This has been an atypically chilly spring for our area, but this weekend seems to have been a breakthrough of sorts with reasonable temperatures and sunshine, which has been in short supply lately. Because of Dirty Kanza, I pretty much have one day each weekend reserved for the bike, and that day was Saturday.
I started out with 30 miles on the Great River Road with my friend Kristen. It was pavement, not gravel, but the Mississippi River views are beautiful and the company was good. It was good for my ego, too, as even with a decent headwind on the way out I felt comfortable. We’d hoped to ride to Pere Marquette Lodge, but that plan was short-circuited by river flooding. Annoying. We were flying with a tailwind on the return trip, and our shorter miles made it possible for me to meet Chuck and Lori in Weldon Spring to tack on some gravel miles.
I actually got there earlier than planned (crazy, I know), so I had a few minutes to get ready while I waited for our meeting time. I spent most of it trying to figure out how to put on my new Garmin Edge 500 (happy birthday to me from all my wonderful family and friends who gifted me with money and bike shop gift certificates ) before finally sort of figuring it out (still put the mount on sideways). Lori handed Chuck off to me and headed home.
This was so pretty in real life.
The wind was getting progressively stronger (I think it peaked at 20-25 mph), and after some route discussion we decided on Busch Wildlife. Because it’s a network of gravel roads around the many lakes, we’d never be stuck riding into a headwind for too long.
Snack break. This made me laugh.
It was a beautiful, sunny day, and it felt great to finally ride comfortably in just shorts and a jersey. We did our best to ride every possible road we could find as well as some short stretches of singletrack.
Loved this short trail
Heading down a service road we passed a couple at their truck. The road dead-ended shortly after, and on our return trip we were obviously interrupting a romantic moment…or one that was going to get romantic pretty quickly. Oops.
Old bunker we passed while exploring
We did our best to eat about every hour. I was also testing out some of the beet juice powder samples I got at Cedar Cross. I mixed it with lemon-lime gatorade powder that I had on hand, and while the taste didn’t really float my boat it wasn’t bad either. I have other friends who liked the taste plain, so maybe I’ll try it that way. And I will be trying it again, because as we found ourselves at the far back of the park shortly before our designated time to meet Lori, I felt great climbing the hills. Now, these aren’t monster hills or anything, but I was maintaining 17+ mph pace going up, and that’s not characteristic for me. Maybe it was just a good day, or maybe there’s really something to that beet juice. Stay tuned…
Because we were running late, we took a shortcut back to the Mound. Remembering a short, steep dirt hill I’d had to walk on our night ride, I downshifted so I’d be able to ride up it. Chuck coached me from in front, “We’re both going to downshift, then pedal fast and ride right up that.” I was all in, right until it looked like he was riding straight up a wall. And this is so stupid, because it’s barely more than a mound of dirt; I don’t know why it gets in my head, but I slowed down, got about halfway up, and put my foot down. Lame.
I really ought to quit wimping out on “scary” stuff, because the same type of thing always happens. We were riding back to the parking lot, and as we made our last turn (on the flat crushed gravel path) my wheels dug into some deep, loose gravel and I went down. At least if I fell on something trickier I’d have a better story.
Laughing at myself, not with myself.
Since I landed in the grass, it was a pretty easy fall as they go. Walked (rode) away with a bruised hip and a lot of laughing as Chuck and I cracked up over my crash about 50 feet from the parking lot. On possibly the easiest terrain ever. Typical.
So close to making it back with no bruises.
My stomach was pretty crabby when I got home, but J was in the driveway waiting to go for a bike ride. Earlier in the week we’d gone for a bike ride and his rear wheel started locking up. Seeing as it’s a Wal-Mart brand bike that we bought at a yard sale and has non-working hand brakes (the coaster brakes do work) and weighs as much as my mountain bike, I didn’t think it was worth fixing. I posted on Facebook about the bike’s demise and asked is anyone knew of a cheap boy’s bike available. Within the evening, three friends had offered him a bike , and the second one worked out.
Look out…now we have two people in the family in love with bikes.
He was delighted when he tried it out. “This bike is so light!! It’s so easy to pedal!” He’s all about riding his bike now, and though I really wanted to sit down and relax, I couldn’t tell him no. We rode laps for a couple miles in our neighborhood and then headed home when he wanted to. I only ended up with around 57 miles for the day instead of the 100 on the plan, but I couldn’t have asked for a nicer day. That said, I’m hoping for another day just as nice this coming Sunday, when if the weather cooperates I’ll follow a 3-hr mountain bike race with some more gravel miles. 18 days and counting to Dirty Kanza…
About a year and a half ago, my friend Bob started talking about how he thought he could put together an epic monstercross (basically, cyclocross on steriods) course. Because I’m the kind of person who totally lacks follow-through, I thought it sounded cool and then didn’t think much more about it, but lo and behold, last May 6 Bob held the first annual Cedar Cross, 100+ miles of gravel, singletrack, hills, and natural obstacles like creek crossings and steep run-up hills. Intending the race to basically be a fun way to spend the day training for Dirty Kanza with like-minded friends, Bob was slightly overwhelmed by the response when nearly 200 people signed up for his free race. In the end, 100+ racers showed up for what was an epic day.
Family first, even when it hurts a little
Me, I wasn’t there. My 8 year old son was making his First Communion, which is pretty much textbook can’t miss. So while many of my friends were out sweating and suffering in high-90′s temps on a course that Amnesty International just might term cruel and unusual, I was being proud of my little boy while simultaneously suffering from intense KIMO (knowing I’m missing out). When the 2013 date for Cedar Cross was announced, I was relieved to have no family conflicts and registered immediately.
Everybody knows that one of my charming quirks is my willingness to sign up for events way above my pay grade and then finish them out with slow but gritty performances, but I’ve been working hard to change that this year. While my “consistent training” remains equivalent to most peoples’ rest weeks, I’ve been logging many more bike miles than I did in the lead-up to last year’s Dirty Kanza, including several forays onto gravel. I went into Cedar Cross feeling nervous about the downhills but comfortable with my body’s ability to do the distance.
Like much of the country, the Midwest has been experiencing goofy weather, and the days leading upto the race were filled with rain and dropping temperatures. I drove to Jefferson City Friday evening in a downpour, fully expecting to spend my race being rained on, and I wasn’t looking forward to that at all, except for the silver lining that good stories would surely come from a bad day. Luckily, while the sun only made a couple guest appearances, the rain stayed away, though it had left in its wake a mixed bag of well-packed gravel, high creeks, and sloppy singletrack.
Despite the terrible forecast, people had continued registering right up til the last moment, and there were quite a few race-day entries. By the time I got to the race start around 6:45, the parking lot was filling up nicely.
It makes me happy to see so many cars with bike racks.
I was early enough to get to say hi to other friends who were there racing, including Emma, who was riding the Cedar Sapling route for her longest ride ever, and Todd, who I met for the first time on race day despite the fact that we live within 10 minutes of each other. I even managed to be organized enough to be ready by race time. After the National Anthem, which was played on electric guitar by a 13 year old kid with some serious skills, we rolled out behind a pace car.
Photo credit: Christina
I’ve ridden parts of the course in past rides with the guys but wasn’t familiar with the whole thing, and though I did have a cue sheet I had no way to attach it to my bike. Luckily, the course was well marked and I latched onto Adam and Travis pretty much from the start. None of us were killing it from the beginning; after all, 114 miles is a long way and our primary goal was just to finish. Having ridden a lot of gravel lately, I was slightly less chicken-ish than normal though still slower than the guys. In fact, at one point Travis even noticed that I managed to ride an entire downhill without braking. It’s sad that occasions like this are still rare enough to be news, but there you go.
About 15 miles in, we turned off the gravel into the Mark Twain National Forest. Much of his stretch, rather than being the “forest” implied in the name, was actually a big field where farmers are allowed to pasture their cows. Once into the field, we took a quick break to eat something and then took off up the mushy trail through the pasture, doing our best to avoid the cow shit liberally splattered throughout.
Travis eating. You can see how wet the trail, which narrowed to a single track, was.
The field section was actually a lot of fun. The muddy sections reminded me of my second cross race, which was pretty much a sloppy mess, and I was happy with how well my bike handled in tricky-for-me conditions. After a short, rocky stretch we emerged at the top of a gentle hillside. The downhill was great, but riding back up the other side (and it was barely up…more of a gentle incline rather than a hill) seemed to take a lot of energy. The field trail took us through a cow gate and onto a short, very muddy stretch of singletrack.
I basically kept one foot clipped in and coasted this section, pushing with my loose foot. Coming out into a clearing, I waved goodbye to Jody and Kevin, who were splitting off on the Sapling route, and headed across a bridge with Adam and Travis onto the long course. I think it was around here that my front wheel started making a terrible squealing sound. It had been great until that muddy singletrack, so I assume it had to do with the mud, but I couldn’t figure out what to do to make it stop. It went from regular to constant squealing, so we stopped several times as I tried readjusting the wheel to make it shut up…to no avail. I really need to accumulate some bike maintenance skills.
The sound was awful; I told Adam and Travis that I’d totally understand if they wanted to ride away from me so they didn’t have to hear it, but they wouldn’t do it. The whole bike thing really put a damper on the race for me; it was an incredibly annoying noise, I didn’t know what to do to stop it, my bike is pretty new, and I was afraid it was messing something up. The thought of riding another 100 miles with that sound in my ears was enough to make me want to drop out. Instead we kept riding.
At about 25 miles in, we hit the next stretch of singletrack. This was probably my favorite part of the race. Normally, I’d feel terrible about riding in these muddy conditions; it’s a huge mountain biking no-no because it destroys sustainably built trails. These, however, are multi-use trails that have been around forever and are primarily used by horse riders, who can and do ride in any conditions. Rather than destroy pristine trail, our bike tracks could smooth over horse damage. I couldn’t ride it all, but the parts I could ride were a blast. Once again I was pretty pleased with how well my touring tires (slick in the middle with knobbies on the sides) handled in the slop, and I rode some things that would make me nervous on my mountain bike (of course, I’m a wimp, so that’s not saying much). It was hard, but it was silly fun, like running in mud. You can’t help but laugh as you’re sliding all around, and since your feet are already covered from pushing through the unrideable sections it’s no big deal if you have to put a foot down. This section also had two creek crossings and a run-up.
Creek crossing #1
Creek crossing #2
The run-up, which is even steeper than it looks and was more of a “stagger up, hoping you don’t drop your bike”.
At the top of the run-up was a doubletrack fire road where we stopped and ate again. Travis loosened my front brake, which finally helped make the noise go away while still leaving me the ability to stop. Getting ride of that noise did wonders for my ride satisfaction index. It wasn’t far from here to mile 34 and a water stop, where Christina was waiting with bottled water, donuts, bananas, oranges, and apples. Thanks for volunteering!
We crossed Rutherford Bridge after leaving Christina and endured a long, sloppy uphill hike-a-bike onto another gravel county road. This is the same road that just a couple weeks ago was covered with brand new gravel, making the downhills pretty much an exercise in terror for me. Time and rain had helped the gravel to get packed in much better, and this time only the first downhill, which was very soft towards the bottom, was scary. The others were almost fun, and then we were 13 miles from the bag drop, just shy of the halfway point.
The day was mostly gray, chilly, and overcast. I started out with a
windproof/waterproof jacket over my jersey, but I was cooking on the
climbs. After a while, I stuffed my jacket into my pack and stuck with
the jersey and long sleeves. That was great on the climbs but got
chilly on the descents. Even so, it wasn’t nearly as bad as the weather
forecast led me to expect, and when the sun would occasionally peek out
it was downright comfortable.
Happy to see some sunshine
For most of the morning, we’d been riding around Mark and Rhonda, two members of Team Fohty. Out of our whole group, I’d say I was the weakest rider. This was most clear on the hills; I’m always dropped on downhills because I get scared and slow way down, and I was repeatedly passed on the uphills. I spent almost the entire first 50 miles feeling sluggish; I remember thinking how discouraging it was to do so much riding and still come out and feel like it was my first time on the bike all year. I was definitely glad to hit the bag drop and take a little break.
Pretty much the coolest team vehicle ever.
With the keg of beer Team Fohty had brought for the midpoint, there was definitely a bit of a party atmosphere as we pulled in. We sat around and ate and talked. I ate so much I was sure I was going to be stuffed as I rode away. While we took care of food, drink, and bathroom needs, Don lubed all of our chains, which was much needed after the repeated mud baths they’d been through. It was so nice to have a break from the bike seat, but I also wanted to get going and not be out all night. Travis and Adam joked that they were just going to quit at the bag drop and sit around and drink beer, but thankfully they both headed back out.
Team Virtus minus Robby, who was way ahead of us.
If I’d spent the first 50 miles feeling lousy, the second half of my race was a much different story. I felt great as we left the midpoint. Going up a hill I passed Adam, which is super rare because he rides a singlespeed and is a much stronger climber than I am. “Look at you!” he laughed, and I responded that I knew he’d be passing me again soon. He didn’t, though, and I just kept on riding with Mark and Rhonda, who’d left the bag drop when we did. After a while I looked back for the guys and saw Adam a little bit behind me and no Travis. He caught up, telling me Travis was just around the corner. We pedaled on, but after a while of not seeing Travis we decided to stop and wait so we could all ride together. When he didn’t show up after a while, Adam called Luke and Bob to see if they’d heard from him, and it turned out he’d decided to drop because his knee was hurting him.
Checking the cue sheet
We went on, bummed that Travis wasn’t going to be able to finish with us. We had to make a few quick stops to check the directions; even though the course was well-marked, we wanted to make sure we weren’t missing anything. I must’ve been drinking a ton of water, because I had to pee every time we stopped. It was a little ridiculous, but I guess it helped me get over the need to wait for trees to hide behind. This 20-mile stretch went pretty quickly, and I pulled into the Hams Prairie gas station/convenience mart feeling good. Kyle was just leaving as we arrived, and he filled us in on who he’d seen when he got there.
You can see how filthy my bike was from all the mud.
An order of mozzarella sticks, a Starbucks mocha, and half a Mounds bar later and Adam and I were ready to take off. Rhonda and Mark decided to hang out for a while longer, so we went our separate ways. Our next landmark was the nuclear power plant about 18 miles away, and it was a pretty quick ride there. The first, paved stretch of road was pretty sweet. Adam’s singlespeed gearing meant that he’d spin out if we got going too fast, so I tried to strike a balance between keeping up a good pace and not losing him, something that was complicated by my crappy bike handling and difficulty turning around to look behind me. Really I’m bad enough at this bike thing that I probably ought to just take up crocheting or something.
I’ve actually ridden this section of the race route a couple times before, so it was surprising to me how little I recognized as we rode. There was no forgetting the big hill leading up to the power plant, though. I’ve actually never walked that hill before, but of course there’s a first time for everything and this was it. I knew I could ride up it, but by the time I was maybe a third of the way up the first part I really didn’t want to. Having already ridden 80-some miles and being darn close to last place anyway, I still had another 30ish miles to go and nothing to prove. It wasn’t even a bad little walk…and it gave me the opportunity to go to the bathroom yet again. The hill briefly flattened out before climbing again, and we both rode this second section.
After the nuclear plant, it was pretty much all downhill from there…nice flat gravel leading into a big downhill. Adam, who’s ridden with me enough to know how much longer it would take me to descend, called back, “See you at the bottom,” and took off in a quest to hit 40 mph. I, on the other hand, exercised my brakes in an effort not to hit 30. Maybe I could crochet myself some big girl panties and then pull them up and actually ride.
Though the last 30 or so miles were all flat, I really wasn’t looking forward to them at all. Hills are hard, but at least they’re interesting and break up the monotony. Still, for the first 15-20 miles I was feeling pretty good, enjoying the easy ride and not having to look out for potholes or cars, and cheerily considering our chances of finishing before dark (we figured it would be dusk but not full-on night). I’m sure that Adam was really enjoying the steady stream of chatter that’s a hallmark of happy Kate. By the time the course detoured us off the Katy for a gravel road loop, I was glad for the change of scene, but things kind of fell apart when we hit the trail again.
We’d only ridden maybe a quarter of a mile when Adam, who was handling the directions, stopped and said he thought we’d missed a turn. We rode back, looking for markings or the right road sign…nothing. We rode up the trail a little bit…nothing. We tried calling Luke and Bob…and they wouldn’t answer their phones!!
Here’s the section of the directions that tripped us up:
93.42mi Stay on Co Rd 4000 til Cty Rd 4010
Cty Rd 4010 loops back to the Katy Trail. Take a left onto Katy Trail, Then take your first left onto 4038,leaving the Katy.
103.19mi Follow Co Rd 4038…follow the tape.
We had gotten to the “take a left onto Katy Trail” section, but the “first left” was almost immediate and did not lead to 4038. Now, a couple things might have helped us out:
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1) The mileage…if we weren’t around 103 miles in, we probably weren’t far enough…except that Adam’s bike computer was a little off and my Garmin had died (I either need to get faster or get a longer lasting battery).
2) Pulling up a map on my phone…except it was dead.
3) Bob’s course markings, which hadn’t failed us yet…except for the possibility that maybe someone had torn them down.
4) Riding on ahead to look for the markings…except that we’d already ridden 100 miles and really didn’t want to tack on extra miles.
Mind you, at this point we were only like 10-12 miles from the finish, and our goal (if not our route) was straight down the Katy. It was so frustrating to be so close to the end and only now have a problem. The sun set and John caught up with us while we were considering our options. Thankfully we were able to get ahold of Bob, who directed us further down the trail. The darkness fell quickly, and I was both glad to have my headlamp in my pack and jealous of John’s far superior light.
Within a mile or two we found our turn, which was well-flagged, and we turned onto one last loop of gravel. This last stretch is where I really started to struggle. The road had more potholes than our last stretch of gravel, and while my light is decent it wasn’t lighting up the road like daytime. The guys were way ahead as I crept cautiously along. Eventually John took off ahead of us and Adam babysat me the rest of the way in. I was just not in a happy place at all, and he managed to say all the right things to keep me from sitting in the middle of the road and crying. He probably felt a lot like I do talking to my 9 year old (“just a few more miles”…”we’re almost to the pavement…”), but it worked. I was basically following him like somebody’s whipped puppy and only a vague idea of where we were when I finally broke down and asked, “How much longer?”
His answer, “About a quarter mile,” was almost too good to be true but, indeed, correct as I looked up to see the pavilion and our remaining friends ringing cowbells and cheering. The worst thing about finishing last (or second-last as it happened, but only because John had missed a turn and came in after we did) is that you miss the party and hearing firsthand about everybody else’s races. It wasn’t really the kind of weather that’s conducive to hanging around outside, everybody else had had long days as well, and many had little kids to get home, long drives ahead of them, or big plans the next day so I totally understand them having to leave, but I also sure appreciated everybody who was able to be there.
Hopefully next year I won’t be so slow and people won’t have to wait so long for me, but I said all along that my only goal this year was to finish, and I’m proud that I did. 114 (or whatever it was) miles of Cedar Cross was no joke. Honestly, being so slow makes me a little nervous about making the cutoffs at Dirty Kanza, but I made the first two last year with far less training. So we’ll see. Big thanks to all of the volunteers, to the sponsors, and to Don for taking care of my chain. And huge thanks to Bob for putting on a great, tough event and sending me home with an extra dose of bike humility and lots of souvenir mud.
It’s no secret to anyone who’s read my blog for long that my immediate family isn’t exactly involved in my endurance sports life. Their attitudes range from my middle son’s semi-gorced conscription into AR volunteering to my husband’s tolerance to my oldest son’s belief that I do too much to my youngest son’s assertion (shared by his father) that running and bicycling aren’t sports (don’t get me started…). If I let it, it makes me feel bad, and I definitely envy those whose families share and support their interests. This is what has made the past few days particularly sweet.
J has resisted any attempts I’ve made to get him interested in bikes ever since I first taught him to ride without training wheels. We’ve done a few ’round the block loops and one trip to our Y to swim (2 mi each way) with a stop for ice cream on the return trip, but coaxing was involved. Not wanting this to turn into something he resisted because he was being forced to do something he didn’t want to do, I pretty much left it alone. I still invited him to go for rides but didn’t push it.
This spring I hit on the idea of an overnight on the Katy Trail. There’s a trail shelter that’s about 10 miles from Jeff City. Ten miles is a reasonable distance for a nine-year old to cover if we’re open to taking as long as it takes. When I brought this up to J, he was interested. Excited, even, and we spent the next several days talking about what to bring (chances are, polar expeditions have been undertaken with less crap than I’ll be lugging), what we’d do, etc.
His enthusiasm for the plan was even better than I’d hoped, but an added benefit was that his desire to be ready for the ride has translated into a new willingness to get out on his bike. Admittedly, that willingness was initially fertilized with the offer of ice cream on our ride, but still…last weekend he was up to ride home from baseball practice.
This being our first actual ride together, I was pretty worried about how it would go. I’ve always run next to him just in case, but even with him being unsteady, his bike speed has outpaced my run speed. Last time he rode, I had taken a friend’s advice to lowered his seat, and his new ability to easily put a foot down did wonders for both of our confidence. We didn’t set any land-speed records, but J got noticeably better as he stuck with it, and we made it home without tears from either of us.
This past Sunday was another baseball practice, this one just a few blocks away. We rode to it together, and though he opted to stay and play longer rather than ride back, he was disappointed that I wouldn’t take him out after he got home (making dinner). As a consolation prize, I offered him a ride after school Monday.
The on-road portion of our ride was moderately terrifying, but I was able to relax (a little) when we hit the paved bike trails.
J once again did great, and I think the kid corners better than I do. Granted, my friends will tell you that’s not anything to write home about, but still. He was a little nervous on the downhill, but he rode up the other side like a champ.
We rode around 1.5 mi before he started getting uncomfortable, so we turned around, stopping to smell the roses blow the dandelions along the way.
As we rode back home I was telling him how proud of him I was, what a great job he’d done. “This was really fun,” he answered. “The only reason I didn’t like it before is because I was bad at it.”
Maybe some of us are wired to avoid things that are hard for us without the right motivation. I can remember Daniel, my oldest, refusing to ride a bike because “it’s just not my thing”, when we knew he just didn’t like doing things that didn’t come easily. For him, it was a bike ride to the pool that did the trick; for me, it was adventure racing that forced me to stick with mountain biking. In J’s case, all it took was the promise of an overnight trip.
And ice cream. He truly is a boy after my own heart.
Sorry, running friends…it’s another bike post, pretty much what you can expect at least through June 1.
One of the downsides of being on a team is when your teammates all live somewhere else. That situation has left me spending a lot of time on the raod since I found Team Virtus, and while it’s been totally worth it every time, all that driving gets old. This weekend was a bit of a reprieve from all that, though, because Casey was in St. Louis for his son Austin’s participation in the St. Louis FIRST robotics competition. Since teams from all over the world participate, it’s kind of a big deal, enough so that the whole extended family was coming to watch. With Luke and Casey already in town, it was the perfect opportunity for a ride, and with Chuck, Lori, Patrick, and Dave joining us, we had the makings of a fantastic group ride.
The robotics competition went on all day, so the guys couldn’t start until 8:30. That meant we’d be riding in the dark, but that’s no big deal since we’ll all spend plenty of nighttime hours in the saddle in just over a month. In fact, for me it was doubly helpful because a) I need the practice to get more comfortable with riding in the dark and b) I found out before Dirty Kanza that the clamp on my bike light doesn’t fit my cross handlebars. Good to know.
Riding into Busch Wildlife while the sky looked like that 70% chance of rain was a good bet.
The group had 30-40 miles planned, and Patrick and I were supposed to meet Chuck, Lori, and Dave at 6:30 so we could get in some extra miles. Thanks to me waiting til the last minute to find another set of straps for my bike rack, Patrick and I were 40 minutes late to meet the others and we only ended up with 7 extra miles before getting back to meet Luke and Casey at 8:30. Once everybody was ready, we headed off down the Hamburg Trail.
Luke had to miss our March graveyard gravel grinder, so we took the guys past a couple of the cemeteries that were just off the trail. It was just a hair spookier at night than it was during our rainy day ride. We cruised down Hamburg and onto the Katy Trail towards Defiance, taking a little detour onto the Femme Osage loop and stopping for a snack up on top of the levee. Then it was back onto the Katy until we got to Matson.
Casey had wanted hills, so Chuck took us up Matson Hill Rd, a mile long climb that starts out gentle and turns into something steep enough that it made me nervous driving up in Chuck’s jeep this summer (granted, I’m a proven chicken, so take that with a grain of salt). I rode until it started to get steep and then put a foot down. I doubt I’d made it the whole way up, but I wasn’t interested in trying to when it meant I’d have to ride back down. Chuck, Luke, and Casey ground their way to the top while the rest of us stood around at the trailhead and snacked.
Once the guys cruised back down, we hung out for a while, talking, snacking on Casey’s delicious homemade trail mix, and taking some pictures.
Team Virtus missing man formation. It kinda looks like Casey’s holding the invisible man’s junk. Awkward.
Silly
Hanging out was fun, but it got chilly standing around, so we hopped back onto our bikes and headed towards Weldon Spring again. The group split up before Lost Valley, with Lori, Patrick, and Dave riding up the Hamburg Trail and Chuck, Luke, Casey, and I riding the Lost Valley doubletrack. Just getting to Lost Valley was a bit of a challenge for me. We had to cross under a waist-level bar gating the road. The guys got off their bikes and rolled them below the bar. For whatever reason I decided to cross while straddling my bike and sort of limbo-ing underneath.
I’m not particularly flexible or coordinated, so this plan was moderately doomed from the start. Scooting my bike below the gate and leaning way over to the side, I decided to grab onto the bar and kind of swing myself under and through. As I put my weight on the bar, it moved slightly, pulling me off balance. Now my feet were all tangled up in my toppled bike and all of my weight was on my arms as I clung to the bar to keep from falling. My wonderful friends stood there laughing at me and looking for a camera before realizing I was the one holding it, but they did as if I needed help (affirmative) and rescue me from my predicament. My face and stomach hurt afterwards from laughing so hard.
We rode into Lost Valley and then up the first climb, which was surprisingly not bad except for getting crop dusted by Luke the whole way up. For whatever reason, I think that climb is easier on my cross bike than my mountain bike. Of course we had to stop at the gate to play.
Getting ready for takeoff
Man in motion…it looks like it’s going slow, but it feels fast as you come around.
Bashing the stopper tree.
We all rode away with new bruises from slamming into the gate as it hit the tree on the other side of the trail. Luke’s was the most impressive; he managed to shave all of the hair (and some skin) off of a strip of his shin. The doubletrack led back to a big descent, which the boys cruised down and I crept down. Being a huge chicken isn’t just a blow to my ego; it also steals me of the momentum I’d have climbing right back up the hill at the bottom. Even so, while in March I only was able to ride my cross bike about halfway up that final climb, on this ride I made it within about 15 feet of the top and just kind of gave up. Lame, and yet encouraging.
We met back up with the others in the parking lot, and our good intentions of riding an 18-mile loop at Busch Wildlife were derailed by a case of beer and good company. We spent enough time hanging out and visiting that we could’ve ridden the extra miles, and eventually the clock hit 2:30 and we decided maybe it was time to head home. I was really glad to have Patrick’s company and conversation to help massive amounts of caffiene keep me awake for the drive, and I was even more glad to wheel my bike into the house and climb into my warm bed.
30 miles of gravel and fun friends. What a great night.
April has been a pretty fantastic month so far. I celebrated my birthday, of course, and every weekend has been awesome. First up was the CAC2 and the next day’s gravel ride, and the following weekend featured Robby’s 5K, more gravel, and my family birthday party. While the first half of the month was hard to top, this past weekend is definitely up there too.
Friday night was the Mesa Cycles women’s bike seminar with a lot of cool ladies, delicious food (and wine!), good information, and smokin’ sales. The sale/wine intersection was not a good one for me. I set my glass (well, cup) on the sale table while I looked at a saddle; unfortunately, it slipped out of my hand, hit the wine, and dumped my drink allll over the table. How humiliating. After helping rescue what I could from the drenched table, I slunk back to my chair as the Mesa employees cleaned up my mess. So if you wander into Mesa and bring home a sale item smelling suspiciously of Chardonnay, you can blame me.
Totally worth the embarrassment, though, was spotting this sweet thing on the table. I’ve been eyeing the Selle Italia diva gel flow saddles since my friend Kim suggested it to me last year before Dirty Kanza, but the price was way too steep for my budget. I was excited to see it half price on the table, and delighted when it rang up $50 at the register.
My sitting parts are overjoyed
Saturday morning I finally made it to another of J’s soccer games and then came home to get his bike ready for our planned afternoon ride. After his baseball practice we rode for a little over a mile to get ice cream and then ride home. It was the first time we’ve ever ridden bikes together (instead of me running next to him), and he did great. He’s never been too interested in biking, but he got visibly better as we rode, and even when he struggled he stuck with it. I was so proud of him. Totally worth the $9 in ice cream our stop at Cold Stone cost me.
Sunday morning I left at 6 a.m. to meet Chuck for a trip to Hermann, MO. Our Dirty Kanza training plan (which he is following far better than I am!) called for 90 miles, so he took us back to part of the Tour of Hermann course, but only the easier northern section. I actually rolled into the park and ride ten minutes early, and if you know me at all you know that’s a very rare thing. The drive to Hermann went quickly as we got caught up on each other’s races and training, and before long we were loading up for our first loop.
Chuck had mapped out a 40 mile loop and then a 25-mile loop. That way we could stop back at the Jeep to restock and hopefully shed a layer. We knew those loops put us in grave danger of getting back after 65 miles and bagging the rest of the ride, so Chuck’s plan was to do some side road exploring to rack up some distance on each loop. The route started with a few miles of flat Katy Trail, and it was chilly enough that I was actually looking forward to some climbs to warm up. Of course, that lasted right until we started climbing. And climbing.
Actually, I know I need the hill practice, and maybe because I’ve been on the gravel for the past two weekends I was feeling a little more confident on the downhills, too. I mean, I didn’t savor them, but I wasn’t quite as terrified as normal. Right up until Chuck mentioned, “Oh, yeah…watch out for potholes…for whatever reason they’re hard to see on these roads and some guy broke his collarbone last weekend after hitting one wrong.” Goodbye, confidence, hello paranoia.
Signs like this never make me happy…even on pavement
We did a good job making sure to eat every hour or so. I had a stack of new foods I was trying out. I’ve been eating a pretty consistent Paleo-type diet, and it’s been surprisingly easy (and happily led to a 20 lb weight loss)…except for when I have long runs or rides. Then I end up falling back on the same ol’ stuff I always eat. This time I actually did some planning ahead to take real food options. Here’s what I went with:
Allen Lim rice bars (good, but hard to eat bc of cook error…I’ll try these again with the right rice)
Small baked potatos cooked with some coconut oil and salt (delicious!)
Roasted salted almonds and freeze-dried peaches (delicious, but the peaches were expensive. Maybe I’ll just get a food dehydrator and play with that)
Coconut water instead of Gatorade (gross)
Justin’s nut butter single packs — almond butter/maple and hazelnut/chocolate — instead of GU (delicous)
Ensure clear (OK, but full of ingredients with really long names)
I probably won’t buy the Ensure clear again; I didn’t like it that much. I was really happy with how I did nutrition-wise for the day, though. We spent about 8 hours on our bikes due to a lot of slow exploring, rode some challenging hills and fought wind, and I ended the day feeling really good. No bonks, no cramps, and I could have kept riding. Everything but the Ensure is definitely on my Kanza nutrition list.
I had to walk a couple hills because I just couldn’t ride them and a couple others because I waited too long to downshift and then got stuck. Then you’d get to the top and zoom back down again, going from sweating like crazy to freezing. And repeat. Eventually we dropped back onto the Katy Trail and headed back towards Hermann for the end of our first loop. Rather than being a nice respite, though, the Katy section was straight into a headwind. That got really old. I had to pee pretty badly but was hanging on until we got back to the parking lot so I could use a real bathroom. When we hit the last little town before Hermann I was pretty relieved and really counting down the time until I could go to the bathroom and get off my bike. My attitude, which had been really good so far, was spiralling downward. And then Chuck turned away from the trail. “Hey, let’s see what’s out this way!”
I wasn’t excited about our extra mileage program when I’d been so looking forward to getting back, but that had been our plan all around so I kept my mouth shut and followed the leader onto the new road.
Just getting out of the headwind was a nice change, and the day, though cold and gloomy, was also really pretty. We followed this road around between fields until we came to a turn that went over the levee.
That’s a nice road.
Chuck dropped his chain as he started up the hill, so I took the opportunity to cross over to the other side and go to the bathroom. That, combined with eating some food, dramatically improved my attitude. We rode the crappy road until it turned into swamp and then headed back in the other direction. Our detour along the gravel roads was fairly flat and gave us an extra 10 or so miles, so we were at 52 when we got back to the car and more food.
Just as we’d been finishing up on the extra gravel, the weather took a subtle but noticeable turn. All of a sudden there was a definite warmth in the air, so after we ate we both shed a layer. After leaving my arm warmers at the car and shivering for 55 miles last week, I was too gun-shy to leave my fleece at the Jeep, so it spent the majority of the ride in my pack.
The first loop had been fun, but the second loop was pure awesome. We had a short flat Katy ride to our turn and then some smaller hills, and then some serious climbing. At the top of all that climbing, though, we entered the Daniel Boone Conservation Area. The road through the conservation area isn’t all that long, I guess, but we hit just about every side road and trail we saw in the interests of adding mileage. Our time:distance ratio was probably pretty week, but we had a blast exploring.
Cross bikes are fun because they can go on crappy trails as well as crappy roads.
Horse trail? No, bike trail!
We did laugh about the fact that the well-signed horse trails had far less horse damage than the shared use trails we’re used to. And we, or at least Chuck, laughed when my crappy bike handling skills landed me off the edge of the road on a u-turn. “What the hell are you doing in that ditch?”
Unfortunately, the conservation area fun had to end eventually, and then we were dropping way down again. “It looks like we’re riding off the edge of the world,” Chuck called back as he started downhill. Yaaaaayyyyy. I took the hill much more slowly. We had to hit the pavement for a while, and though boring it was a blessedly smooth ride. Missing our turn gave us even more bonus miles, and when we finally figot back to the correct road (right where we’d stopped for a snack and discussed whether this was our turn) it was of course a sketchy gravel downhill.
Chuck hit the bottom waaaay before I caught up with him, and as we came to our turn we saw the coolest little building on the side of someone’s driveway. I don’t know if it was a gatehouse or what, but it had a door shaped like a boat, and it looked like someone was covering it with stone and plaster. Hard to describe, but trust me, it was cool. The property had another shelter-looking building on it, too, and as we made the turn I was rubber-necking to check out what else might be over there. There was a very pretty creek to our left, a very scenic property to our right, and we were riding on gravel riddled with big potholes. “This road is not conducive to sightseeing!” I complained.
One of the great things about these gravel roads is that they’re often really scenic; another perk is the lack of car traffic. When we did see a truck up ahead of us, it was creeping slowly across…something. As we got closer, we saw the reason for the driver’s caution: the road crossed a creek. Fun!
Chuck made it all the way across; I didn’t get far at all.
This was only one of many creek crossings on this road, some of which were up to our knees as we carried our bikes across. Others were paved low-water crossings.
This was another slow section because the dry road wasn’t much better than riding on a creek bottom, but this stretch of was incredibly fun. And scenic
This picture doesn’t even come close to showing how pretty it was down in the valley.
The road wound along the creek and through the valley. Occasionally we’d see crazy steep roads leading off to the side and my heart would sink until we got near and realized they were driveways. My hands were definitely starting to feel beat up by all the gravel. Thankfully (unlike last weekend) I’d remembered my gloves, but towards then end my left pinky and ring finger were starting to get numb. I’m hoping adding a layer of thicker bar tape will help with that, because numb hands could be a real problem in Kansas if they kick in too bad before I’m finished. Last year Becca had to cut my steak for me the next day because I couldn’t hold my knife tightly enough to do it, so this is definitely something to figure out.
Getting a picture with our new favorite road.
Cool old barn, taken way too close up because I was too lazy to move further back.
Leaving Massas Creek road left us with just a few more miles and a couple more hills before we were back to the parking lot. The climbs were a little demoralizing because I was so over hills, but I think I made it up both of them ok. Riding back to the Jeep with the wind at our backs was pretty awesome, too.
We were at 84 miles when we made it back, and both of us were just fine with that. Not quite the planned 90 miles, but Chuck and I both felt like we could’ve kept riding. It was definitely a confidence booster for me to finish a challenging day and know that I had more miles in me. It was the best long ride I’ve had all year. The only think missing was the rest of our friends, and all day long we kept talking about how much fun they’d be having if they were there. No fear about missing out, though, because I’m pretty sure we’ll have to repeat this ride.
Right now I’m at around 650 miles for the year, which really doesn’t feel like much when I think about the 200 mile race I’m tackling in just over a month. At the same time, I spent way more time on the gravel than I did last year, I have a different bike, I’m in better shape…and at this time last year I hadn’t even registered for Dirty Kanza yet, let along started training. While anything can happen, I’m feeling like finishing the race this year is a definite possibility.
Up next, though, 100+ miles of gravel at Cedar Cross on May 4…and I’m excited about it. What’s wrong with me?
Note: This report was written by Kate with commentary from Adam in red (well, it’ll be added when he gets it to me. For whatever reason people with two jobs don’t have a lot of spare time) and Jeff in green.
Ever since the 2011 Deuce, Team Virtus’s annual non-race has been a can’t-miss event for me. Non-competitive and low/no-cost non races can introduce new people to the sport and give others a chance to practice/develop their skills in a more relaxed and cheaper setting than a formal race. The Deuce was my first ever adventure race, and Luke (who barely knew me at the time) was kind enough to shadow me throughout the day, introduce me to basically everything I know about orienteering, and make sure I didn’t die in the woods. By the end of the day, my theoretical love for adventure racing was confirmed by experience.
Why no, I never do get tired of using this picture from the Deuce.
April 2012 saw the rise of the CAC (Carnage at the Creek) non race and a much larger field than the previous year. It included a weekend of camping, many AR friends, and a partnership with my buddy Chuck of ROCK Racing. Chuck’s an awesome navigator, and when we teamed up with Travis after the bike prologue their combined map skills made quick work of the orienteering. While they didn’t literally carry me, basically all I had to do was follow along, keep up, and not row the boat under any circumstances.
Perfectly willing to do my share but banished to the back of the boat for rowing incompetence.
I was so determined to be at this year’s CAC2 that I actually postponed my 40th birthday celebration in favor of the race and left straight from work. I was both excited about all of the fun people I’d get to see over the weekend and nervous about the anticipated “learning experience”. You see, in my first two non-races, I had the benefit of experienced navigators, but this year Adam and I had decided to race together despite the fact that neither of us has much orienteering skill. We were fully aware it was a bit of a recipe for disaster.
We’re so screwed…
One of the cool things about this year’s race was that some really skilled adventure racers joined the party. First Emily Korsch, who’s got a growing stack of AR wins under her belt, volunteered to attend and race with anybody who wanted some help and then one of her teammates decided to join the fun:
At first I just left it alone because I’m a team member and figured I should leave the rock stars for our guests, but later I started to comment that Adam and I would love to have help if no one else spoke up. I never sent it, daunted by the prospect of exposing just how weak I am to somebody of that caliber. I do my best to be up-front on the blog about my weaknesses, but it’s one thing to admit it online and another to actually demonstrate it in front of someone who has a clue. No, Adam and I would just make do on our own. Maybe we’d even surprise ourselves.
After an easy 2.5 hour drive, I pulled into the campground and was treated to the sight of a rare double moon. As befits a non-race, I parked in a non-spot, and my wonderful friends pulled up their pants and helped me carry my stuff and get my tent set up. Already having enjoyed a super healthy dinner of gas station pizza, I spent the rest of the evening relaxing and hanging out by the campfire as other racers arrived. The weather was perfect for camping, and I had was a fantastic, fun, often hilarious night visiting with old friends and new: Luke and Becca; Bob and Cara; Robby; Travis, Crystal and family; Brian and Todd of Whiskey Tango Foxtrot; Tardy Rooster Dave and this year’s AR newbie, Woody; Blue Moon Dave; Derrick and Emma from Orange Lederhosen; Team Roadkill’s Ron along with his friend Louis; Emily; Jeff and Carrie; Team Torti’s Fletcher; and finally Kim, who drove over 4 hours to be there.
Luke, Becca, Robby, Fletcher
Louis, Woody, Derrick, Dave
Carrie, Jeff, Fletcher, Dave, Emily, Louis
Since Adam wasn’t arriving until morning, I took a fair amount of crap suggesting that he wouldn’t show up and I’d have to race alone. Jeff mentioned that he was looking for a teammate and we could race together, so Adam and I ended up lucking into a third (and immediately MVP) teammate. I was both delighted (because our chances of dying in the woods were drastically reduced) and nervous (because non-racing with a member of Alpine Shop is kind of like having Michael Jordan join you for your pickup game). I warned Jeff that we’d be really slow, but he was super cool and assured me that he was just there to help us out.
Lessons started the next morning as we were able to go over maps with Jeff, see the kinds of things he writes on his maps, and discuss our route.
Kate, Adam, Jeff
Jeff also showed me their bike tow (basically a strap connected to the back of his bike that someone behind him could grab to help maintain a consistent team pace). While I’ve never had a desire to use one, I resolved to try it. If we were going to get the opportunity to race with a rock star teammate, we needed to take advantage of everything we could learn!
Precious cargo
Bikes had to be loaded onto a trailer to be shuttled to the transition area (TA), and we would have to drive to the race start. Since CAC2 didn’t start until 9:00, getting up was a pretty relaxed affair. Still, between being responsible for transferring the checkpoints to our map from the master map (something which made me deeply thankful that my normal AR job is to read coordinates to Luke), discussing route choice with Jeff, and doing my fair share of visiting, I was even more disorganized than usual and made numerous trips back to my tent. I really don’t like wearing pants and usually wear shorts and tall socks for adventure racers, but after several warnings from Bob I threw my trekking pants into my pack. The race started with a very short trekking leg followed by a bike; I’d just put on the pants before the long trek. Feeling as ready as I was going to be, I grabbed a ride to the start in Aaron’s van and tried not to worry too much about my bike swinging from the tetherball pole.
Yeah, that’s mine. Maybe I should’ve loaded it early.
Thankfully, all the bikes made it intact and I could relax for some prerace pictures.
Kim drove more than 4 hours to guest race with those crazy boys from Whiskey Tango Foxtrot, and I’m pretty sure she laughed for the entire race. Love those guys!
Me with Kim, who’s moving even further away (boo) and giving me yet another awesome friend to visit in CO (yea!).
Now that’s a fun looking group!
Back row: Woody, Dave H., Young Ben, Todd, Fletcher, Travis, Dave B. Jeff, Brian, me, Adam, Louis, Kim
Front row: Derrick, Dan, Robby, Emily, Emma, Ron
Luke made a last minute announcement: “It’s now 9:41, so by Team Virtus time we’re actually 19 minutes early. That means the cut-off is pushed back 45 minutes.” Cut-off?What cut-off? This was news to me. One of these day’s I’m actually going to pay attention at a pre-race meeting. There might have been a countdown, nobody sang the National Anthem (which was a terrible oversight except for the fact they’d probably have made me do it), and then we took off running down the road. Well, I tried to run, but some clown was holding onto my pack. Eventually I got free (or he let go), and we were off!
Leg 1 (trek): Find the passport:
The race began with a short (~.5 mile?) run down the road into a park area called the Carrington Pits to follow the map to collect our passport. Adam, Jeff, and I had agreed that Jeff would navigate and we’d follow along on the map. I had the map first, though following along on it while running was a challenge (also while walking, biking, trekking, and standing still, but that’s another story). Near the lead, we followed a trail while keeping the water to our right like on the maps. This worked out pretty well until I noticed a small lake to our left as well. “That water over there is making me nervous,” I told the guys, “Why don’t I see it on the map?”
It turned out I didn’t see it because we’d turned and actually gone between pits instead of staying to the right of all of them. What should have been a 10 minute jaunt to grab the passport became a 45-minute odyssey through Brer Rabbit’s briar patch, culminating in Jeff wading through knee deep water to get our passport.
Jeff: My boys remember the water being somewhat over my knees.
Leg 2: Bike (10 miles)
Back on track, we ran back to the bike drop, getting there in 4th (??) place, and transitioned. This process was slowed by the fact that Adam’s front wheel had mysteriously “fallen off”.
Hmmm…how did that happen?
Jeff was ready way ahead of us; while Adam fixed his bike, we looked at the maps. I don’t have a map holder on my bike or even a way to hold my map case around my neck, so I did my best to memorize the turns (there weren’t many) and then tucked the map case into the front strap of my pack. We took off down the gravel road, and as soon as we hit the first incline I opted to try out the towing system (strictly in the interests of science and certainly not because I’m slow ;-D).
Basically, a towing system (explanation and good basic picture at this link) is some type of line attached to the front bike with a loop on the end of it for the tow-ee to grab. My team has discussed towing in the past, but I wasn’t excited about the idea for a couple of reasons.
1. I’m a big chicken and don’t want to be dragged along at faster speeds than I’m comfortable with.
2. It hurt my pride. Looking at it as being towed because you’re the weakest person is a little bit of a blow. I started changing my mind after reading Robyn Benincasa’s book, where she talks about sharing strengths. Does it make sense for the strongest member of the team to be sailing along easily while someone else is killing themselves to keep up? Wouldn’t it be better if everyone’s effort was more similar? And theoretically, I’m not always the weak person, but even if I am, it’s not about pride, it’s about what’s best for the team. Does it make sense for me to kill myself to do it alone or is it better for the team for me to let someone help me so I’m not dragging later in the race?
Jeff told us that Alpine Shop tows all the time, not just one person but the whole team. And not when someone is struggling but BEFORE someone is struggling. What Robyn and Jeff said made sense. That helped with the pride issue, and it was easy enough to grab and release the tow strap that my fear stayed out of the way. Well, on the road anyway; it’ll be a long time before I’d be comfortable on the singletrack.
Scene from the first bike leg
The weather was beautiful, but there was a pretty good headwind blowing. You’d drag yourself to the top of a hill, but instead of sweet relief from climbing you’d have wind pushing against you all over again at the top. Between the wind and the hills, I quickly became a big fan of towing systems. Not only was it a big help, but every time that tow strap started to stretch out more it made me push a little harder so that Jeff wasn’t having to drag my slow butt up the hill. I did feel a little guilty because I was getting help while Adam was dealing with limited and slipping gears, but he turned down the chance to give being towed a chance and I hated for it to go to waste. Shortly after getting CP1, we passed Fletcher changing a tire, and soon after that Adam got a flat. Jeff helped him change it, and then we sailed into the TA that Adam’s girlfriend Michelle was manning (womanning).
Leg 3: Trek (~11 miles)
The maps showed a fairly long trekking leg ahead of us, but unlike last year we wouldn’t be doing it pushing our bikes. Heeding Bob and Luke’s advice too late, I finally put on my trekking pants over the scratches from the passport hunt…better late than never. I was heading for the marked trail leading from the TA when Jeff walked to the road next to it. And that’s why I’m not the navigator.
When I say “road”, this is what I mean mostly.
Adam spent the first part of the trek picking Jeff’s brain about nutrition, while I was all about how long have you been adventure racing, how did you get started, etc. In addition to being interrogated, Jeff also kept up a steady narration of how we could tell where we were on the map, and I did my best to follow along on my map. I can look at a map and say, “OK, we need to go west along this ridge until we get to the second reentrant”, but I still have a hard time matching what I see on the map with the actual terrain in front of me, so Jeff’s descriptions were super valuable to me.
On the way to our first CP we passed an old swing hanging from a branch. “We should take a picture there,” I remarked as we passed.
“Yeah,” agreed Adam as we continued walking, “Luke and Bob probably put it there for that We really should.”
“Umm…” Jeff said, “Do you want to go back and take the picture?”
Of course we did!
“Hey, you don’t get pictures like this racing with Alpine Shop!” I laughed, “You’re getting the real Team Virtus experience.”
It was a beautiful day to be out in the woods, and we didn’t have many problems finding the checkpoints. It always amazes me how much is out in the woods that you’d never guess driving by on the road. The guys picked out a lot of cool stuff for us to see, pretty much all of which they found by just going out and exploring.
Our first CP of the trekking leg is under this bridge
Gratuitous beaver shot on the way to the next CP
The beavers had been hard at work as evidenced by downed trees all over near some ponds. It was the first time I’d seen anything like this except in a book. No actual beavers were spotted.
Way high up
Map check
Adam and I switched off the map after the first few checkpoints so that he’d get a chance to learn from the master, too. It was kind of disorienting not to be holding the map for a while, but then I got used to it and spent most of the rest of the race in my usual state of happy ignorance.
On our way to one of the “rock arch” CPs
For the CP with the “rock arch” clue, we’d guessed it might be low and so didn’t head uphill. Unfortunately, we’d guessed wrong and got to climb this bad boy.
This does a better job than most pictures of showing slope, but it’s even steeper than it looks.
At the top, we saw Derrick. And the CP.
After that, I think we were headed to the second rock arch. We had to come down off the hill and cross a reentrant. Jeff, as always, moved up and down the slopes like he was walking on a sidewalk, while I cautiously picked my way down and Adam moved somewhat faster than I did. On the other side of the reentrant we basically went up a wall. “Huh,” Jeff remarked at the top, “That was a little steeper than I realized.”
I’d just been following behind him and hadn’t realized how steep the hill was until I was almost crawling up it using hands and feet. At the same time, it was really humbling to see what a different level Jeff’s on: navigation, of course, but lots of other things, too. Way faster at transitioning, the pace he could move up and downhill, pace in general (at one point as we hiked through a fairly open wooded area I remarked, “You guys would be running here,” and he agreed), he never seemed disorganized (I’m always trying to figure out where things are in my pack)… it was a great look at many areas in which we could improve. And yet, throughout the day, Jeff raced our race at our pace, totally cool and supportive with however we were going.
Following the creek to our next destination
After finding the two rock arches (CP 5 and 4, one of which I didn’t take a picture of and have no memory of), we had to bushwhack southeast through the woods until we hit a road. “It always seems to take a long time when you’re hiking through the woods, especially when there aren’t any big terrain features to follow,” Jeff remarked (those aren’t his exact words but get across what he said). Just after we started to get nervous, Jeff popped out onto the road. Success! We initially turned the wrong way but hadn’t gone more than 50 feet before Jeff realized we were off track and got us headed in the right direction. This is another of those times I’d have continued on trying to make the map fit what I was doing. Hopefully some of the lessons I learned from Jeff will stick next time I’m at an O meet or something.
Getting onto the correct road, it was a short trek to our next CP, the Laffoon Stone.
The Laffoon Stone. Any resemblance to male genitalia is purely intentional.
Then we crossed over the creek again and hopped onto the trail to CP7, a shelter cave.
Another CP
Big bone we saw after the cave
I recognized Sapp Bluff from CAC2012. The CP flag was even leftover, though last year we had to push our bikes up a hateful hill after dragging them over all kinds of horse-damaged singletrack. Trekking there was much nicer.
Up on Sapp Bluff…it’s way high.
Adam and Jeff stood on the edge for a closer look while I hyperventilated (still not a fan of heights). Dan caught up to us as we were starting down, and we all headed in search of CP 9 together. This necessitated crossing Cedar Creek and bushwhacking through another edition of thorns gone wild.
Crossing Cedar Creek at a low spot.
The clue was Devil’s Backbone, and our hike brought us out onto a gravel road with a really cool rocky spine outlining it…but no CP. After 45 minutes of fruitless searching we finally accepted the fact that it had probably blown away (in the end, that’s apparently what happened). We had one CP left on the trek and were either near or past the time cut-off, but that’s the beauty of a non-race. Getting non-disqualified is no big deal.
I had taken back the map during our aborted attempt at 9. It took me a while to catch on again, and “Can you show me where we are?” was a repeated refrain. We found 10 with no problem and then set off for the road back. There was a pretty good trek to the road where we were just following the compass, and after a while we started to wonder if we’d somehow gotten off track. Of course, our route led us right through a forest of cedar trees…thank goodness for my hat or I’d have left half of my hair behind in all those grabby little branches!
Kinda like this picture from 2011.
One funny thing on this section of the trek…we found a maroon shirt laying in the road (which basically looks like a wide trail). I picked it up wondering if it belonged to one of the other non-racers, then noticed it was cotton. “Probably not ours…none of us would be wearing cotton,” I told the guys. “….Well, except me,” I admitted as they laughed at me. I was wearing cotton, but only because it was turkey season, my only orange shirt was cotton, and I preferred potential chafing to being shot.
Back at the TA, there was a little party going on with Becca, Michelle, Cara, and Bob all there with food. We got updates on who was in, who had dropped, and who was still out in the woods. Dan transitioned lightning fast and was gone. Jeff was ready in no time, I grabbed a chicken leg and a baked potato, and Adam visited with Michelle. Jeff offered to carry my shoes (he’s the Alpine Shop pack mule), but I turned him down because they were all gross and wet. Of course, so were his shoes. In retrospect, I totally should have handed them over. I don’t know why it’s so hard to take help.
Other than having some uncomfortable chafing from my bike shorts (first time I’ve chafed from bike shorts when I’m NOT riding), though, I felt good as we left the TA on our bikes. We rode about six or so miles to the mystery event, where Luke directed us to cross the creek, scale a steep hill, look at a lego structure, come back, and replicate the structure exactly. I don’t know what happened, but I pretty much fell apart as soon as I started walking uphill. I went from feeling fine to totally weak and a little nauseous (almost like an instantaneous bonk, even though I’d just eaten), and I barely made it to the top of the hill before the guys were ready to come down. In retrospect, I should’ve just stayed at the base.
The last two miles of the non-race were singletrack, starting with crossing the creek again (I walked my bike across) and then a gentle uphill. I didn’t get far before I had to walk. My legs were dead and I was breathing super heavy. I’m always weak on singletrack, but this went beyond lack of technical skill and was straight physical meltdown. I felt bad that the guys had to keep waiting on me, and it was downright embarrassing to have felt good all day and then be such a train wreck with just a couple miles to go. The guys never once rolled their eyes or were anything less than encouraging, and after snagging one last CP at a cool old building, we rode (and walked) the rest of the way in to the finish. A special treat was when we had to lift our bikes over a barbed wire fence that some farmer had built ACROSS THE TRAIL…and then lift them over again when the trail looped back. Thankfully, Jeff and Adam did most of the lifting because I had nothing left at that point.
Jeff: I’m sorry I didn’t know you were in such a bad place at the end. I could have been more helpful.
Kate: Right, in addition to lifting my bike over the fences and coming back to push it up the hill for me. Actually, for someone who never shuts up, I don’t communicate that well when I’m feeling bad during a race. That’s something I need to work on. On the other hand, it feels like a bit of a failure of will to let myself fall apart with 2 miles left, like I should have been able to tough it out better.
Someone jokingly asked me later, “The guys pushed you that hard, huh?” but that wasn’t it at all. I was more than fine with the pace; I’m not sure what happened. I actually threw up after we finished, the first time that’s happened to me in any race. Yeah, that’s right…the CAC made me gag.
***
Once we could hear our friends back at the campground, Jeff, who’d been leading all day, dropped back and let us ride in first. As we neared the finish he asked what our team name was. “Are we Team Virtus?”
“Team Virtus Plus, ” I suggested, but Adam had the best idea: “Let’s tell them we’re Team SONA: Saving Our Newbie Asses.” And he did. Totally. He carried us without even breaking a sweat. I only hope he had as much fun as I did.
HUGE thanks to Bob and Luke for non-race directing, to Becca, Michelle, Crystal, Carrie, and Cara for volunteering, and especially to Adam and Jeff for racing with me. Hanging out with everyone before and after the race was fantastic. If you were there, you know just how awesome it was, and if you weren’t, you should definitely plan better in 2014. The Team Virtus non-race should not be missed. And if Jeff Sona wants to do some more heavy lifting, he’s more than welcome to carry me next year too!
I first “met” my teammate Robby’s daughter Ava in this post (which tells you everything you need to know about how amazing my teammates are) back in 2011. Robby and his wife Sarah lost Ava to SIDS in 2009, and since the following year they’ve held a 5K race in her memory to raise money for First Candle, an organization working to advance infant health and survival. In the past, I’ve donated money to First Candle, but that’s not the same as actually being at the race, and this year I was finally able to make it work to run in Ava’s race.
This was also the race I’d targeted for my attempt to get a new 5K PR (currently 26:15) and hopefully meet my goal of beating 25 minutes. I’ve done a pretty good job of training consistently, but I also knew that the last mile was pretty hilly and I might be pressing my luck to hope for a PR in Jefferson City. I was really nervous the morning of the race; going for an ambitious goal is much different that my usual attitude of hoping to make it through alive.
I got up at 4:15 to make sure I had plenty of time to get ready to make the 2.5 hour drive to Jeff City and arrive in plenty of time to register and warm up (and thank you Emily for the warm-up advice!). I chatted with several teammates and friends for a while — Robby and Sarah, Luke, his wife Becca, Adam, his girlfriend Michelle, Stoney, Team TOG’s Aaron, and Christina and her daughter Beth — and then ran my warmup. When I got back, Beth wanted to do some warming up, too, so I ran another quarter mile or so with her and Christina.
Photo credit: Sarah Brown
We moved to the starting line just before the 9:00 start time, and I lined up nearer to the front than I ever do. Robby sounded the horn and we took off. The race starts with a sweet downhill, and I was a little freaked out to see a pace in the 6′s on my Garmin, but of course that quickly rose as the course flattened out. I did my best to maintain a pace that hurt but wasn’t unbearable, and I was rewarded with a first mile of 7:55 (my fastest in a race ever). The first half of mile 2 was in the 8:1x’s and hurting. I knew that if I wasn’t able to keep pushing my sub-25 was going to be in danger with the hill in the last mile. Thankfully, I hit a sweet downhill which helped me end at 8:07.
For the first two miles, no one had passed me and I thought I might be the lead girl. My thoughts were confirmed at the end of mile 2 when Sonya, who was acting as course marshall on that corner, told me she hadn’t seen any other girls. This was uncharted territory for me, and I savored it for about .1 mile until a girl passed me right after I turned Stoney’s corner and started up the hill. As much as I liked the idea of being the female winner, it was not to be. She quickly put distance between the two of us as I struggled to maintain a running-like fashion that probably wasn’t any faster than a walk.
I had heard the last mile was hilly, but having neglected to look at an elevation profile before the race I didn’t realize it was one .79 mile hill. I know that’s probably nothing to you people who live in mountainous states, but ouch. It was pretty demoralizing to see my pace drop into the 10 min/mile range. Even so, I had to smile when I looked up the hill and saw Bob, his mom, and his wife Cara at the top and heard their cheers. Thankfully, that third mile ended with a slight downhill and it was enough to salvage a 9:53.
I didn’t have much left for the last .1 mile, and I was sure glad to see the finish line…until I saw the clock: 26:30. Not even close to my goal and 15 seconds slower than my PR. Still, that PR was set on a pretty flat course, so I’d say this is a respectable time for me. Not what I wanted, but there are plenty of 5K’s. And honestly, I can’t blame the big uphill for taking away what the earlier downhills probably gave me. I don’t really think I’d have been able to beat 25 minutes on a flat course. Of course, now I’m going to have to test out that theory and hopefully prove myself wrong.
And regardless of meeting or not meeting my goal, I still got to bring home some bling.
A rare occasion, indeed.
I ended up coming in 1st in my (new) AG, 2nd female, and 16th overall. Those are all pretty nice consolation prizes for a disappointing time. Big congratulations also to Luke’s wife Becca, who set a new PR and took second in her AG after just starting running again a month ago!
***
We followed up the 5K with a 55 mile gravel ride, my second in two weeks. I’m loving my new bike more each time I ride it. I definitely need more training, because I consistently fell behind on the hills. I was able to climb every single hill — and my goodness, there were a lot of them — but I’m definitely slower than the guys. Worse are the downhills, where they scream down and I creep and whimper the whole way. I never needed to walk any uphills, but there were a few of the downhills where I wanted to! I did get slightly braver towards the end (I’m not sure “braver” is the right word; more accurate to say I thought my chances of crashing bc of braking were better than my chances of crashing while going fast) and kept my hands off the brake levers for several hills with very thick, fresh gravel. I’ve now got three touchstone phrases which ring through my head on hills:
“Get your ass up!” ~ Bob
“Heavy feet, light hands.” ~ Luke
“Your bike wants to stay upright.” ~ Jeff Sona (our guest racer for the CAC2 non race…report coming soon!)
As I flew down that fresh gravel, I muttered over and over again, “It wants to stay upright…it wants to stay upright…” and thankfully, it did. Definitely a tough, but fun, ride. If I keep training like this I’m going to be in serious shape.
) before finally sort of figuring it out (still put the mount on sideways). Lori handed Chuck off to me and headed home.
