The Michigan Gravel Race Series is a points series composed of 10 different gravel and dirt road bike races, with some races including single track and seasonal roads. There are 10 different races in the series, and a racer is scored on their top 5 races, with a minimum of 4 races needing to be completed in order to qualify for the series. Awards are given at the end of the season for the top three overall winners, as well as the top three winners for the series in their age groups. In previous years I had raced as many as a half a dozen races or more, but I had never signed up for and competed in the series. I decided that this year was the year that I would sign up and try to compete in at least five of the races. There were two different categories to compete in; the long and short series. For instance, Barry-Roubaix offers a 22 mile, 36 mile, 62 mile, and 100 mile race. The short racers need to compete in the 36 miler, and the long course racers can choose the 62 or 100 miler.
The five races I decided to tackle were the short series Lowell 50 (a 34 mile race in Lowell, Michigan), the Barry-Roubaix (a 36 miler in Hastings), the Hell Kitten Fiddie (a 50 miler in Dorr), The Divide (a 34 miler in Manton), and Uncle John’s Dirty Ride (a 25 miler in St. John’s).
The season’s first race for me was to be the Lowell 50 on April 7th. The spring edition of the Lowell 50 did not qualify for the series (the qualifier is the one in the fall), but I had decided to sign up for the race for the training. The winter of 2017/2018 had been an extremely long, cold one. Winter fitness includes 6 months of spinning on an indoor trainer in the basement, as well as a few outings on the fatbike in the snow. Even though I had exercised all winter, it did not prepare me for big miles outside, and Michigan dirt and gravel is especially challenging.
On race day our friend Austin met us at our house with his bike at 4:00 am. Austin arrived on time and came into the house to get some coffee before we were to be on our way, with a stop in Michigan City to pick up our friend James. The drive to Lowell is about 2 1/2 hours, and Michigan is on eastern time. This would leave us enough time to pick up our packets and warm up a little bit before the race start at 9:00 Indiana time.
The Lowell 50 begins and ends at Fallasburg County Park in Lowell, Michigan. The park first opened in 1929, and now covers over 180 acres of land. There are two spring fed streams, an island on the Flat River, and a portion of the 4,000 mile North Country Trail passing through the park’s boundaries. The race begins shortly after riding through the historic wooden covered bridge in the park that dates back to the mid 1800’s, and the course winds through some very scenic woods. I have done this race a total of six times, and it is one of my favorites.
On the morning of April 7th James, Austin, Marc and I arrived at Lowell about one hour before the race start, which did leave us plenty of time to properly warm up. It was 25 degrees when we arrived, and it was predicted to be no warmer than 28 degrees for the duration of the race. I was fretting over what to wear, as I always seem to either overdress or underdress for a race. With the temperature being so low, it was critical that I not underdress, as failure to keep my core warm would mean that much needed blood would be taken from my legs and re-routed to my organs. I opted to wear two wool base layers, a fleece jacket, and a wind jacket over the fleece. I also wore thermal tights, and base layer socks, baggies, wool socks, and toe warmers on my feet. I wasn’t sure how I was going to protect my lungs in the cold and be able to keep a race pace with a mask covering my face, so I opted for a loose buff.
Mark, James, Austin and I set out to do the course in reverse for several miles for our warm up. Within minutes, I knew I was in trouble. My body likes to go into “hibernation mode” in the cold, and I have great difficulty moving my legs when it’s below freezing. I was moving extremely slow, and my legs felt like dead weight. I only warmed up for 16 minutes, and I decided it was just too cold. I ran the Strava app on my phone and posted the warm up. Here it is below:
I snapped a picture of the boys, then opted to go into the park shelter to stay warm for a few minutes before the race start. I found myself not looking forward to the prospect of spending more than two hours racing in the cold. The weather in Indiana for the past month had been so up and down, that I was not acclimated to 25 degrees.
Marc, James, and Austin warming up.Soon, it was time to begin. The race start is always a neutral roll-out until riders pass through the covered bridge, and then the race is on. The first big hill comes shortly after passing through the bridge, and most of the tough hills are in the first 15 miles of the race.
This picture shows James and Marc at the race start, shortly after the bridge. James is tag number 681 and Marc is in the orange helmet.Shortly after climbing the first hill and rounding a corner, I saw what looked like a traffic jam ahead in the road. There was a male rider lying on the left side of the road who looked severely injured, and several people were tending to him, instructing him not to move. There was also a girl sitting in the middle of the road, sobbing loudly. The riders’ instincts were to stop to assist, however, this was hazardous as riders rounding the corner were having to stop for the traffic jam. One guy on the right side of the road kept yelling at riders to keep moving to avoid an even more dangerous situation. I thought about how we had planned and prepared for the race and had made a 2 ½ hour drive, and here their race was over before it had barely begun. Also, I know all too well how a split second mistake can end up in months of recovery. I prayed that it wasn’t as bad as it looked and that they were going to be all right.
I immediately noticed that the cold was having an effect on not just me, but some other riders as well. I was struggling to make my legs move fast, but there were quite a few people behind me that were not passing me on the hills. The first 10 miles of a race are usually the toughest because it takes that long to warm up, but after 10 miles I was not moving any faster. I ate a gel, expecting it to kick in within 10 minutes, but it didn’t. It felt like I was treading gravel with lead weights on my legs, and it did not get any better. I was also struggling to breathe in the cold.
Just as I was thinking that I really just wanted to go home, a woman who looked to be in my age group came up beside me and started chatting. She said that she was only riding once or twice a week, and that her longest ride was just 22 miles. She said “You look like a strong rider. Do you mind if I hang with you?” I couldn’t believe it. Here I was feeling like I was dying, and this woman who barely ever rides was not only keeping up with me, but was also wanting to chat and draft behind my wheel! I told her I didn’t feel very strong today, then I tried to ignore her. Try as I might, I could not ride fast enough to get her off of my wheel.
Shortly after this, I noticed Austin and Marc at the side of the road. My first thought was that one of them had a flat tire, and I yelled, “Are you guys OK?” Both of them got on their bikes and started riding and Austin said “Marc got dropped from the fast group, so he decided to pull for you”. I immediately felt both relief that Marc was going to ride with me, and dismay because my legs weren’t working and I had pretty much decided just to ride the rest of the course and not race it. But Marc started yelling at me to stay on his wheel, and kept after me to ride harder. Shortly after Marc and Austin joined me, the course flattened out a bit, and I noticed I was feeling better. My goal then became dropping the chatty woman behind me. (The picture at the beginning of this post was taken by the race photographer and is of Marc pulling me, with this woman behind us.) As we rounded a corner and escaped the incessant headwind that had been slowing us down I yelled “Go, go go!” We quickly put a huge distance between us, the chatty woman, and the riders behind us. Marc then yelled “there’s a woman up ahead that looks like she’s in your age group! Let’s pass her!” We passed her, then we began passing rider after rider after we turned another corner. I was riding over 17 mph against a headwind, which I could not have done without Marc blocking the wind for me. I still struggled to stay with Marc on the hills, but the last five miles of the race I finally felt like my legs were getting the signal to move. We continued to pass lots of riders during the last five miles to the finish line. Austin was riding his single speed, and we lost him as there was no way he could compete with us without gears.
I noticed when I passed the finish line that my time was about 3 minutes slower on the gravel bike than I had been in the fall on the fatbike, even with Marc pulling for me. The cold had seriously slowed me down, and I wondered how I had finished. It turned out I ended up finishing 2nd in my age group, with the first place winner being only 2 minutes and 24 seconds ahead of me. The cold must have been a factor in her performance as well, as I have raced against her before, and she is normally much faster than me. All in all, I was happy that I had raced in the cold, as I knew it was much needed training for Barry-Roubaix, which was coming up in two weeks.
A not so bad ending to a cold day.Barry Roubaix
The Barry-Roubaix was scheduled for April 21st, and I was happy that the race was scheduled later in the spring so that we might get lucky and have some warmer weather. It turned out that as race day approached, it was predicted to be in the 50’s and low 60’s.On the morning of the 21st Austin met us at our house at 4:00 am to begin the drive to Hastings, Michigan. The skies were clear and it looked like the weather was going to be in our favor. Both Marc and I were racing our fatbikes in the 36 mile race, and Austin was racing his singlespeed.
We arrived in Hastings about an hour before the race and parked in a school parking lot several blocks from the race start, which was downtown. We rode our bikes to the local Ace Hardware for our packet pick-ups, then back to the school parking lot to change clothes and head out on a warm-up ride. As we pulled into the parking lot we saw our friend Steve Rode from Ohio. He had never raced Barry-Roubaix before and was riding his gravel bike in the 62 miler. We talked to Steve, then headed out for our warm-up. The temperatures had raised about 10 degrees since we arrived, and I ended up taking off my jacket and going with just a jersey and a thin long sleeved base layer underneath. Marc, Austin and I all wore are matching Leo’s Bike Shop jerseys.
Austin and me, bike nerds!As we headed out of town to find some gravel roads, I immediately noticed that this race was going to be a lot different than Lowell. I had tons of energy and easily glided up hills, even on the fatbike. We all warmed up for about five miles, then headed downtown to line up for our wave starts.
The Barry-Roubaix is a huge race, with well over 2,000 riders. There are so many riders that there were 19 different waves scheduled, each leaving town within a few minutes of each other. I was scheduled to start in Wave 13 with the other female fatbikers, and Marc was scheduled to start in Wave 12 with the male fatbikers. I lined up after the “13” sign and tried to get all of the way left and as close to the front as I could so that I could be in a position to pass other riders quickly once the race started.
I also snapped a picture with Molly and Jason, a couple that I had met through Instagram and had also met at other races, who are from Charleston, Illinois.
Molly and me, ready to roll!Soon the countdown began and we were off. I stood up to get momentum and I rode to the left, passing as many riders as I could in an attempt to catch the lead group. I only saw two other women on fatbikes in the lead group, and they looked extremely strong.
I managed to stay close to the end of the lead pack for several miles, then settled into a group that fell off of the lead. I had not done the race in two years, and never on a fatbike before, and it seemed much faster than I had remembered. There were no challenging hills that I thought compared to Lowell, and I seemed to be sailing up them.
About 20 miles into the race a woman on a fatbike passed me. Because she was so muscular and had short hair, I wasn’t sure at first if she was a woman or a man. Then I reasoned she had to be a woman as the men had started in the wave ahead of us, and would already be past us. At this point I believed I was in 4th place as I hadn’t seen any other female fatbikers pass me.
Some time after I was passed by the strong woman, I heard two girls coming up from behind me and I heard one of them say “there’s a fatbike ahead”. I assumed they were on fatbikes and were going to try and pass me. I glanced back and saw that one was riding a plus bike with 3″ tires (you have to ride with tires bigger than 3.8″ to qualify in the fatbike class; my tires were 4″) and one of the girls was on a mountain bike. They passed me and I quickly lost sight of them.
I still surmised that I was in 4th place. Soon after the girls passed me we moved onto a seasonal road that was covered with leaves and sticks, and had deep sandy sections. Riders on gravel bikes were slipping and sliding, several people were walking their bikes, and one man fell in front of me. I asked if he was OK and he said “I just hurt my pride.” This road was very frustrating because I couldn’t get around the walkers and the slow riders, even though the deep sand was no problem for my fatbike. Thankfully this section didn’t seem to be more than a mile, and we quickly turned off to a road, where I stood up to get momentum and pass as many riders as I could.
I hadn’t ridden Barry-Roubaix in two years, and I didn’t remember the course. I was surprised by the amount of pavement in between the gravel roads, and how fast some of the hilly sections were. I could get enough momentum down hills at times to sail to the top of the next hill on the hard-packed, fast gravel. The 36 miles seemed to fly by, and I felt victorious as I headed into town.
The town of Hastings shuts down it’s main street for the race, and coming into town across the finish line is quite the experience. Spectators line the streets, ringing cow bells and shouting. Marc snapped a picture of me as I crossed the finish line.
After the race, we all headed to the car in the school parking lot to change clothes and join the after party downtown, where many of our Northwest Indiana riding friends were gathered, with the food vendors, and where the awards ceremony was to be held. We all checked our race finishing times through a link that had been emailed to us, and I discovered that I had finished in 6th place, just missing the 5 place podium. There were apparently girls in the lead pack that got past me that I hadn’t seen. I was still very pleased with my fatbike finish, and the points that it earned me for the gravel series.
Screenshot of the results.Hellkitten Fiddie
The Hellkaat Hundie is a charity race in its fifth year, that begins and ends in Dorr, Michigan. Proceeds from the race go to JDRF, the Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation, which funds research to help find a cure for Type 1 diabetes. The race website indicates that in the past four years the race has raised nearly $40,000 for JDRF. There are two different race options, the Hellkaat Hundie (100 mile race) and the Hellkitten Fiddie (50 mile race). For those not wanting to race, there is also the 25 mile Itty Bitty Kitty, which is just an untimed fun ride.
Last year I had raced the Hellkaat Hundie and I ended up going 3 miles off course because I had come up over a hill and missed that the group of riders in front of me had made a right turn. I remember the course being very sandy, hilly, and difficult. This year, since I was signed up for the short gravel series, I would be racing the 50 mile opti0n, the Hellkitten Fiddie.
Dorr Michigan is a small town with a population of 7,785, about an hour’s drive south of Grand Rapids. The race start and finish is in the parking lot of 5 Lakes Brewery, which is located in one of the town’s only strip malls. The strip mall also sports the usual small town stores of Subway and Dollar General.
On the morning of May 7th Marc and I got up at 2:30 am in order to get ready and leave for the race by 3:30 am, as we needed to be in Dorr ready for the race start at 7:00 Indiana time. (Dorr is about 2 1/2 hours away, and the town is on eastern time.) I dozed off and on in the car until 5:00 am, when I ate a peanut butter bagel and drank my coffee. I always eat breakfast exactly two hours before a race start, as I have read that is optimal for digestion, and gives you more energy.
As we pulled into the small town of Dorr, it was interesting to note that there wasn’t a single gas station opened where I could use the bathroom. The little town looked as if it were still asleep, with the exception of the 200 or so racers who had parked in the strip mall parking lot where 5 Lakes Brewery was located. I glanced across the parking lot and saw that there were two porta-potties next to the race start. I felt relieved because sometimes finding a place to empty my bladder before a race can be a challenge. Since I would be riding non-stop for 50 miles, starting the race with an empty tank was important!
I picked up my race number and a free bottle cage (the teal color matched my gravel bike perfectly) inside 5 Lakes Brewery. After attaching the tag to my bike, I decided to warm up a few minutes before the race start. It was high 50’s and the weather was predicted to get to the mid to low 60’s, so I wore the jersey that I had worn at Barry-Roubaix with a thin base layer under it. As I left the strip mall parking lot and turned onto the gravel road leading out of town, I saw the road was very washboard-like and had lots of small pot holes. I had too much air pressure in my tires, and I made a note that I would have to take some out. I hoped that the entire race wouldn’t be a bone shaker.
About 15 minutes before the race start, there was a rider’s meeting in the parking lot to go over the race rules and anything else we needed to know, so I only warmed up for about 15 minutes. At the meeting we were told to watch for a road closed sign as we would need to hike our bikes around the sign, where there was a large hole in the road. It was suggested that we not ride our bikes around the sign as it was too hazardous and could cause an accident. We were also told to watch out for a steep descent with a stop sign at the bottom, where cross traffic did not stop.
Soon it was time for the Hellkaat Hundie riders to roll out. The Fiddie riders rolled out 10 minutes later. The ride through the strip mall parking lot was a neutral rollout, and the race began after we turned right onto the gravel road leading out of town.
As we rolled out of the parking lot, I glanced down at my hands and realized I had left my gloves in the car. If I were to take a spill without gloves, the gravel would not be kind to my hands. Then, as we turned onto the gravel road that leads out of town, I realized I had not let a little air out of my tires. So this was going to be a bumpy ride with no gloves!
Luckily, the washboard roads soon turned into fast, hard packed sandy dirt. The first 20 miles or so were extremely flat, and it seemed that a whole pack of us was flying over 18-20 mph the entire time. I didn’t remember the Hundie from last year being so flat, or fast. We were only slowed down temporarily by the closed road. When I saw the sign I immediately unclipped as we had been told at the riders’ meeting not to attempt to ride around the sign. Just as I unclipped, a bunch of riders flew passed me and rode around the sign. I then clipped in and followed them. I rode in the grass and looked to the left, where I saw the large hole that we had been warned about. It had a Hellkaat sign stuck in it, so it was impossible to miss.
Soon after the closed road, I noticed a girl in the group of riders that we were riding with that had long blonde, curly hair. We kept passing each other off and on, and she would say “good job” every time she would pass me. It was kind of strange, but I felt like I should say something. I looked at her and saw that she was wearing some wild, brightly colored socks, so I said “nice socks”. I then passed her and never saw her again.
The Fiddie riders had to stop in town at about mile 30 at a checkpoint to get a sticker to prove they had not cut the course. As we rolled into town, we were met by a pretty fierce headwind. A group of very fast riders came up from behind me, and I got caught up in their group. I wondered how they had not managed to pass me before, since they were going so fast. My first thought was to pull out in front of them, but then I quickly realized that I could go just about as fast if I stayed behind them, enjoyed the wind block, and took a rest. We soon pulled up at the checkpoint where three or four volunteers were putting stickers on the riders’ tags. I got my sticker and immediately took off. The entire group that I had been riding with stayed behind, presumably for a rest.
So there I was, leaving town, solo, with no riders ahead of me to help block the wind. I remembered the ride out of town from last year, and I knew that the course was going to get hillier. I turned left onto a very sandy road that veered to the right, back against the headwind, uphill. This long, steady climb wasn’t steep, but it was very difficult. The road was soft and the slight upgrade seemed to go on forever. Then I hit hill after hill. My average speed was taking a hit, but I began to catch up with a group of riders ahead of me. At one point I came to the stop of a steep hill and flew down the hill at over 30 mph, when I noticed the stop sign at the end of the downhill that they had talked about at the riders’ meeting. I immediately got back on my seat and began to tap my brakes, while signaling to the riders behind me to slow down. At the end of the hill there was cross traffic that did not stop, and we had to make a sharp right turn. Luckily, I stopped in time and there was no oncoming traffic. The course then turned right, where it got hillier, softer, and prettier as it meandered through some woods.
It was on this section of road that I began to go back and forth with three male riders. One of the guys said as I passed him that his ego was getting crushed by all of the girls passing him on the hills. I laughed and told him he would pass me soon enough, as we had been going back and forth. Shortly after I said this we came across the toughest hill of the race. It was straight up with loose sand and dirt, and even in the lowest gear I wasn’t sure I was going to make it to the top. I did make it to the top, however, with the guy I had talked to right behind me.
At some point an entire group of us took a wrong turn. The course was marked with painted red sticks for the Hundie and yellow sticks for the Fiddie at each turn. If the stick was on the right side of the road, we were to turn right. If it was on the left side of the road, we were to turn left. We had passed a road to the left, but there was no marker. (It’s not unusual for markers to go missing.) Marc had loaded the course onto my Garmin, and it started beeping “off course”. I yelled at the other riders that we were off course. A group had turned left then had come back, and a group had gone straight and had also turned back. One girl said that she had a map and started to get it out of her pocket. I didn’t want to waste time, so I turned around, went back, and turned right. My Garmin then flashed “course found” and I yelled at everyone that my Garmin was on course. This wrong turn caused me to get a head of more than a dozen riders, and I was extremely grateful that Marc had the foresight to load the map. Last year I didn’t have the course loaded, and I took a three mile wrong turn.
With 12 miles to go I started to get cramps in both of my thighs. This has happened before, and I knew immediately that my electrolytes were off. I drank from my Camelbak, which was filled with Skratchlabs hydration mix, as quickly and as much as I could. The cramps subsided almost instantly, but I felt like my stomach had bloated and grown two inches. It then began to drizzle rain, and it felt like the temperature dropped. My gloveless hands were cold and red, and the headwind was making the rain seem even colder.
The last 4 miles to the finish line were fast and flat, but there was a fierce headwind the entire way, and I was cold. With less than two miles to go I saw a group of three women ahead that I had not seen the entire race. I caught up with them and passed them, riding as hard and fast as I could so that they didn’t catch up. I expected them to catch me since they had obviously been ahead of me and had been riding faster for 48 miles, but they didn’t. As I came across the finish line Marc snapped a picture, where you can see my cold, gloveless hands.
After the race, I went inside to 5 Lakes Brewery and changed in the bathroom. I had brought shorts and flip flops to wear as it had been predicted to be 60’s and sunny in the afternoon, but it was cold and cloudy. So I changed into the shorts and flip flops and then went to the car to get a jacket that I had thankfully brought with me. Shortly after I retrieved the jacket, I got an email notification on my phone of the race results. I had finished first in my age group, and the woman who got second was only 38 seconds behind me! She was one of the three women I had passed shortly just before we came into town. The woman who got third place is an extremely strong rider that I had never beat before at a race.
White legs, shorts, and flip flops!
Got my mittens!
