My Little Egg of Light

As I headed to the west, I could see the city lights straining against the low hung clouds as if the light could push up the clouds so its beauty could shine higher.  As I looked forward it was black; the type of black that is the absence of color.  A few lights marked houses or grain bins in the distance.

I had studiously watched the weather maps as I tried to choose which day to ride through the night. The thunderstorms had been predicted at various times for the weekend and I chose to go Friday.  I had first ridden south and made a pit stop to see Bob at the Tap.  His words of encouragement and support that I could ride through the night pushed me to head out into the vastness of gravel roads and fields.  A Snickers and pretzels, and a serenade from some happy revelers who were quite concerned that I would be riding the trail alone.  I did not bother to tell them that I was riding gravel until well after the sun rose the next day.

I was surprisingly apprehensive to head out into the dark.  I did not expect my mind to start playing emotional games with me this early.  After self-arguing, I decided I would head out and if it was not going well I could cut back up to Booneville and head home.  That worked;  off I went!

My plan was simple, pedal, read queue cards, eat, drink, restock, keep pedaling. I had a lot to learn on this ride.  I had been awake since about 6 a.m. on this Friday.  I was a bit tired but was trying to prep for what TIv13 might feel like.    There was the dark when the sun had recently set and city lights were visible.  Then there was the dark of almost nothing with light around me. As I rode on, I adjusted to the view from my headlight.  I was headed toward Winterset which is a route that I am pretty familiar.  The cemetery hill on Old Portland Road was painful as I had just raced the TT the night prior.  Otherwise, things were going smoothly.

I made it to the Cedar Bridge and took a photo. This has been a right of passage as I ride over each covered bridge. This photo would become very bittersweet by the time morning rolled around.  Then I headed into Winterset.  I actually found the Cstore with navigation instead of dumb luck.  Getting my sense of direction had been a struggle for many years.  I fueled up and loaded more water.  It was midnight and time to roll on.  The next several hours were over miles that I had never successfully navigated in the daylight.   There was some pressure to get it right tonight.

My goal was to watch the number of miles to the next turn and chant the name of the street in my head.  Pretty soon I learned that there are not a lot of choices.  If the next turn is a right turn, check the next green sign.  It was very disorienting to not be able to see the grade and top of the climbs.  I had an egg-shape of light in front of me of about 20'.  The sides of the road always looked to be headed upward. But the tension on my pedals told me something else.  The optical illusion fascinated me all night.

I was eventually going to head back north.  Whomever told me that the wind dies down at night flat out lied.  That south wind had been about as strong as ever.  It seems unfair, but gravel often is.  Heading west at least was a cross wind. Challenging but better.  When I finally headed north, it was pleasant.    Most of the night the gravel had been damp from earlier storms.  Not too bad, I thought. That changed quickly as I headed to the north.  Soon it looked like wet concrete and was about and inch or so deep.  There really was no line to take.  Often as I slid I was very thankful for a mountain biking background.  Light hands, relaxed arms, no panic, pedal steady.  Soon it became a thoughtless rhythm.  

Time...what does it really mean.   I did not have a standard clock.  So the concept was lost.  I just knew that I had to pedal until I found Redfield.   I guessed it would be about 3 hours.  Sometimes I wished I had looked at how far it would be  from town to town, but then I won't know how far it is to whatever town is on the TIv13 route.  I had enough stuff for 7 or more hours, so it was time to relax.

I decided that I like N/S as I can figure the distance by the street numbers.  I wished E/W had that. Then pondered the confusion of all number streets and avenues.  I actually laughed out loud at the silliness of it.  I guess one's mind has a lot of time to wonder when your line of sight is just an egg of light.   No trees, houses, cattle, birds, etc to watch.  But the frogs kept me oriented as to when the next climb was near. The louder and closer they got I almost always figured I was in the bottoms which meant the way out was up.    All of the sounds of the night held clues as to what was surrounding me that I could not see.

The most startling sound is the barking dogs and hurried feet across the gravel or grass.  One benefit was that the dogs usually were by the barn or house. This meant that there were many yards to get to the road.  Several times I really appreciated the length as opposed to when the dog is in the front yard as they often are in the daylight.

I was overjoyed to see that I would soon be crossing  I-80 as it was a solid landmark that helped me to feel safe.  I stopped at the closed CStore and grabbed some more food from my bag.  It was proving to be more difficult to eat in the dark.  The lack of a concept of time made it confusing.  I had packed X amount of a certain food so that I knew how many I had left.  I picked up the eating a little bit.  What I wanted was real food.  My coach told me that at some point in the gravel season I would be at  Cstore late at night the hot dog that had been on the rollers all day would be the best food I had ever eaten.  I laughed!  It really hit home that I would have been ecstatic to have the hot dog!

The night had been very dark thus far with no moon.  I saw lightning off to the west. These two combined made me fearful that more storms were coming.  I kept taking a smell....the air smells different as the front comes through.  I did not get that nor did I get the sudden temp drop.   I kept watching the lightning off in the distance and hoped it went northeast away from my route.

A while later, an hour, several hours, who knew, but the moon appeared.  I was very happy to see it. That meant that it was no going to rain, at least at that moment.   It also added a new dimension to what I could not see.   I felt like I was aware of the trees that bloom with the white flowers. What is my imagination trying to see something or was it the little bit of moon shimmering just enough to allow me to be aware of these trees?

Time flies when you are pondering the physics of life.  I saw signs of a town and Redfield appeared.   Of course, the Cstore was closed like everything else.  It is a weird feeling to be in a town when everyone is asleep.  I come and go without any record..........   But tonight I needed to get off of my bike for a few. minutes.    I stopped in the car wash. I checked in that I had found Redfield.  Then noticed the water was running a bit from the wand.  I looked at the muck caked on my bike. Sure, why not wash some of it off?  For some reason, this whole scene was very funny to me.  Again I was laughing out loud (yes, some security tape has all of this, I am sure).  Was I losing my mind?  I felt slower in the brain but not tired.  I  seemed to still have logical thought patterns.   I also took that is was a sign to get moving again.  I can't finish if I don't pedal.

I started to wonder when the sun would rise.  I seemed to really need to have that longing just out of reach but coming soon..........I hoped.   As I was heading back south I thought I saw a mirage.....a CStore sign brightly lit.  Was I getting close to I80.....would my route take me near to it?  I wish I knew better where in the heck I was in this gravel maze.   Where I crossed I80 was not the Cstore place so on I pedaled.

More south into the still brisk wind; up hills; down hills; up more hills.  My headlight hit a grey mouse in the middle of the road..........chasing his tail in circles.  That lead to lots of pondering and giggling.....did he just see his tail because of my light and was so fascinated he had to chase it?  I was getting dizzy watching him.  I hope he stopped as the light left.

My navigation turned to the east, a found a bit of pavement and THEN, an open Cstore!!!  I have to love Cstore employees, no matter what time of night you stop in, covered in mud, with a helmet on, they greet you like you looked completely normal.   I got what I needed and learned that if you take the top off of your water bottle and then bend over to get something off of the bottom shelf, you make a mess.  Crap.  When I checked out I owned the mess that I made and got a:  Don't worry, it happens more than you'd think!   She must really be a morning person.  An open Cstore also meant that sunrise was imminent.

Off I went, hoping to get back to places that I knew.  I enjoyed the sun as it rose for a few minutes before the cloud snuffed out its beauty.  Then I found roads that I was familiar with and I was excited.  Knowing the roads and being close to the end are vastly different concepts but I was taking what I could get.

So.....overall I pleased with this ride. Got close to 14 hours.  I really like the night riding so I am not sure if that is the gravel holy grail or if it's just the bent side of my life.   I still have few kinks to work out to make it better or I guess smoother.

Thanks to all that did not put the phone on sleep so that if I needed help I could call.  It loaded a ton of confidence into me to know that I had this support.  Also that my biggest supporter is not a sound sleeper so there always was a text when I stopped.  That will keep my sanity in check.

Hoping the next blog will be my post-race report!

30 Days Out----How Did I Get Here?

Today is the 29th which is not normally very significant.  This 29th is in March so the next will be in April.   I usually spend that weekend attending a board meeting and then all of the fun that comes with Drake Relays.   This year I have chosen to take on TransIowa version 13 (TIv13)   I am not known as a long distance gravel grinder, so how did I get here?

Last year's challenge was not the 100 miles at Leadville.  It was the silent suffering of a severe shoulder injury that bothered me since early spring.  After having it repaired mid-July,  I had two months to sit still, not use my arm and hand.  Somewhere in that time, I had an idea and it involved TI.  What I suggested was ultimately not able to happen.   Somehow the conversation when from that to why don't I enter?   I laughed but the questioner was serious.   I had done 24 hours of Cumming.  Yes but my longest training ride prior was around 58 miles.  I had finished but saw it as a fluke.  I really saw no need to ride that type of distance on gravel.   I truly am a fan of midwest mountain bike races...2 hours is a great amount of time to race.

I knew that I would not be on my own bike until after the first of the year if all went well.  Two months of no strength or core training was concerning.  I cut a deal to do some tandem racing early in the year.  This kept me on the trainer as I could tolerate.  It is amazing how motivated one is when there is a goat at the end.    When it came time for TI sign up the question was posed again.

One thing that I have learned through this is to choose your friends carefully. When you have friends like Canjo, Chuck F, Fuller and Cooper, you start to think that phrases like:  24-hours, 500 miles, 10-hour training rides are normal.   I did not see myself as being at this level.  But I knew that I was stubborn beyond belief.     I bought a postcard, carefully read the race rules, and entered.  As a rookie, I did not think I had much of a chance to get into the race.  So I was not watching the results.  I got notified by another biking friend.  Then I let my coach know. The best thing about my coach (OK,sometimes also the worst) is that she never says: No!

She set a plan in her head and started feeding it to me week by week.    Some time is February I was able to start riding solo.  An hour, then two.  Eventually 2.5 hours of gravel.  My arm/shoulder had been reduced to skin and bones.  Not a muscle to be found.  The PT was excruciating but I knew it had to work ASAP. What I did not figure on was the intrinsic strength of lots of little muscles and such that are vital to riding   I had lost that.

I have stayed true to my training plan.  It has finally started to come around and I feel strong.  My shoulder is aout 80%.   I am a month out and it is settling in that THIS is happening and I feel solid about it.

I understand that a 330-mile race on gravel and B Roads, self-supported with no pre-known route is not about the miles.  Yes, I need to do my training but it is more about mental toughness and the blessing of weather goddesses. It is about good equipment choices.  It is about those around me that believe in me more than I do   I have the greatest bike shop dudes at Rassy's getting me ready.  I own the sweetest bike ever for this: Salsa Cutthrout.  Experienced racers are quick to loan bags, advice, tips.

As I embark on my last month I have a few things to dial in. The strangest is to learn to eat junk food.  I am a cook at home, whole foods type of gal.  The first CStore stop took a long time as I was overwhelmed at the food/drinks/snacks available.   My transition stunk so more practice is in order.  Best advice/warning came from my Zoom coach Julie:  it will be late at night and that hot dog that has been on the rollers all day is going to look like the best food that I have ever seen.  I am not sure I can go that far, but she is rarely wrong on race advice.

As I embark on a long-ride weekend and talk like 10-hour gravel rides are common to everyone, I am urprisingly without fear.  A healthy dose of reality is still firmly embedded and should be throughout this journey.

I have lots of mixed emotions about this.    When I first heard about LV100  I thought those folks were crazy.  I heard the stories.  I saw the movie.  I had no dirt experience.  But somehow I was intrigued.  What made these folks try this on single bike nonetheless on a tandem.  Really, this was crazy!

When I started mountain biking about 4 years ago I hired a coach.  Why?   I stunk at road and crit racing even though I trained with gals that were good.  I hoped that my coach would help me figure out how to train right; how to be ready to race.    The biggest compliment that I got on my first race, after hiring Julie, was that I had a game face…I looked different on the start line.  Well duh?  I was told that I was ready to race so I started that way.  I got smoked but I felt different.

Eventually I figured out how to be smarter than other Cat 3 racers which did not mean I was better.  But I learned that I was a better strategist and I could suffer for a longer time.    I got challenged and whipped.  But I was hooked at dirt.

The next year I raced Cat 2 and learned that longer distance was tough.  I was taught that there were only two reasons to not finish: an ambulance took you off of the course or your bike was in pieces (I took that as a flat was not a reason to quit).    Well this sucked.   The CAT 2 distance was challenging.  There were faster gals with more skill. But I never quit.   It was suggested that I maybe I was better at racing longer.    I guess that made sense: my 5K mph and my marathon mph were about the same.

I chose not to upgrade to Cat 1,   my goal was not to race at that level for the rest of my career.  I started to look at 4-hour races, 50 milers and 40 milers along with gravel.  I hate gravel.  I have no real reason.   Last year I kept entering races because I knew that my coach would cut me off when it became ridiculous.  But she did not.  Somehow I ended up at the 24-hours of Cumming Race.  4 loops of 100k each.  Now recognize that I had not successfully ridden 62K on any training ride.  I met the long distance guru Sarah and she help me to get my set up (cue cards……..why do I need those?)  How I got so lucky, except for knowing Katherine R, I do not know.   I guess when a long distance person meets another, even if a rookie, they know.  Through the grace of friends to be my support, keep me safe in a lightning storm (who knew you needed to be in a ditch?) and be there when I finished, I completed the race.

I met a new friend on that last lap loop that would be inspirational.  I thought that I was poser.  Until I realized that a guy I admired greatly hurt as much as I did.  When you both vow to get down this hill and ride up the next only to get about 6 pedal strokes in before dismounting and walking opened my eyes.  Everyone suffers, everyone sucks, and few keep going.  I learned that everyone hurts.  Some stop.  Others just keep going. Is either the right way?  No, well yes.  Both are correct for the person doing it.

What I learned is that I do not quit.  My tolerance to discomfort is above the grid.  My fear factor can be beat.   So I paid a good sum to go to Leadville.   I bought an appropriate bike.  I went to the Leadville camp and rode all of the course.  Got the crap scared out of me………….there is no way to describe what the surface is that is ridden upon.  The range of pitch…up to 24% grade.   Most folks say uphill must suck………….no!!!! Try riding down that only to run into more normal grades of 5-10% but just keep going for miles.  In the Midwest we go down the hill fast and right back up the next.-

I accepted what it was and went back home to hone my skills.   I did what I could and felt ready to race.  My prep was good.  My travel was awesome………….Shelley was a phenomenal cohort in all of this.    I thought we had a kitchen but only a toaster oven.  The one thing I must have on race day is Race Day pancakes.  I do not believe that I have raced without eating them.  What to do?  Figure out how to make them in the toaster oven.  My out of-the-box thinking turned out great pancakes.

On race day I woke up excited and ready to go.  It was a 30 min drive to the start.  A glorious morning.  Got to the corral and set my mind to race.  My plan was to be safe on the pavement and hit the dirt.  The full width of the road was full of people.  I settled in and pedaled.  It was beyond beautiful.  I rode the first climb that I walked at camp.  I watched the lines, moved up when I could. 

Eventually I saw the powerlines and the real climbing began.  I felt strong.  Prepared.  HR was in check.  Food was consumed.  I climbed and climbed.  Then it all went downhill…..fast.  When I was at the top looking down I felt the rush like on a rollercoaster.  An equal part terror and pure adrenaline.  My fear brain screamed, No, don’t ride this!  My adventure brain shouted, Go big or go home!!!  Let go and headed downward.  What a rush. But then it was too much and I needed to scrub speed but there was no flat in sight.  I braked and ‘cross dismounted.  A few riders went by and I was able to move across the washout and decide to walk the rest or ride it out.  I will only be here once so I mounted, grew a pair and started down.  As I got in the rhythm I was grinning from art to ear for conquering my fear.

There were still a lot of miles to cover. The first cut off was at 40 miles and 4 hours.  I tried to calculate my time to that aid station/cut off.   I tried to get a few folks to work with me but just got strange looks.  I pushed on and on like it was a time trial.    I rode like I belonged.  The miles kept coming.   About 7 miles out…. crap…..I was not going to make it.   I had already resolved that I would burn all of matches if I thought I was going to get pulled.  I put the hammer down…..I felt like it was a cross race.  There was so much climbing. The miles got closer but the clock wound down.   Push, push, push.   I hit the dam, shot across it and they waved me through.   Oh I was so lucky and so screwed.

I rode through it as my crew was still a few miles away.   I pushed to get there and received a hero’s welcome.  A gigantic confidence boost.  Chuck, Shelley and the rest took care of everything while I took a natural break.  I was back on the bike quickly headed toward the Columbine climb.  I reviewed in my head what laid ahead:  one mile very steep; five miles relentless, switchback climbing and the rocky, steep above the tree line.  2.5 hours of work to the top.  THIS is what I prepared for in earnest. As hard as this climb was it was the speed of the descenders on the other side of the road and often 4-wide that was the most nerve-wracking.   Every switchback was steep and blind.  The fear turned to power and to pride.  There are lots of areas that I can improve but I can climb.  On this day I was perfectly trained which lead to great form.   The view of the end of the tree line meant that I was close; also that the toughest part was yet to come.

The last mile to the top had lots of pushing the bike, short bursts of riding followed by walking.  I hit the spot where I knew I could ride it out.   The thrill of reaching the top is not explainable.   Trust me that it was worth everything that I put into it.  I had some Ramen and mounted to head back down.  I was aggressive but not stupid until I reached the switchbacks.  Then I let it rip.  So freeing to scream down, brake late and dive into the turn.  Then repeat.  Did I mention that I love my Rassy’s Specialized Epic Expert World Cup???

As I rode back to my support I checked the clock and knew I would be pulled at the next check point.  I told my crew no refiils needed and that I would see them on the other side of the dam.  I still rode hard.  I had a few miles to reconcile that my race was over.   I got to the dam, grinned as they took my wristband and timing chip.  The guys mentioned that I was the most smiling person that they pulled.  For me it was this:  I was perfectly trained, had stellar weather, a top-notch crew and, most importantly, I had the strength to finish.  I just ran out of time!

The guys asked if I needed anything?  Yes a cold beer would be great. Another guy in a truck asked what type?  Cold, of course!  He went to his personal cooler and handed me the best beer of my lifetime.  I rode no-handed across the dam, drinking my beer while sitting up and proud.   I just had THE race of my life. Sure it could have ended differently but it did not.  I was well satisfied of my journey to this destination.   I always remember that it is just a race (it does not define me) and that riding bikes is just plain fun!

Thanks to all that trained, supported, encouraged, and motivated me.  Most of all big thanks to Julie and Zoom Performance for mapping this journey!