Big Bear Ultra Lite

This week’s race was at one of my favorite areas – Big Bear, near Bruceton Mills, WV. With the exception of Raystown Lake, I personally think this trail system is some of the absolute best east coast riding out there. And the locals have been putting even more time and energy in the trails. Just since racing the 2 x 12 in June, there are several huge improvements- including new bridges, some wooden ramps off rocks, and a roller-coaster ramp through crack trail. Anyway, having raced the 101 last weekend, I was looking for a shorter race that was super technical and lots of fun. The Big Bear Ultra "lite" version fit the bill.

Because this race was a “short” 23 miles, I tried to push my pace a little bit more than normal. The first 30 minutes or so I just hammered. That feeling of my heart fluttering (am I having a heart attack??) and the metallic taste in my mouth- I haven’t felt in quite a long time. When I just about fell over from blowing myself up, I looked down to see where I was on the course. Was I around 5 miles in? maybe 6? My Garmin mockingly read 1.7 miles. Hah! I quickly realized that I was NOT a short track racer any more. Might as well enjoy this race and ride the terrain. A day at Big Bear is a long day. Miles don’t come easy, and it will sharpen your technical skills like none other. And the trails were in pristine shape- all kinds of rocks, plenty of drops, bridges, ramps, and lots of loamy goodness. It's really hard to find better trails than here. It's the kind of course that makes you forget you're racing because you are having so much fun.

It’s funny. You know you have crossed into the endurance realm when you race 23 miles and are disappointed that the race is over. I was just starting to feel REALLY good right around mile 20, and then it was over. After challenging the timekeeper (my Garmin says I only went 20 miles and the race was advertised at 23!!!) and then  immensely regretting my decision to not do the 50,  I had to laugh at myself and think about how far I had come this year. I thought about all the changes that I had made from last year. I switched teams by joining Giant Northeast. I switched bikes from a hardtail to a full suspension. I went to 27.5.  I upgraded to expert and focused on endurance. I went from racing 15 miles to 100. I even gave the Paleo diet a shot!  It really is amazing how your body can respond and adapt to training demands. We are capable of so much more than we think. And there is so much more that I want to learn and try. I feel like for every one thing I learn, there are 5 things that I discover I don’t know.  In the worlds of Michelangelo –  Ancora Imparo or “still I learn”.

Anyway, I ended up taking the top spot in Women's and 11th overall  (men and women's combined) with a time of 3:12. 

Wilderness 101

My First 100 Miler

The Wilderness 101 is a backcountry mountain bike race in Rothrock and Bald Eagle State Forests. It consist of 101-ish miles of single track, double track and gravel roads- totaling around 10,500 feet of elevation gain.

I woke up Saturday morning to the unexpected sound of a steady rain . It was chilly and I didn’t have any rain gear, so I tried to stay inside my car until the start of the race. When 7 o’clock came around, I jumped out of my car and hopped on my bike towards the end of the starting line. The race was on. I managed to pass a few girls in the first 10 or so miles, but the other girls I never even saw until after the race. My objective was endurance or completion- not speed. I had to keep telling myself that, and resist the urge to hammer on the hills. I was preparing for the Shenandoah 100, which was now a month away. So far I had done a 100k, but this was another 40 miles beyond that - and the terrain here is very challenging. I really focused on maintaining a consistent and manageable pace, and taking care of myself nutritionally and mentally. Beyond that, I had absolutely no idea what to expect. 

Race started off to a slippy start with the rain

I have this ongoing conundrum about running a water bottle versus a camelback. Most racers run a camelback so they can carry adequate water and supplies. This means fewer/shorter stops at aid stations and the ability to carry your own food preferences. However, a camelback really hurts my back, and makes me much hotter than I want to be. By running a water bottle, I eliminate any unnecessary stress to my lower back- which is particularly important when I’m doing races like this where you are consistently climbing  100+ feet per mile. I decided to only run a bottle and carry a bag of Perpetuem to refill at the aid stations, which were dispersed every 20ish miles. My full suspension bike frame only holds one water bottle, so I had to make 20 ounces last for 20 miles (or about two hours). This means that every 5 miles (or 30 minutes), I could drink ¼ of the bottle. This isn’t really an ideal hydration system, but I made up for it by drinking almost an entire bottle of water at every aid station, while I was refueling. This bumps up my hydration to 20 ounces/hr. This all sounds like a lot of thinking/math, but when you are riding your bike in the middle of the woods for 11 hours, you have time to focus on these kinds of things.  This strategy seemed to work for me. I had very little back pain, and I felt strong nutritionally and physically for the entire race. Instead of relying on a camelback to prove I had enough water and supplies, I was forcing myself to intake a certain calculated amount of calories and water at aid stations – because I had to. The downside is that I spent over 30 minutes of clock-time refueling and not riding my bike. 30 minutes could equate to losing 1 or 10 positions, depending on the race. You just never know.

Overall I did finish with a smile- which I was ecstatic about. I came in 10^th at a time of 11:32. 

Finishing with a smile!

 

Finish Line Gonging!

Additionally, Strava says my moving ride time was 11:03 for 98.2 miles and 10,617 feet of elevation gain.  I burned over 5,500 calories. And I haven’t stopped being hungry yet. 

Mt Hood Classic

Back in May, I made a visit to Portland to attend a work conference. I decided to go a few days earlier to explore that part of the country. Unfortunately, I didn't have my mt bike with me, but I did get to do some amazing hikes and some road rides. I also met a fellow cyclist named Russ who lives in the Hood River area. As any outdoor enthusiast knows- once two people with similar interests and ideas get to talking- plans are shortly made. Before I knew it, I was on a plane to race the Mt Hood Classic Endurance race and ride the beautiful trails of the Cascade Mountains.

The Mt Hood Race was actually on the 4th of July. We drove up early and got to the check-in with plenty of time. I also met up with a friend from my hometown -Jane- who now lives in Bend. It was really awesome to see her after almost 15 years, and on a mountain bike shredding trails (we were both band geeks!) But anyway, I digress...

The Classic race was a "grassroots" race, meaning there was no support and no trail markings. I didn't think this was a particularly big deal, since looking at the map was pretty easy. However, since it was pretty hot that day (and it was 45 miles and 7k feet of climbing) I decided to run a camelback. I put the map in my jersey pocket for easy access and took off up the 6 mile gravel climb that took us toward the top of Mt Hood.

That initial climb was pretty tough. I fell back early on and it became pretty apparent that I was an east-coaster racing a west coast race. These guys were just flying up the hill. The first 6 miles was around 2400 feet of climbing. Yah, that's over 400 feet of climbing per mile. Sheesh. Anyway, I lost the majority of the small pack of racers (there were only around 30 that showed up) and I ended up trailing behind some local guy that apparently did not know the course. We took a non-bike friendly trail for a couple miles until we realized that there were no tire marks visible in neither the mud or snow. We were definitely going the wrong way! And this mountain was huge. We turned around and made it back to the intersection where we made the wrong turn. This time there were two women there that had just made it up the hill of death. I decided to follow them, because even though they were pushing a slower pace, they seemed to know the area. Better to be on the race course than not.

I followed these two women for about 10 miles and gained my confidence again in venturing out on my own. My map was really small and non-detailed, but I felt as if I could manage. Plus I had planned on meeting Russ in his truck around mile 20ish to resupply and refuel. So, I broke off from the group I was riding with and made a move toward the rest of the racers. Of course, the awesome downhill, flowy single track that I was riding (and thinking to myself- this is the BEST day of riding I have ever had in my LIFE!!) turned into a climb. Then a hike a bike. Then a "I'm soo done with this" kind of climb. Seriously, I wanted to die. And I have ridden some hills before in my days.



When I finally reached "the spot" where I was supposed to meet Russ, he was gone. He had already gotten to that spot and figured that I had too, being the alleged "racer" that I am. So now I had no water or food. Time to check out the map. I reach for the map in my jersey pocket and it's like a ball of paper mache. I try to pull it apart and put it together like a puzzle, but it is completely illegible. Sweet. No food, no water. no map. Awesome!

At this point, I see Jane's husband by the river and I steal all his water. Then I cruise over to a camp and try to beg people for food and water, Yogi Bear style. I fill up as much as I can and try to navigate the trails and roads back to the starting line.

7 1/2 hours later, I find the start of the race. I had climbed almost 7k feet. I had ridden probably half of the true "race course" and the rest I just rode up and down ginormous road climbs on my mountain bike. Can't say it was the the best race of my life, but I cant remember being happier to find my way back. I half expected Russ to have left me there. (Poor guy sat and waited for me for like 5 hours). Luckily, he was there. So, there you go. Can't complain. And that's all I really have to say about that.

The next 2 weeks- yes, I seriously stayed our there for 2 awesome weeks- I rode tons of singletrack. I loved the climbing aspect of this area. The gradual climbs, the long descents. That's kinda my gig. But I really disliked the dust and dry conditions. I had a hard time keeping my wheels down and not sliding out of control on tight switchbacks, which are usually fast and fun in PA. I also found myself in some moments of panic with the heights thing. One trail in particular- which I was told was named "cry baby"- made me sit on my butt and regain my composure before I turned around and walked back up to the top and retraced all my steps in the opposite direction (I was too terrified to keep moving on the planned route). Oh well. Most of time I could talk myself out of it, and I'm sure that if I rode that trail a few more times it wouldn't even bother me.

West coast is seriously nice, and I hope to go back some day and ride some more trails and learn more about the type of adventure sports that are so big out there (surfing, kiting, etc...).  But I have to admit, I do love the trails that we have here in PA, WV and VA. We have so many different types of trails- full of rocks, wooded forests, pines, ferns, streams, etc.. And the farmlands for road riding are just breathtaking. I think that you have to love where you live, wherever that may be at the time. You have to get out and explore and enjoy the world around you. I have never lived somewhere where I couldn't find a beautiful park, an awesome trail, or a good group of friends that love what I love.  I mean, isn't that the point of life? Find what you love, and make it a priority.

Start of the Mt Hood Endurance Race

Cresting the initial gravel climb

Somewhere out on 15 mile loop, checking the map

Panoroma of what the course looked like before the bad hike a bike section

Headed over to Cry Baby

Tomlinson Run

It’s been a while since I raced a legitimate XC course. This week’s race was at Tomlinson Run State Park, located  in the northern Panhandle of WV. Unlike the endurance races I have been racing all year, Tomlinson was pretty tame as far as technicality. I did this race last year as a sport and I can remember that it was one of the muddiest courses I have ever done (at least up until that point!). I also remember having mechanical issues (chain suck) and being afraid of some of the downhills. This year, the course was muddy but the main challenge was the relentless heat and humidity that seemed to suck the air right out of my lungs.

Lap one pretty much sealed my fate for the day.  The course began with a 1 mile climb that eventually leveled out before dropping into a fast downhill. Right away, I noticed that my body wasn’t handling the heat properly. I wasn’t dehydrated necessarily, as I was sure I took all the right measures to fuel properly. But I just didn’t feel right. I couldn’t seem to pull enough air into my lungs, I felt really nauseous,  and my body temperature was really high. When I finally hit the downhill, I was ready to let loose and cool off a little bit. I thought I had picked a decent line, but my front tire slid out of control over a balmy log pile on the downhill, and I crashed hard. With a banged up body and bike, I limped through the remainder of my laps and ended up finishing 2^nd pro/expert women, enough to qualify for nationals.

Michaux Curse of the Dark Hollow

Rain had been relentlessly dumping on Pittsburgh for about two weeks, and the only riding I had been doing was my work commute.  Come Friday, my patience had run out and I just NEEDED to be on my mountain bike. I wasn’t really feeling the local races, so I packed the car and headed to Michaux State Forest. Michaux hosts an endurance series, and the second stop was the Curse of the Dark Hollow. I went into the race knowing full well that the course was both rocky AND hilly- a draining combination. But I was stoked to have some serious 1:1 time with my bike, and just be outside in this beautiful area of the state. I ended up car camping underneath a beautiful clear sky- which was a good sign that the weather was going to actually cooperate.

 I committed myself to trying out this whole endurance thing this year, so I signed up for the 40 miler. I was expecting to be out around 6-7 hours, and would be totally stoked with a Michaux 40-miler finish. I packed extra tubes, derailleur hangers, brakes, superglue, you name it. It’s that kind of course. As expected, there were tons of rocks. What I didn’t expect was that the course was completely covered with blooming mountain laurel. And the massive rhododendron, although not flowered, provided a cool and dark shade from the blazing sun. It really was perfect. The first 25-30 miles were tough, but manageable. The course dipped in and out of single track that varied from straight up 5 mile rock gardens, to flowy pine sections, to ridiculous hike-a-bike sections. And despite a few crashes, I was feeling really good as I entered aid station 3. With 8 miles left, I was at around 4 hours and was so excited to be making decent time. Then I hit a series of slick muddy trails and just plain insane rocky descents/ascents. Trust me- if you see a DANGER sign with a cross and skull bones at Michaux, you know that’s the real deal. Those last 8 miles took me almost 1:40 minutes to finish. Always seems like these tough courses save the hardest parts for last. Makes you dig deep!

Despite my struggles though the end, I managed to take 3^rd place behind Sornson and Yeager and FINALLY got a podium spot. Making the jump from Sport XC to Pro/Expert XXC events is a hard transition. You train harder, you ride further, you repeatedly destroy your body and bike – and then you go home.  You know that you are getting better and stronger, but the reward is much harder to reach. Let’s just say I needed this podium for my soul (and gas tank). Rock on!

 

WVMBA 2 x 12

This Saturday, I attended the West Virginia Prom, aka the WVMBA Big Bear 2x12 Bike Relay and Mountain Fest. This race course consists of 12 mile laps of typical West Virginia fun- rocks, climbs and absolutely beautiful scenery.

The 2 x 12 was my 3rd relay race of the season, and first expert race in WVMBA. I was pretty nervous about racing here. I’m still trying to dial in my Lust, and had some trouble riding in the rocks a few weeks ago at Laurel Mountain. I had a few crashes, and for a minute I thought I had forgotten how to ride technical terrain!  I was also still tired and recovering from the Mohican 100k. My first lap was pretty painful, but I felt much better by my second.

My good friend Sara Chua and I at the 2 x 12

It was so good to be back on West Virginia trails. There really is no other place like them, and I hadn’t realized how much I missed them until this weekend. I need to get back there and try to compete in more of the WVMBA races. A lot of courses test your endurance or your skills- but WV is just all power, all the time. And the racing community here is so fun and supportive!” Van Morales (my prom date) and I each completed 3 laps (36 miles) to take 5th place in the co-ed expert division.

Once again, I’m convinced that the Lust is simply the best bike around for east coast xc terrain. It’s just 100% fun.

My Prom Date greeting me with a fancy celebratory beer ;)

Mohican 100

Ah, Mohican! This race, part of the National Ultra Endurance Series, was a test to see if I had enough gas in the tank to take on some bigger races that were coming up: Stoopid 50, Hilly Billy Roubaix, Michaux, Cheat Mountain Ultra- the possibilities are endless for the month of June. But really this is all in preparation for Shenandoah 100. My one huge goal of the year. Just to finish that race.

Mohican begins with a  MASSIVE start. The 100k and 100m riders both line the street in downtown Loudonville, Ohio. It really is a sight to see. This being my first time, I didn’t really understand the importance of getting a position at the start, until I saw 600 people lined up. I tried to scoot up as far as I could, but also wanted to avoid being sandwiched in with other riders. I’m not that great at riding within close proximity with other people, and I didn’t want to begin this race with a wreck. I had a lot of miles to ride.

The start is straight out of town and up a nice, steep climb. I went off the line quickly enough that I warmed up fast, but not so fast that I was going to regret it later. With 600 riders out there, my goal was just to get in the woods unscathed. Once I made it there, I knew I would be in my element. The reality, however, is that once I got to the woods there was a lot of standing around, waiting to clear bottlenecks,  and riding a slow congo line. I quickly realized that it was going to be a long day.

About an hour in, we were finally starting to move consistently on some singletrack. As I made a right turn on a switchback, I was almost knocked off my bike by some rider that cut in from behind. It was my friend Chrissy, and she yells back “this is a race where you have to be aggressive with passing.” That lit a fire inside, and I start passing rider after rider. I think that by the time we exited the first 20ish miles of singletrack, I had passed 27 riders. I had a lot more to go, but I was feeling much better just being able to ride somewhat near my race pace. If I do this race next year, I will know to get at the start line super early.

I played the rabbit game for the next 5 hours, passing where I could. If I can pinpoint one major mistake I made, it was at aid station 2. This was right around the halfway point, and  I was being overly cautious about taking in enough food and fluids. A few weeks ago, I suffered a nasty quad cramp that I couldn’t shake at 6 hours of Brady’s Run. I didn’t want a repeat of that episode. Plus it was a pretty hot and sunny day. Anyway, as I was chowing down on watermelon and leisurely sipping coke, I quickly realized that 5 other women had blown in and out of the aid station. I had no idea what race they were in, the 100k or 100m. All I knew was that they were now in front of me, and I had to work even harder to regain my spot. Over the course of the next 30-some miles, I ended up passing 3 of them. I never saw the other 2 again.

As far as the terrain, Mohican is crazy fun. It has steep ups and downs, flow/pump track, rocks, roots, and sketchy downhills. It has the perfect split of trail and road. And my Giant Lust was the perfect bike for this terrain. For the first time this year, I really used the suspension to my advantage. On the gravel roads, I locked out and just rocketed up the hills. Especially toward the end of the day. I was amazed at how easily I passed other riders with minimal effort. This bike just wants to GO. And the full suspension just ate up the singletrack.

Performance wise, I was pretty happy with how I raced. I learned so much about how to prepare and operate during a course of this distance and with this many people. From prepping drop bags, positioning myself at the start line, pacing, passing, nutrition, etc.. You just have to get out there and do it. There were certainly times where I had some pain – the hike-a-bikes were physically draining,  and I had some neck cramps, 3 bee stings, and relentless arm pump. But overall, I actually felt really good. The 100k course had 8,300 feet of elevation gain, and I ended up taking 6^th /24  women open, and finishing in 7 hours (6:40 moving).