I’m a little lacking in creative motivation right now, so I can’t think of any smooth and witty opener to set the tone for my report…

Or was that just it?

I camped out at the Stokesville Campground for the weekend. Todd and I pre-rode the first climb and singletrack descent the day before, and, based on the elevation profile, I knew it was going to be a challenge. I was kind of wanting the 21t cog I’d used at the Breck 100, but Todd swore that a 32×20 was the way to roll because of all of the flat sections between climbs.

Somehow, on Sunday morning, I managed to miss the 5am wake-up call and oversleep until 5:30 (race start was at 6:30). I’ve actually never overslept before a race, so it was an unfamilair near-panic feeling as I rushed to find food and coffee. Todd said something along the lines of “I figured you were up & moving in there!” [“there” being my tiny two-person tent] I was too busy getting things ready to ask him what exactly he thought I’d be doing in there for half an hour…

I fabricated a pretty nice breakfast out of two bagels, some peanut butter, and greek yogurt, then changed clothes, scalded my mouth on some campfire coffee that the guys in the tent across from me had brewed, and made it to the start line with about two minutes to spare. The only thing good about running late is that you don’t notice that it’s 48 degrees outside.

The start was slightly frustrating on a singlespeed since it rolled on flat pavement for a mile or two before the first climb. I was passed by a lot of people that I ended up motoring by as we negotiated the first pitches. Following that climb was a singletrack descent with some nice rocky sections. Between those sections and the next couple of singletrack climbs, I realized that riding with a lot of geared riders at about a 10-11hr pace will net lots of walking through sections that I feel reasonably confident that I’d clear otherwise.

Guess that’s for me and The Wizard to work on that this winter, eh?

I figured out going to the 2nd singletrack climb that the 32×21 might have been not as much fun, because I was able to Carey Lowery the Hell out of some guys on a long, flat section of road. (“Carey Lowery” being my term for sitting in and drafting men on 29ers so they do all the work while you get pulled along, doing no work, and acting like the cute, innocent killer that Carey Lowery is). That next climb was a beotch.

I don’t remember if it was Aid #3 or 4, but somewhere in that timeframe, I ate some gummy bears. If you’re easily offended, stop reading NOW, because I’m about to drop an F-bomb.

No, really, stop reading my blog altogether. Go see what Glen Beck has to say or something.

I fucking love gummy bears.

Seriously. Ever since Cohutta, where I crammed handfuls of dirt and sand-covered gummy bears into my mouth at one of the aid stations, I’ve sought them out at all races. They’re indescribably awesome in ways that you’d only understand if you rode a mountain bike over a bunch of mountains for 100 miles.

I digress.

Around mile 70, on something called the “Death Climb,” I started feeling really awesome. I think it was the combination of gummy bears, electrolytes, pb&j, and just really enjoying a long singlespeed climb, but I’d look way ahead, see the hill covered in groups of people, then pass by them in what seemed like just a minute or two. It felt like no time before I was at aid 5 getting another handful of gummy bears and a bottle refill.

Speaking of aid stations, this race had some of the most on-point volunteers I’ve ever experienced. You’d pull up, they’d park or hold your bike, grab, refill, and replace your bottles, get things out of your drop bag, etc. Not that all aid station workers aren’t great and very much appreciated, but the SM100 volunteers were above and beyond that normal level of greatness.

So I left Aid 5 and was mentally prepped for what some people had said was the toughest part of the course. The “Death Climb” turned into a series of several long descent/climb repeats that the Appalachians are infamous for- no trail ever goes from the top to the bottom without a few 100 foot rollers in the middle. On one of the climbs, another singlespeeder passed me. He was absolutely flying- his unzipped jersey (a sweet Ibex one similar to mine) was flapping in the breeze, and he was on flat pedals. Holy crap! I can’t imagine riding a mountain bike- especially a singlespeed- on flat pedals! It was obviously working well for him, though.

I kept with my steady grind up the hills. I passed a woman or two, so I didn’t let myself back off on the flat spots between rollers. Soon enough, I was on the singletrack (mostly) descent and only had one climb between me and the finish. Luckily, the one remaining was the “easy” lower part of a climb we’d negotiated earlier in the day. It had been my favorite, so I didn’t mind a repeat appearance.

About 3/4 of the way up that last climb, I saw the flat-pedaled SS guy with his bike on the ground, standing on the side of the trail, chilling out & taking a drink. I generally make it a habit to encourage people late in races, and felt compelled to give him some motivation.

“Come on, gorgeous, let’s go…”

He was on my wheel and climbing before I could catch my breath from speaking. A minute later, he went flying past me, leaving me in a cloud of powdery Virgina dirt. Chivalry, meet death.

My official finish time was 10:30:24 and 13th place.

Stoked. I like finishing the season off with a good race. No cramps, no bad wrecks, no death marching. Even though it was slow, I call it a success. After food and beer, I met/gave isht to the guy (Nate) that passed me after my motivating words (he’s actually a nice guy from DC), met Dicky, then took photos of the podium presentations. Amanda Carey won the race and the 2010 NUE series and Todd won the men’s competition.

Some podium/other random shots…

If old people are retired, then why do they wait for holiday weekends to go out in their RVs and fill up campgrounds? Why don’t they just make their trips during the week?

I figured I’d split the drive to Harrisonburg up so I wouldn’t be spending 12 hours in the car the day prior to a race. I looked around on the internet & found a spot to camp east of Nashville. Only problem was, when I got here, all the sites were full (see paragraph #1). I considered trying to park in a discrete place and bandit a spot out off of a hiking trail, but I really didn’t want to have something like a towtruck or park ranger to deal with in the morning. I was just about to leave when I figured I’d make one more lap of the campgrounds at one of the sites without many occupants.

At what’s probably the spot most distant from the camp entrance, I saw a woman sitting outside her RV reading a book. There was a large open area next to it, so I figured I’d try my luck…

“Excuse me”
(she looks up)
“If I give you some cash, would you mind if I pitched a tent just for tonight on the other side of your campsite?”
Her: “Ummm… sure?”
Me: AWESOME! THANK YOU !!!

While I was setting my tent up, she drove off. So, before I left for dinner (another adventure), I left a note and $10 in the door crack of her camper. Woohoo!!!

Once I threw my sleeping bag in the tent, I headed back to town for dinner. I’d spotted a Chinese buffet on the way in, and since it looked pretty busy, I figured I’d chance it. When I arrived, there was a police car in the parking lot. The officer was standing outside the rear drivers side door of an SUV, and, from inside, I heard what I swear was a woman in labor.

A small crowd was gathering.

I figured that must be some damn good Chinese food and hurried into the restaurant. It was alright. I’m hoping my fortune was off by one day…

Time for the final 100 miler of the season- the Shenandoah Mountain 100. Late last week, the Hurricane Forecast gave me tingles when I saw the prediction for landfall in Virginia about the same time as the race. It’s since been updated, though, and now, this is the forecast:

Is it wrong to feel a slight twinge of disappointment? I mean, I like nice weather as much as the next gal, but (as long as it’s not cold), I like the rain and mud, too. A lot.

Maybe I should be thankful, though. I’m still working out brake issues from Fool’s Gold. I removed the Formulas from the One9 since the pistons were sticky. I called Formula up, and they said to take everything apart, clean and lube it, then re-assemble. I’ll get to it eventually, so I’m just going to rock the ElixrCRs this weekend, though they could use a little cleaning up also.

I’m tempted to say “eff it all” and just put BB7s on both bikes.

I took the fork apart to survey the damage… It’s not looking so good. The seals were probably a little worn out to begin with, and the gritty liquid mud soaked into the foam wipers underneath them and leaked further down into the lowers. This wreaked a bit of havoc on the uppers during the course of the race…

So, I cleaned everything out, replaced the old seals with some fresh ones, and added some fresh oil to the lowers before sliding them back in place and airing everything up (and played around with the timer on the camera)

Hopefully the damage isn’t so bad that they start leaking air, but it’ll be a few days before my replacement brake pads come in, and I can take it out for a test ride. Initial hopping around in the garage tests seem good. I just need it to last until December…

Yesterday, I spent a solid 3 hours cleaning and overhauling the One9. It made me appreciate well-made bike parts, because otherwise I would have been making purchases instead of just cleaning/re-greasing.

The freehub was filled with a mud/oil sludge, as were the bottom bracket bearings (the same SRAM Blackbox ceramic bearings that have traveled t0 bottom bracket hell and back several times and just keep on going).

Seriously- that thing is the Jens Voigt of bottom brackets.

The steertube had channeled gritty mud/water down into the top headset bearing, but the seal seems to be tighter than… well, let’s just say it’s tight. I just rinsed it out & it looked/felt fine. Same for the hub bearings. BTW- the Hope hubs may not be the lightest or have the most pawls (eyeroll), but I don’t think you can beat them in durability or ease of care. They’re also really easy to swap back & fourth between the quick release for my SS and the 20mm Maxle Lite for the Jet.

My opinion is still a little mixed on the Formula brakes. They are sexy, lightweight, and feel awesome- a little more modulation than the Elixir CRs, but I had to bleed them again yesterday since the pistons had fully extended during the race and allowed air into the system. Judging by the microscopic coating of pad left on my front brake, if that hadn’t happened, my front brake would have been more usable during the race than it was (at least, until that pad had also worn through and fallen out like the rear). As far as I can tell, that doesn’t happen with Elixirs, and, IMHO, that’s a reliability issue with the Formulas if you’re going to race in the absolute worst conditions like the ones at Fool’s Gold. If you’re racing/riding in “normal” conditions, you may never have a problem. So, if SRAM ever answers my “Hey, could you please sponsor me?” email, I might be selling a very pretty set of Formulas!

The final bit of overhaul I did yesterday was a pedal re-build. I can’t begin to describe how much I love Crank Brothers pedals without you rolling your eyes at me sounding like a paid shill, but seriously- they never, ever clog. No matter what other parts get fouled by mud, the pedals will always clip/unclip. Always. I’ve had them in every possible breed of mud, too- including the Dirt, Sweat, and Gears mud (it lives on in infamy) and the Kansas City cobb (at CX Nationals).
The rebuild kits are cheap, and the process is easy. They feel good as new now.

This morning I’m going to have a go at replacing my fork seals. I’m worried I might have killed the uppers on my fork- it looks like the seals were fouled with the same gritty mud that tried to get into the headset, which resulted in some gouges and “polishing.” Hopefully when I replace the seals, it’ll still hold air.

Here’s a nice little gallery of grit damage- including the obligatory “Post-Fool’s Gold brake pads” shot…

I love mud, and I love disc brakes. Unfortunately, in the Appalachians around Dahlonega, GA, the two are mutually exclusive.

I’ll admit, I didn’t even look at a weather report. There were some scattered showers in the area at registration and some rumors that it might rain during the race, so I hurried up and got to Camp Wahsega for some pre-riding and prep.
When I arrived, I had a little bit of an FML moment. I propped my bike up against the porch of the cabin only to find it swarmed by a few hundred angry yellow jackets when I came back outside. WTF?!?! Seriously?!?!? The only solution the camp manager had was to give them an hour or so to calm down before easing in and removing the bike. Luckily, we were able to get it out, and no one was stung. Pre-riding the first few miles of the course (a nice little climb) went off without a hitch. I even got to ride with one of my awesome blog readers (Hi, Ray!)

The remainder of the day was uneventful- dinner at Caruso’s in Dahlonega with some of the other racers, then a little socializing before dozing off to the sounds of a massive thunderstorm. I was out cold & didn’t wake up again until the breakfast bell was ringing at 5:00am.

Race morning was dark & drizzly. It was a singlespeed sort of day (ok, nevermind- every day is a singlespeed sort of day). At breakfast, someone said it was going to rain more. Since it was warm, I really didn’t care- attrition is fun! By 7:00, I was prepped and ready to watch the 100 milers go off then line up for the 50. It looked like there were a good number of women on the line (results say that 20 started), and I didn’t really recognize anyone, so I figured I’d just pace myself up the first climb and see what happened.

Of course, a few minutes into the race, the drizzle turned into a downpour. Some women passed me, but I stuck to my usual SS hillclimb strategy of alternating sitting & standing while trying to keep my breathing nice & steady. It got steeper at the top (as most climbs tend to do), where more than a couple of guys were walking. Guess some people learn about pacing the hard way (myself included)!

Fast forward about 15 more miles. The course was on/off some really muddy singletrack (woohoo!). My brakes had started rubbing ferociously, and suddenly my rear lever bottomed out to my handlebar and totally stopped working- as in, I could squeeze it to the bar and spin my rear wheel. Uh-oh. My front brake felt like it was on the verge of bailing out, too- if I held the lever to the bar, it gave me about 10% of its normal stopping power.

At Aid 3 (about 27 miles in), I was ready to call it a day and head back in for beer. However, I’d just passed Laureen Coffelt (who was racing the 100), and she caught up to me during the discussion of how to bail off of the course. I told her I was leaving, and she gave me an earful, telling me I was sitting in 3rd place, it’s just 20 more miles, and that walking all the downhills was a better option than quitting. Of course, she was right. I refilled my bottles and headed back onto the course.

Side note- some of you might remember that at last year’s Fool’s Gold, I had a really, really bad wreck, and Laureen was the one who paced me through the worst of the singletrack and back into the race to finish in 2nd place. I owe her a Christmas ham or two!

The rest of the course was a lesson in how to ride with one barely functioning brake. I felt lucky, though, because most people didn’t have any brakes, and were using a foot on the ground to slow down. I called it front brake Hanukkah, because it should have only lasted a few more miles, but miraculously kept barely working for the next 20. I ended up staying in 3rd place behind Lisa Randall & Jamie Dinkins.

Post race beer was good.

Now, it’s out to the garage to find out what the mud has done to my brakes and bottom bracket. I’m taking the camera with me.

Hold on, I need to go get another beer…

OK, I’m back.

Yesterday was “sedate” enough that it doesn’t get its own post. Let’s just say my normal pre-race massage routine was replaced by going on a family trip to an iron mine/processing tour. After inhaling iron ore dust for an hour or two, we headed to Presque Isle and did a few leg-opening intervals to prep for the race.

Ore to Shore is a 48 mile point-to point that winds its way from Negaunee, MI to Marquette on gravel, pavement, and doubletrack. Because it’s mostly non-technical, and is more downhill than up, it’s FAST… like a miniature Leadville. The lead men finish in around 2 hours and 30 minutes. It’s also a very popular race. Rightly so- the payout is NICE. The men go 20 deep, and the women are paid equally for their top 5 spots. Because of those things, the field is stacked with strong road & mountain riders… and a lot of other riders:

We got to the start area early so that we could get a spot near the front. I’d applied for a “preferred start” position, but was denied, so we put our bikes in the “under 3 hours” seeding area. It kinda sucked not being able to ride around and warm up, but it was also nice to have the option of “saving” a spot near the front with your bike (some people had brought a backup bike or trainer for that very reason). After we did what we could to warm up (bodyweight squats, lunges, and various other dynamic stretching routines), we headed back to the corral to wait for the start.

We’d planned on working together, but once the race started, it ended up not working out that way. After the first few hills, Ryan was waiting up for me, and finally decided to just keep going. I don’t blame him… I was feeling great other than the hills. I’d generally rock the flats & downhills, but then I’d lose a place on the longer inclines. It sucked.

At one point, I was riding up one of the short/steep spots on one of the many doubletrack/powerline sections- it was sandy, rocky, and steep- when a guy who was pushing his bike stumbled and accidentally knocked me over. I was laying in the middle of the track, still halfway clipped in, when a guy riding up from the bottom started yelling at me to get off of the trail. I untangled myself from my bike, pushed to the top, and asked him if I was holding him up from getting 150th place or something. He didn’t have an answer.

There was also “Misery” hill. It was a steep, rocky, sandy, kinda long hill that everyone walked (I won’t call it “impossible” to ride, but I don’t know if riding in a granny gear would have been any faster or saved any more energy than hiking). After hike-a-biking several of the mountains with my SS in the Breck 100, I really think they should rename that section “Mildly Inconvenient” Hill, because “Misery” is somewhat of a misnomer. I hooked my saddle over my shoulder and booked it up the hill, enjoying the lavish amounts of oxygen I was able to extract from sea-level air. The next half mile or so was the only part of the race course that was the least bit technical. There were some short, steep ascents and descents and some rocks thrown in for good measure. By far, my favorite part.

The rest of the course kind of went by in a blur. I felt fine- my pace was good, I found guys to draft on the flat/downhill parts, ate & drank right, no cramps… I just was getting pwnt on the hills.

So, I ended up finishing over my 3 hour goal in 3:13, and all the way back in 16th place.

Side note- this is the 3rd time I’ve had this number this season. Yep.

I’m not sure how many women were entered, but there was a good dose of horsepower there- including the gal who has won the last few years in a row, a former world champion from Priority Health, and Danielle Musto (not sure what I’d said that was so funny- probably something about being fat)…

It was a little disappointing. I’m kinda thinking I might drop down to the 50 for Fool’s Gold so that I won’t be dead once it comes time to race the SM100. Dunno- we’ll see what The Wizard think is best

EDIT/UPDATE: I looked at the results in the local paper, and turns out, I was 1st place in my age group (actually, the only woman who finished ahead of me in my age goup was Jenna, the winner. All of the other ones were older, of course. Older women are tough.