every one of us in spirit.

Fort Yargo 6 Hour Race Report

I was a foam rolling fool leading up to this race.  On Monday, I happened to ask Carly what she was doing in gym, to which she responded, "Races -- shuttle run and the 50 yard dash."  I should have stopped right there, but had to ask her to show me the shuttle run.  Needless to say, she kicked my tail ... twice.  We then raced each other 50 yards; she had plenty of time to skip across the finish line. The next morning I thought both my hips were dislocated.  That was a "DA" move on my part, thinking I could go from 0 to 60 without warming up!

Fast forward to race day.  The foam rolling definitely helped and my hips were good to go after a warm up.  I took a look at the 1.5 mile paved start and the first bit of single track and then lined up just a couple rows back and waited 20 minutes.  It was essential to have a good start as there were 400 racers.

Ready, set, go!  I managed to avoid the Tour de France style pile up then occurred within the first 10 seconds of the race.  I also managed to hold my own on the pavement with my 32 x 19 gearing.  I was happy that my legs responded happily to the intense pace and I entered the single track about 40 riders back.

Lap 1:  On the opening lap, it is always easy to burn a match or two.  My body says, "Go, go, go!" and my mind says, "Settle, settle, settle."  Having a good start helped me to find my rhythm early.  There was only one train of 12 that I passed smoothly (but not quite effortlessly) on the double track Outer Loop climb.  I managed to snag the fastest lap award for the ladies, which netted me a set of Maxxis Exception Larsen TT tires ... for a 26" bike (argh!)

Lap 2:  That one was over before I realized it!

Lap 3:  My big toes really began to hurt.  On the descents that were "stutter-bumpy," it was like someone was jabbing a knife underneath my toe nail.  I was extremely concerned about a re occurrence of my metatarsalgia. This pain came and went throughout the remainder of the race, making it not as much fun as it should have been.

Lap 4:  The temperature was approaching 90 degrees, but I felt pretty good.  I had just chugged a Red Bull at the pits and was awaiting my "wings."  I must say thank you to the single speeder dude that I passed during a series of climbs and descents around mile 2.  As I passed him, he said, "Don't  LET me catch you on the downhill!"  Dem's fightin' words!!  I happily obliged him and never saw him again.

Lap 5:  I mistakenly did not drink much on the previous lap and that, combined with the heat, caused me to feel a bit clammy when I would notch it up.  So I backed off a bit on this lap, drank my entire bottle, and then some more at the pits, so that the last lap would not be catastrophic.

Lap 6:  Fighting through the painful toes, I managed to latch on to another racer that was setting a fast and consistent pace.  The legs were feeling the earlier efforts and the speed bumps (there is only 1000 feet of climbing per lap) soon became mountains.  I was glad to see the metal bridge around mile 8 because the course after that is fast and flowy.  I came through the finish line in first with a time of 5:33.

I managed to win another set of fine Maxxis 26" tires which I found a home for.  I also mentioned to the new owner, Rachel, that they were UST.  You see, she had an unnecessary pinch flat early on in the race.

But I also came away with this cool sombrero, in honor of Cinco de Mayo.  An exponentially better way to spend this day ... on a bike instead of in a drunken stupor!

Not for hire.

 Right after the race, my big toes were on fire.  So much so that I was seeing stars.  Thanks to Ursula, I found out that it was not metatarsalgia, but how I was trimming my nails.  So hopefully with the proper pedicure, I can avoid this pain at the next 6 hour race.  It seems that I have some mild ingrown nail issues that I can fix fairly easily (I hope!).

Thank you Dirty Spokes, YABA, and the rest of the crew for a wonderfully orchestrated event.  The Dri-Wicking T's in extra small, the cooler of ice water at the top of the long climb, the live band, and the pizza at the end were nice touches.

And a shout out to the Northwest Georgia SORBA gang who let us hang out (or should I say, let our stuff hang out) in their pit.

Shanna Powell, Sponsor Spotlight

I met Shanna Powell of Endless Bike Company at the 2009 ORAMM.  What I remember the most about that race was that a single speeder placed 4th!  That crazy one-geared lady with the phenomenal smile was none other than Shanna.  At this point in my life, I was still skeptical about single speeds, but beginning to open up to the idea that it just might make me a stronger rider.

2009 ORAMM 

Shanna briefly talked to me about her single speed cogs.  I filed it under "Miscellaneous" in my brain, alongside antibiotic therapy for hedgehogs and left it at that.  Fast forward to December 2009.  Under advisement by Coach as a training tool and Zeke as a way to have a different kind of fun, I ordered my first single speed frame and began to have it built up.  My wheelset came with an 18T "heavy-ass" cog.  If I was going to ride a bike with one gear, then I wanted it to be as light as economically possible.

Remembering my conversation with Shanna, I got in touch and soon received a small collection of sweet, light weight kick-ass cogs!  The cogs are made from 7075-T6 alloy and are 1/4" wide.  Talk about "riding without a chain."  Run her cogs and it will feel like you are.  Oh, and they are made in  North Carolina.

2012 Snake Creek Gap TT

With that order came my first unsolicited sponsorship!  Nice!  I have been using her cogs now for 2 1/2 years and absolutely love them.  They are very light (20T = 35 grams) and durable.  I know, I know, it is not a fork or a wheel or a crank, but having one less component to worry about failing or wearing out makes life that much simpler.  And let me tell you, I need simple!

2009 6 Hours of Warrior Creek

What I love about Shanna is her simple beauty.  With her never ending smile (check out all the photos) she radiates happiness.  She is infectious ... in a good way.  Even with her recent run of bad luck, i.e. ACL injury/surgery, she has an upbeat attitude.  Every lap of Warrior Creek, she yelled, "Go, Carey!"  That was a great motivator for me.  Afterwards, when she congratulated me on my win, I told her, "It was the cog!"

What more can I say?  We all need to smile more ... like Shanna!

Now, if I could just get my hands on some of her coffee!

6 Hours of Warrior Creek Race Report

Another beautiful weekend for racing!

I think that this will be the last time I do back to back endurance races.  I suppose I forgot the last time (Cohutta 100 and Dirt, Sweat, and Gears 12 Hour in 2008).  Well, let me tell you.  Last weekend brought those memories back ... quickly and painfully.

I was racing my single speed as this was the perfect course for one gear (minus the start on the campground road).  I was able to get a good starting position, 2nd row.  However, I was soon moving backwards as dozens passed me on the flat portion of the campground loop.  After what seemed like an eternity, the road turned up.  At last, I could start to make up some lost ground.  My legs begged to differ and went on strike.  Apparently there was some lingering Ouachita Challenge fatigue that decided to rear its ugly head.

All I could do was settle into a sustainable rhythm and hope that they would come around.  The trains of racers on the first lap kept a governor on my engine and kept me from "going Greyhound."  After the first lap, which was 2 miles longer due to the parade lap, my legs came to life.  I became reacquainted with all 2,346 berms and felt the flow of this awesome trail.

For those of you who are not familiar with this trail, it is 12.5 miles of fast hardpack with huge berms to help you carry your momentum through the turns (think pump track).  There are a few short rock gardens to keep you honest.  There is about 1000 feet of climbing per lap, nothing longer than 0.1 miles.  The downside to that is that you are constantly on the gas!

Even the bridges are contoured!

After the first lap, I began to slowly pull away from the women.  The field was stacked this year, with several contenders that pushed me to the very end.  My lap times were pretty consistent, all within 1-2 minutes of each other.

Lap 2:  I rode the chicane so fast that as I crested the short hill at the end, I experienced vertigo.  Zeke, I feel for ya!  Dizziness + trail riding at speed = disaster potential.

Lap 3:  A solo male racer rode behind me for awhile.  As he passed, he said that he enjoyed reading my blog.  Cool!

Lap 4:  Just a couple minutes off the previous laps due to two reasons.  #1:  I attempted to guzzle an 8 ounce Red Bull.  Hmmm ... how much caffeine can be absorbed by lung tissue?  #2:  With 2 miles to go, I heard the dreaded "Psssssss."  And then I saw Stan's on my knee!  Miraculously, the puncture sealed before I could get my bike stopped.  I immediately went in to the "Oh, crap!" mode.  With only minimal tire pressure lost and not finding the puncture, I motored on, thinking that at any time, the Stan's would let go and the tire would go flat.  I began weighing my options the final two miles:  plug it, throw a tube in, change bikes, change wheels.  The last two miles took FOREVER!  Stopping at my pit, I checked my tire.  The Stan's was doing its job!  Wow!  This was a first for me in all my years of racing.  Now what do I do?  Continue on or change bikes?  I decided to stay on my Niner A9C and go for it.  If it was going to go flat, it would not be from that puncture 2 miles ago.  Even so, I rode like a nervous bunny for the next few miles.  Hop ... hop ... sniff ... sniff.  With 8 miles to go on that final lap, I brought it back up to race pace.

I crossed the finish line at 5:56 with 5 laps, winning the women's open.  Once again, the podium schwag was in great quantity and high quality.  The best thing was the mug.

 I must commend BMCC.  They are trail building/maintaining fiends!  Even though it rained 1- 1/2 inches 36 hours before the race, the trail was completely dry and tacky!  Volunteers were actually out there the day before raking leaves off the trail.  Unbelievable!

Congrats to Ursula for winning what she calls the "Old Ladies Category."  Whatever!  She also finished with 5 laps.

Thank goodness this is a rest week.

Ouachita Challenge Race Report

I never know what to expect from the competition any time I head west of the Mississippi.  I had looked at the start list and other than Andrea Wilson, everyone else was a mystery.  Well, Andrea was too!  I hadn't raced her since the 2010 OC and I knew that with her tackling the NUE, she was only getting stronger and stronger.

No sense in worrying about what I cannot control.  I knew I was dialed, my bike was dialed, the weather was looking super hot (which is good for me), and the course would be brutal for all!  I had pre-ridden Blowout Mountain and Gaston Mountain on Friday and Saturday.  Thank goodness I had remembered to pack my Pisgah legs.

This is what I see when I enter "the pain cave."

One too many trips to the bathroom on race morning put me in the middle of the pack at the start.  On top of that I could not get my heart rate monitor to pick up.  The guys around me probably got some enjoyment watching me fiddle with my bra/boobage trying to get my heart rate strap to work.  It is a pretty important tool for me on race day.  My heart rate keeps me from not blowing up as well as not getting to pacified.

Mid-pack was not a good place for me to be as I had wanted to get into the first or second groups for the 9 mile pavement/gravel section up to Brushy Mountain.  Instead I had to slowly pace myself back up to the front over the next 5 miles all the while keeping my "feelers" out for those who are not as experienced racing in tight packs on loose gravel.

With about a mile to go before I hit the first single track, I caught up to Andrea and another woman (I suppose Jessica Rawlins).  Jessica was in a train with her team mates.  Wow!  I need that kind of support.  Andrea was in the near vicinity.  As I passed her I said, "Keep the rubber side down!"  Ummm, I think I jinxed her as she had a bad crash on the Womble.  Sorry, Andrea.

I passed several guys on the last climb leading to Brushy.  Funny, several of them dug really deep to pass me back so they would not get "stuck" behind a girl on the single track.  Needless to say, I eventually passed most of them back.

My race was almost over before it had really begun.  Just as I entered the single track, my bike chain-sucked BIG TIME!  Luckily I did not try to pedal through it as that would probably have cost me a broken chain.  It took me several minutes to work it out from between the big ring and the chain stay.  I was sweating bullets!  I had never had this happen to me where I could not back pedal out of it. (This chain suck happened as I was shifting the rear derailleur to an easier gear, the shifting was a bit slow to respond, and my shock was compressing at the same time too.  If anyone out in cyberspace has any advice, I'll take it!)

After fixing my bike, I settled into a comfortable rhythm, passing many a poor racer, who was on the side of the trail fixing a flat ... 9 to be exact, and that was just on Brushy!  After seeing this I took it a bit easier on the descents.  I would rather be a couple minutes slower than on the side of the trail throwing a tube in.

Coming down into the Big Brushy aid station, I was greeted with what seemed like hundreds of screams and well wishes.  By far the largest crowd that has been there since I started doing the race in 2006 ... a real motivator!

Photo by Suzanne Henne

Blowout Mountain was its usual toughness with an added element of "slicker n snot" rocks because of the heavy dew the night before.  No cleaning this trail at race pace today!  All the guys that I was among were off their bikes too.  Faster and safer to run the rock slide sections, for sure.

Chalybeate (pronounced Cleebit) Mountain was by far the tamest.  The hardest part was the initial climb, steep enough that at times I was wishing for a 24 x 36 instead of my 26 x 36.  All the tourists the day before kind of "horsed it up" with their hike-a-biking.  This is where I started to see some racers blow up.  I passed about 5 guys on this section.

The 8 mile gravel road/pavement section that takes you from the Ouachita Trail to the Womble trail was no man's land for me today.  With no one in sight I was on my own.  In previous races, I was able to hook up with a group, take my share of pulls, and then tuck in behind and coast.  Today was just all about putting my head down, getting as aero as one can on a Niner Jet 9 RDO, and focusing on pedal stroke.

The 5 guys I had passed on Chalybeate eventually caught me with about 1 mile to go, so I got a brief respite.  I stopped at the Hwy 298 aid station, refilled my Camelbak and gel flask, and listened to the volunteer giving stats.  First woman, 25 minutes behind leaders, x miles to next aid station, x miles to first zip-tie check, and x miles to finish.  I told him he had obviously done his home work.  These volunteers were in their finest today!

I got my second wind on the Womble and slowly reeled in one racer after another.  Each was a grape and I, the hungry fox!  Thirsty, too, as the temps were now in the mid-80's!  I chain sucked bad one more time.  Same thing:  slow up-shift in the rear with shock compression.  Arghhh!  Another few minutes stuck on the side of the trail.  After the second time, I had to rethink my whole shifting thing and unfortunately that slowed me down a bit.  Although in hindsight that may have been a good thing as I never once had any inklings of cramping.

Todd Henne gave me a good ice cold water dousing at the intersection of the Womble and FS 922. Thank you!  The remainder of the Womble was Happy!Happy!Joy! Joy! as the flow was just phenomenal.

The last gravel road climb back up to the final aid station was a kick in the behind as the sun just baked my backside.  Talk about HOT!  Once I crested the hill, it was mostly down hill with a nice tail wind.  I settled into a time trial pace.

Smelling the barn! (Photo by Suzanne Henne)

Instead of finishing up the pavement to the school, they made you grind up a steep grassy climb.  I imagined myself cramping with only yards to the finish a midst a hundred + spectators.  But that was not meant to be.  I crossed the line with a time of 5:33:46.

First place netted me some cash and an Ellsworth wheelset.  No waiting on podiums at the OC.  As you cross the line, they hand you your winnings.  Sweet!

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Zeke thought that the OC was not challenge enough on gears, so this time (his 7th) he raced his single speed.  He finished 10th out of 26 in the SS category and 103rd overall (260 starters).  Not bad for an old dawg!

Zeke crushed it today!

Then he drove for 11 hours to get me home in time to pull a 10 hour work day.  Now I call that a Weekend Warrior Triathlon.

Kudos to the amazing managment of this race and all the wonderful volunteers.  You Arkansans rock!