Pocahontas Race, April 7th, 2013

Oh hey, hi. Yes. All none of you that read this since I haven't updated in forever. But! I wrote up a race report for my team email group and it was suggested by a friend (hi, Richard!) that perhaps I could PUT IT ON MY DAMN BLOG. He said it nicer than that, but the aggression was implied. Okay, here you go:


The start for Pocahontas is a beast - wet field, off-camber trail, more wet field, loose gravel, stupid, narrow-pointy-bendy bridge, more gravel, fire road climb, gravel, fire road, finally the trailhead. It was a fast start! I am cautious on gravel and when we hit the trail I think I was in fifth place. I passed #4 after the big creek crossing and once I recovered from the starting sprint I picked up the pace until I caught #3. I rode behind her for a while until I felt strong enough to pass and then I decided to try and catch Sonya and Melissa, who were currently in 1st and 2nd place.

I found them eventually though I kept losing them on the climbs and then making it up on the flat and downhill sections. They switched place a few times and towards the end it was Melissa, Sonya and me. If I could keep it up, a podium finish! A mile or so from the finish, Sonya hit some rocks and crashed right in front of me (quite spectacularly - she's very graceful!) and nearly gave me heart failure. She was okay and told me to keep going, so I chased after Melissa. I finally caught her and we rode the rest of the way to the finish line. I was exhausted and didn't have much left, but in hindsight I wish I'd tried harder to pass her! She pulled away far enough at the finish that she totally had it. I was delighted with 2nd and Sonya came in almost immediately afterwards in 3rd! She's a trooper.

Usually I end up by myself in races, so it was pretty exciting having some ladies to compete with!

obligatory podium shot

Sorry, honey, I have to work late, Part II

I’m happy to say that all the things I did wrong last week didn’t apply to this week at all:

- Get a good night’s sleep. Check

- Eat a reasonably healthy lunch. Check

- Don’t get all edgy and nervous. Check

I was much more relaxed physically and mentally going into this one, plus I’d heard that the course was going to be a lot of downhill singletrack and not as much gut-busting climbing. This made me happy because, while I’m not much of a climber, I can go reallyfast on some of the downhill sections. The course was a bit shorter than last week (maybe a mile and a half? I’m bad at estimating distance) and it was FAST. It went something like this:

Confusing zigzag pattern up and down the big field, long stretch of field down to the trailhead, fast fast trail around the edge of the field, down a hill, up the bridge with the stairs, across the walkway, more up-and-down singletrack, out and around the parking lot, down a really twisty switchback, down a long fast straight decent that ends at theconcrete bridge, across the bridge, a right onto fire road, over the cobbles and a right across the dam bridge, around the walkway and UP THE HILL OF DOOM. Then a quick left, ride down stone stairs, bunnyhop up a stone ledge, then another horrible steep climb up to the race start. Then again, then again.

Oof. On every lap the fun ended where the Hill of Doom began. It was paved, but long and steep and endlessly horrible. (Did I mention I don’t like to climb?)

First lap: I got a decent start and dropped into the trail in a good place. Unfortunately that place was somewhere behind 20+ other riders and the trails were all a haze of dust. Like last week, I couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t swallow. Awesome! I stayed behind a couple of riders who were going slower than I felt like I could be going, but it was fine because I needed the time to gather myself back together and relax into a steady pace. I passed them before the twisty switchback (love!) and freaking sailed down it and also the long awesomely fun oh-my-god-I’m-going-too-fast decent after that. The decent ended at the concrete bridge and the dude in front of my chose to walk, so I passed him and rode right across.

Then, I made my first mistake. The section of road between the gravel fireroad and the dam bridge is pretty wrecked from the last hurricane - buckled asphalt, cracked pavement and giant rocks, with a thin strip of cobblestones to the very left edge. That thin strip is the only clean line across and I missed it. I ended up standing in a pile of rocks while everyone behind me passed me in a blur.

I realized pretty quickly what that meant - I was going to have to catch them all at the Hill of Doom or not at all. So up I went, red-faced, panting and mad as hell. I caught, I passed, I thought I might die. (I didn’t die.)

Second Lap: It went better and it ended up being my fastest lap. I rode alone for most of it and took the switchback down so fast that some dude ahead of me pulled over to let me past. I think I was freaking him out. I was feeling great until I hit the Hill of Doom for the second time and where I thought I might die the first time, I was SURE I WOULD the second time. I think that four or five minutes was possibly the worst I’ve ever felt in any race, ever. I vaguely remember a friend cheering me on as I hit the second part of the climb but I was so close to stopping that I couldn’t even spare the energy to acknowledge him. I didn’t stop, though, instead I went for my third lap.

Third Lap: At this point it was after 7pm and the sun was setting. I kept seeing lights through the trees and eventually realized they were the street lamps around the lake. The wooded trails get dark really fast and by the time I hit the switchback I was riding more from memory than sight. I spent the entire lap dreading the climb at the end and wracked my brain for a way to make it suck less.

Then I remembered something from an article I read years ago, which is sometimes all you need to make it up a climb is a better attitude. I stole a mantra from that article and spent the entire climb chanting (out loud, mind you) “I LOVE TO CLIMB. I LOVE TO CLIMB.” And, while it didn’t actually make me love to climb, it did force me to breathe more deeply and pace myself more evenly up the hill. I made it up the first hill, rode down the stone steps, did the saddest bunnyhop up the curb and began my final slow ascent up the steep grass hill to the finish. And I finished, red-faced and shaking, but I finished.

I came in 4th place in women and 27th overall, which means I beat nine dudes. Yeah! Oh, and the guy I beat last week, Mr. You Could’ve Used A Harder Gear? Didn’t even show up.

Sorry, honey, I have to work late.

It was a lot to do after a full day’s work and a not-full-night’s sleep. The night before the race I did not sleep well at all, maybe three hours tops. I woke up that morning in a Benedryl haze feeling less than awesome. I dragged myself to work, drank way too much caffeine, had an unhealthy lunch that my stomach did not love and, around 3pm, realized I was nervous. Crazy, green-around-the-gills, stomach-clenching nervous.

It was stupid to be nervous because this was just a small, casual, training race. No prizes, no crowds, nothing but trails i ride all the time and a group of riders I mostly know. Stupid to be nervous, but OH I WAS ANYWAY.

Because it was being run concurrent with a cyclocross race, there was a confusing start that zig-zagged up and down a large hilly field before the two groups split, the mountain bikers (men and women together) hitting the single track for a two mile short loop, the cross racers cutting back towards the field. I’m a bad starter in any kind of terrain, but man, I do not do great on steep grassy fields. Despite starting relatively slowly I still entered the woods sucking wind, nauseous, and feeling like I was going to die. The usual sprint race feeling.

The entire first lap felt like this:

NONOOOONONOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

I couldn’t breath, I couldn’t swallow, I could barely see for the dust, I felt like ten different kinds of awful. I did manage to mostly hold my position (near the back) as we dropped into the trail, crossed a bridge, up a steep climb, sharp left, up and down some fairly intense singletrack, around to the switchback on the very top of the hill, down the hill, a sharp left onto the short gravel fire road, across that cement bridge (the one I posted about in my last entry), up another long climb, up a short switchback section, down and around the parking lot, back into the trails, more up and down roller coaster type stuff, up a hill, across a walkway, back down the trails, onto another walkway, ride down some stone steps, bunnyhop up a stone curb, ride up a stupidly steep hill, around the cones and back in for another lap. Or something like that.

I did three laps, the first two were both at about 17 minutes per lap which is pretty slow comparatively, but, while I’m familiar with the trails and can ride them pretty fast, some sections were super dusty and I was afraid of slipping out and going down hard. (Hi! This is foreshadowing.) I am also not the best at climbing and tend to pace myself slower than I probably should in a race.

My second lap was much better, overall. I was feeling a more recovered and was definitely more collected. I rode everything clean and barely saw another rider.  I was pretty much expecting to be lapped by the leaders at any point, but this didn’t happen until my third lap and it happened at the most awkward spot imaginable:

Yeah. The edge of that turn is just a drop down a steep hill. Luckily those guys are REALLY fast and know how to pass, but I was still all, “wha?” and slightly shaken. I got to the bottom of the hill, took the sharp left to the fireroad, hit a patch of gravel and went down like a ton of bricks. Is that not the uncoolest way to crash in a race? On a patch of gravel? On the fire road?  I was MAD. Not to mention filthy and bleeding, but I picked myself up and got back on and just kept going. I just wanted to finish this thing. I think I messed up my derailleur when I went down because I couldn’t seem to stay in my middle ring and had to ride the whole second half of my last lap in my granny gear. But I finished, and I didn’t come in last.

At several points during the race I remember thinking how much I absolutely was NOT going to do the final series race next Wednesday. No way. Not a chance. But afterwards, as the pain wore off and stories got bandied about I found myself saying things like, “Well, next week I’ll know to avoid that spot.”  And the guy who was behind me for the entire race (who I beat, mind you) mentioned that I seemed to be spinning too fast when I could’ve been in a harder gear. ORLY? Thank you, dude, for telling me how to beat you more next week. I call this phenomenon “race amnesia” because if it didn’t happen nobody would ever do more than one race, ever.

So yeah.  Banged up and bruised but already plotting next week’s torture session.

Nine-Hour Race Report

Short Version:

It was fun but anticlimactic.

Long Version:

I should start by explaining that mountain bike mile is not the same as a road bike mile, so when I tell you the laps were 6.2 miles long please don’t think that is necessarily an easy distance. See, the course where the race was held is famous for it’s gnarly roots. It’s a wooded, rooty single-track course with short steep (rooty) climbs, steep (rooty) ravine drop-ins and a fun (to me) dirt mogul section near the end. It’s technical, is what I’m saying. So, while i could probably do 6 miles on flat pavement pretty quickly, this 6 mile course took me anywhere from 40-45 minutes to complete. (Which is pretty slow, but my main goal was to not crash. And I usually crash on this course.)

So! After a night of not very good sleep my husband and I got up painfully early Saturday, packed up the bikes and gear, and hit the road. The race course is about 30 minutes away and we made good time. We joined our friends under their team tent to set up camp and then we went down to the registration tent and got our team numbers:

That’s us, team Bitey Badger.

The race worked like this: Each team of two rides laps in whatever sequence they like and the team with the most laps completed within the nine-hour time frame wins. We were not in it to win it, I should put that out there right now. We were competing against folks who do nothing but train for endurance races so there was no pressure on us. We were gonna lose! And it was going to be fun.

My husband started first and completed three laps while I sat around all antsy and impatient. Then I went out and did two. My first lap felt slow but it ended up being my fastest. My second lap was clean, but I got a stitch in my side which went from annoying to really painful to annoying again. It slowed me down, but I didn’t stop.  I finished the lap and went in to eat while my husband went back out for two more. I looked really pretty:

Pretty gross, I mean.

My third lap was fine, I think.  I get the race amnesia where I forget about the pain and suffering immediately afterwards but I do remember being halfway through the lap and realizing I was digging the ride.  I wasn’t riding fast but I felt pretty good overall. I was relaxed and enjoying the challenge until about 2/3rds of the way through when I started to feel a little twinge in my right knee. Ugh. My husband did another lap while I rested and then I went out for lap four. My knee started hurting pretty badly and I had to pedal gently to give it a break. Gentle doesn’t really cut it in a race, but I finished the lap in 45 minutes. My husband went back out while I tried to figure out what to do. My knee was not feeling good and even though I otherwise felt capable of riding at least one more, it wasn’t worth making my injury worse. I was disappointed, but we weren’t in contention so there was no point in pushing it.

My husband completed two more laps and had a bad crash on the last one. He’s fine, but it was the race-ender for him. So we finished 11 laps between us and were happy to call it a day and break out the beer. The best part was hanging out under the tent between laps, trading race stories with our friends:

PS. I’ve since self-diagnosed my knee pain as an IT band issue, so at least I know why it hurts and how to fix it. Apparently ramping up your distance all sudden-like is a bad idea. Oops.

PPS. I took Sunday completely off and thought I was recovered enough yesterday to go lift weights and I was SO NOT. Note to self: two days of rest post-race.  I mean, really.

Race Report - Poor Farm Fall Cup

First I'd like to say I felt like total and complete crap yesterday and I think maybe I'm getting too old for this or something. I'm not sure that high-endurance sport events are for me. My body hates me. So much.

So, the race: Sunday morning I got up pretty early because my race start was 10am and I needed time to drive to the course, warm up and pee about 800 times. The good thing about an early race is that the porta-johns aren't yet completely disgusting and it's over before the main event so you can enjoy yourself afterwards while everyone else is suffering. The bad thing about an early race is having to get up early and deal with the temperature shift/what to wear issue.

There were six women signed up for my race, including me. Two of them are women I'm friendly with, both of whom have beat me in past races, though I beat them both earlier this summer in the Urban Assault. We take turns! (I should probably pause here to say that female racers are among the nicest women ever. I think it's cute when you pass someone in your field and they cheer you on. It's all in good fun, which I appreciate!)

I was concerned about the start, because apparently we were in the same wave as all the beginner men. This burns me up because, really, would it be that hard to give us a start of our own? We really have to fight through an adrenalin cloud of nervous, spazzy beginner men? Apparently, yes.

The start was a total mess, as I assumed it would be. The beginner men field was huge and I got in the back so I wouldn't get trampled running for my bike. When the horn went off I had to fight through a cloud of panic, dust, falling dudes, bikes clanking, shoes (!!) flying off feet. We all raced for the entrance into the woods and at that point things came to a grinding dead halt. I was near the back of the pack and had to, no shit, wait in line for my turn to enter the trail. I lost a good minute or two right there and it shows in my lap times.

The course was really tough - very fast and twisty at the beginning and end with all the climbing (mostly short, steep lung-busters) in the middle. It was my kind of course though, as I really like the twisty stuff. Because of the lack of rain the trail was really loose and dusty, which made for some spectacular spills, luckily none of them mine.

The beginning of the singletrack, once I got in, was a dusty rooty switchback turn that continued into the woods. I rode with a couple other women who'd also gotten out of the gate slowly and we worked our way through the crowds until things thinned out. Some of the beginning men were great and some of them were incredibly rude and spazzy and would rather pass like a douchebag than to suffer a couple of minutes of riding behind a woman. I think I yelled a few clipped comments about MANNERS and CALLING YOUR PASS. Hmph.

Eventually I was running in what I thought was 3rd place but I now know was 4th. I was the only woman in sight and only halfway through my first lap. I hit the first big climb and that slowed things down considerably. I started to lose momentum and had to really push myself to keep going. It's hard to race when you have no idea where the rest of your group is or how far ahead they are. Wah wah wah, I finished my first lap and passed by Kenny and a bunch of other teammates and friends, one of whom yelled about the leader, "She's only two minutes up!"

Uh. Great? Ha. I remember thinking she might as well be two hours up because no way could I gain that kind of time without strapping a small motor on my bike.

I continued into my second lap and less than halfway through I saw (what I thought was) #2 through the trees. Well, shit. That means I have to race now. I chased, I caught, and just as I was reeling her in another Sport Woman (actually #2), who'd been sidelined by a chain malfunction jumped in between us. Now I was chasing both of them! Looking back, it was really kind of fun because in most races I'm completely alone. I stuck to them like glue and they switched spots but we all stuck together and damn, the woman in the lead put the pedal down. When we passed other riders we passed as a unit - it was hilarious. We hit the final section of flats and were all three going flat out. I considered passing #3 but she was going so fast that I wasn't sure I'd be able to do it. I decided to wait and when we came out fo the woods for the last long run across the field to the finish line, I passed her. In true form she cheered me on and urged me to go after #2. I went.

People. I have never ridden so hard or fast in my life and right as we were coming to the chute I caught her. Woo! Unfortunately, there was another male rider right next to her who inadvertently blocking my pass. She and I crossed the line nearly at the same time and our lap times were identical, but she was still a bit ahead of me. I was pleased anyway and happy to take third place. When we were all across the line the three of us laughed and congratulated each other for a job well done. Dang.



First lap: 38:39
Second lap: 36:35

Kenny started at noon and had a great race too - he finished 9th out of a huge field of 34. Sweet!


Afterwards we went home and both promptly felt like we'd been hit by a truck. Yesterday also sucked, but today I feel fine. I still don't even want to touch my bike for a few more days, though. Yuck.

Race Report: Kicking Ass and Taking Names

Heh, I'm such a freak and you'll see why in a minute. I'll just say this: you know that skinny girl who drives everyone crazy because she's always talking about how fat she is? Clearly she has issues, but she makes you want to slap her anyway. I kinda think maybe I was that girl this weekend. I'll start at the beginning.

Thursday: After work we pre-ride the course with a small group of friends who are also doing the race. I beg everyone in my best whiny tone to please take it slow. I just want to go easy and work on last minute sections that cause me pain. This is a seriously technical course with lots of possibilities for painful mistakes and I really want to nail it down. We go too fast anyway.

Friday night: I'm starting to get nervous and my legs are pretty sore from the pre-ride we did on Thursday night. Kenny and I went out and did an easy ride at Powhite just to loosen up the legs. We eat a good dinner and go to bed early. I have completely f'ed up anxiety dreams that have nothing to do with racing. Nice one, subconscious.

Saturday morning: Dread, fear, loathing, breakfast. I choke down breakfast because I know better than to skip it. My stomach is really unhappy about the whole thing and I'm feeling really, really nervous. We suit up and ride the North Trail down to Brown's Island, pick up our race numbers, talk to a bunch of friends and then ride over the ped bridge to Belle Island where the race starts.

My start is at 11am but it's clear pretty quickly that things are not running on time. The waiting is truly the hardest part. I'm feeling green around the gills and keep riding my bike in circles just to keep moving. I check out my competition, nine other women, and note that at least three of them have beat me in the past. I note the muscular thighs on one woman and sigh with resignation. This is going to SUCK.

Meanwhile, I find out that the hilltop/crazy descent that I'd worked on and worried about all week has been cut out of our race. This means a faster start, but a less tricky one too. I calm down a little. Finally, we line up our bikes, walk back to the start and wait for the word.

We're off! It's a running LeMans start which we all hate a lot, but I got to my bike, got on and started about fifth back:


(my friend Billy took this photo - that's me on the right in the yellow and black jersey)

The race started on a fast stretch of single track that went around the northeast end of the island. We lost one of the women almost immediately - she rode a log too fast and went down. I was still holding on near the back - I'm not good at going out fast. At all.

After that section we crossed over a wooden bridge and rode a river rock and cement section right next to the river that led up to the death stretch - a nearly two mile stretch of gravely fire road. I hate this section because going fast on a gravel road is not my thing. Long sprints SUCK. I geared up into my big chain ring and cranked as hard as I could. The front pack pulled away from me and another rider passed me but I kept them in sight.

The next obstacle was an outdoor cement staircase that you have to carry your bike up - I think it's nine flights and it smells like pee most of the time. I loathe the staircase. At the top I got back on my bike and crossed over the the little bridge that leads to the next section of singletrack - Buttermilk Heights. (The Heights is short but really pretty intense. Its four big hills with rocky creek crossings at the bottom - so three of those. One section involves a rooty steep descent that immediately leads to a steep uphill river rock (giant flat rocks) climb that you really have to hit just right, but I'm getting ahead of myself.)

Once on the Heights I started in for the serious work. This is where I was going to win or lose this thing. I know these trails really well and I had my line already set. By now I was starting to breathe better and my legs felt good. I go for it. I passed a few women on the more technical sections, especially the tricky river rock uphill. I think I remember yelling a warning to the beginner men stragglers, "I'M COMING THROUGH. I'M RIDING STRAIGHT THROUGH!" Man, I was bossy out there! It couldn't be helped, I just had nightmare visions of one of them stepping off their bike right in my path. They moved out of my way pretty quickly.

Towards the end of the Heights I ended up behind my friend Mary, who I was pretty sure was running third at that point. She was slowing down a bit and I offered encouragement, though I knew I'd need to find a way to pass her. Women's races are funny that way - there aren't many of us so we are all supportive, yet we're still pretty competitive. A little weird, but it usually works out.

I finally passed her on the last hairpin turn leading up to the Boulevard Bridge and I cranked it, trying to put as much distance between us as possible. Ahead of me, I saw Francine, a very nice girl who soundly beat me last year at Camp Hilbert. I went after her and passed her right after the bridge. In true Francine form, she was cheering me on. Hee! So cute. We headed around under the bridge and started on the first section of the North trail. We met up again at the big steep ramp (which can be seen in that slide show from last year) and most of us ended up walking the steepest part. At the top of the ramp there was a bit more trail and then we had to ride on the street to get to the final stretch - the North Trail. I passed Francine again on the road and at that point I was pretty sure that the only person in front of my was my friend Cristy. Cristy who I'd ridden the course with just a few days before. Cristy who won the race last year. Crap! I had to go find her.

I dove into the North Trail like my ass was on fire. This second of trail is pretty fast and twisty and I've been riding it on a regular basis for a year. I know this stuff cold. I finally caught up with Cristy who is also pretty darn fast. We rode through the first section together, across the bridge to the the new part, which has a roller coaster feel and banked up hairpin turns. As we headed for the largest of these turns I was opening my mouth to tell her to slow down (I'd taken that turn too fast in practice and skidded out) but it was too late - she did the exact same thing and over corrected. I made sure she was okay and then passed her.

It was all on me from then on. I hauled ass, people. I don't think I've ever ridden so fast in my life. I was in front, IN FRONT, and I actually got to yell, "race leader, coming through!" to one of the beginner men who was standing on the trail. I had no idea how far behind me Francine and Cristy were, so I hauled ass, for real. I climbed the last dusty climb, rode my new line over the rocks to the ramp-bridge thing, geared up to my big ring and rode hell-for-leather for the finish line. And won the damn thing. First Sport win ever. My time was 41 minutes, 9 seconds a big improvement from last year's 45 minutes, 06 seconds. Here's a shot of me on the podium being a dork:

Unfortunately, due to sloppy and misleading trail markings, Kenny and a bunch of other racers took a long fork instead of a short cut in once section of Buttermilk and it hurt his placing. He still came in 9th which is damn fine and I'm proud of him. Our friend Ethan returned to racing after years of retirement from the Jr. NORBA circuit and took 3rd place in the single speed category. My badass friend Paula placed first in Expert Women which surprises me not at all. She's part of why I have the skinny-girl syndrome I was talking about way at the top of this (incredibly long) entry. Because I'm so used to riding with her and her husband and Kenny, all incredibly fast and experienced riders, I often feel poky and slow, when in fact I'm not, it's just because I'm judging myself against a bunch of freaking experts. Hmph.

Here's a great picture of Kenny navigating one of the really technical sections:

I was really very touched by how nice everyone was and truly appreciate all the hugs and high-fives I got. It was also nice hearing my name being shouted from the crowds, so thanks, shouters! That was the best. I also got a good pre-race pep talk from the Downhill Lummoxes who take all the credit for my win. They can have it, because they were awesome. It was a really great day.