The Lowell 50 is a dirt and gravel road race that partially runs along the Flat River in Lowell, Michigan. This classic race used to feature a 27 mile and a 50 mile course, but seven miles were recently added to the course, making a 34 mile and a 57 mile race.
Marc entered the 34 mile race in the all inclusive fat bike class, and I entered the 34 mile race in my age division for women. The weather forecast for April 11th was sunny, low winds, and 45 degrees at the start of the race, with temperatures rising during the day to 55 degrees. We were excited at the prospect of not having to wear our winter gear.
The morning of the 11th, I set my alarm for 4:00 am. We planned to leave the house at 4:45 to pick up Marc’s friend Jeff in Chesterton for the 2 1/2 hour drive to Michigan. We estimated that the drive, along with the hour time difference, would give us just less than an hour to change clothes and pick up our racing numbers. The drive to Michigan was blissfully uneventful.
We arrived on schedule and quickly found parking in a grassy lot in the park where the race was to start. This was a much different experience than Barry-Roubaix, where we had to drive through the town to find parking, and stand in a line stretching outside into the Ace Hardware parking lot to pick up our packets. We changed into our racing gear and rode our bikes a short distance to the pavillion to register and pick up our numbers. There was no waiting, and we simply walked up to a table and signed a release form and picked up our numbers. We also got a red and black day pack with “Lowell 50” written on it, and some stickers. We then rode back to the car to put our packs away, where we learned that Jeff had forgotten his helmet! Race rules will not allow any rider to race without a helmet. Our friend Eric, who had come in another car, immediately sprang into action and went walking through the parking lot trying to find a helmet for Jeff to wear. He quickly found a girl with an extra helmet. Jeff is a big and tall guy, and the helmet that Eric managed to borrow was a women’s helmet with pink accents on the side of the helmet and polka dots on the back! Jeff was going to race in style.
By this time, it was about 20 minutes from the race start time, so we all tried to warm up by sprinting up and down one of the roads in the park for a few minutes. Then Marc took a picture of me, and I took a picture of him. By then, Eric and Jeff were already in line for the first wave of the race. There were only 3 waves of less than 100 riders each, compared to 17 waves in the Barry-Roubaix. The first wave included all the 57 mile racers. The second wave started just two minutes after the first, and then we lined up to go last. The fat bikes and all of the women riders, along with the older male riders, were in the last wave. Kelly and Marc lined up with other fat bikes, and I lined behind them. The area where we lined up was so packed tight, I ended up sandwiched between other riders on the right.
A woman in a tent next to the starting line started counting down. She made a point of skipping numbers, and said “19 seconds”, “13”, “8”, until she finally said “start”. Then we were off. It was a neutral start, which means all riders had to ride no more than 15 miles per hour with a pace car in front, until we rode through a covered bridge. Once we passed through the bridge, the race was to really begin. This was an extremely frustrating start, as the pace car in front would not keep a steady pace. Riders were off at 18 mph, then the car slowed down and riders were throwing their hands back and yelling “slowing!” to warn riders behind them to slow down so there wasn’t a pile up. This continued until we got to the bridge. It was extremely tight passing through the bridge, and once we were through it riders were all around me and I couldn’t move. I noticed two very tall women who looked to be about my age on CX bikes, zooming past riders on the left. Then, almost immediately after clearing the bridge I heard someone yell “rider down!” I saw a rider on the ground and learned later that this rider had actually clipped the back of Marc’s wheel and several riders on CX bikes had gone down like dominoes. I thought that this wasn’t a good omen, to see a crash when the race had barely started.
Shortly after clearing the bridge, I looked up and saw a wall. I anticipated this hill, because I had read on-line that the hills started within less than two miles of the race start, and most of them were in the first ten miles of the race. As I started struggling up this hill, I looked around and noticed right away that this race was going to be extremely different than the Barry-Roubaix. There were no recreational riders here, as no one was walking this hill! In fact, most riders I saw climbed it quite easily. I was thankful, however, because at this point the crowd had started to thin out and I was able to get around other riders. The second hill came quickly, and then another and another. I kept looking down at my Garmin, hoping to see the 10 mile mark, so I could have some relief from the incessant climbing. I watched my Garmin and saw that we were climbing at the rate of about 100 feet every mile. Because I often don’t really warm up until 20 miles into a ride, the first 10 miles was very painful. The 10 mile mark on my Garmin had come and gone, and I was now 12 miles into the race and there was still one hill after another! Then I looked ahead and saw that we were turning what I thought must be north, onto some flat farmland. I was relieved, but the relief was very short lived, because without the protection of the hills, we were now being blasted by wind. I struggled to find a rider to draft behind, but there were no riders going fast enough. Most were struggling, and the fast riders ahead of me were riding too fast to catch. It was then that I noticed a very small woman on a CX bike who looked my age passing me. She was very fast and quickly zoomed out of my sight. She definitely had an advantage by being able to get down low on her drop handlebars, and her small size was a huge advantage against the wind as well. At this time I calculated that I was in 4th place, because I had only seen 3 women who looked to be my age pass me, unless there were riders at the front of the wave that I hadn’t seen. I also realized at this time that my mountain bike wasn’t the best choice for this race. The roads were far more packed and solid than I had thought. The road conditions, together with the wind, gave all the CX bike riders a huge advantage.
As I was battling the wind, I reached down to get the energy gel that Eric had taped to the frame of my bike with black electrical tape. Marc had bought chocolate gels because he thought they would taste better than fruity ones, and it tasted like chocolate syrup mixed with frosting. It was very difficult to choke down! But sports gels are a miracle food, and I almost immediately felt the difference as we turned out of the wind and I saw more hills in the distance. By this time,we had climbed over 1200 feet, and it had become apparent that the hills weren’t going anywhere!
Also by this time, I had settled in to a group of four of five riders, all men, who were going about the same pace. One older man in a blue jersey with a moustache commented that he was never going to do this race again. He hadn’t anticipated the wind or the hills. For the next 10 miles or so we continued to pass each other. I would pass him and he would struggle to catch up, then he would pass me and I would struggle to catch up with him. I told him I was grateful that he was keeping the fire under me.
At about 20 miles we turned onto a flat paved road where we once again were blasted by wind. I managed to find a rider who was riding about 16 mph hour against the wind, and I hung onto his wheel until we got back to the gravel. I then thanked him for the brief respite. He laughed. After we got back to the gravel, I realized that I was getting tired and I needed to eat the second gel that was taped to my bike frame. Eric had wrapped this gel several times with electrical tape and I couldn’t get it off! I finally managed to get it off the bike and tore it open with the black tape flapping in the wind.
After more hills, we turned onto a paved main road which was like a roller coaster ride. For a very brief moment in time we flew down a hill at over 30 miles per hour, and I tried to tell myself it was all downhill from here. But it was over way too soon, because I looked ahead and saw a wall. This paved hill was the hardest hill in the entire race. My second gel hadn’t kicked in, and I rode up this hill at no more than 8 miles per hour. I thought I wasn’t going to make it to the top. When I finally crested the hill, I noticed that the group I had been riding with were all gone. I was now all alone. As we turned back onto gravel, a woman on a CX bike who looked to be about my age passed me. This was just what I needed to put the fire back under me. I quickly caught up with her and passed her, then rode as fast as I could until I knew she wasn’t going to catch me. I then looked up and noticed another wall, and that I had also managed to catch up with the group of men I had been riding with. By now we were at over 31 miles, and I thought this hill was particularly cruel, being so close to the end of the race. This hill rose through a vineyard, and I was momentarily grateful for the scenery that took my mind off the pain. It was at this point that I caught back up with the moustached man in the blue jersey. I passed him and didn’t see him again until the end of the race.
Shortly after the vineyard, I saw a policeman directing traffic at the intersection where it looked like the park was. He motioned left, and I started to turn left to go up a hill and he yelled “hard left!” I had almost gone the wrong way! I then immediately saw the stone arch where the race had begun. I sprinted as fast as I could towards the finish line, where someone announced my name as I passed it.
I saw Kelly and Marc waiting at the end of the finish line, and I asked Kelly how he did. He laughed and said he finished 5th, 6th, 10th and 11th. He had apparently walked back and forth with his bike near the finish line, and the computer had picked up his number. He actually finished 5th and Marc finished 9th in the fat bike class. I walked to the finish line to see if I could get a picture of Jeff or Eric coming across the line. I waited for about 10 minutes and then I saw Eric, who did a fist pump as he crossed the line.
It was shortly thereafter that I checked results in the pavilion and saw that I had finished in 5th place in my age group. The older women are the most competitive group, and I noted that if I had been racing with the 19-29 year olds I would have made the podium!
