Month: November 2018

Lord of the Springs is a singletrack and gravel bike race that combines the dirt and gravel roads of Barry County, Michigan, with the Yankee Springs Deep Lake Singletrack bike trail. This 36 mile race travels through the glacial bowls and hills of the Deep Lake area, the hardwood forests of the Barry State Game Area, the beautiful Otis Bird Sanctuary marshes, and classic Barry County gravel roads. The website for the race boasts “A day may come when the courage of men fails, but it is not THIS day”.

This race, which was scheduled for September 15th, was the 8th of 10 races in the 2018 Michigan Gravel Series. To qualify for the series, you have to complete at least four races. You are scored on your top five races, so it’s to your advantage to do as many races as possible, so if you don’t do well your lower scores can be thrown out. Also, you are given 10 bonus points for each race you finish after five races. Going into the race, I had only competed in four – Barry Roubaix, Hellkitten Fiddie, The Divide, and Uncle John’s Dirty Ride. I was in 4th place in my age group for the series and needed to do the final three races if I hoped to move up. However, I hadn’t planned on doing Yankee Springs because it includes nine miles of singletrack. Singletrack is not my greatest skill set. At my age, my frontal lobe is way too developed to be dodging trees and roots in the forest! I know all to well the consequences of a crash. There was a group of local riders who intended to race, and they were all urging me to go, promising that the singletrack was not too technical and I could easily handle it. In the end, peer pressure prevailed and I signed up.

The day of the race was misty and foggy. It was still dark out, around 5:30 am, when we arrived at our friend Chris’s house to pick him up. We pulled in front of his house and noticed that no lights were on. Marc called Chris’s cell phone and immediately got voice mail. We then debated what to do; knock on the door and wake up his wife and baby? Honk the horn and wake up the neighborhood? We opted to wait, while Marc called Chris again. Once again, it went straight to voice mail. So there we were, stuck with making a decision. Just leave, and make the race on time, or wait and possibly be late? Luckily while we were still deciding what to do, Chris called. He said he would be right out. It was apparent when he got out to the car that he had just woken up.

Amazingly, even though it was September 15th and we were traveling north, it looked like it was going to be a really hot day and we would be able to wear just shorts and jerseys. It was misty and foggy when we arrived, but it looked like the rain was going to stay away. We parked in a park a few blocks down the road from the YMCA camp, where the race was to start, and road our bikes down the road to pick up our race numbers.

Chris, unloading his bike.

When we picked up our race numbers we were given a bag with a 16 ounce glass that said “Lord of the Springs” and two packets of Clif Shot Bloks, which were flavored Ginger Ale and Mint. Yikes! I’m guessing those flavors were on a clearance rack somewhere! Still, it was kind of nice to get some swag with our race numbers.

We then rode back to the car to put our stuff away, put our race numbers on, then warm up a little before lining up to start. The race start was at the YMCA camp, and it was very crowded. We got there after riders were already lining up, and we ended up near the back. There was another group of riders merging with the pack to the left.

Lots of riders! There was another group to the left that you can’t see who would be merging with us.

Chris

Soon it was time to start. Since riders were merging on the dirt road, the pack moved very slowly as we made our way uphill to the paved road in front of the camp. Once we hit pavement, riders were off! The pack was fast, and I managed to stay with the group as we turned onto a dirt road for about five miles of fast racing on hard packed roads before we hit the singletrack in the forest. I passed all the girls on fatbikes, and I was happy to know that going into the singletrack I would be first place fatbike.

It seemed like it only took minutes to travel that five miles when we turned off of the road to the right to enter the forest. Almost immediately, riders were dismounting their bikes. There was a traffic jam on the bike trail, and we had to walk our bikes single-file on a very narrow, wooded trail. It soon cleared, and we started riding. The trail was very narrow, sandy, and root-filled. It was nerve wracking as I tried to maneuver my bike as fast as I could, while faster and more skilled riders were trying to get around me. I had to hop roots uphill, and try not to crash riding them downhill. This section of singletrack was only five miles, but it seemed like it took an eternity compared to the five miles of dirt road we had just ridden. As I tried to turn a corner on a very sandy section with a drop-off to the left, I almost crashed and went off the drop-off. My bike slammed against my knee and thigh, but I managed to stay upright. The last mile of the singletrack the trail got flatter, wider, and sandier, and I started to pick up speed. There were two male riders behind me, and I told them then could pass me if they needed to. They both said they were fine, and had no desire to go any faster. The guy behind me said he was a road bike rider and he was out of his element. We were almost to the road, when a photographer took our photo. The singletrack then turned back onto the road where there were paramedics and volunteers. They waved me back onto the trail and said that I had a little farther to go. I got back on the trail for just a short distance  I then had to run my bike up a grassy hill to the road, where I was directed to turn to the left, back onto a paved road. I immediately picked up speed as I hit the road and passed several riders. It was then that I looked down and saw my jersey was unzipped all the way to my belly button, completely exposing my bra. None of the volunteers or anyone directing me had pointed or said anything, so I was hoping that it had just become unzipped. (I was not so lucky. As I browsed through the photographer’s photos on Facebook several days after the race, there I was. Exposed! I messaged the photographer, who immediately took the photo down. I snapped a screenshot of the picture, which is blurry because I didn’t purchase it, and I doctored it a bit.)

Yes, this happened!

After I zipped back up, the paved road turned onto another dirt road. The next 15 miles or so were extremely challenging as the roads were not maintained roads. Riders on mountain bikes had to walk some of the deep sandy sections. Luckily, I was able to power through the sand in my lower gears on the fatbike, and I didn’t have to walk any sections. However, it had gotten extremely hot and I felt like my entire body was covered in sand and grit. I almost crashed several times, and I wondered how bruised my inner thighs and knees were going to be from getting racked by my bike frame.

As we got closer to the last section of singletrack, I passed several riders that I knew. I was the first one to enter the trail, with a line of riders behind me. This section of the forest was so much worse than the first trail. It was hilly and there were lots of tree roots to maneuver. There were some sections that were so steep and rooty that I have no idea how I managed to ride up them. I thought for sure I would cause a traffic jam because of the riders behind me, but no one ever passed me. I heard their voices trailing farther and farther behind me. I thought this last section of singletrack was supposed to be four miles, and I was preparing myself for what would seem like an eternity to get through it. Surprisingly, just as I had this thought, the singletrack came to an end. I was so relieved that I made it through both sections without crashing!

I can’t take credit for this. I don’t take pictures during races! I found this picture of the Yankee Springs Trail on-line.

After leaving the forest, I rode as hard and fast as I could, attempting to pass as many riders as possible. It was about five more miles to the finish line, and I was more than ready to be finished with this race. The sandy roads, coupled with the singletrack, made this one of my hardest races ever.

One of the wider sections of the first singletrack. Another photo from the Internet.

Marc in action.

As I turned to the left into the camp and past the banner, I had no idea how well I had done, but I was pretty sure I had ended up in last place after the first set of endless singletrack, where I was passed by lots of riders. I stood around and talked to our fellow Northwest Indiana riders for a while, then was headed off to wash my bike when I heard the announcer call my name. Somehow I had managed to finish third place fatbike! I took off my helmet and passed my phone to a bystander. The picture is quite funny because I look hot and bewildered, as I still wasn’t sure they had actually called my name. Marc and several of the guys were off washing their bikes and missed it. I started to walk away after I had my picture taken, and a man told me to take a prize from the prize table. I chose a Trek hat.

Did I really get third?

After this race, I managed to move up to 2nd place in my age group for the Gravel Series with the points I had earned. I also decided to never wear a jersey to a race without a tank top underneath!

Uncle John’s Dirty Ride is a race across the flat and fast dirt roads of Gratiot County, Michigan. The race begins and ends at Uncle John’s Cider Mill in St. John’s, Michigan and traverses through the wooded Saginaw/Gratiot Game area.

The mill has a bit of a history. John Beck and his wife Carolyn bought the family farm from John’s parents in the early 1970’s. It was originally run as a wholesale fruit and vegetable farm, but John and his wife soon found that this was not very profitable. They had to find an innovative way to keep the farm going, so they began selling apple cider and donuts in addition to the fruits and vegetables. Soon, the barns were transformed into a gift shop, snack barn, and cider/winery. Weekend entertainers were brought in for festival type events, and the cider mill became a sensation.

The mill is a big deal for a small town with a population of about 7,500. This small town is located in the center, southern half of the state of Michigan. It is about 3 hours and 15 minutes from our house in Indiana. With the hour time zone difference, this meant that we would have to leave our house at about 5:00 am to make the race start at 10:00 am.

The ride to St. John’s was thankfully uneventful. Fall was in the air, and as we headed north the temperature was steadily dropping. It looked like we would be in for cloudy skies and 50 degree weather for most of the day. I noticed that this area of Michigan wasn’t as pretty and hilly as northern Michigan. It didn’t look much different from the flatlands of northern Indiana.

When we arrived at the mill, we noticed the small parking area was jammed packed with not only riders, but also with families taking their kids to the apple orchard to pick apples, to eat, or to play on the playground. We parked and went to a pole barn where registration appeared to be. I was handed a number, and I heard the woman talking to a man a few steps away who had asked about registering. The event had indicated that there was registration the day of the race, however, the woman told the man she had run out of race numbers. She apologized and told him he could just ride the course for free. I was thankful we had registered a few weeks before, as I can’t imagine how upset I would be about not being able to race after traveling over 3 hours and getting up at 4:00 am.

Once we picked up the race numbers, we didn’t have much time to warm up. There was really no place to warm up except for the grassy area around the parking lot anyway, unless we wanted to ride down the hilly entrance to the mill to the highway. We lined up in the grass under a banner that said “Uncle John’s Dirty Ride”.

This was to be a neutral roll-out, up a slight grassy hill, and over to a gravel road where a pace car would lead riders to another road. Soon the announcer said “Go!” I always hate starts on the grass because getting clipped in and moving around other riders is so difficult. Before we even hit the gravel I knew I was already at a disadvantage. The pace car was NOT going a neutral pace, but was traveling well over 20 mph. We got separated from the lead group that was behind the car almost immediately. Marc was there to pull for me as he didn’t really want to race, and he kept telling me to try and stay on his wheel.

The gravel roads were hard-packed, fast, and very flat. I thought I should’ve easily been able to maintain an average speed of 20 mph with Marc pulling for me, but it wasn’t to be. It was one of those days where my brain was definitely not communicating with my legs, and I just had no energy. Our friend Austin had gotten married the night before, and we had been up late. That, in addition to getting up at 4:00 am may have had something to do with my total lack of energy. The race was very short, only 22 miles, and we managed to end with an average speed of 18 mph. Because it was such a short distance, I remember very little about the race (it was flat and there was nothing to look at except cornfields!) and it all passed by in a blur. I do remember one racer unclipping his shoe from his bike pedal and putting his foot down as he turned a corner, and I remember thinking that if he was too scared to be clipped in around corners he shouldn’t be here! Luckily, we passed him quickly.  It’s never good to be behind inexperienced gravel riders. Sometimes fast road bike guys do gravel races and they are a bit out of their element.  If they hesitate, do something stupid, or go down, they can cause you to crash.

The last mile of the race had us turning off the road and following a grassy path back up the hill to the cider mill.  I ended up in 6th place overall woman, which was frustrating, as the top 5 shared the podium and prize money of several hundred dollars. There were no age groups, so I took some comfort in knowing that the women in the top 5 were between 6 and 28 years younger than me!

After the race, we went to a tent where they were giving the racers a free lunch (vegetarian dirty rice) and free hard cider. I took one drink and decided it tasted like the sourest apple Jolly Rancher that I had ever had, and it also tasted like it must have had a cup of sugar in it! I quickly gave it to Marc. We didn’t have any friends doing this race, so we ate and quickly left. It wasn’t the most fun I’ve had, and it definitely wasn’t my best day on the bike, but I did earn 485 points out of 500 for the race series, which was my highest score to date. And even though I think I could’ve done better, 18 mph was my fastest gravel race average ever!