I (almost) made it

Now that the Belgian Waffle Ride - Asheville is over, the little gravel season I put together is officially over.

What an epic way to end it all.

I kept saying this was going to be the hardest thing I’ve ever done, even though I technically didn’t know that, and the course did not disappoint.

It was hard as shit!

We started off in the beautiful Kanuga mountain bike resort, which for a hot minute made me wish that I had brought my mountain bike, but there’s no bike I want to ride at the moment so maybe it’s best that I didn’t.

From there, we moseyed on out to the road, and within the first few miles, we already found a big gravel climb. 10 miles, 1,000’.

Yep, it was going to be that kind of a day.

Every time the elevation lagged behind the 1,000’ per 10 miles ratio, you better believe a big climb was right on the horizon. It was consistent, at times even more so on the elevation front.

After the first big climb, we had a big road descent and then followed a gravel path around an entire lake. Gorgeous!

From there it was hilly roads, some more gravel/paved moments up, until we went up Pearson Falls road. Woah, this is incredible. Yes, it was climbing, but it wasn’t too bad. Beautiful scenery and even a super dark tunnel to pass through. Found a little bit of mud, but it wasn’t a big deal thankfully. We went around another lake and doubled back to the same aid station.

Up and up, then down into South Carolina, with a nice road descent that was about 1,000’. Oh, that felt good. Some of the sugar I ate got to actually make it to my muscles. I tried to hydrate as much as possible and just enjoy the ride.

Of course, what goes down must come up, so we had a road climb, which wasn’t too bad. I was not ready for what came next, though.

There was this crazy singletrack section on some private land right at about mile 53. Immediately upon turning in, you are climbing on big, chunky, loose slippery rocks. I managed to mostly stay on my bike. Had to hop off a time or two because my wheel slipped out from under me and the grade was just too high.

But then the real hill came. Oh god. The loose rocks combined with dirt, tree roots and a gnarly 18-23% grade took everyone out. Time to hop off the bike and walk. And this wasn’t just a little blip. We were all hiking, huffing and sweating for a bit. It felt like .25 mile but I don’t even know at this point. If you look at satellite imagery of the land, you can’t even see a path through there. I feel like it was cut out just for us.

It was brutal. After the toughest part, I climbed back on my bike to huff it out, but I could feel my leg muscles giving way. I was just begging and hoping a cramp didn’t come. But oh baby, did a cramp hit me ever so hard.

I had just enough time to unclip my legs before I fell right over. My bike fell over too. Right in the middle of the course. All I could do, seriously, was lay there and scream. I was yelling because of the pain, but I was also incredibly frustrated because I figured that was going to end my day.

I didn’t know how long the singletrack section lasted, and after sitting there for a little while with no relief, I started to wonder if I needed to be carted out. My damn quad just was going nuts.

I drank. I sugared. I electrolyted.

Then a super nice woman behind me named Sharon had some of those anti cramp pills I wish I had brought and gave me some. I took those (they dissolve under your tongue) and drank some water. The cramp had started to slowly subside, so I got back up and hopped on my bike, hoping to just hobble out and throw in the towel.

We went up on the ridge and saw the most beautiful mountain view. Absolutely stunning, I mean, just incredible. I may have appreciated it more in the moment than anything because I decided that I was going to keep on going until I was back on the ground. I figured if I could get back up and ride a bit, then I might as well just roll as long as I could. I texted my friend and said I’m at mile 54, I think I’m done, but I’m going to keep rolling until I can’t anymore.

Finishing out the singletrack was several chunky rock-laden switchbacks with 90-degree dogleg turns (those are always fun!) and then a bit of chunky gravel to the next aid station. There was a super nice guy there to help me out with all my requests: Can you open this? Can you fill this? Can you get me this? Do you have this? Grateful for you, whoever you are! (Don’t worry, I always give them a hefty and heart-felt thank you, that’s my style, so I did not leave without letting him know!)

On the road again, and then back to gravel. This is where we hit the biggest ascent, and it was all gravel. 1,200’ starting out pretty mellow with some low grades. I didn’t mind this one, to be completely honest. It was amazing with this gravel road seemingly carved out into the woods and surrounded by lush trees and a rolling creek/stream that you could hear because it was quiet aside from your bike and your breathing.

I met back up with Sharon here and we did the climb together. We talked a little bit, about where we are from and I told her that I liked her name but she said she hated it, ha!

The climb got more tedious as we got to the top. Enter some sand, some more big chunky rocks, some steep pushes, some huge boulders, loose gravel, mud pits — honestly, everything you hate. This is where it got even more insanely tough.

Welcome to hell.

So this is where the beginning of “loop 1” started, with that climb. (This is an important detail for later on.) You went up the mountain, around, and then down the shittiest — and I stress shittiest — gravel sections. The descents were terrible and terrifying. My bike and I don’t descend well, so this was a struggle. It was loose washboard with the occasional death groove/pothole and greater than 90 degree turn thrown in the mix.

After all that descending, then you get to do this KOM which was 17% give or take. It was a shorty, but oh boy was it a tough one, especially with a cramp that could come back at any moment.

I knew my friend was waiting at the aid station, and I honestly had no idea where the hell that aid station was, and I was getting more worried by the minute that I wasn’t going to make it and I didn’t know where I was.

But it just kept coming! After the KOM was this wild, flowy and gorgeous singletrack section, which would’ve been amazing on a mountain bike, but we’re riding GRAVEL BIKES. The path was no more than a meter wide, and your punishment for making a mistake was to fall off the side of the cliff. Someone did, actually, and had to be carted out with a broken collar bone. I actually almost did but thankfully saved my ass.

I had to stop and have a little breather after that one.

We flowed on down the singletrack switchback to an amazing view of a flowing waterfall, and then I finally found the aid station where my friend was waiting for me! Big relief.

It was here I had to make a decision. This is where it gets kind of crazy.

I wasn’t technically finished with “loop 1” because it continued on, and then you doubled back around to repeat that crazy gravel climb, all the descents, the KOM, the singletrack, the aid station, etc., before you get to move on and out of this part of North Carolina. I was close to the cutoff time, and I could’ve kept going. But I knew that I had limited time with my legs being so crampy.

So, I decided to skip the second loop and continue on. My goal was to get back to the finish line, even though I knew I was going to get a DNF for doing it, and I was OK with that because I was surprised that I had made it this far!

Let me tell you, though, that it wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows to the end.

Immediately after leaving, you get another big climb (starting to see a theme here?) up, with a little bit of relief, and then another big climb. All on road, though, which was … nice, I guess, if you will.

The next descents were on more gravel. A lot smoother than in the loops, but still tough with random turns and chunky rocks. Plus, I was so fatigued at this point, I was worried about making a fatal error, so I had to take them slow.

The roll to the next aid station wasn’t too bad. My friend met me there too in case I needed a ride back home. Again, I said screw it, might as well try. Here we are, right? Some 90 miles in and I had already made the decision to skip the loop and push to the finish, so I was going to follow through.

Ugh, let’s talk about the Jeter Mountain climb that was shortly after that aid station.

I really can’t tell you how many times during this ride that I thought I was a goner. This was another one.

It’s 718’ total with an average grade of 10%. The sweat was pouring down, dripping off my nose. I just tried to go as slow and steady as possible. Focus on breathing, try not to surge, and honestly keeping the pressure on the outside of my foot helped me a lot here because I was using less of the crampy quad muscle. This was at 90-something miles in (if I had done loop 2 it would’ve been over 100 miles in). Someone on the hill had stopped on the side of the road and when I asked him if he was OK, he just said “What the fuck.”

My feet hurt so bad.

I made it to the freakin’ top of that thing and I was like HOW IN THE WORLD AM I STILL PEDALING?!?

Another harrowing gravel descent (can you please bring back the road descents?) and then rolling hills, and then and my Garmin hit 100 and almost cried. I mean, I was definitely getting emotional but I was like, I need to hold it together until the end.

The final climb was just a blip, really, compared to the rest of the day, but as promised, 10,500’ for 105 miles. That ratio sure as hell didn’t let me down one bit.

Rolling into Kanuga, I felt proud and extremely defeated. I almost wondered if I was worthy enough to come back having not done the entire course. I had to tell the woman at the end that I didn’t complete the full course, and that hurt my pride a little bit.

But it was fleeting.

I’m one of few women who attempted one of the hardest races in this country. It was technical. It was long. It was super climby.

I saw all the cars on the side of the road with bikes — so many people had to call it quits. I mean, I almost did, too. I’m still processing how I made it that far. I must’ve done something right, and I need to figure that out to replicate it in the future!

I had no idea what I was getting into when I signed up for this. I’ve never been to this part of the country. I don’t know what the roads or gravel are like. I don’t know what the hills/mountains are even like. But I drove 1,100 miles to be here and gave it my all.

I trained my heart out and fought through injuries the entire time. This race has honestly been a huge question mark since day one, when I signed up and then went out and immediately pulled my hamstring, ha!

But just like during the race, I kept going as much as I could, making adjustments, changing up my game plan, trying new things, and setting my sights on the goal.

It wasn’t perfect, oh lord, it wasn’t perfect.

But I left it all out there on the road/gravel yesterday, and I couldn’t and wouldn’t ask for anything more or anything less.