PMBAR Race Report

Riding Blaze, my Top Fuel

I had not planned to do this race, but when Kip's partner had to bail, I jumped at the opportunity.  For one, it is one of my all time faves, and two, Kip and I have partnered up before (Double Dare) and he is THE BEST team mate: strong, supportive, and always positive. The weather was un-Pisgah Productions like:  warm and dry.  I did not have to layer up, I only packed a rain jacket because it was a mandatory item, and I left my shower cap at home.

No stupid pet tricks and no prologue, Thank God!

I leaned heavily on Kip's 14 years of PMBAR experience and trail knowledge.  While I knew the forest pretty well, Kip knew it like his back yard, especially since he just raced it last fall.  It was nice to plot out our course at the Start/Finish (with a HR of 70), as opposed to racing up Black and then stopping at Pressley Gap (gasping for air at a HR of 160+). With well oxygenated brains, we decided to to for Squirrel Gap first.

Most everyone else was in front of us, so we took a leisurely pedal up Black ... if you can call an average HR of 155, in the granny gear, leisurely.  Halfway up, I heard a voice from the dead call out my name from behind.  It was Scott "Smooshie" Harper, partnered up with Eric "Dirty Diesel" Henderson.  It had been several years since I have enjoyed Scott's company.  Seeing him gave me all sorts of good energy.  They were on SS and so only had one speed:  hard AF!

We were silent as we headed to Pressley Gap, immersed in our own thoughts about 4 or 5 CP's, do we skip Bradley and just go for 4, or do we go for all 5 and hope we have enough energy at the end to make the 5th one productive.  By nabbing 5 you get a 2 hour time bonus, but you don't want it to take 2 hours to get the 5th one, or the time just cancels itself out.  When we hit the top, we decided to go for Bradley Creek/FS 5015 next, followed by Trace Ridge, and Fletcher Creek.  Then at that time reassess going for the 5th one at Pilot Cove.

South Mills --> Buckhorn --> Squirrel seemed like a more funner way to CP #1 as opposed  to South Mills --> FS 476 --> Funnel Top --> Horse Cove --> Squirrel Gap.  We were not sure if it would be any faster, but at least I would get to ride more of my favorite trail, Squirrel Gap.  Fast forward 30 minutes later and I was giving all the roots on Squirrel a good cussin.'  Having not ridden technical trail since The Snake Creek Gap TT, I was definitely rusty.  Kip probably got a chuckle here and there, at me cussing my favorite trail. 

We nabbed the first CP at 10:30;  2 1/2 hours to cover 16 miles. Pretty standard for Pisgah. We had been yo-yo'ing with several other coed teams, none of who I knew.  All I could say is that they were all podium contenders, for this race relies heavily on navigational skills, overall fitness, and just a downright doggedness to finish. 

We then rode Squirrel Gap over to Laurel Creek.  I let Kip take the lead here, as I knew this was a tricky and often times sketchy, muddy, descent riddled with slimy water bars.  And I didn't want anyone behind me giving that NASCAR push.  Two-thirds of the way down, I see Kip unwrapping himself from his bike.  Apparently a guy was walking down "the line" and Kip decided to hit the alternate, which when he dropped his front wheel over the water bar, it sunk up to the axle in mud, catapulting him down the trail in a somersault fashion.  Fortunately only his pride was hurt and with a quick wrench of the handle bars, he straightened everything out.

It was tight riding to the intersection of FS 5015 because the rhododendrons had enveloped the trail.  I took it conservative, since I was riding blindly through the thick underbrush.  We arrived at CP #2 at 11:24 am with 21 miles in our legs. We got our passports stamped, took a nature break, and shoved some food down our pie holes. 

Bradley Creek/FS 5015 CP

Kip could have refilled that bottle by wringing out his shirt.

FS 5015 was off-limits, so we were afforded the opportunity to see the trail work on Bradley Creek the local horse group of Pisgah did, taking out 30+ trees (or was it 60+?).  Despite the work, we still had to push our bikes for a majority of the trail and there were still about another 30+ trees down to negotiate.  At least the 11 creek crossings were only knee deep and the water was refreshing.  Rich Dillen and Watts Dixon passed us during this walking section (they were hauling ass!)  How were they behind us?  

Since we had so much time on our hands to think, while walking, we were trying to do the math on our competition.  Some teams we had passed (we thought), and we were leap frogging one on this section. We saw a couple teams coming down Bradley Creek:  were they coed or female?  As good as we could surmise, we were at least in the top 5 (there were 13 coed teams).  Kip seemed to be in a more competitive mood than I. I was just wanting a good day playing bikes ... that mindset would change later.

Once up on FS1206, we motored over to North Mills.  Just 30 yards before the bath rooms where we were stopping for water, there was a team filtering water from a creek. 😆😆😆... poor rookies! Here I refilled my CamelBak, took a modern nature break in the rest room, re-lubed with Chamois Butt'r, and ate some more food.

Saving my ass one race at at time

Then we began the arduous climb up FS5000 to Spencer Gap to Trace Ridge, CP #3.  At 5 miles long and 1000 feet of gain, we had plenty of time to make small talk.  This section brought back the hilarious story riding the North Mills area trails with only a front brake.  You see, several years ago, my friend and I did a bike-cation here.  Prepping for the trip, I was in somewhat of a rush to remount a tire on my rear wheel in which I just had the rim replaced.  Fast forward to starting the Spencer Ridge descent and the rear brake didn't seem to have any power. Upon stopping and inspecting the issue, I had forgotten to put the brake rotor back on 😝.  Oh well, I must have survived, because here today I was going to experience that descent again, with full stopping power!

We arrived at the Trace Ridge CP, our 3rd one, at 1:28pm, and 33 miles ridden.  Allie was manning the station and had trays of homemade goodies.

Oasis at top of Trace

Holy moly!  So scrumptious!

I ended up eating 3 of the chocolate chip/peanut butter/oatmeal/coconut balls.  Kip was enjoying all the food, what with a wrap in one hand and a ball in the other.  He made a sad face when I told him the picnic was over and that we needed to go go go.  The racer in me, now with a belly full of goodness was ready to haul butt to our next checkpoint.  

The Spencer Gap descent was sh!ts and giggles all the way down.  I think Kip wanted to go faster, but after the Laurel Creek mishap, the mother hen in me made him follow me.  As we were railing down Spencer, we had to slow for two racers HAB'ing up.  WTH?!?  I am not sure that was the wisest of route choices.  "Bless their hearts."  

At the intersection of Spencer, Fletcher, and Middle Fork, we had to head south on Fletcher to get to the next CP.  We both had a confused look on our face, trying to figure out which way to go.  We decided to follow the the section that appeared to have more traffic.  Fortunately we guessed correctly and soon arrived at our 4th CP, at 1:50 pm, 36 miles into our day.  Looking back in hind sight, I don't know why we had such a hard time deciding which way to go on Fletcher.

Fletcher Creek CP

No sooner had we had our passport stamped when Lea and TJ rolled up.  Where the heck had they come from?  Kip knew this team and had told me how strong they were.  We had leap-frogged a little with them in the beginning, but had not seen them since the second CP.  With my racing blood now reaching the boiling point, I was anxious to take off.  Meanwhile, Kip was giving away our tactics as TJ asked questions about how we getting to the finish.  I gave Kip the "stink-eye," motioning him to c'mon.  However, it did make me ponder on whether or not they were going for Pilot Cove, since they didn't ask how we were approaching that one.

Finishing the descent on Fletcher, we came upon another team hiking up ... poor newbie souls.  Once we backtracked down FS5000, we began climbing back up to Yellow Gap.  Even though the fatigue monster was grabbing at my rear wheel, I dug deep to find every available watt to try and put as much distance between us and Lea/TJ. Once at the top there was a bit of a reprieve as we continued on FS1206, bypassing the first entrance to Pilot Cove.  

We were going to do an out/back at the west entrance.  Our only question was to stay straight on Pilot Cove-Slate Rock or right onto the Pilot Cove Loop, once we entered the single track.  Kip saw a team ahead of us and rode up to them to gather some intel.  Based on what they told Kip, we opted to just stay on Pilot Cove-Slate Rock.

I have only ridden this trail twice in my life so I forgot about the nice but short meandering path that led to a 10-15 minute HAB.  Now, I don't mind HAB's as it gives me a break from sitting on the bike.  However, today this one almost made me cry for Mommy.  I don't think Kip has seen this side of me before, but even a former QOP (Queen of Pisgah) can have her low moments. 

My calves were shot, especially the left one.  I felt a couple twinges of a cramp coming on; fortunately it never happened, but oh, they were tight!  Finally we crested the top.  I was thinking we were there, but we had to descend a couple hundred yards to the CP.   It was now 3:45 and we had gone 48 miles. Bryan, the one manning it, was filtering water for everyone.  That was a life-saver, as we were both running on empty.  A quick refill had us turning around and HAB'ing back up.  The descent back down was not easy and required more effort than I wanted to give ... me tired!  It had taken us an hour (just as Kip had predicted) for us to nab that final CP, so that was a small victory in netting an hour to our advantage.

Now all we had to do was make our way back to the finish.  Having not seen TJ and Lea, we assumed they didn't try to nab a fifth one.  So that just left us thinking about any teams that might have done the route clockwise.  Bryan had told us we were the first ones with 5 CP's in the CCW direction, but that two teams had come through his check earlier in the day in the CW direction.  

We went FS1206 --> FS476 --> South Mills --> Buckhorn --> Clawhammer --> Pressley --> Black.  We figured it would be a 2 hour push to the finish.  I was poop dog tired, but kept trying to rally.  At the intersection of Black and Clawhammer, I waited on Kip as he stopped to filter one more bottle.  There was a fellow there, didn't see his partner, but he was debating going up and over Black or taking the gravel over to the final descent on Black.  He also told me he was 60 miles in and only had 2 CP's ... ouch!  I advised the gravel back.

The climb back up to Pressley involved tales of rattlesnakes and what's for supper.  I was now smelling the barn.  And with the new re-route on Black, there would be no more HAB.  I let Kip take the lead down Black, but mothered him to riding safely within his means.  Together we crossed the finish line at 6 pm, 65 miles and 9700 feet of climbing later.  

Eric told us that we were the first coed team to get all 5 CP's.  We nearly knocked each other over leaping and hugging one another.  That was a mighty fine, but hard day playing bikes.  We were both stoked, as this was Kip's first PMBAR podium, and the top step at that.  Mr. Positivity pulled my sinking spirits upwards more than once.  And for the first time ever, I got all the check points and had ridden the most efficient route to get them.  We only took the map out twice during the day, which made me feel that I finally earned my Pisgah "stripes."  I do believe this was Kip's first time finishing in daylight.  

We were both a little disappointed that buckles were only given to the men's podium.  Not as much for me, but for Kip, so that he could proudly wear a Pisgah Productions buckle.  Because those are hard fought and hard earned.

Kip, I had the ride of my life.  This was the "easiest" PMBAR yet.  But how could it not be, with you at the helm.  Thanks for the support, friendship, the laughs, the ponderings, and telling me about your little 💜issue AFTER the race was over 😲.  If you need a pinch hitter for 2023, count me in.

Eric, thanks for doing what you do.  Your events are the hardest ever (in my book) and constantly challenge my mental fortitude as well as my physicality.  The day after was one of the worst bike hangovers ever.

War Daddy Race Report

 

John and I with THE Trevor Wells, Kentucky's greatest storyteller and ex-pro "brakeless" bike racer

This race is touted as THE hardest gravel race in Kentucky, what with 68 miles and 9500 feet of climbing.  You know it is when 95% of the bikes are mountain bikes and the lead out vehicle is a side by side. Every type of terrain is in this race: pavement, chip seal, gravel, chunky two track, ORV trail, single track, a creek, and finishing it off with an abandoned coal mine.  It is a perfect blend such that you actually feel like you are going somewhere and not just riding in circles, thinking you have repeated a section. I chose to race Ripley, my Trek SuperCaliber with 2.2 XR1 tires.

 

This was the first race of the year where I felt really ready.  I had decided to defer the Big Frog 65 to 2023, knowing that my body is not quick to recover from back to back races.  My hip injury had finally resolved, putting me in a much better mindset.  Having tapered and rested well for Saturday, feelings of doubt crept into my head after John and I did a short ride after arriving at Mary Breckenridge's Wendover, which is where we stayed for the race. My legs felt really heavy during the ride as well as after when I had to climb two flights of stairs up to my room. 

I had convinced John Switow to join me on this adventure, especially after he MADE me to the 110 mile course of the Appalachian Journey; I had initially only planned on doing the 65.  And, knowing the photographer that he is, he would capture the course on film, from which I could then steal for my blog.  Poor guy, I use and abuse him all the time, but he still plays bikes with me 😆😆😆 

I had raced this back in 2019 and so got the traveling trophy, a WW1 helmet, that the winner gets to sign and then bring back to the following year's event.  Well, 2020 didn't happen (COVID), and then in 2021, I had wanted to race it, but Marji Gesick was the same weekend.  Julie Durkee won the race in 2021 and was back to defend the title.  There was no doubt I was nervous about this slightly built, yet powerful woman, who could not only climb like a goat, but fly on the flats.

After a great night's sleep, I was able to kit up with the sleeveless jersey.  Starting temperature was 61 degrees!  Highs were supposed to reach the mid-70's, with no rain in the forecast.  About ... damn ... time! It was a shotgun style start ... meaning once Trevor "shotgunned" a can of Busch, it was go time.  

The start was a 5 mile neutral roll out through the town of Hyden.  Neutral enough that I could actually carry on a conversation with others.  This was a perfect 20 minute warm up for my engine. A few people came out to cheer us on, including one that had a sign saying, "It is OK to cry."  😂😂😂 The race was on when the Sheriff's car pulled off at mile 5.  The humming of 100+ tires on this one lane country road kept the dogs at bay, as not one wanted to tangle with what sounded like a swarm of African honey bees.

At mile 7, the first big climb (paved), Owl's Nest, let me know that my legs had come to play.  Dare I say "sparkly" so early in the race? Even with pitches of 18%, the legs did not bark. That put the needle square in the middle of "F*ck yeah" on my confidence meter.

Julie passed me about 1/2 way up.  Not wanting to burn any matches, I let her go, but kept her in sight. Once I reached the top, I knew the descent was going involve a lot of drifting through the loose gravel.  Feeling I could faster, I passed by Julie, bidding her a fun day, and then let 'er rip!  I didn't go above my pay grade, but I was living on the edge. I did get squirrelly one time, but fortunately had enough road to ride it out.

This gravel road rolled on a bit with a few more small climbs and descents.  A couple of guys joined me on this section, for which I was grateful:  Rico, Harry, and another fella whose name I did not get.  Popping out on River Road, I was fortunate to be in a group.  Harry, who had meat sticks that could push a sh!t ton of watts, led a fast pace along this smooth section of pavement and gravel.  I was still pedaling comfortably hard in his wake.  I may have burnt a match or two staying on Harrly's wheel.  But I also knew that Julie was just behind me and was an absolute hammer on the flats.  I did pop a couple of times, but managed to latch back on when the road tilted upwards a short piece.  

I did not stop at Aid Station 1, as I still had 1 full bottle.  I noted my time of 1hour 17 minutes, which was darn near close to my 2019 time.  How did I know that, you ask?  Because even I read my race reports for the beta.

The second climb, War Baby, came at mile 21.  Although it was only 1.3 miles long, it averaged 8.3% and saw grades of 18, 23, and 28% pop up on my Garmin. Even though it was mostly paved, the steeper pitches were loose gravel.  The legs never whimpered and I was able to give 'r to the top.  Gone were the mud bogs of 2019; so I was able to send it straight down the descent off the backside.  I parted ways with Harry, who was riding a rigid hardtail.  Later that evening at Wendover, while waiting to shower, we discovered that we had both attended TMI Academy in Sweetwater, Tenessee, during the early 80's.  Crazy how that happens.

Halfway down was where the road became a creek for about a half a mile.  Employing Trevor Tip #1, I "saw the line and became the line," which was pretty much following the flow of the creek water.  Amazing what 60mm of rear travel can do, as I was able to pass a couple of fellas on this section.

Confluence Road after the creek descent.

Confluence Road, after the watery descent

A short respite of "flattish" dirt roads with a few scattered mud holes and short creek crossings led me over to the War Dwarf climb at about mile 25.  I was on fire, in a good way, and able to utilize Trevor Tip #2: hard charge it.  And so I did making quick work of this climb, alternating between sitting/spinning and standing/hammering.

Off the backside was a sick sweet 1-lane pavement descent aptly named Hell For Certain because it went down, down, down.  Don't tell my mother but I hit 43 mph here!  Then another short but buttery smooth section of pavement followed by a left-hander onto Twist-n-Sourwood.  This is one of my favorite gravel roads.

Twist-n-Sourwood climb: smooth gravel and 5% average grade

This 2 mile climb had me in my happy place, what with all the eye candy.  Aid Station #2 (mile 32) was at the top.  This is where I refilled my bottles with Gu energy provided by the race, and washed down a Salted Caramel Gu with a cold Coke ... heaven!  Once again, I glanced at my Garmin and was only a few minutes down from my 2019 time.  

I found myself in single speeder mode along Grannie's Branch.  This was some mighty fine ridge line riding with nice rollers where I could stand and hammer up the short climbs and then sit and enjoy the short descents.  The flow along this 4 mile section was SA-WEET!

It only got better as Grannie's ended with a 2 mile baller descent down to Aid Station #3 (mile 42).  I didn't stop at this one either.  The next 5 miles was my Achilles heel:  5 miles of pancake flat asphalt.  I tried to TT it, but even with my hands resting just on either side of the stem and spinning a 80+ cadence, I just didn't seem to be getting anywhere ... oh, and a head wind.  About 2/3 into this less than pleasant section, Harry and another come ripping by me like they were on e-bikes.  I waited too late to jump on and just floundered in their wake ... meh.

I couldn't wait to see the War Daddy climb; am I crazy to dislike the flats?!?  Finally off the pavement and slowly climbing up to the ultimate beasty climb of the day, I was getting excited!  And there it be:  1 mile of nasty gnarly chunky steep AF enhanced gravel, at an average grade of 11%.  I shifted up to the pie plate and began climbing one pedal stroke at a time.  This was the only climb with limited shade and at 12:45pm it was getting hot!  Bring it, Ken-tuc-ky!  Is this all you got?  I was groovin', enjoying the punishing climb, because this is what living it about!  The sparkle was definitely in me today.  I caught back to Harry and the other fella, tried to give them some words of encouragement, passed them, and didn't see them again until after I finished.

At the top of War Daddy, the climbing doesn't stop.  Another 5 miles of rollers to Aid Station #4.  These rollers were not as tame as those on Grannie's Branch, but still had a decent amount of flow that you could use momentum to your advantage if you didn't touch your brakes.  Using every bit of body english and both sides of the road, I tried to expend as little energy as possible, because I knew the last 13 miles was going to be an SOB.

I stopped at the final aid station to fill one bottle and enjoy another cold Coke.  This time I just grabbed the whole can, instead of the little "pee" cups they had at Aid #2. No sooner had I pulled out of the aid station to begin a nice gravel descent, I came upon at least 10 horseman coming up towards me.  Dag nab it!  I stopped, got off my bike, and began walking.  The lead horse was still acting spooky, so then I picked up my bike and carried it.  Apparently, they don't like hearing the "buzz" of my Industry 9's as much as I do.  Soon they were past me and I was able to remount just in time for a hard right and a steep climb.

And then the Redbird Crest Trail began.  This moto trail is very similar to the Tibbs Trail in North Georgia.  Chunkified, steep, and off-camber.  It was during this 2 mile ascent that I had no less than 5 dirt bikes pass me.  This trail is hard enough to manage when you are in your own little world of hurt; now imagine trying to stay upright and give way to motos spitting dirt and noise at you.  Fortunately, the dudes were polite and took the more difficult line; a few even gave me hoots and hollers of encouragement.

Once at the top, it leveled off (kind of) and I could not believe how good of shape the trail was in.  Had it not been for the 2 HAB's that I remembered, I would have swore I was riding different trail than in 2019,  Kudos to the TrailSick crew and others who put in a lot of hours of hard work cleaning out 6 miles of trail.  As opposed to the umpteenth number of mudholes in 2019, this year there were 5.  The trail was in such good shape, I popped out onto the mining property in record time.

Smelling the barn, I put the remainder of my energy into hammering out this section that ran through an abandoned coal strip mine.  After about 15 minutes, I kept expecting to see the final descent just around the next corner.  Well that corner turned into another that turned into another that turned into another.  You see where I am going with this.  I was slowly dying up here and I could swear that this mine had grown in the last 3 years.

And it wasn't flat by any means; it just kept on undulating.  I think it was here that I finally cracked and let out a Yosemite Sam rant.  That final descent down to the finish line never tasted so good!  I came under the arch with a time of 5:41 and took the "W."  I was only a minute slower than in 2019!  I was super stoked with my result, considering how miserable (physically) I felt during the Appalachian Journey just 3 weeks ago.

After recovering with another ice cold Coke, a sponge bath, and a change of clothes, I hung out at the finish waiting on John, and just enjoying the stoke.  It is so good to have that spark back; I just wish I knew the formula, as it seems to be constantly changing.  Oh, well, I should and try to live in the moment and be gracious that I can do this at all.

Reclaiming the helmet!

John ended up having a good race as well, beating his expected time by 15 minutes.  And after subjecting him to a truly "enhanced" gravel race, we are still friends.

That evening, the racers were treated to an afterparty prepared by John Maggard's family and close friends, including the mayor.  The food was bountiful and amazing and getting to hang around the fire and meet new friends and catch up with old ones was a bonus.  Moonshine and bourbon was plentiful; people enjoyed, but did not get stupid.

This is by far, one of my favorite gravel races.  I love the small town grassroots flavor.  You could see the love that the race director has for the area that he lives in.  And the town supported him fully!  The schwag, finishing award, and podium awards were flowing over.  No one left this race hungry.

Good times and great memories that I will cherish forever.  Writing this just a few days after the event has kind of left me #trailsick.  Fortunately I have a trophy that has to be returned to next year's event, so I guess I am going!

  

Appalachian Journey Long Doggie Race/Ride Report

300+ miles of gravel in Floyd County, Virginia

The Appalachian Journey was long overdue.  Covid put a hold on this duo format (team mates had to stay within 5 minutes of each other) gravel race for two years.  This race was the brainchild of SS Slugger Gordon Wadsworth and Deadly Shredly Emily Hairfield).  I signed up for the inaugural version and was so so glad to finally see it on the calender for this year.  There were 3 distances: 35, 65, and 110. 

My training plan had been fine tuning my engine and I was ready to rumble with my good friend John Switow, who wasn't skeert to tackle another BDR with me. Having made it two years without nary an illness, including Covid, of course I would be full body tackled by a head cold the week leading up to the race. I did everything in my power to recover quickly; Vitamin C, Zinc, all the protein, and lots of rest.  I felt pretty good when I checked out the first 5 miles of the course on Friday, but that may have said more about the 17mph tailwind than my actual recovery.

Race day morning came early: 7:30am was go time and it was cold  (26 degrees F). Knowing I had the option to shed and drop clothing at the 3rd aid station, I wore all the layers (heavy wool base, arm/leg warmers, wind jacket, and chemical warmers sandwiched in between two layers of gloves, and chemical warmers in my shoes). 

5, 4, 3, 2, 1 ... GO!  The race started out on a descent followed by two sketchy loose gravel turns. I rode cautiously, but fortunately everyone played nice. The first two climbs were spicy: steep and loose. That got my engine warm real quick.  But still cold enough that my fingers froze and I would not feel them again for a couple hours.

The country gravel roads of Virginia are amazingly beautiful but narrow: about 1-1/2 car widths wide.  So extra caution was necessary when taking the blind turns as it is even easier to become a hood ornament here as opposed to back home in Tennessee.

The first 10 miles or so went by at a comfortably hard pace.  The contending teams slowly pulled away from us, but I knew that the day would be long, so I did not get caught up in the early race fast pace pressure. I was feeling good. If I didn't burn any matches early on, I felt confident we would eventually see them again.   

The early morning sun was creating a serious strobe light effect on the roads, making it difficult to see any pot holes or road debris. John and I took turns pulling, as the pack had thinned out and we were essentially on our own.  We didn't say much as it was still too cold to talk; it didn't get out of the 30's until 10am. 

Just one of a hundred vistas 

At mile 16 was Aid Station #1.  We deferred as we had ample nutrition and hydration still aboard.  The route continued to roll up and down on Virginia's high plateau.  For most of the day, the elevation was between 2300 and 2700 feet.  At one point, I jokingly said to John that if I ended up not having a good race, I would use the altitude as an excuse.

At mile 28 was the first of two big descents of the day. At two miles and 1000 feet of loss, it was steep, twisty, and was icy in spots.  I felt like I was crawling down it, but it was too early in the race to take risks.  After all that descending, the legs barked when the first sustained climb of the day began just a few minutes later.  Climbing 900 feet in 4.5 miles,  I knew it would take a minute or so for the climbing legs to come back.  But ... the check engine light came on 1/2 way up. Uh Oh!  I was not getting enough compression to move the cylinders.  Come on legs!  I stood and pedaled thinking that perhaps using the muscles a different way would help.  But nope!  Legs were dying.

I stayed positive and added some more fuel to the tank.  I always have low moments, but usually not this early in the race (2 1/2 hours in).  I stayed focused and patiently waited for them to start firing again.  At the top was the second aid station (mile 35).  We stopped and I filled one of my bottles and grabbed some Gu's.  This was the Chamois Butt'r Aid Station and they had ALL the fixin's, including bacon!  As much as I wanted to throw down some, I knew better. My engine woulda definitely sputtered on a two stroke fuel mix.

Better than Cracker Barrel 📷: Bruce Buckley

The next few miles were mostly downhill on Lick Ridge Road.  I had thoughts of licking my wounds (lack of power), hoping that would make things better for the second big climb soon to come.  Last thing I wanted was to disappoint John, but he would later tell me that he was on the struggle bus as well.

Trying to keep the spirits high

The second sustained climb started at mile 43:  4 miles and 1300 feet of gain.  I was feeling better, dare I even say frisky!  Those two Gu shots plus the eye candy on this climb was all I needed to feel better.  However, John was in a dark place here, so while I settled into my pace, I did begin to whip out my phone and start taking pictures.  It was at this point that I decided to let the race go, and turn this into a wonderful ride.  

Fisher's View Road Climb

Once on top, it rolled for a bit and then we were greeted to a 5 Mile Mountain Distillery oasis. Knowing the "race" was over, there was no better time to "fall off the wagon," and enjoy some small batch moonshine.  I selected the Elderberry and the first went down so smooth, I had a second!  Man, how I could have used that a few hours ago to warm my belly!

This ... was ... amazing!

Aid Station 3 (mile 53) was run by Cardinal Bicycle Company.  This was where our drop bags were.  We refilled bottles and stripped some layers off (it was finally warm 'ish at 12:30pm). I  ate a banana and grabbed a couple more gels.  I opted to just use their hydration (Gu Roctane) to fill my bottles, but just in case, I diluted it 50/50.  Thank goodness I did because the first taste I had was whoppingly potent!  Full strength woulda been like syrup! While John continued to stuff his shed layers into his 1 gallon ZipLoc, I soft pedaled away and took a pee break.

Plenty of bike parts but no spare legs.

So here is when the course began to test my mettle.  At 60 miles in (with 50 to go), it was "death by a thousand kickers!"  The course profile resembled a shark's mouth.  My earlier "friskiness" turned into a death march.  John was right there with me in misery.  Had it not been for the "eye candy" it would have been easy to pull the plug and call Mommy.  But wait, there was no Mom van to rescue us.  We were in this to the bitter end.  Fortunately the absolute beauty of the countryside helped keep our minds off the pain and enjoy the beauty of Floyd County.

Up, Up, Up

Several of these kickers hit 22-23% grade!  On one of them a photog was at the top.  I had been contemplating walking, but then I looked up and saw him.  Oh, hell no!  He was all the motivation I needed to make it up that sum bitch!

📷: Bruce Buckley

All these short steep AF punchy climbs were beginning to take their toll.  After the 343rd one, I stopped and waited on John.  As he rolled up, he mumbled something about needing a gel.  I heard him, so when I saw him hand me a Gu Liquid Energy, in my oxygen deprived state, I thought he wanted me to open it for him.  So I did, all the while watching him pull out some shot blocks and stuff them into his pie hole.  Then we motored on; shortly thereafter, I asked him how that gel tasted.  He replied, "I didn't eat it; I put it back in my saddle bag."  Whoops!  I told him I opened it for him to which his reply was an expletive.  Why he handed it to me was so I could take a look at it because we had talked about this new gel in the drive up to Virginia.  Well, now it was leaking all over his other saddle bag items.  And in the dog house I went!

Aid Station 4 came at the 85 mile mark.  It was being run by a bakery ... OMG!  Too bad so sad I have celiac or I would have lingered for awhile sampling the delicious treasures.  So while John partook of the smorgasbord, I looked at my Garmin:  11, 000 feet of gain so far.  Wait one minute!  That number was supposed to be for the full 110 miles.  We still had 25 to go!  Can I raise the white flag please?

But as John hopped back on his bike, I remembered something he told me way back when we did the Fried Clay 200K:  you always have 25 miles left in ya!  O.k. let's do this, then!  Even though a good majority of the remaining 25 was pavement, it still hurt!  I remember thinking that I felt slower on the pavement as opposed to the gravel.  Anyway these last 25 felt like time and space were disconnected:  I was in slow motion yet time was moving at 2X.

Views like this helped greatly with mindset.

It was hard to enjoy the last 10 or so miles.  All I wanted was to be DONE.  John, too.  His legs mutinied on a climb, locking up, and he had to walk a 100 yards or so before they went away.  Fortunately it was a one and done with cramping for him. Finally we saw the left hand turn onto the last 2 miles that we initially came out on 10 hours ago.

Two more kickers, just for good measure, and then we were crossing the finish line.  What a hard fought day.  Although we both struggled, fortunately when one of us was down, the other was up.  And together we helped each other cross that finish line smiling!  If it was easy, it wouldn't be fun.  You get to know your true self and your partner during your darkest moments. Needless to say, John is one positive dude!

Today was not about the competition but about the camaraderie.  And I enjoyed every minute of John's company.  But I did have a few small victories:  cleaning that hellacious climb and a hub deep creek crossing and becoming the local legend of this 😂😂😂

Thank you Gordon and Emily for showing us, challenging us, and allowing us to enjoy the riches of your backyard.  Can't say I will do it again, but give me a day or two to feel human again.

For those of you contemplating this one, you will not be disappointed.  Good schwag, good food, and a well marked gorgeous course (I could have done it without the GPS). The gravel/dirt roads were for the most part very smooth.  Occasionally some washboards, but no wash outs or holes of death.  I ran 40mm tires which were perfect.  

Southern Cross Race Report -- Chaperoning Jayden Randall

Once again, I would be hanging (tongue out, eyes bulging) with Jayden as she raced the 30 mile junior event.  I was happy that Lisa had asked me to do so.  After warning me that Jayden was much stronger this year, I opted to race my SuperCaliber.  Last year, riding my gravel bike, I was just barely able to hang onto her wheel on the descents.

Mother Nature blessed us with 54 degrees at the start, although misty and overcast.  Mass starts were in effect again and Lisa would be leading us in her vehicle in a neutral roll out -- hmmph!  I, along with all the other adult chaperones, were immediately dropped along the winery roads.  It took me 4 miles to finally catch up to Jayden; granted, I wasn't going all out, but I was definitely pushing a hard tempo.  I think next year, the chaperones should have a 5 minute head start.

During the initial rolling gravel leading to Winding Stair, I could tell Jayden was not firing on all cylinders.  I encouraged her to eat/drink, in case it was a nutrition thing.  But as we made our way up Winding Stair, her engine began to sputter.  It was killing me that I could not do a darn thing to help, other than to keep the conversation positive.  Maybe she went to hard initially and burned a couple matches; I had told her the night before that if she could draft off others on the initial pavement (without going above comfortably hard), she could get some free speed.  Perhaps she overdid it,  or maybe it was just all that bike fun she had in Florida, the week prior to SX week.

Once we hit the rollers leading over to Cooper's she came alive a little more. Especially on the descents.  Whoa Nelly, that girl can send it!  Jayden made good time over to Cooper's Gap.  Just before the descent began, I told her to take a gel and then have fun and send it hard!  Now last year, I was fearful for her safety;  this year, I wasn't worried about her, but about me.  It was all I could do to keep up with her.  She was crushing it, passing several men and boys in the process.  Thank goodness for full suspension and 2.2 tires.  Cooper's was rough and even more blown out than last year.

The final pavement miles back to the winery were hard.  Had she been on her game, I definitely would have been in the pain cave. Jayden finished off the last half mile of trail, crossed the creek like a pro, and pushed it up the grassy hill, to finish in 3rd with a time of 2:29:45.  Despite Jayden having a rough day, her time was the same as last year.  Had she been on her game, I would have been a hurtin' buckaroo.

If I am asked to do this again next year, I might have to put it in my training plan as an "A" race.

Well done, Jayden.  You gritted it out, and for that, you are one tough chica!😬🙀🙀🙀🙀

Snake Creek Gap TT (34 Mile) Race Report

18th year of racing The Snake

During the month of January, I began 3 big endeavors to start off my 2022 training with a bang.  I did a Whole 30 (no added sugar, no grains, no dairy, no legumes, no alcohol for 30 days), I entered a competition with my local gym from January 5 through February 4 where you could get points for certain actions you completed/accomplished, and I began the first month of structured training with my new coach, Mike Schultz.  I felt as fit as a fiddle the morning of The Snake.

So why was my mindset so shitty, as I was riding the shuttle to the start?  No butterflies or screaming eagles in my gut, just a sense of dread.  Like I was going to work on a Monday morning.  Two things, perhaps.  One being doubting myself, that despite all my preparation the past month, I was still going to "fail."  And the second being the fact that Charlie, my husband, was 9 days post open heart surgery, and while he was recovering at home with a sawed through sternum now held together by stainless steel wires, I was going to play bikes and have fun.  He gave me his blessing to race, but still I felt some sense of guilt.

I finally HTFU'd myself into giving my all and leaving it all on the trail ... the past two weeks of worry, frustration, anger, and guilt.  Like a cowboy rides the wildness out of a freshly broke mustang, I was going to ride all of these emotions right out of me.  Because if I was bleeding out of my eyeballs, I could not think about anything else, especially reality, if only for 4 hours.

The temperature at the start is ALWAYS the coldest place in Georgia.  30 stinkin' degrees.  It was 42 in Dalton where I got on the shuttle.  With no warm up, I could only imagine the barking my legs would do when it was go time.  But surprisingly as I blasted off the start pedaling like a character in a cartoon, my legs played nice.  I went as fast and hard as I could, wanting so desperately to warm up.  This was as close to "sparkly" as I have been since I cannot remember when.  Awesome.  My mindset pegged the positive side of the mental tachometer.

I caught up to Angie on the fire road climb.  We chatted a bit, although she did most of the talking as most of my focus was getting oxygen into the lungs.  I dialed it back a notch, as I needed to save every match for Dug Gap.  I slowly pulled away from her and eventually got a clear path ahead of me into the single track.  Riders were very respectful as I made my way around them.  The trail was in primo condition; no mud, great traction, and fast!

I was so so happy that the legs were on fire ... in a good way.  Having to reign myself back in was a good sign that I was reaping the benefit of last month's training.  Losing the chocolate bon bon butt and sugar baby Buddha gut also helped when hitting the climbs.

My friend from last month, Mr. SuperTuck, caught up to me on Horn Mountain.  He apologized once again for last month's little mishap, and we reminisced about it.  I let him and his friend around once at the top of the climb, as they were getting much too talkative.  They needed to motor on at a higher pace than mine.

The descent down to Snake Creep Gap parking lot was WAY funner this month.  With the leaves gone, it made for a cleaner and safer ride down at speed.  I rolled into the aid station 14 minutes faster than January.  And was still feeling great! I dropped my CamelBak, grabbed a bottle, took a caffeinated gel, and headed up Mill Creek Mountain.

Now, all I wanted was to catch a glimpse of Lisa.  I know she started before me, but not sure by how much.  She was the one to beat, and I was sure she was going to go sub-4. She was my carrot, but it is hard to push harder if you cannot see the carrot.

Swamp Creek was rideable, and the double track up to the Middle Mountain ridgeline was firm and fast.  I was feeling frisky and was able to repeatedly stand and hammer to the top.  Looking at my Garmin, I was hoping to hit the single track at 2 hours and 45 minutes.  That would leave me 1:15 to finish sub-4, which I thought was definitely doable.

I pushed as hard as I could on the final single track stretch.  But, lawdy! I could tell I was having a good ride as I was quite gassed on the steeper climbs.  I opted to hop off and hike hard on several, as I knew I would make better time.  Thank goodness for all the training runs, as it definitely paid off during the HAB's.  I was much more efficient and could save my legs for when the terrain flattened out.

Hitting the "gunsight pass" section, it was gonna be close to a sub-4.  I let it go on the double track descent to the pavement!  Stood and hammered up the pavement roller and then tucked in for a free fall descent down to the Snake Pit.  Came under the banner in a time of 4:03:25 (second half I was 17 minutes faster).  Now the waiting began.  I did see Lisa pedaling around the parking lot as I finished.  So I couldn't have been too far behind ... but was it enough?

I went to my truck and immediately called Charlie to check on him.  He was just fine, having had lunch, and was getting ready to nap.  Whew!  I was glad nothing bad happened in my absence. I was in a good space; all those emotions I was going through this morning were scattered over the rocks of the Pinhoti:  good riddance!

I cleaned up and then headed over to see the results.  Lisa came up to me and congratulated me.  I barely squeaked out the win.  I thought for sure she had a sub-4 and that it would be the time to beat.  I was super happy with my effort, having gone as hard as I could.  

Rescue Racers go 1, 2!

Another big shout out to the #snaketamer Jameson Keith.  At 10 years old, he earned the buckle and took 1 3/4 hours off his January time.  I am so so proud of this young man, who dug deep, entered the pain cave, and exited with a huge victory!

Jameson's drive inspires me.

Snake Creek Gap TT (34 Mile) Race Report

 

True to its nature, Saturday morning turned out to be brrrr! cold, with a starting temperature of 24 degrees.  And with the previous rains, the course would be squishy.  After the longest bus ride ever, I arrived at the start at 8:10.  At least I did not have to stand in line and shiver awaiting the start.  As soon as I had signed in, took one last pee, dropped my SAG bag, I headed to the line.  This year, it was all about comfort.  I had ALL the layers and had invested $150 in a pair of battery operated gloves.  I was NOT getting cold and I was planning to ride just under my "sweat threshold."  

My nutrition plan was most interesting as I started a Whole 30 on January 1.  In my CamelBak was watered down orange juice with just 1 scoop of Skratch (19g added sugar).  This shouldn't be enough to throw off any progress I had made, but might just help me avoid a total bonk).  Instead of gels, I had baby food pouches.  I figured I would probably be going slow enough that I would be burning mostly fat anyways.

The start was anything but race pace.  The initial 2 miles was a warm up as the legs were stone cold.  I also tiptoes around the mudholes; I did not want my feet wet so early on or my drivetrain angry.  Although Dry Creek was up, the bridge was long enough so that my tires did not even get wet ... what a pleasant surprise.

I upped the pace a bit on the double track climb and thought I was moving at a fairly decent pace ... until Luka blew by me, wishing me well.  Holy smokes, kiddo!  Oh, to be young again. Although I had no goals for this race, I figured I could finish right around the 4 hour mark.

As I entered the first section of single track, I was happy that my fingers and toes were warm.  Being able to feel my extremities makes it so much easier to shift and brake and feel the bike beneath me.  The trail was a little slicker than I thought it would be; still lots of leaves and there was frost on the roots and rocks.

As I descended down the gravel, I looked down at my hands and noticed that my gloves turned off.  WTH?!?  I pushed the on/off button, but nothing.  40 minutes in and they were dead ... argh!  I just hoped they were insulated enough to keep me warm until the temps began to rise.  After the Pocket Road crossing, the trail conditions deteriorated and became spongy with water flowing down the middle.  Although that first creek crossing was not pretty, at least I managed to keep my feet dry.

I almost made it up the red clay climb, but had to dismount after I spun out in the leaves.  I finished it off with a quick HAB, and continued pedaling to the next tricky section, the short hard steep left hand switchback.  But first I had to call back a racer ahead of me, who went straight instead of taking the switchback.  How he thought he was on course still befuddles me, as he had to dismount and carry his bike over downed trees, to continue off course.  Now that's some serious oxygen debt so early in the race!

I managed to clean the switchback and begin the slow grind up Horn Mountain. This section I feel is one of the hardest.  Beginning with this climb there are 4 lengthy climbs before you get to the Snake Creek Gap parking lot.  The first is the longest but also the easiest of them, the remaining 3 are all rideable, but technically challenging with root step ups, loose rocks, and steep pitches.  Every race, one of my mini goals is to clean all 4; it is about 50/50 chance for me.  Today, I had a small victory and did it.  Mind you, I could probably walk it just as fast, but where lies the challenge with that?

The final 2 descents down to the parking lot were as sketchy as hell!  Watering eyes, heavy leaf cover, and multitudes of baby heads made for a butt puckering slow ass ride down; I felt like a beginner.  As I looked at my Garmin heading into the parking lot, I was right at 2 hours.  Welp, there goes my 4 hour wish.

At least I was warm.  I ditched my dead gloves for my HandUp ColdER ones a core layer, guzzled some baby food, dropped my CamelBak, and grabbed a full bottle for the last half.  One of the volunteers tended to my muddy glasses ... thank you!  I slowly worked my way up Mill Creek Mountain, got off at the blown out sandy/rocky climb, white knuckled the switchback descent that gets worse every year, and played it safe down to Swamp Creek, even getting off and tip-toeing over the last creek crossing, as Mother Nature has turned that one into a swimming hole.

The ground had thawed by the time I began the double track climb and what with all the other racers' tracks, it was turning into a soupy mess.  It felt like quicksand at times, or was that my legs beginning to die?  

Finally the last section of single track, the creme de la creme!  Had I enough gas left in the tank to enjoy this?  I would know very soon.  As I was cruising the first slightly uphill section, Sasquatch jumped out from behind a tree and high five'd me!  Now that was a morale boost that had me moving at a pretty good clip for a while.

Notables during this last 5 miles of tricky tech were cleaning the rather steepish climb before the wall, cleaning the climb right after the wall, not dying on the washed out Pisgah'ish descent, and biffing the gunsight pass climb (I was so close, but also so tired at this point).

A junior racer and I came out of the single track in close proximity and began the final pavement descent down to the finish.  As he crested the last hill on the pavement, he attempted to gear down, hammer down on the pedals, AND get into the recently banned UCI Super Tuck (all at the same time), losing total control of the bike in the process, and nearly taking me out!  Somehow he managed to save it and I braked/swerved away from his careening bike and we both escaped destruction.  He did apologize, once he recovered.

I crossed the finish line in 4:32 ... yikes!  I have got my work cut out for me for February, but I do like a challenge.  Fellow Rescue Racer and long time friend, Lisa Randall, currently sits atop the leaderboard.  But everyone said the course felt slow, so maybe it was not all a lack of higher end fitness for me ... we shall see.

Now for the best race news!  Young Jameson, aka Snake Killer, at 11 years of age, finished the 34 miler.  So stoked for this young man!  One of his biggest accomplishments yet.  And I believe the youngest finisher of this distance.  

Entering 2022 with the Biggest Athletic Goal Yet

If you had asked my former self back in 2011, after having dealt with a foot neuropathy and subsequent Morton's Neuroma surgery (which yielded less than ideal results) would I ever be able to run again, I would have said, "Unlikely, unless being chased by a bear."  Fortunately, seeking a second opinion (which I should have done PRIOR to electing surgery) and finding Dr. Tracey Pesut, a orthopedic foot/ankle specialist, who didn't recommend surgery but rather custom orthotic inserts, after 4 years, my feet had healed enough to start the process of running again. Why would I decide to run, you may ask?  For one, to see if I could, and two, for cross-training, improving HAB skills, and to keep me bonez strong, aye!

In 2019, with 3 months of training and the day after I raced the Snake on my single speed (why the hell, you ask?  because I can!), I raced the Cloudland Canyon Trail Half Marathon in 35 degree rain.  And managed a respectable 5th overall.  It was hard, but never would I have thought running would be so much fun!

This past August, I ran the Ubaye Trail Half Marathon in Barcelonette, France.  Kip prodded me into it, saying he would do it with me, then bailed.  This was a true couch to 14 mile race and I paid the price, both with suffering the last 6 miles and dealing with left patellar tendonitis ever since.

Fake it until you make it!

And so, when I raced the Marji Gesick 50 this past September, I resembled a human being afterwards, and not a hollow shell of one that has happened the 3 times I have done the hundred miler.  Lisa Randall asked me soon after I finished if I would ever think of doing the hundie again and I said, "Hell, no!"  But that damn buckle continued to haunt me.  When Todd released news of the 1000 mile buckle, I told myself that is something I could make happen.  Just 4 more hundreds (cuz 2022 would count double mileage) and 1 more 50 mile version and the buckle would be mine.  It would be a 5 year plan.  That desire in me to do hard things kept rearing its ugly head on the drive home from Marquette.  By the time I had arrived home after a 17 hour drive, I was tired and delirious.  Perhaps that contributed to my decision to try and get that damn buckle in 2022, by racing the Marji Gesick Duathlon: ride the first 65 and run the last 40.  

Have I fucking lost my mind?!?  Pretty much!  My longest run has been 14 miles, and now I think I can do 40 ... after riding my bike for 65 miles on some of the hardest single track this country has? Challenge accepted.  I live for this!  Crushing limits, pushing farther than ever, embracing the pain cave, seeing what this 53 old body can do.  

But I am not stupid, either.  I have got a plan ... that started 3 months ago.  2-3 runs/hikes/walks per week to start a slow build and get used to the pounding that running places on your body.  Mind you, I have also been dealing with a low back facet arthropathy that has me in pain quite a bit.  Stretching, chiropractic adjustments, and the occasional steroid injection helps.  I also had the RFA procedure (radio frequency ablation) that is supposed to kill the nerves and provide long term (to permanent relief).  Well, I suppose I have nerves of steel, as I fell into the low percentage category of it being ineffective ... meh.

To add insult to injury, I also hit menopause in 2021.  Talk about a full body slam!  Where did all the watts go?  Why is my ass growing?  And when did my bed turn into a sweat lodge?  For you men, the equivalent would be castration and your testosterone dropping to a big fat 0!  While HRT has helped, it is just not as good as what your pre-menopausal body can produce (in the way of estrogen, progesterone, and even testosterone).

But with all that, I talked to my Coach, Lynda Wallenfels, to help me out with the training aspect.  She recommended Mike Schultz, owner of  Highland Training, as he has much more experience with athletes that both bike and run.  Lynda has been my coach since 2009.  I have much respect for her, both as a person and a coach.  While a bit hesitant to leave her, I trust her.  I talked to Mike yesterday for a solid 30 minutes.  He has over 20 years of coaching experience and a wealth of sciency knowledge. I am excited to say that he will be coaching me for 2022!  If anyone can turn this cyclist into a part-time runner, he can.

To jumpstart my training, I have joined forces with some of my cycling friends and co-workers to do the Whole 30 in January.  For those of you who do not know, it is 30 days of no sugar (real or artificial), no grains, no legumes, no dairy, and no alcohol.  It will be a great cleansing experience and I hope to rid my body of any lingering inflammation, as well as just feeling better all around.  Being celiac, intolerant (to some degree) of dairy and legumes, and not liking alcohol, it won't be as hard a jump as for my friends.  Chocolate and I have a loving relationship, so this one will hurt.

And I am also competing in my local gym's Result Resolution for the month of January.  Because why not do all the hard things during my birthday month.  

I am hoping that Coach Schultz, the Whole 30, and Result Fitness will kickstart my ass into being the fittest (and happiest) I come September 24, I will have the day of my life riding and running some of the hardest damn trails in the United States.

#marjigesickduathlonorbust