Tall Orders and Bigger Checks: My Sunshine Ride through the Wilds of Tennessee

Pedaling into the light out of a South Tennessee evergreen tunnel muted to a darker green by the morning's mist my legs felt good, so good that I started to get a few little goosebumps and chills as I realized where I was, and the journey I had begun.

The Cohutta 100 gets a little press, its gets a lot grassroots press especially. Folks pass on their experiences, blog about the way it shook out, and share their opinions. "Ill never go down their again," a flatlander friend said after his experience at the 2013 edition. Another described it as an "earn your turns" kind of race, borrowing a skiing term for the 100 mile day in. With only a couple of blips at the Shenandoah Mountain 100 over the past few years I don't have that much off-road century experience. The winter decision to begin a whole season of 100 mile races on singlespeed was not one I took lightly. Except that it kind of was. That's kind of how I do things, spend a lot of time thinking and finally say "what the hell," and do it.

Nonetheless rolling into a completely dark Ocoee Whitewater Center parking lot without any visible signage less than 10 minutes before mandatory check-in the decision was coming home to roost in big ways. Drive reroutes, traffic, and my stomach demanding a proper burrito for pre-race dinner shot my partner's and my otherwise very punctual routine all to pieces. But this is mountain bike racing; no roadies here, so the stoke level remained high but with more than a little nerve to it.

 We sprinted over to a barely lit registration tent, got our numbers, and started quizzing a pretty exhausted volunteer crew about our ride tomorrow. "Whats the surface like?" "Hows the start?" "Whats this 'potatoe-patch' business?" That one got a moment of quiet as the volunteers each collected their opinions of the climb for careful delivery. I mean; last to roll in how pro could we be? They probably thought we would be the first to tap out and wait for the broom wagon with preparation like that! Nevertheless a description riddled with words like "long, mean, hateful, awful, miserable," and of course: "I don't think id want to drive up it in my car." Super...

 Camp called so we headed back to the car and got our selves in gear for tomorrow race. Bottles filled, alarms set, jersey pockets filled with the requisite calories to burn a few hours seeking glory in the hills and dales of Tennessee. Early to bed early to shred, so how about late to the truck testing our luck? Racing to do in the AM kids!

Awake early as usual I popped out of the back of the truck and got to getting our gear ready. My Fiance Emily would also be out there pushing herself to the limits. I love knowing we are both out there at the same time, riding the same course, pushing and traveling our own journey. More on that later. I got myself some breakfast, a bottle of cold instant coffee to get things moving along, and double checked all our gear. The pace of preparation gets frantic the closer we get to go time. Fortunately we were parked near the start line so we could keep a pulse on things. I gave Emily a kiss as we exchanged "good luck, have fun, be safe!" I rode off to find my spot to a final "Get 'em buddy!" Thats kind of our thing. Lined up somewhere middleish off to the side I could see the singlespeed contenders, Gerry Pflug ready for a 5th consecutive ride to victory at Cohutta, lined up right up front. Its awesome that a singlespeeder can genuinely command a front row seat at a hundred mile race and nobody questions it. Dan Rapp looking lean and mean not far off him. A few other names and jersey I recognized rolling around as well. My fellow Virginian Jeremiah Bishop had rolled down last minute for the race and I was glad to see a familiar wheel to chase.

 And chase we did! Unsure about the course profile or even the start I made an effort to get up front early. A long straight uphill road loomed before us. But I didn't care, I just had to not loose the geared wheels and try and make my way to the front before we hit the singletrack. Pace-lining on a singlespeed is tough, 300+ watts at 130 rpm can be a bear, especially this early in the race. The road gave way to a narrow strip of sun rising over the Tennessee hills to the south west and I knew the day would be special. Every time I saw the sun over the next 8 hours I remember feeling something special. Ill always remember that sun, maybe because the horror stories of recent years had me dreading rain. Maybe because it warmed me on that cold morning. Into the singletrack and the bike I had just built four days earlier had felt good on the road now it felt GREAT!! Pivot hooked me up with an LES SS to ride this season and Blue Ridge Cyclery in Charlottesville VA dialed in the build. And MAN was it dialed. I ran a rigid fork which dampened the bikes enthusiasm for shredding just a little but that machine was made to roll. All fear, all worries, all cares in the whole world were eliminated as I found Gerry's wheel and we ate up that smooth morning trail. #Ohbaby



 Gerry paced us perfectly through the traffic as we ate up that singletrack. The downside was only a few miles in I had exhausted all the knowledge gleaned from the interwebs of the course. Slick rock, bridge, and bumps...thats all I knew about. Into the unknown. However quickly we found some good guides in Jeremiah Bishop and Rob Spreng. Both had done this race a couple of times and were not racing Gerry or I so I knew they d be willing to share some beta. Also by judging heir efforts I could tell what was coming. We formed a great little group snaking our way through the forest towards the warm sun of the fire road. Like a cold-blooded singtrack reptile looking forward to miles and warmth we sought the first aid station. Gerry is as seasoned a racer as they come and didn't hesitate to come around Jeremiah and Rob one a steep pitch. I followed a little to my surprise. Not to seem pretentious boys but I gotta chase that! We stayed 1-2 for a few miles until we popped out at the first aid station. Some confusion causing us to stop and pause allowed a few riders to bridge up but the more the merrier.

 Down the first ribbon of sweet gravel. I thought to myself: "if the whole thing is like this today is gonna be awesome!" Funny, when I came back up this stretch 70 miles later I dont remember thinking it was all so sweet. Down through the valleys below we rolled, rolling what was actually a fairly easy pace. Easy enough for several other riders to ride up on our tails and join our club. Into the evergreen stands we rolled on the Tennessee fire roads, Georgia and plenty of vertical to look forward to. Past a couple of hunters with their freshly dead bird we exchanged smiles and funny looks but silently agreed this was going to be a good day. Our grupetto thinned as we hit the pitches of the first real climb of the day. The climbs were steady all day but would give us little teases of break. About each break we got somebody would no longer be there. Like a game of musical chairs the music stopped for one rider each pitch. Into the next aid station we grabbed our drop bags, popped something that caught our eyes and rolled on. I stuffed a few bananas into my pockets and filled my bottles.

One of the great things about the cycling scene, particularly at the front or any long distance race, is that sense that we are all in this together. We could beat each other to bleeding puddles but we've all still got to get to the finish line. And to a certain point its better to do a lot of the work together. Our group of 6 or 7 accomplished riders rolled along nicely, even agreeing to a "nature break" at the next steppe. I remarked to Rob Spreng it was funny we had carried all the extra weight up the mountain, fine time to loose a little!! We laughed and moved on. Up a few more then sweet gravity DOWN in a big way!! Those endless fire roads seemed to go on forever, letting all the mystery of what would lay ahead stay concealed. The pitches of ups and downs never really confirmed or denied we wouldn't have to climb again. We had hit a couple nice drops only to find it was right back up! When we got to the meat of the matter around 45 miles in we recognized we would be getting into the Pinhoti trail soon and then the work would begin. Across mile 50 we exchanged jokes about how we had just done our "Whiskey 50, now one more." Our Whiskey would be sweet southern 'shine as we whooped along at a pretty unbelievable pace through the Pinhoti. Jeremiah smooth and fast in the lead with Rob on his wheel followed by Gerry and I and one other geared racer who had survived with barely a word the whole time. When you get several great bike handlers in one place things get rowdy. We could have been racing, we could have just been shredding on a mid-day vacation! It didnt matter. Once again the sun shined through the trees as the hot dry singletrack allowed us to really cut loose.

That early morning sunshine

 The bottom dropped out and we hit the pavement. Things mellowed quickly as we realized things were about to get hard, and serious. The question all day had been  when Jeremiah would make his move. Everybody wants to win of course but somebody like Jeremiah in a pace line adds a reactionary element. We would wait for him to make a move because we HAD to wait for him(!) and see how we all responded. He did it without drama. Smoothly pedaling up the road at the bottom of Potato Patch. Gerry and I had exchanged a few punches earlier but abated fairly quickly; no sense in riding a bike with one gear by myself on fire roads for 60 miles, but now things got a little awkward. Sort of like a middle school dance neither of us wanted to let the slow dance end...then it did.

I knew there was an aid station ahead though so I put in a few hard pedal strokes to build a little extra time in front of the bowl of M&Ms that waited there. I wanted to get there with a few extra minutes to make sure I got all the fuel I would need when Gerry decided to murder me with his legs. I saw the tent ahead and then seeing Rob reach out and get his hand slapped with a wristband I realized that was not the aid station I was looking for, that was the checkpoint where we would prove we made it this far. But why stop a good thing? Rolling through the checkpoint and onward the couple of more miles to the aid station. There I didn't actually take long at all. Having put in time on the competition I made change on some bottles and kicked out of there.

Jeremiah, Rob, Mystery Man, and me. Everything else was behind me and was immaterial until we started back down. As we climbed back up the sun was beating down now. Sweat dripping off of me that same sun that warmed my heart and legs earlier was now against me, forcing me to work , pushing me. I caught the third placed rider and noted that was pretty cool. Singlespeed meant business! Around a couple dark corners of the mountain I got a clear view of the Georgia sky up ahead. I rounded a right corner and felt that sun move again from my face to my back. As soon as I did I saw the "Tattoos in Blue" Rob Spreng climbing strongly just out of sight. Theres my rabbit. If I can get up to Rob Ill have some gears to work with on the way down. Up to Rob, next to rob, past rob...keep going. This race was blown apart, the concentrated fun for the first 60 miles was great but now it was down to business and business was booming! The sun at my back I rolled on and up.

The Potato Patch climb is mean, it is hard, it is long, an it doesn't let you make peace with it. Living in the mountains of western VA I know long climbs, long climbs with names like "Thousand Foot," "Elevator Shaft," and "Buck's Rut."But that 'Patch didn't let up. It would level off, tease you with a short drop, then pitch you into hypoxia. I had to go hypoxic on those climbs, there were hero behind me. Men with a very serious goal of catching me and beating me to the finish line. Every single corner demanded another match from my ever shrinking book. Seeing riders coming the other way looking strong I knew we had actually made good time despite our fun for the first 60 miles. Around a bend I recognized i realized I had made it, the top, and the scene opened up one last time to reveal the shining sun looking out of the foothills. Winking at it and speaking my peace I asked my to legs surge and make for the downhill.

And down we went. Dropping like a hammer each corner presented a new challenge; a different line, a new obstacle to move smoothly past without incident. At this time I saw a familiar kit, and a face hung low lift up. It was Emily. She howled and told me Jeremiah wasn't that far beyond me. I smiled, said words of encouragement I don't remember, and hammered on to the inspiring music of hollers and screams from the woman I love. Doesn't get much better than that! If my tank was low that topped it of! "We could do this" I entertained for a second. Then quieting myself down, cooling the goosebumps of a great race underway and pushed the Pivot to find its limits as I sped down. I heard repeated gaps between 5 and 8 minutes to Jeremiah. Could I catch him? No... not really, but I may not need to. If I had succeeded in making that much time on the climb I may not need to!

Gravity abated and the descent angled towards flatter and flatter. I loosened the legs and brought the singlespeed up to speed then crouched and made myself like a bullet to suck every bit of speed out of those watts. Second to last aid station and I was allowing myself to celebrate a little. Less than 20 miles now. Keep moving, keep moving fast. And then it went pear shaped. bad. real bad. I missed a left turn back onto fireroad from the open road out of aid 7. I went right, up a fire road and to an intersection that wasn't marked.Suddenly It all came back, this was not in the bag. I had work to do and I better make up my mind quick. I scoured the gravel around me for tire tracks and seeing none I decided to head back down. I passed an ATV driver who confirmed I had gone wrong. He asked if I wanted him to show me. Sure? I guess so. But my toothsome friend didn't grasp the urgency and I dropped him. Down like a rocket I went, spotted the markings and fought back into shape. Chasing the images of Gerry and Rob and who knows how many other in my head I pushed every last bit through the rear wheel.

Aid 8 came, had the sun set on my day of glory? No, still in 2nd overall. And "Holy smokes!" On a singlespeed. I pitched it into the singletrack and rallied. I didn't have much left. I wont pretend I did. But Emily knew I could do it. I knew I could do it. I had folks who believed in me and I was not going to let them down. Endurance events like this are a fine line to ride. You have to push, but cant push beyond your limit. I did. I pushed the limit of my handling skills, the limits of my cramping muscles, and the limit of the trail. It gave way in several places but the Pivot LES stayed strong, planted and composed.

The trail finally gave way to fire road, which gave way to the river. Open road, the sunlight behind me again pushing me to finish strong. the endless road coming to an end beneath me. Keeping an eye behind me I gave myself a moment. Once the finish line was crossed I would have other concerns so right now I let go. Let go of everything I had inside emotionally and mentally. This job was done. Nothing could keep me from this one anymore. No win is easy, every 100 mile day is a challenge, but the purposeful moments alone in the woods that had brought me to this finish line brought such emotion as my battle ended.

I crossed the line, raising my arms skyward celebrating and relishing the moment. I had won the first NUE singlespeed race of the season for me and come in second overall. That was big.

Partnership

Cycling is in fact a team sport. By that I mean more than just the mid july co-worker explanation of bike racing and the way it works. My first post on this blog was in honor of Scott Scudamore entitled "Community." This post continues in that vein a little.

 By now Ive done a couple of long, hard races, and had some great wins and incredible support. During the winter its really easy to focus on the hard solo miles, the long cold days, and the burn of embrocation in a hot shower when youre too miserable to do anything about it. What I mean is that its a terribly selfish time. Its a time where my phone is too deep in layers to text friends and family back, and so I dont. A time when the endless cycle of miles and recovery weighs heavily on the other things in life I love. There is only so much to go around and when the bike wins out time and time again, everything else can begin to suffer a little.

 And it gets really easy during the last few pedal strokes of a winning effort to get those goosebumps and say "I did this, this was MY effort, and I am proud of it!" that tendency to see a big win or a great race as a solitary result is all to easy to fall in to. Already this season however I have been shown in incredible fashion how no win is truly "solo." There isnt enough room on the top step of the podium for all the contributors to each and every ride, race, or adventure. But heres a few:

 I am incredibly well supported by the Blue Ridge Cyclery and Charlottesville Racing Club families. Despite living a two hour drive away from Fooftown I have received so much friendship and support from the shop and the BRC community. Rides to races, couches to surf, a place to pit, a warm fire to camp next to and incredible support financially and motivationally throughout the season. To Mark McCardell for his communication and endeavors to keep us all plugged in, the Ramsey's for their willingness to lend a wrench, a bed, a meal, and a great campfire race story, and to Dave Tevendale for keeping us all in the know (albeit not always in time) with whats going on around the BRC scene. The minds and muscles at BRC are have also always been available to support me. I got my most recent fit from Paul and Ian spent time off the clock helping me build my Superfly Pro SL last spring. This family is one that pays back what you put in plus dividends.

Ill always be forever honored to wear Blue Ridge Blue

 I am forever grateful to Shawn and Jenny Tevendale. Shawn and I crossed wheels during my time at the Fisher (later Trek) 29er Crew. I had raced for a local shop team and then gotten a bit of a break to the Farm Leagues and raced along side the Bike Factory guys and gals. On a couple of occasions I was fortunate to pair up with a few of them for team events and benefit from the incredible pit support shawn organized. I probably earned much of my reputation as a rowdy but plucky singlespeeder who just wouldnt take no for an answer in those pits. When the call came that Trek would be abandoning all but their olympic level program several years back it didnt take long for another call to come in from Shawn. I remember it vividly and was thrilled at the offer to come race for "the new shop;" Blue Ridge Cyclery. Since then I have received support above and beyond what faster, stronger rider receive elsewhere and have an incredibly knowledgable resource in shawn. I have loved seeing their family grow and am always ecstatic at an invitation to come shred out at the farm, or join Shawn and Jenny for dinner when im in town. I cant put words to how thankful I am for them and their support of racing and of me.

The Man who makes it all work, and me...growling...

 And finally to Emily. I have been blessed beyond anything I deserve to have met a woman who I value as a true partner. I grew up in a family where my mother and father worked as a team to make our family happen. I met Emily at a bike race, of all places(!!!!) and in her I have found a person who feeds and supports my strengths, tempers my weaknesses, and supports me in ways I am still learning. She and I are different people partnered in one cause of living a passionate and exciting life together which positively impacts those around us. In only a year and a half together we have experienced some incredible highs and a few very deep lows. Through it all we have lended each other every kind of support a companion can. On the bike front we have won the BURN 24 as a duo and other endurance races throughout the mid-atlantic and off the bike we have finished her graduate schooling and moved her into another state for PA school. Weve gotten a puppy and dealt with the deaths and births within our families. In February of this year I was nervous as hell standing on a rock in the middle of Primland Resort for a Va Dept of Tourism commercial shoot because the directors and I knew that I was going to ask Emily to marry me. Once she realized (on camera of course:) ) what I was asking her she lit up and said yes. Ive never been warmer or happier in all my life. We have been slow to tell people because we have savored it a little and enjoyed telling those very close to us in person. But now the news it out!!! Im incredibly happy with the kind of partnership we share and look forward to a lifetime enjoying it and growing it together.

I may not look nervous in this finished photo from the shoot but I AM!!!

 So heres to growing those partnerships that have made my cycling, and my life so far so perfect. So next time were on the podium just know that you share more than just a little bit of that step.

We're all up there TOGETHER!!

In Like a Lion, Stay Like a Lion?

In Like a Lion, Stay Like a Lion?

One of the perks of having a pro cyclist as a partner is access to unlimited opportunities and invitations (usually from him) to the events and races that he is traveling to and competing in. Most of the time this is awesome and completely amazing, but the other 10% of the time it’s pretty rough. Supporting Gordon in his riding and racing is one of my top 10 goals in our relationship and when my schedule allows, this usually takes the form of discussing race schedules and events, listening to him monolog about SS gearing, assessing and internet stalking his competition (only the fastest ones, so if you’re slow, don’t worry, I haven’t stalked you), bottle hand-offs, wardrobe consultations, nutrition support (i.e. shoving food in his mouth), and anything else that I am capable of helping him with as long as it doesn’t involve actual bike maintenance (with the exception of being able to change a tire and lube a chain). However, in the last 6-8 months I’ve started “magically” getting signed up for more and more events to not just support Gordon in, but actually race myself. Not only have I gotten signed up for things, I’ve also (thanks to the Valentine Fairy) received a fabulous new hand built bike that was specially made for all of my racing needs.  And what’s a girl to do with a gorgeous new blacked out 650b Hometown? Well, race it of course. 

As we all know, this winter has been rough. I have done more inside workouts than I would care to count and I have certainly ridden more trainer miles than I would care to recall. In fact, I have had less than a handful of rides off the trainer since before Christmas! Embarrassing really. Despite all this, I have somehow been able to maintain some semblance of fitness (even if it is only in my head), and complete a couple cool events at the start of this new season. Monster Cross was the first event of the year for me and I had a great ride there and met all of my goals while still feeling pretty darn good for 50 miles of hard/constant pedaling. So with the first official day of spring landing sometime last week and the  Cohutta 100 coming up within the next month, it was time for another big ride and a chance to test out my new racing wheels and my trainer conditioned legs.

(Enter: Bikereg magic)

Gordon: “Hey, Em! I got you a new t-shirt! You have to ride 50+ miles to get it though and climb approximately 7000 ft.”

Emily: “Ok, what’s the weather going to be like?”

Gordon: “Raining with a high of 36.”

Emily: ………………..

 

The HARDford 50 Gravel Road Race was just that- hard. It would’ve been a beefy race without the freezing temps and constant rain, but the conditions made it, by far, one of the toughest days on the bike that I’ve ever had…and that saying a lot considering I’ve ridden the Shenandoah Mountain 100 in the rain, not once, but twice! We left my house early and somewhere along the drive it started raining. Hard. I was nervous. Not only was I nervous about the weather, I was nervous about taking my new bike out in the terrible conditions for a long and certainly muddy ride. I was also nervous about being cold and being able to finish because of the rain. I am one of those people that when I get cold on the bike I generally stay cold and the fact that I knew I would be wet on top of being cold worried me. Despite my fears, and in an effort to “support” my man (or at least that’s what I told myself I was doing), I put on everything that I packed and reluctantly shivered my way to the start. The roll-out was easy and a good pace for me. I’m slow to warm up and don’t usually get out of the gate fast so I was happy with the easy pace and a chance to benefit from the protection of the group. We hit the first climb very soon after the start though and I immediately found myself alone, in between the front and back group, and soaked through from the rain already. Great. This was going to be a long ride.       

 

About halfway to the first aid station I caught up to a couple who were riding at a steady pace and latched onto them for a while until they stopped to wring out there socks. Not a good sign for them. Another girl caught me shortly after that and we had a great time conversing and attempting to distract one another from the miserable conditions and the gnawing concern that we might actually lose digits from the absurdness of the weather. We finally reached aid #1 and while my companion stopped, I kept rolling for fear of getting too cold while not moving. I don’t remember much of the climb to aid #2. I know I passed a handful of people, heard some talk of DNF-ing, lost feeling in my other foot as well as my hands, and had the thought that if I did in fact make it back alive that I should see if my insurance paid for psychological evaluations. Aid #2 came none too early and I promptly grabbed a piece of French toast (AMAZING!), asked how long ago Gordon had come through/was he in the front group, and started the long 8 mile grind to aid #3 on the top of Max Patch.

The climb to Max Patch was a dark place. It wasn’t a hard climb, it was just long and I was cold. Very cold. I caught a group of 3 guys, rode with them for 2-3 miles and then dropped 2 of them on one of the pitchier sections. I tell you what, that 1/11 granny gear is the bomb. I had several men lusting after that pie plate gear through the fog and deep gravel. Aid #3 provided a handful of peanut butter m&m’s, half a coke and some beta on the long descent off the mountain. I knew it was going to be a cold ride down so I just tried to get it over with. The fog was so thick that you could not have enjoyed the scenery if you’d tried, so my goal was to get home and get home fast. Suspension was nice and I was thankful that I was not on a cross bike as I was never entirely sure if my fingers were actually on the brakes since I could not in fact feel them. My bike handled like a gem though despite my impaired skills and I caught the 2^nd place girl (on a cross bike) about 10 miles from the finish on the technical portion of the descent. The last 8 miles of the course were all paved, downhill rollers with one or two pitches where eager dogs were waiting at the top. At this point though I didn’t care. They couldn’t hurt me anymore then what I had already gone through and even if they did, I wouldn’t have felt it due to the cold.

 

Seeing Gordon and Pippa (her first race, by the way) at the finish was the best feeling in the world. I could not have been more pleased to be back, safe, alive, with the chance to get dry, warm and fed. The bike was a star, the course was amazing (I will go back when it’s dry), entry fees went to a great cause and the food was fantastic. While many of the starters did not finish and while Carey Lowery finished a good distance in front of me, I am so proud that I finished, so thankful I still had all my fingers and toes, grateful for an opportunity to race and support Gordon (who won overall!!!), excited to ride a kicking bike that was absolutely flawless, and finishing 2^nd was an added bonus! The HARDford 50 was hard and the weather made it harder, but something about those mountains and amazing climbs make you want to go back for more. Certainly a race worth putting on your calendar for next year.