The CICA 4th Annual Dirty Mudd’r was held in Streator, Illinois on Sunday, April 26th. The Dirty Mudd’r is a gravel and dirt road race across open farmland, where the winds have been known to be pretty brutal. I had been sick with the flu for 4 days, and I had thought about not going. Marc, however, insisted that we go since we had paid an entry fee of $60 for the two of us that was non-refundable. He informed me that it was actually a ride and not a race, and that he, Jeff, Eric and I were going to do this ride as a fun social event. He said that if Eric and Jeff wanted to race it, that he would stay with me. There was to be a dinner and free beer in the park after the ride.
The ride was to start at 10:00 am. At 7:00 am Jeff and Eric came to our house to load the bikes in the back of Jeff’s pickup truck. It was beautiful and sunny and about 40 degrees when we left. Illinois is even more flat, if that seems possible, than Indiana. We passed miles and miles of open farmland, a few wind farms, and more incredible looking barns than I could count. I am a big fan of old majestic barns and their architecture, and I thought it was interesting that there were lots of round barns in the area. Perhaps that was the specialty of a certain builder 100 years ago? I tried to take pictures out of the truck window of some of the barns, and I actually succeeded getting a few nice shots, even though Jeff was flying 70 mph because he was worried about being late. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to get any good pictures of any of the round barns.
On the way there, I started talking to Eric about this being a ride and not a race, and he looked at me as if I was crazy. He said “Oh no, it’s a race”, and he said that there were trophies awarded at the end. I was not feeling well, and I wasn’t happy about suddenly having to get psyched up for a competition instead of a nice social ride!
When we got to the park to register for the event, I went to the ladies’ restroom to change into my bike clothes. Since men outnumber women about 20 to 1 at cycling events, there is usually a line at the men’s restroom with no waiting for the ladies. I was not happy to see men waiting in line for BOTH restrooms. I pointed out the “Ladies” sign to the guy in front of me and he looked embarrassed and went to wait in line for the men’s room.
After I changed clothes I rode up and down the road that runs through the park to try to warm up. There was a gravel hill that had to be climbed immediately to get out of the park, and my legs protested loudly. I had only ridden about 40 miles the entire previous week because I had been sick, and I hadn’t eaten well all week. I was not looking forward to the start of the race.
The race started promptly at 10:00. It was a neutral start, with everyone riding slowly through the park and up the hill, and then sprinting once we reached the main road. When we got to the top of the hill, riders immediately began flying past us. I was riding my Trek Top Fuel mountain bike, and it was the only mountain bike I saw during the entire race. Everyone was riding a CX bike, and I knew I had a huge disadvantage. I didn’t have drop handlebars, and there was nowhere for me to go against the wind.
As more and more riders pulled away from us, Marc yelled at me to hang on to his back tire. I couldn’t close the gap at all, and he pulled farther and farther away from me. We were riding against the wind, and I was pedaling with all my strength to go 12 mph. Some of the roads were covered in fresh gravel, and it was very slow riding. There was absolutely nothing to see except miles and miles of open farmland, dirt, gravel, and a few isolated barns and farms. There wasn’t a single tree, and the entire area just looked desolate. I looked down at my Garmin when we were about 4 miles into the race, and I couldn’t believe it. I could barely move, and it felt like we had been riding for hours. After about 8 miles, Marc was so frustrated he snapped that by the time we got back to the park it would be dark and everyone would have packed up and gone! It was about this point that we saw another woman rider in a red jersey with a man drafting behind her. She looked very strong, and it appeared the man was struggling. I pedaled as hard and fast as I could and passed them both on a downhill. Shortly thereafter, she caught back up to me and drafted behind me for a while, then the two of them pulled ahead again. Marc got mad and yelled “When you pass somebody, don’t let them pass you again!” The two of them ended up riding off into the distance, and I felt totally defeated. It was at this point that I actually started to cry, and then I began to hyperventilate. I was sobbing and gasping, and Marc suddenly got such a worried look on his face that he tried to pat me on the back, almost knocking me off the bike. I am not a crier, and I am not a quitter, but the flu and the wind had just gotten the best of me. I thought briefly that we were going to have to abandon the race, because there was no way we could finish the 62 mile race we had intended to do, going the speed we were going. We had maps with us, and I thought about finding our way back to the park with the map.
Shortly after I had this thought, I noticed that the woman in the red jersey and the man she was with had stopped at an intersection ahead of us. As we passed them, I noticed the man looked very tired, and I wondered if they were dropping out. We never saw them again. Just a little while later, an older man and a very heavyset man passed us. I glanced over at them, and something in me clicked. These two appeared to be nowhere near my fitness level, and they were passing me. I suddenly sprouted wings, and I rode as fast as I could to catch them. I pulled alongside the older man and asked him if he was doing the 35 mile race or the 62 mile race. He said he was doing the 35 miles. I asked him where the turnoff was, and he said that there would be a well marked sign not too far ahead. I thanked him, then I took off. It was at that point I resolved to ride as hard and fast as I could, and to have the best finish I could in the 35 mile race.
We passed the SAG stop at about mile 26, and I noticed a half a dozen or so riders had stopped. The SAG people were waving at us, but there was no way I was going to stop. We only had about 10 miles to go, and I had plenty of water and Shot Bloks. I heard Marc yell behind me “There’s a girl who just pulled out and she’s going to try and catch you. Move!” I was in the highest gear on the Top Fuel, and I was spinning as fast as I could. We were on a brief stretch of pavement, but even with a tailwind, the fastest I could go was about 24 mph. The pavement quickly ended, and there was an arrow pointing to the right, so I turned right. The sign was tipped a little bit, and it turns out it was actually pointing straight ahead to a dirt road. I had turned the wrong way! Marc got out his map and yelled at me to turn around, but by this time I was about 1/4 mile down the road. I turned around to come back against a head wind, and I saw the girl rider going straight. I was on mud and dirt now, and I knew my mountain bike had a brief advantage over her CX bike. I could tell she was riding cautiously in the mud, so after about 2 or 3 minutes, I caught up to the girl and passed her. We then turned right onto a hard packed road, and I could hear her gaining on me. Marc had zoomed on ahead, but I wasn’t able to close the gap and get behind his wheel. It was then that the girl passed me and caught up to Marc and began drafting behind him. This was just the fire I needed, because no way was I going to let her draft behind Marc! I caught up to them both and passed them. I looked back and noticed that Marc had slowed down a little bit, and it appeared he was talking to her. A light bulb went off and I realized what he was doing. He was slowing down while she was drafting so I could move ahead! I moved fast up a dirt hill, and when I got to the top I could see we were very close to the main road that led to the park and the finish line. It was paved, so I knew once we hit pavement she would be gaining on me quickly. About 100 yards from the park entrance I heard her behind me, and she quickly passed me. As we turned into the park, I flew down the gravel hill as fast as I could, and I almost caught up with her as we reached the bottom. I couldn’t see the finish line because it was just a line of tape in the parking lot and there was no banner, so I sprinted until I thought my lungs would burst and I passed her by less than a foot as we crossed the line. I rode through the parking lot to slow down, and circled back around to where a man standing next to the finish line asked my name and wrote it down on a sheet of paper. I had finished 2nd place, and the girl, whose name was Erica, had finished 3rd. She was a very nice girl from the Chicago area who very graciously said I deserved 2nd place because I had done the race on a mountain bike! Her friend, whose name was also Erica, had finished in 1st place.
I forgave Marc, who had simply been acting as my coach by being so brutal! After the race, the organizers had an incredible meal prepared, which included pulled pork (for the meat eaters!), huge baked potatoes, and locally crafted beer.
