We started out on that sunny morning, enjoying 50-degree weather in t-shirts and wearing sunscreen, a pack of maybe 40 cyclists cruising together for approximately 2 miles of pavement up a winding, slow ascent. At our first turn I glanced down to see my computer was not synced and unless I stopped to reset the magnet I would have potential to get lost on the cue sheets. I stopped fast, spun the magnet on my spoke toward the sensor, got back in the saddle and saw... no one. In the brief seconds in which I had stopped, the pack left me. I rode on thinking, "I'll see them around this corner..." "Or maybe when I get to the top of that hill I'll see them down below..." Nope. Didn't see anyone. I rode on still optimistic of an eventual cyclist spotting.
Eventually I realized that my computer was still off a little on mileage due to the error in starting it. I was busy calculating how to make up the difference to match the next cue. And of course, I missed my cue and made several wrong turns after believing I was still matching the cue sheet. Six wrong miles later I was back on course. I was starting to get angry at this point, and a little bit weepy with defeat. I rode to the next cue and was able to figure out my mileage and how to get back on track.
The ground ahead of me those next four miles was peanut butter, pot-holes, and uphill- the whole way. I reached the top after seeing only two remote hunting shacks along that stretch, one was padlocked, the other has three hound dogs sleeping in barrels in the front yard. Did I forget to mention that this event took place outside of Birchwood, Wisconsin in the Blue Hills? Hilly, it was. And off the grid. Known for it's yeti sightings in the 90's. At the top of that stretch I saw my next turn and nearly cried. More climbing, more soft mud, and better yet- snow covering most of the road. I decided to get off the bike here and eat something. Get my head right. I was deep in the Pain Cave by this time. My legs had fire eating the sinews from the bones as I had already climbed innumerable large hills. The theme was UP.
While I was eating I surveyed the map for shortcuts, which all appeared to be dead ends. A vehicle with a couple of ladies in it pulled up alongside me and asked me if I was okay. (This was the only vehicle I would see all day.) They explained that they were the wives of the men that put on the event and they were making sure the course was clear. At this point I had ridden 18 miles and was only near 12 miles on the cue sheets. The ladies told me that if I went straight ahead instead of turning that I could cut the course and showed me where I would land. It was glorious. I rode a mere 3/4 of a mile and popped right out at a check point. I NEVER regretted doing this. I am shameless! I would later learn that the 20 miles I cut off my journey were the worst of the course, with four miles of snow that you had to walk your bike through. Everyone was thrashed.
I was ahead of the leaders due to my cheat. I just wanted to get back to camp at this point. There were no medals to be won by finishing anyhow and I knew I was in over my head! I rode on and felt the numbness drive into my saddle bones and then the pain, as I traveled winding gravel ascents, some Cat 5 climbs. I stopped numerous times to walk my bike up. My legs were drained. I was not prepared to suffer like that! My mind was a mess. I was having the most pathetic thoughts! I, of course, was hatching ridiculous plans to get someone to pick me up and drive me back, but like every wilderness, there is no cell service and no human life forms to assist you in crisis because no one lives there! I was even mad at my husband for a while because he didn't look back from his bike earlier as I stopped to fix my magnet! Funny how an all day bike ride in the boondocks can clear a mind.
I was lost for most of the race. Even when I was on course the road signs didn't jive or the mileage was confusing because I couldn't figure out my computer due to being off course so much. And I was hungry all the time. I stopped every ten miles to eat. And was I ever glad I packed food, not just goo. Thank you, Katie, who before the event started heard me say I wasn't going to want to eat while racing. She laughed, "Have you ever done one of these events before? You'll get so hungry you would eat your own hand!" I was that hungry for three more days after the ride!
When I was mentally beat down I would stop, get off the bike, stretch a little, rest and reflect. When I felt my positive thoughts returning, or merely my drive to get back to camp and eat all the food in the cooler, I would saddle back up and could usually soldier on for about 10 miles. The entire race was a mental game. I felt like I was in the middle of nowhere, with limited food supply, no cell reception, and potentially on then wrong road and darkness approaching in Yeti Country. And mostly uphill. The soft ground held your tires down and prevented even the slightest increase of speed.. Even in a downhill you couldn't break 15 mph. So much energy expenditure because of the condition of the roads. And absolute solitude in the woods of Northern Wisconsin. It was tough not having anyone to talk to and it added to my misery. I ate lunch sitting on the side of Imalone Road, no irony there.
Mile 42 or so, the leaders started to pass me. I was perplexed by their speed and annoyed a little, too. They were not suffering and I was, so I imagined they were laughing at me or something and felt annoyed at their pleasure! Pathetic! But it was nice to know I was among the riders again and might see people from time to time who weren't riding their bikes effortlessly like super-humans as the front five leaders did when they passed me.
At about mile 50 on the cue sheets there was a series of Cat 5 climbs one after another, nearly without descent. And then one of them was a U-Turn at the top! I walked most of this section and thought about the absurdity of the course and how miserable I was! Several more leaders passed me in this section. Some walked their bikes up the hill, though, so I felt relieved to see others were getting a royal beat down with me! Around us lay heaps of snow left from plows after recent snowfall. Creeks flowed abundantly in the hills and several times I felt as though I were in the mountains and was thankful for the sounds of running water, songbirds, and beautiful scenery the Northwoods has to offer.
After this gargantuan climb I enjoyed a few miles of rolling pavement, started to dream of finishing and began to see an end to the ride. I figured I had 15 miles left. I knew I could do it, I was close. The next turn onto gravel was an unmarked road. Best I could tell it was accurate, according to the map there were no other roads before it between the markers. I had missed turns earlier in the day due to missing road signs and I wasn't going to get myself into that mess again. I climbed a grueling ascent and reached a plateau which stretched on for about a mile and a half. In that stretch I crossed two washouts that were several feet deep and wide. The roads throughout the course were barely maintained after a delayed Spring and recent snowfall. At the next bend I discover a dead end. I had made a wrong turn. Defeated! I lost my sanity for a few minutes after that. I cried out, I yelled about how mad I was and how much I hated that event, I said I was never going to ride my bike again (I know, seriously, right?). I was crazy! Then after I asked the good Lord for forgiveness and cooled off, I started making my way back on course and I had an epiphany. I was supposed to suffer that day because I needed to learn how to survive by myself and I needed to show myself that I had it in me. My mind experienced a full array of emotions that day and when I finally sorted them all out, I was so much lighter.
From there I was on course without difficulty. In the last ten miles or so there were a lot of people to cheer us and offer assistance which made the miles slip by more enjoyably. I was starting to think thoughts like, "Next year I will do it right..." I still have terrible memories of that race, some of them I can laugh about now, but I see it as an event that molded me and showed me how strong I could be. It was also the race that made me determined to come back prepared next year. And a race that I referenced numerous times while pedaling through pain caves at the Almanzo. Thoughts like, "You can do this, it is not as bad at Strada." It was what set my gauge for suffering. Each time I have done a gravel event after the Strada I have gone deeper into the Pain Cave. Just when I think I have reached the maximum level of mental and physical distress, I come through it feeling stronger than ever. Mind vs Body. I will conquer again and will seek adventure that leads me to more caves...
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