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!

Death March Revival

 I did the first edition of this race in 2017, back when mass starts were the norm.  It then went on a 2 year hiatus and ended up turning into an ITT this year (damn Covid).  I chose Black Friday to do the route. Because why else would I want to get up at 3 am? 

Not being on any structured training for the past 2 months, I chose to ride comfortably hard.  It is kind of hard for me to get into "race" mode when I am the only one that shows up at the start line at 5:40 am.  I kept my stops and picture taking to a minimum as I set a goal of a sub-9 hour attempt. I started super early to have enough of a daylight buffer in case something went wrong.  

I chose to ride "Ripley," my new Trek SuperCaliber with a SRAM AXS drivetrain and Specialized Renegade 1.95's.  She weighed in at 23 pounds (was outfitted with the AXS dropper post as well). The starting temperature was 36 degrees.  I was warm heading up Potato Patch.  The benefit to climbing this in the dark is that it doesn't feel near as long or steep as it truly is.  The sun just began to rise as I hit the intersection and turned left.  Have I mentioned how much I enjoy sunrise rides? It is this time of day when I am doing the thing I love that I am in awe of the beauty of the mountains and grateful I am able to do these Big Dumb Rides.

Fortunately I had ridden the climbs below my "sweat threshold," so I did not get cold descending FS17.  A bear was crossing the gravel as I rounded a corner, about halfway down.  I was not startled, but got him moving a little quicker by hootin' and hollerin' at him.  I was pleasantly surprised at how good the road conditions were and the bike just soaked up the chatter.  The only limiter on my speed was that it was still somewhat dark, as the sun had not risen over the mountain yet.

Once past the game check station, my hands and feet started freezing.  It was a little after 8 am, and I was still in the shade.  Brrrr!  I was looking forward to the Big Frog climb.  I leap-frogged with a pick up truck along this flattish stretch.  I momentarily was a little concerned for my safety, but figured he was more interested in deer than a dirty old woman.

I stopped at the piped spring to refill my bottles.  That slow dripping of water into my bottle got my bladder all excited, damn it!  Try unzipping a windbreaker with frozen fingers.  But I managed to get it done and not pee in my bibs.

The 6 mile undulating climb up to the high point of Big Frog was pretty tame.  I was feeling good, now that I had warmed back up, and the legs were singing "Happy" by Pharrell Williams.  Descending down off of Big Frog brought back memories of me flatting here in 2017, so I played cautiously.  It was nice to be able to see the roadbed, as two weeks ago it was covered in leaves.

Popping out on FS 221, I was pleasantly surprised by the firm smooth surface.  I had heard that the Forest Service was grading this section between Big Frog and the Whitewater Center.  I imagined a lot of loose chunked up dirt and rock, but obviously someone knew what the hell they were doing.  This made the going fast!  And the legs were still there, so it felt like I made short work of the next 10 miles.  

I crossed paths with Zeke as he was heading towards Big Frog.  He would be the only cyclist I would see all day.

Beyond the intersection of FS 45 and FS 221, the road got dicey, what with washouts and some mud.  The three bitches were their typical nasty self, but I motored right up them.  I had been fueling with Scratch and gels mostly and had one Honey Stinger GF waffle.  My energy was good, back was happy, and legs were churning out the watts. On my Garmin, I could see my overall average speed.  I have always been one to do math while riding and/or racing, so I was trying to keep my speed at/above 9.8 mph, thinking that if I could maintain this to Potato Patch, I could gain an additional 0.2 mph on the final descent and hit a sub-9.

About a half mile past the Tumbling Creek campground, Mr. Brown (UPS) past me going the opposite way.  WTF!  Where did he think he was heading?  Either he was following his whacked out GPS or he had a body to dump.  That kept my mind occupied until I hit the climb up to Dally Gap.  Gentle, with some rollers, I got this.  The shit hit the fan on the last pitch up to Dally.  And then it just kept going up hard to Watson Gap.  I had forgotten just how difficult this section was.  Now my legs began to say some bad words.

Finally I got a bit of reprieve on the rollers over to Watson Gap.  But then 2 miles of bonus SUCK before the descent down to Jack's River campground.  At one point, as I rounded a corner thinking I was finally there,  at the top ... but NOT, I yelled out loud, "Come the fuck on!"  And then I laughed at myself, knowing that I always have this low moment about 2/3 the way through any long event.

Before I started the 9 mile trip back up to Potato Patch, I had to stop and get off for some horse people coming down the gravel.  So I pulled out my King Size PayDay and had a moment of bliss, chewing on the sweet and salty candy bar.  I got to chew for a while as the horse train passed by.  

The first mile is the hardest, and then after that I just settled in to 70 minutes of just grinding away the miles.  I stopped by the piped spring and refilled one bottle ... and pee'd again.  I was back in the right mindset now and enjoyed the undulating climb.  I checked my average speed and saw that I was going to miss my goal, but not by much.  No worries, it was fun playing the game. 

As I turned left and gathered up speed, I yelled out in triumph.  It was now all downhill; even better was knowing that I would NOT have to make that horrendous climb on the Mulberry Gap property.  I just had to make it to the gate.  That 18 minute descent was friggin' spectacular.  I didn't even mind that short 1/4 mile climb back up to the finish.

Ripley was the perfect weapon for this course.  I could have done without the dropper though and would have saved a pound.  Hmmm, did that extra pound cost me 11 minutes?  Probably not.

I even got to see Ginni, the Master Chef, who after 15 years is retiring.  We had a nice long chat.  Hard to imagine she is 80 and still has spunk.  But it is time for her to pursue happiness elsewhere.  Her feisty attitude and soul-filled food will be missed.  She played a lead role in making MG what it is today.  No doubt the young pups, Kate and Andrew, will continue to improve upon what is already a great mountain getaway.

Skool of Hard Nox Race Report

I decided to finish out the year with a mountain bike race in Ackerman, Mississippi. I didn't even know Mississippi had single track. I mean, how hard could it be? Mississippi is flat as a pancake, right? After riding a section of the Natchez Trace two days before, racing on some fast and flowy single track would be a blast. So the next day, I went over to the venue and pre-rode the entire 27 mile course. Oop-sie! I would have definitely got the frowny face from Coach, but the weather was so stinkin' beautiful and it felt great to spend ALL day outside. So my 45 minute pre-ride turned into 4 hours of adventure. And lemme tell you. Mississippi single track is legit! Hell, a good portion was more like 1/2 track on bench cut trail carving around contours of hills and then diving down through ravines and climbing back up the other side. Good ole fashioned old school trail.

Even though the race start was at 8 am, it felt more like 10 am, due to Daylight Savings Time and traveling from Eastern Standard Time. There was the tradtional Lemans start; fortunately it was only about a 30 yard run. There were about 50 in the 2 lap race, so getting to my bike was smooth. The first mile was on pavement, so by the time I hit the single track, traffic had thinned out. Entering the single track, I noticed that someone had blown the leaves off the trail. Nice! I was wishfully thinking that perhaps the entire trail had been cleared of leaves. Yeah, that didn't happen. After the first half mile, I had to employ my surfing skills.

The second trail was Rabbit's Run. Aptly named, as it twisted tightly both left and right and up and down. This course was all about being efficiently fast: going just hard enough to flow through the corners, but not so hard that you had to brake check through the corners. That allowed me to conserve my energy for the short but punchy power climbs. It was a challenging course as it required 100% focus in order to stay on the trail. The stark shadows cast by the sun was an eye-ball bonus!

After about 5 miles of single track, the course followed some double track that climbed and descended over the next few miles. I had caught up to Jedi-Master Hardwick Gregg and should have been content to follow his wheel. But, I got sight of "the rabbit," and my inner Greyhound came out and so I passed him. I caught up to another racer and followed his wheel on the descent. When it flattened out, we were still carrying alot of speed when he hit a mudhole head on. Now, I had ridden this the day before and knew, knew, knew to go to the right. But it came upon me so quickly that I "lemming'd" on to his wheel and when I hit the mud, my mass was not enough to propel me through the slop. I went from 15mph to 0 in a wheel length. Fortunately I did not endo into the mud pit, but I managed to thoroughly coat my bike in mud, and be passed by several racers, including Hardwick. Lesson learned ... again!

After some switchback and landslide tech on Three Bridges Trail, it was on to RockCrusher Trail. You could see the love that was poured into this one, what with the rocky step-ups, and rock armored switchbacks. I felt kinda bad for the trail builder tho' (forgot his name), as rocks in Tombigee National Forest are scarce. I think he used every single rock in the area and was still about 1500 short. At the top of the climb on RockCrusher, a volunteer had a small aid station with Halloween candy. I was in full racer mode or I would have stopped as I eye'd several Reese's Cups. The descent off the backside was open, fast, and flowy fun.

Sheep's Ranch Trail was the longest trail at 4.3 miles. There was nothing particularly special about this one, other than it seemed to go by fast. Of all the trails, it probably flowed the best. I had been following Hardwick since I had caught back up to him after my mud hole incident, but it was here that he slowly began to pull away from me. I enjoyed following him, as his pace was super consistent and watching him made it easier for me to react to the trail conditions hidden by the leaves. 

 Charlotte's Web Trail was AWFUL. A spider web of roots that felt like I was operating a jackhammer instead of a full suspension bike. There was a brief respite of gravel road in the middle that offered up some relief before hitting the second section. I was happy that all my teeth were mine, as any "false" ones would have rattled out of my head. After the thousand roots, I was able to pick the speed back up on a couple miles of fast dirt roads that took me over to the last two trails in the 27 mile loop. Both Beaver Lodge and Lakeside Trail were flat and fast. I had to be careful on the Lakeside Trail as it was more of a fine gravel path than single track. The corners were sketchy loose, but the multiple bridges had ample traction as they were dry. A short punchy grassy climb up to the Start/Finish line and after 2 hours 53 minutes, Lap 1 was done.

 I rolled over to my truck and refilled my CamelBak and headed back out for Lap 2. I had passed Hardwick in the transition area, but his transition time was quicker and I saw him go by as I was still refueling. Having now seen the full lap twice, the course seemed to flow better, as the body memory took control guiding me through the leaves and over the roots and rocks. However, the roots seemed to grow 2 inches since the first lap and the grunty climbs multiplied. I rode the second lap all alone, but that was fine by me. My eyes and brain were able to relax a little and I found myself thinking about this Covid year. Although, it has been extremely hard, painful, or full of sorrow for so many, my family and I have been very fortunate that we have been able to a somewhat normal year. My husband has now begun to have real banquets and the money has been flowing very well for the ducks. Even though UTK did not work out for Carly, she has since gotten a steady job and will be starting Cleveland State in the spring. And I have had a very successful year as both a veterinarian and bike racer. I have been able to do 10 races, several big dumb rides, and raise over $8000 for my local animal shelter. 

 I did stop at the top of the RockCrusher Trail climb to claim a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup, but they were all gone. Noooo ....! I had the disappointment of a trick or treater when looking into the candy bowl only to see candy corn. Dang it! I had been looking forward to that corn syrup and hydrogenated vegetable oil filled peanut butter goodness! So I snagged a mini Hershey's bar and motored on. I rolled across the finish line in 5:54. My second lap was only 7 minutes slower; not too shabby. I climbed on to the top box and claimed my coaster and bag o'coffee.

A big thanks to Wendi and Jason Shearer for keeping the racing alive. Even though the numbers were capped at 100, they opted to go through the headache and hard work of having a race (where they were probably lucky to break even) to support our passion.