Icefail

DNF. I made it 22 miles then pulled out at the last aid station. Serves me right for publicly saying "I feel prepared."

Picture from my friend Amanda. Not of me, but this is pretty indicative of how the race went...

So many things went wrong. I should've known I was in for trouble when I realized the morning of that I forgot my chamois cream at home. Right off the bat, my computer stopped working so for most of the race I had no idea how fast I was going, how far I'd gone, or how long I'd been out there. (Which ended up being a LONG time.) Occasionally when I hit a bump or jiggled it a little it would pop back on for a few minutes, but for the most part it was useless.

By the time I was on the course (wave 41 at 11:07, so over 3,000 people had already been in front of me) the course was a muddy mess for the most part. The snow from the night before had melted and the singletrack areas were just disgusting. Thick, black, oily mud.

Fairly early on, I crashed. Someone went down in front of me on a big root, I tried to correct for it and went down on the same root. It tore up my right thigh and I was in pain for the rest of the race. Hell, I'm STILL in pain from that.

Things were going okay until I reached a sandy, muddy downhill area of two-track...I was indecisive about picking my line, and tried crossing the snowy median to get a better one. I slid out on the snow and landed on my tummy, in the mud, with my bike on top of me, still clipped into both pedals. After some flailing around like a half-paralyzed zombie, I managed to get both feet unclipped, but still couldn't really move. Someone stopped and pulled my bike off me, and made sure I was okay. (Thank you, whoever you are!) This crash hurt even more than the first, because I was going a lot faster and landed a LOT harder. I had to walk for a while before I was feeling good enough to get back on the bike.

At about that time, I realized my food was no longer in my pocket. Somewhere (I'm guessing when I first crashed) it must've fallen out without me noticing because I was hurriedly trying to get back on the bike. Lesson of the day: check your pockets when you crash. This was my biggest downfall, because it caused me to bonk about 10 miles from the finish. I succumbed to the sleepy, dizzy, disorienting low-blood-sugar-ickiness that is the bonk. Even on the flat, solid areas I had trouble keeping my balance on the bike, and the parts I walked, I had to lean on the bike for balance to keep from falling over. It was all I could do to make it to the next aid station, I knew I couldn't go any further.

I am very hard on myself, especially when I fail to meet my goals. I arrived at the aid station crying. I have never felt as much disappointment in myself as I did then—giving up, failing, demoralized. Some nice people drove me to the finish and gave me some amazing banana bread. I devoured it.

Recap of shit that went wrong:

1. No chamois cream
2. Computer stopped working
3. Crashed
4. ...Crashed again
5. Lost my food
6. Dropped my chain...multiple times
7. Bonked
8. Emotional breakdown at the last aid station
9. DNF

I did do a few things right though!

1. I wore the right clothing this time—didn't get too hot or cold!
2. Good tire choice
3. ...Unfortunately, that's about it.

I went back to my hotel and showered. Slept. Ate. Went to the afterparty and had to explain my failure to everyone who asked how I did. I drank way more than I should have, and had a generally awesome time. (Except for losing my phone. But I found it later, so it ended up being okay.)

I'll be back next year. I'm starting to feel better, both physically and emotionally. For now, I'm going to take advantage of the beautiful, 60ºF weather right now and go for a ride.

Carrie vs. The Sand God...

You may remember that there are gods of cycling. (One of them being the Sun God, which possesses male cyclists with the urge to unclothe.) Well, apparently my relative success in the sand pits at Ore to Shore and confidence riding in sand seems to have angered the Sand God.

That's right, the Sand God. Yeah, I didn't know about him either, not until yesterday.

It was my first time riding Island Lake, and I was hauling ass through the first three miles (or at least, I think that's about where I went down). I'm just riding along by this beautiful lake, and all of a sudden I hit a deep patch of sand. I wavered for a couple seconds through it, thinking I had it cleaned, and then BAM, I go flying over the handlebars.

About thirty seconds or so behind me was a man named Bob, who shall henceforth be known as Guardian Angel Bob, at least in mind. I got up and thought I was okay, and told him to keep riding. Instead he stopped and said he'd wait, which I'm so thankful for.

A minute later my vision started to get really bright and fuzzy, and it reached a point where I couldn't see my bike, or him, or the trail in front of me. Bob helped me sit down to the side of the trail. It was all just white, and sort of sparkly. Kind of beautiful, but very scary. It felt like it took about ten minutes to get back to normal, at which point I became aware my ears were ringing. Really loudly. I was scared, and I didn't really care that my elbow and knee were bleeding and that my legs hurt like hell.

Once my vision and hearing were back on track, I decided to follow him back to the trailhead. Bob rode really slow with me through the remaining 6 miles of the blue loop. (I have a feeling our average speed was about 6-7mph, but I forgot to put my computer back on Sybil after the post-O2S hose-off, so I can't be sure. Still being dizzy and relatively out of it, that was all I could handle.) Bob kept me moving and showed me the best lines on some of the more tricky areas. I probably wouldn't have stayed upright for very long if I was on the trail by myself. Thank you Bob, for sticking with me. I appreciate it more than you know. I'm just sorry I slowed down your ride.

I later went to the doctor and found out I had a concussion, and I'm on orders to take it easy for a couple days. I've got scabs on my joints, bruises starting to form, and a healthy new respect for the Sand God. Island Lake seems like a trail I'd normally love, but I've got a bad taste in my mouth from it, and a bit of sand, too. I still don't remember quite how I landed, but there was sand everywhere: in my hair, gloves, bra, socks...I'm not sure I'll be coming back for seconds any time soon.

Exactly one year ago...

Every cyclist gets asked at one point (and another, and another) how they got into the sport. Well, here's my story.

(Reposted from the MMBA thread, "When did you realize that you loved mountain biking?")

I owned a decent (at the time) hardtail throughout highschool, and rode it mostly on dirt roads and twotrack in our woods just for fitness. After a bad breakup about a year and a half ago, I returned to the hobby and took up road cycling. I got seriously bit by the bike bug, and on July 25th (the day before my birthday) I dusted off the old mtb and hit up the Hadley Hills trails near my parents. (Which I learned shortly after were bridle paths only! Oops!) Long story short, I was hooked. I loved it.

I brought the mtb back with me to my apartment at school and hit up Burchfield singletrack five days later. Not being possessed of technical skills at that point (or a bike truly capable of handling technical singletrack), I wiped out on one of the switchbacks, flew off my bike and onto a log, and in doing so tore a muscle in my side. After a few days of being stubborn and in serious pain, I went to the doctor and picked up some meds. After two (very interesting!) weeks of muscle relaxers and painkillers, I was still unable to ride (or walk, or bend, or breathe) without serious discomfort. It took about two whole months to fully recuperate (all of August and September, with only short road and trainer rides!). I realized I needed a better bike to ride the trails I wanted to ride, and I test rode a GF Superfly for a week to see how I liked the 29er geometry and sizing (thanks, ACF Pontiac!). I purchased a Paragon shortly after. The rest is history. :)

It feels good to be back

Back story: I've been sick lately. Really sick. So sick I had to go to the ER to get an IV and a bunch of fancy medicines. But now that I'm all fixed up and itching to ride, outside it's been...raining. And cold. And gross. So I decided to clean the house today, and when I finally stopped to take a look out the window, the sun was shining. When I went outside, it was warm.

So I went riding today, for the first time in about two weeks. It was great. I didn't want to aggravate my freshly-healed throat, so I kept it short, but it felt so good to be back on the bike. I rode down our gravel road to the creek that runs along the edge of our property. The air was warm and still misty from the rain, and the sun was shining where the clouds had broken. It renewed my conviction that cycling is largely a spiritual experience. Boy, does it feel good to be back.

Well, that's going to leave a bruise...

Just the other night, I was discussing clipless pedals at a bar with a friend (I just re-read that sentence, and w-o-w, I have no life...) and stated that while I have my fair share of spills on my mountain bike, it's never been because I couldn't clip out in time.

I should've knocked on wood.

I rode Addison again today, and on one of the climbs I wasn't paying enough attention and my gearing was too high. As my pedaling slowed down I couldn't keep upright...and my feet locked up. And so I tipped over, and then slid down a hillside a little bit...when I stopped moving I was about eight feet away from the trail, and my face was inches away from the underside of my rear wheel. What the heck? How did that even HAPPEN?

Replaying the fall in my head, I still don't know how I ended up that way. I'm only a little scratched up, but my knee is already starting to swell. I'm going to have to check out my pedals (I use Crank Bro Candies); they've always been very easy to pop out of, but today I noticed a couple of times that they felt sticky and not as quick to disengage. It was probably a warning sign.

In other news, I recently made a trip to REI to pick up some gels (you can't beat the 20% discount...) and I found some new ride snacks to try out! There were some interesting ones, including some that look like malted milk balls, and hazlenut butter, and even some tasty-looking flavored honey things. So, over the next couple weeks, expect to find my reviews here.

First up: Power Bar Energy Gel Blasts.

There were two flavors at REI: Raspberry and Strawberry Banana. I went with the Strawberry Banana option because they contained caffeine. I was expecting them to have the consistency of Gushers, but they were more of a really tough gummy. They were actually pretty hard to chew, so I don't really think I'd recommend them for an on-the-bike snack. I think I'll be sticking with Gu for that. But they're nice if you're like me and stop between laps to enjoy a nice picnic. (Yes, that's grape juice and a PBJ sandwich in the background.)

Mountain biking is like drinking

For me, mountain biking is like drinking. I may start out kind of slow, but as I get faster I get overconfident. When things speed up, I get cocky and become sure that I can handle that next sweeping descent/shot of tequila. I think I can slam that rock garden/pint of beer with no consequences. And then I crash. In short—I don't really know my limits.

Yesterday was one of those days. Rode Pontiac Lake and had an awesome time. That trail totally kicked my ass—literally. I wiped out once and I'm pretty sure it's going to have some bruises. Other than that I didn't crash too hard though—no cuts, no scrapes, just a broken pair of glasses to show for it. Had an awesome time on the climbs (which I'm beginning to think is my forte) and I'm starting to get a lot more comfortable with steep, rocky descents...even if one did happen to bring me down.

Also, I'm beginning to re-evaluate my relationship with rocks. I guess they're not half-bad when they're not loosely nestled in a giant pile. In fact, when they're rooted pretty solidly in the ground they're downright fun.

My favorite climb, very twisty and steep.

[I swear it was a lot steeper than it looks in the picture!]

This was a fast, fun section...

This post would not be complete with documentation of the damage.

[Except not really damage, because the only things I maimed were my glasses and my ego.]

The north part of the park was a little too intense for my current skill set with its crazy switchbacks (I believe this is known as "the chute"?) and the ridiculous climb that follows it, but otherwise I found it to be a great trail with a nice variety in terrain. I definitely surprised myself on the climbs and it was a great change of pace from the flat landscape Lansing offers.

It was a great way to spend [possibly] the last day of outdoor riding this season, because today the snow started flying. I only wish I could've taken another lap around the park. Next time I'm bringing a spare set of specs.

Oh, and in case you were waiting for my decision regarding the last post: Ore to Shore won out.

Rocks? Fuck rocks.

I'm not a huge fan of rocks. I'm sure one day I'll master them, and who knows, maybe even learn to love them. But for now, I'm cool with us being arch enemies.

I know I'll never get better unless I try things I can't yet handle, and I know I'm bound to fall a little (okay, a lot) in the process. But rocks? They are just so unfriendly. And hard. There's no good way to fall on a rock (or a pile of rocks) except to avoid hitting your head. Today I didn't get too bloody, but come morning I'm going to have quite a few bruises on my bottom. And my legs. And my side.

Ouch. The good news though? I'm getting better—I cleared one pile of rocks before wiping out on the second.

What does a girl do when she's sick and it's raining?

Go mountain biking, of course.

For the past couple days I've had my hands on a 2009 Gary Fisher Superfly. It's carbon. It's got 29" wheels. And I'm pretty much in love. Unfortunately, I've also been sick with a cold, and it's been raining just about nonstop since Thursday morning. We're also in the midst of fall, which means the trails are carpeted in red, orange, and yellow foliage. This has brought me to the following conclusions:

1. I don't dislike mountain biking in the rain nearly as much as I dislike road riding in the rain.
2. In fact, I barely even notice the rain offroad.
3. A combination of mountain biking and tomato soup may not cure a cold, but it makes it a lot more bearable.
4. Wet leaves on top of gooey mud makes for a slick surface.
5. Very slick.
6. Fall colors are pretty much the best thing ever.

It's been a while—since my now-famous side injury—since I've hit the dirt instead of the pavement. In that time, I've lost about 15 pounds and gained a lot of muscle. And I've gotten a lot faster. (Well, "lot" being subjective in my case.) On my road bike, I've been averaging 17-19 mph. I could really feel a difference on the trail—I won't attribute the extra speed entirely to myself, I know the carbon 29er made a pretty big difference too. Those factors combined, and it makes for one of my best rides ever.

The bike. Gorgeous, right?

Aptly named the yellow trail

More beautiful fall colors

One thing I know now for sure: mountain biking, Iron and Wine on repeat, and the steady rhythm of rain takes me to my zen place.