Waterloo Grit and Gravel is a bike race through the Waterloo Recreation Area in Chelsea, Michigan. Waterloo is the largest park in the Lower Peninsula and covers more than 20,000 acres, with pristine forests, rolling glacial terrain, and 47 miles of hiking trails. The race promoters advertise that “Most of the roads will be dirt and rock. There may even be mud, ice, and snow. Expect to get dusty. Expect to get grimy. Expect to have the time of your life!” The race was to be the first race of the 2019 Michigan Gravel Series and was scheduled for March 16th. March is still winter in Michigan, so the promoters were being honest when they said that snow, ice, freezing rain, or mud could all be a possibility. The forecast the week before the race was pretty grim, both for Indiana and Michigan. Rain was predicted almost every day leading up to the race, and race day was expected to be partly cloudy with a high of 30 degrees. That meant it was going to be highly unlikely that the roads would be dried out. The day before the race, the picture below was posted on Waterloo’s Facebook page. The picture was what riders could expect to encounter the first 1 1/2 miles!
The race start was to be at 9:00 am Indiana time, and Waterloo is over a three hour drive from Valparaiso. That meant that we would have to leave about 4:30 am Indiana time to ensure we had enough time to stop for a bathroom break, pick up our race packets, and get ready.
Saturday morning we woke up to temperatures in the 20’s, loaded the bikes, and headed out. It was an uneventful trip, until about an hour and a half into the drive. Suddenly, we were caught in a squall on Interstate 94. A blizzard swirled around us, and visibility was almost zero. Marc panicked and yelled “What do I do?!” I told him to just follow the semi in front of us and look at his tail lights, as we couldn’t see the lines on the road and had no idea what lane we were in. As the snow continued, we saw a police car at the side of the road that had gotten hit, as well as another car that had gotten sideswiped. A semi was off the road in a ditch. The road was a sheet of ice. I checked my weather app and saw that we were going to drive out of the storm within a few miles, so Marc just kept driving. Racers were posting pictures on the race’s Facebook page concerning cars off the road.
Miraculously, as soon as we drove out of the storm the sky began clearing, the sun came up, and the roads cleared. My weather app wasn’t predicting any more precipitation for the day.
Thankfully, we arrived safely about 45 minutes before the race start and began the routine of bike preparations and race packet pick-up. I had ordered a bike jersey in a size medium, and I picked it up with my race number. The jersey was huge and I had to trade down for a size extra small, which was still roomy. I am not small by any means, and I shake my head every time I buy clothing nowadays. It’s the fattening of America! Sizes keep getting bigger and bigger, but I hadn’t noticed this with athletes’ clothing before. Normally sports clothing runs small. The woman who handed me the jersey apologized and said they had never ordered from this company before. I also got a patch and a pair of socks to match the jersey.
After putting on my race number, taping sports gels to my bike, then trying my best to warm up (it was freezing!) it was soon time to line up for the race start. Marc was registered in the fat bike long series for the MGRS, and I was registered for the short series, so Marc was to start in wave one with the racers doing the 100K race. Marc’s wave headed out 10 minutes before mine, then it was time for the 50K racers to line up. I was to race one time around a 50K loop, and Marc would do it two times. At the brief meeting before the race began, the race announcer warned everyone about the sketchy road conditions and said “This is the first race of the season. Take it easy, as we have a lot more races left and you don’t want to injure yourself out there. We’ve got a long season ahead of us.” They also delayed the race start by ten minutes to allow the people who had gotten stuck in the snowstorm on I 94 to arrived. Soon, Marc’s wave was off and my wave was next.
I tried to get as close to the front of the wave as I could, positioned to the left, so I could get around slower riders, which is always my race strategy. Here is a picture of me (in pink) shortly after the race start, which was on pavement for a brief period until we got out of the parking lot onto gravel.
We headed left out of the recreational parking area onto a paved road, then we turned right onto dirt. The road that was pictured on Facebook the day before was now frozen! The deeps ruts in the road were rock solid and my tire got stuck in a rut as I was riding fast downhill. I almost took a spill, but I unclipped and put my foot down to save myself, and rode like that until I got through the rutty sections. Everyone must have taken the announcer’s warnings to heart, because no one was riding crazy down this section of road. I was being cautious and I expected riders to be flying past me, but no one was passing me. This sketchy downhill ended quickly and soon we were riding on hard packed, frozen stretches of road that were so fast! I was amazed how everyone just stuck together, and I wasn’t seeing rider after rider buzzing by, which usually happens when it’s so cold and I’m not warmed up yet.
I also noticed that along the road there were lots of photographers; more than I usually see at a race. It was nice that after the race these photos were given to us for free via an email link, rather than the photographer charging a lot of money for photos. In some of the photos, I look quite serious.
I was grateful when the sun began to peek out of the clouds, because it was so cold! I don’t think the temperature ever got above 30 degrees. However, my gratefulness soon changed when the sun began warming the roads. We would fly through hard packed shady sections of road, then get caught in a sea of mud when we’d ride through sections of road where there were no trees and the sun was melting the frozen ground. My 4″ fat bike tires tear up the mud like nobody’s business, and I was getting covered. Mud splattered my glasses and on my mouth and covered my Camelbak. I would take a drink of water then realize I had a mouth of sand and grit and spit it out. The recreation area was so wooded and pretty, though, that I wondered what the 47 miles of hiking trails were like.
About 20 miles into the race we turned onto Cassidy Road, a road that runs by a prison with a tall barbed wire fence. This road wasn’t open to traffic, and it was an absolute mess. There were six inch deep ruts, with small paths in between the ruts, and I found myself trying to stay on a 6″ path with my 4″ tires, which wasn’t an easy feat! A girl in front of me on skinny tires slipped, and I almost hit her. I stopped, maunevered around her onto another line, and continued on. Then a man on a skinny tire gravel bike took a spill. I had the thought that if your buddy was in prison and wanted you to spring him, it just wasn’t going to happen! There’s no way you could run or drive out of this mess. After the race I looked this prison up and found that it’s called the Special Alternative Incarceration Facility, and it was formally known as Camp Cassidy Lake, a minimum security boot camp. OK, so I guess there were no hardened criminals there waiting to get sprung!
After leaving Cassidy Road, the course became fast again. It seemed that not long after this road we turned left and hit a stretch of pavement for miles. I found myself behind the wheel of a man on a skinny bike going 18 mph. I hung on for as long as I could and thanked him for the ride. He soon dropped me on a hill. We had a brief conversation before he dropped me, and he said he didn’t have the legs to ride a fat tire bike.
I think the last five miles or so were on pavement, or at least it seemed like it. When I saw the banners with the sign which pointed for 50K races to head to the finish line and 100K racers to turn left and do the loop again, I thought of Marc. He had to ride this twice! I was so glad I hadn’t opted for the long course.
As I came across the finish line, a woman at the end handed me a finisher’s medal. I thought that was so strange. Bike races aren’t like running races; you don’t get anything unless you win! Still, it was a pretty cool looking medal even if I thought it was goofy to get one.
I immediately headed to the car after passing the finish line to strip out of my clothes. Muddy doesn’t begin to describe how covered from head to toe I was! I was freezing, but stripped all of my outer layers off and put them in a garbage bag before getting into the car to change. My bike was also covered in mud, but I never fret about that as Marc is my official bike washer (and mechanic!)
As soon as I had changed, I got out my phone to follow the link I had been sent via email to check results. I discovered that I had gotten 2nd place female fat bike. And of the 32 fat bikes overall, including men, I had gotten 11th! I was surprised because I had never thought I would place. The early races of the year bring out such hardcore Michigan riders that I was really just racing to get series points, and I didn’t expect to do that well.
I walked to the celebration area to wait for Marc to cross the finish line and wait for the awards. I had foolishly forgotten to bring gloves (my racing gloves were soaking wet), and I was handed a finisher’s glass and I couldn’t hold onto it! I stood by a fire warming myself and a man offered me his handwarmer. When they announced the awards, the 3rd place finisher had already left. I stepped up next to the winner, not realizing until I saw the picture that I had stepped on to the third place podium! Marc hadn’t made it across the finish line yet, so a man standing in front of the podium snapped the picture.
For my second place finish I got a growler of an IPA from Short’s Brewery, and a Yeti insulated cup. Age group winners got socks, and first place winners got jerseys.
Shortly thereafter Marc came across the finish line, looking beat up! The women with the medals put one around his head. He had been fighting to stay in third place, and said he didn’t see any other fat bikes pass him. When we checked results we discovered he had indeed gotten third place fat bike. Marc’s award was a Yeti tumbler and a bag of Michigan DNR coffee. I told him had he made second he would’ve gotten a growler of beer!