2020. Where to start? March 16 I got a call from my boss, saying that the office was shutting down. We were to work at home 80% of the time, and had to maintain social distance over our office’s three floors due to a new pandemic of what we were calling at the time the Coronavirus. The word COVID hadn’t yet hit the media. We all thought the drastic measures would last for a few weeks, and then would we would be back at work. For most of us, I think at the time we thought it was a new flu and everyone was overreacting simply because of the unknown. I don’t think any of us could have imagined what was to come in the days ahead. Days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months. Our state office completely closed to the public. I was to spend more time at home than I had in 29 years. I baked bread, made cookies, and tried not to read social media or watch the news because it was too disheartening. It was a presidential election year, and my desire to disassociate from everything that was happening meant that I had no idea who the Democratic candidate for president was until my son mentioned it sometime over the summer!
My one escape, cycling, was something that I could still do, but I had to do it solo. I seriously missed group rides and getting together at Ironwood on Thursday nights. And I really wanted to race. But the inevitable happened. Melting Mann was canceled. Then Barry Roubaix and Lowell. Then the HellKaat Hundie. One by one, the races fell to the wayside. Promoters had to scramble to find ways to save the smaller races, while still adhering to local health department and state guidelines. And worse of all, I couldn’t go home to see my mom and dad. I couldn’t risk getting them sick.
As the weather warmed, and infections declined, people began to get braver about venturing outdoors. Sometime in May, Marc asked if I wanted to go for a ride on the gravel bikes with our friends Brad and Tim. I really wanted to go, but I felt nervous. The entire ride I stayed behind Marc and tried to keep my distance if we stopped. I remember being so nervous about it that it just wasn’t fun. We rode to Dunn’s Bridge, about 50 miles round trip, and I kept thinking I shouldn’t be doing it. We stopped and posed for a picture at the bridge. It seemed as if nothing was every going to be the same. I didn’t enjoy the ride.
Spring turned into summer, and our office remained closed. The virus wasn’t going anywhere. At some point, the governor ordered mask mandates for everyone. Slowly, businesses began to partially open. Even though I was still avoiding social media and the news, I couldn’t help but hear about people struggling with unemployment. Businesses closed for good. Some of my co-workers struggled with the schools being closed, and then over the summer, the lack of day care centers being open. I found myself being riddled with guilt over feeling sorry for myself about races being canceled and my lack of socialization, when others were suffering so much worse. And people were still getting sick and dying.
Once the weather warmed up, things began to look up. Businesses were under less restrictions and I noticed more people being out. Sometime in June, Marc asked if I wanted to do a century ride with the A1 Cycle Center group. It was going to be hot and humid that day, and we were going to be outside the entire day, so I said OK. This was to by my first real group ride of the entire year, and the year was half over!
This was to be a 100 mile ride, so we got to the A1 Cycle Center at about 6:00 am. As we pulled up into the parking lot I saw very few riders that I knew. I knew Brad and Tim. so I decided I would just follow them as riders left the parking lot. I had no idea there were two groups – a very, very fast group, and a slower group. I unknowingly left with the fast group. A1 is in Merrillville, Indiana, which is a very big city. We had to weave through far too much traffic than I would have liked, and I was thankful for the large group. I felt safer in numbers. But I did NOT feel good otherwise. These guys took off like a rocket, and when I looked down at some point I saw we were going over 30 mph! Somehow with the traffic, rolling hills, and insane speed, I managed to stay with the group for about the first 25 miles. Once we stopped at a gas station to get water and the route got flatter, it was all over. The hills slowed the guys down. There was no stopping them on the flat road. I looked around and wondered where all the girls were that I saw when we had first pulled up into the A1 parking lot. From miles 25 to mile 60 there was just me, Marc, and two other riders. At times there was just me and Marc. We talked about cutting the course, and just heading back, but by then we were too far in. We would have just as far to get back!
When we got to a town called Momence, we saw the group all gathered at a gas station. We stopped to eat a peanut butter sandwich and chips. Not long after we were done eating, we saw another group of ridings pull into a business down the street. This was the slower group. I was so glad to see them! It was hot and windy, and I did not feel like riding hours back to our car in the heat and wind. Solo rides are just hard. It turned out that this group included all of the other girls that I had seen in the parking lot. They said had wondered what happened to me. I told them I apparently left with the wrong group! As it turned out, these were extremely strong riders. By the time we got back, we had still managed to average 18 mph for the entire 100 miles! I was more than happy to realize I had somehow managed to keep my fitness level despite the current COVID craziness.
Racing Through The Pandemic – Waterloo, The Divide, The Cow Pie Classic and The Dirty 30
As the summer lumbered on, something amazing happened. The Divide, a race scheduled for July 26th, announced that they were going to take precautions and forge ahead with the race. They were to be the first race of the 2020 Michigan Gravel Series that had not canceled. They were going to allow racers to choose their race times, so there would not be a mass start. You could choose your own starting time in 10 minute intervals, or you could choose the smaller mass start with about 30 other riders. The rules were that you had to wear a mask for the first mile and while in the park. Volunteers in the park were masked and sat behind registration tables with plexiglass separating themselves from the racers. There was to be no award ceremony, and everyone was given a plaque and the opportunity for a picture. There would be no after party, no podium, and no socialization afterwards. I didn’t really care. I just wanted the opportunity to race!
Marc decided he would set up a lounge chair in the park and wait for me while I raced. He hadn’t been training for the race season, and decided he would opt out. Race day went as scheduled. It was funny that I couldn’t hear the woman in the park who was sitting behind the plexiglass with the mask as she gave me race instructions. I kept saying “huh?” and she finally got frustrated and peeked out from the plexiglass to talk.
I didn’t have much time to warm up, and soon it was time to line up. The race announcer made sure everyone was socially distanced and had their masks on. He told racers that even if they thought the mask thing was silly, they needed to keep on their masks out of respect for other racers. He reminded everyone to keep their masks on for the first mile, until we crested a hill by a cemetery, and riders began to spread out. This was an extremely hard thing to do! The Divide starts out uphill, and I was huffing and puffing to keep up with riders. By the time I saw others tearing off their masks, I was feeling like I was going to pass out. It was HOT and the mask made it so hard to breathe. The race was only about two miles in when the rain that had been threatening blasted us full force. It poured and poured and poured! I was dreading the sound of sand in my drive train, and I was not happy it was storming so early on in the race. I felt bad for Marc sitting in the park alone.
About ten miles into the race, the rain stopped and the sun came out. Then the HOT went to HOTTER! It felt like it was 90 degrees, and I was suddenly extremely grateful that I was soaking wet so I was getting cooled. This race was so much harder than I remember. The sand on the roads was so deep, and the hills seemed so much steeper. Some of the descents were fast and scary, and the sand was so deep at the bottom of the descent, that I found myself being extremely thankful for my fat tires. I have no idea how anyone could do this race on a skinny tire gravel bike. That would take some very serious bike handling skills! When we hit Gilbert’s Corners, a seasonal road loop, the sand was literally ankle deep. Even with the fatbike I couldn’t maneuver the bike through it. So I found myself jumping off of the bike and running through the sand. This was exhausting, and nerve wracking at the same time, as there were some very fast, curvy sections, where you could not see what was up ahead. When we came off of the seasonal road back to the main road, there were fist-sized rocks, uphill, to get through. I was pretty pleased with myself that I rode through this section without getting off of the bike.
The bad thing about a race without a mass start where everyone starts out together, is that you find yourself alone with no other riders to form a group and draft and help pull. I did this race mostly solo, with just a handful of other riders around me. The final few miles were uphill on pavement, and I saw a heavier male rider who was stopped. I told him “good job we’re almost there!” to inspire him. As I headed into town near the finish line at the park, I realized that I had no idea how I had done. With most of the riders having different start times, there was really no way to gage what place I was in. As it turned out, I finished 4th overall (against the skinny tire bikes!) and 1st (and only!) fat bike. As I looked at the other riders’ times, I decided to race my fatbike next year in my age group as opposed to the fat tire category, which usually draws very few riders. I think my fat tires clearly had an advantage on the sandy seasonal roads. I would have had to be so cautious on a skinnier tire bike that I don’t think I would’ve finished well. The first two pictures above are from the race. As I was handed my finisher’s award, I hoisted my bike over my head in triumph. It felt good to be racing Michigan gravel, even though the COVID restrictions had put a damper on things. And I was alive and well. This fact was not lost on me.