Cohutta 2013

The conditions were lovely on Friday when we got to the Whitewater Center to pick up our packets and do a little ride. Sun was out. Birds were chirping. Legs felt good. Fast course. Warm and dry. It was a "Zippity Do Dah" kinda day. If only the race could have been on Friday. Fast forward about 5 hours that night and things began to get ugly.

As I peeked out the hotel room window at 4:30 am on Saturday morning I saw rain. I saw puddles. Big, cold, ugly puddles. We got to the venue and sat in the truck because it was raining on and off at that point. I didn't get out of the truck or on my bike until I absolutely had to. Standing in line for the bathrooms there was chatter about the weather and what everyone was wearing. It wasn't the fun, "those socks are cute" conversation, either. It was more about being prepared for a really long and miserable day in the saddle. There was even talk of rain pants and Gore-Tex (shudder).

It was sprinkling at the start and continued to rain on and off throughout the day. Up the initial climb, I started to warm up but I was by no means warm. In the initial singletrack there was some chaos due to the greasy conditions. People were literally flying off the trail. I caught up with one of my teammates and we had the conversation that we were hot and we were going to shed some layers at the first aid station. That never happened. In the next 15 minutes it began to rain harder and it got colder. It was going to be a really long day.

I'm not one to look forward to climbing. I have to say that I looked forward to the climbs all day because it was so damn cold. I couldn't feel my hands and feet at about 3 hours in. The descents were freezing. I couldn't let go of the brakes because A) my hands were numb and I was afraid I wouldn't be able to brake if need be 2) some of the roads were pretty eroded, sketchy and wet and 3) Ick was spraying up and blinding me, even with a fender. Usually, I like to let it go on downhills or "free miles". That wasn't happening. When it was time to climb again the muscles were good and tight. I could hardly get them to turn over for the first few minutes and they hurt like hell and I felt like my quads and hammies were going to snap. The roads were soft and slow and by the time my legs were warmed up it was time to descend again. At four hours in, my bottom lip began to quiver and I couldn't get my teeth to stop chattering. I had to pee so badly for the past hour. I finally stopped and I had bibs on so I pulled over to get undressed. My hands were not working. It was raining. My zipper on my vest was so crusted with mud I couldn't get it to unzip with my frozen fingers. I was about to have a panic attack because it was becoming an emergency situation. What happened next is not something I'm proud of. I tried to pull the leg of my shorts over so I could go. It worked; at least a little and I'll leave it at that. It wasn't pretty, but I got the job done. Let's just say I'm glad it was rainy and muddy at that point.

The course is a lollipop so at a certain point you can see the leaders coming back through. The good news is I was farther along than I was last year when I saw the leaders. The bad news is they looked miserable and more caked with mud than those of us just heading towards the lollipop. The singletrack section was slick and messy and there were parts I just had to suck up and walk. I wasn't getting anywhere. The mud was over my shoes. I tried to stay on the bike but I was expending too much energy in the greasy mud. I hit a bad patch here. I don't know if it was mental or physical. I'll go with both. I usually do well in horrible conditions. I like the mud. I like the slop. I don't mind the rain. I was definitely starting to mind. All of a sudden I was not having fun and I wanted it over with. I thought about the season and cursed myself for ever wanting to do the NUE Series again. In my mind I had decided that I was NEVER doing this again. I was trying to convince myself that XC is the way to go because if conditions are bad at least it's only for a couple of hours. I came out of that singletrack and there is a gravel road climb. I was fine for a bit and pedaling and then my lower back started to cramp. The pain went from just below my rib cage and down my left ass cheek and into my left leg. I’ve been having trouble for about the last month and I thought I was going to be okay. I had to pull over and lie on the ground and hug my knees to my chest and do some hip openers. I'm sure I looked like a winner at this point. I got back on the bike and a guy singlespeeder came along and I started to ride with him. Walk with him. Talk with him. It was a nothing climb compared to what was behind me and what was in front of me, but my back said "HELL, NO" so I walked. I walked up to the bracelet station and got my bracelet (to prove I did the lollipop section). My lack of a smile and piss poor sense of humor could have told them that. I got my bracelet, continued to the next aid station by rotating walking and riding. I finally was doing more riding than walking again. There was a bus filled wet, cold and sad riders waiting to get driven back to the venue at this point. I grabbed a bottle at the aid station and then I knew what was ahead of me: The fucking Potato Patch Mountain climb.

If I could punch a climb in the face it would be this climb. It also comes at about ~60 miles in. I don't even want to eat potatoes again because of the name this climb. I love and eat sweet potatoes every day, but from here on out I will only refer to them as yams. I stayed on the bike at the beginning and then I had to get off. My legs and back were not having it. I walked. I cursed. I rode a little. I walked again. I stopped to pee (I actually was able to get undressed. Thanks for asking). I stood hunched over my bike at one point asking myself again why the hell I do this. Some poor souls were just now coming down to head into the lollipop or the bailout. Finally, at the top of fucking Potato Patch I got it together mentally. There are a few other demoralizing climbs after that but they are not that long. I started to feel better and came around. At the aid station at mile 86ish, I grabbed a fresh bottle from my bag and was on my way. I pedaled on for a bit and then went into the last piece of singletrack: Thunder Rock Express. It was more like "Thunder Butter Express" at this point. It's a fast, flowy benchcut trail on normal days. I was ready to be finished and I rode it like it was still fast and dry. There were two times that this strategy did not work out for me. The corners had taken on fluffernuttter-meets-Crisco quality. I wiped out the first time, giggled and got back on. Did this make me more cautious and slow down? No, it did not. It actually, pissed me off. The second time I hit a LOT faster and a LOT harder. I actually had to lay there for a second. I looked for my bike and it was down the side of the hill and my glasses were no were to be found. Well, I almost made it through a hundred with the same pair of glasses. Another pair lost to the hundred gods. I need to start wearing gas station glasses.

I could hear the cars on the road so I knew I was close. My legs were dead. My eyes were gritty. I don't even want to know how much mud I consumed throughout the day. I could feel the mud chafing me in some not so fun places. I caught a glimpse of concrete. Sweet Mary Mother of God. It was almost over. I crossed the bridge and turned down the road to the Whitewater Center. At this time I wished for gears because I would have used the biggest gear to get down the road as fast as humanly possible. It took what seemed like forever to spin into the finish. I smiled one of my few smiles of the day when I crossed the finish. The Toasted Head guys and Mike were there to see me in (in the dry and warmth of a truck, of course). When I got back to the car my brother was there to help me pack my shit up so I could get back to the hotel ASAP and get warm. I actually couldn't have gotten any colder so I went down to the creek take a "bath" before putting my sloppy self in the truck.

It was an exceptionally cruel day on the bike. I'm glad I toughed it out and I'm glad I did it. Although, I had sworn off NUE races during Cohutta, of course I had changed my mind an hour after I finished. On the way home I was looking at the Wildcat profile to get an idea of what kind of gearing I should run. I'm convinced you have to have some kind of mental illness to do these endurance races. On to the Wildcat 100 in two weeks....

Pictures to come later. I'm sure there are a few floating around.

I hadn't been to Winding Trails in CT in a few years. It was just how I'd remembered it: Fast. Why did we choose to race in CT and not go to Blue Mountain? Well, the discussion was had, and although Blue is a really good singlespeed course, Winding Trails is a drag race. There is not much opportunity to rest and you are on the gas the whole time. Winner. WT is fun on a singlespeed, but the gearies have the upper hand if they use their shifty bits wisely.  A "cleaning of the pipes" if you will the week before Cohutta.

I have to say how awesome it was to line up with ~20 women. That's not even including the Pro/Open Women. My start was a little chaotic because of (what seemed like) an innocuous sand pit at the start. Some banging of the bars and shoulders and we were on our way. After that it was just me remembering how to ride with gearies and not be on their ass when they downshift and give enough room so I can either get past them or back off and give myself enough room to power up the short climbs. There are many big ring opportunities at Winding Trails. I would catch gearies in the singletrack and as soon as we got to a flat I would hear "click, click, click" and they would motor past or away from me. Sonofabitch. I would try to hang on but eventually the elastic would snap. Catch in the singletrack and get dropped on the doubletrack. Rinse and repeat.

There were times when I caught myself in cruise control-endurance-mode and singing to myself and I had to snap myself out of it. The Run-DMC/Aerosmith version of "Walk this Way" was the tune of the day. Be glad you missed it. I'm sure it gave other riders a reason to get away from me. Go faster, Jocelyn. It won't kill you. It's only two hours. Focus. Do not sing. Stop giggling. XC should not be comfortable! If you can giggle and chat, you can go harder. Well, that's what my head said, but my legs said otherwise.

I ended up better than expected. I was 6th in the 35+ Old Lady Class. Now it's a few days of getting stuff tidied up at work and home so we can start the trip down to TN on Thursday. Cohutta bound...endless kitty litter climbs here I come!

Eat More Salad

Some of Team Toasted Head headed to the MASS Relay this past weekend in Marysville, PA. I was stoked to do this event and to do a three man relay with the other ladies on my team. I'd heard great things about the event and it delivered. Weather was beautiful, fun was had and there was a bit of pain involved as well. Trifecta. We also got to pick up and wear the team kit for the first time. You know that saying, "Ten pounds of sausage in a five pound bag"? Truer words have never been uttered. We tried on the fit kits in December and I ordered "up". Ummmm.....yeah. They are TIGHT. The kit actually felt great on the bike because nothing was moving around or shifting (as it was fused to my body). As soon as I got off the bike I felt I needed a robe to cover myself. 

The short, violent efforts were a little startling for this girl. I ran a spinnier gear than I would have preferred, but in the end I knew it would be a good character builder for me. At the end of the relay, I didn't feel like I had done much. I walked up the driveway that night and my legs buckled underneath me. I got in the door and sat down and I could still taste "bloody lung". That's a sign of a good day.

For those of you who will see me at upcoming races: My apologies. Avert your eyes. Twigs and berries for me from here on out.



Well, the day started off fantastically. Woke up at the crack of dark thirty and was pedaling in a frozen and fast Wawayanda paradise while the sun was just waking up. If I could start every morning like this I would be a happy girl. I forgot about the doom and gloom ahead. No, not work. I can deal with work.

The DENTIST.

I hate going to the dentist. My Dad is a dentist so I really dread going to a dentist who is not him. I've had some pretty uncomfortable procedures done to me over the years: twistings, prickings, pullings, drainings, proddings, pokings. I would take any of these over a trip to the dentist. At my last cleaning I found out I had a couple of  few cavities.

NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I brush. I floss. I rinse with ACT. I've been good. This can't be happening.

The theory is that all the endurance riding + the dry mouth for hours and hours + sugary drinks and foods = enamel wear and cavities OR it could be due to medications OR it could be because I'm getting older OR it could be a combination of all of the above. I'm going with all of the above.

I just tried to drink water two hours later. I may as well just pour it down my chest because that's where it's going to end up anyway. I'm still numb up to my right eyeball. I really want to eat lunch but I'm afraid I'll bite a hole through my cheek and/or lip.

The best part is I get to go back for Round 2 on Thursday.

Before and After

There are a few things I should never be allowed to own. White shoes are right at the top of that list.



Not too bad

Others judiciously clean their shoes after a ride. I may clean them after the first ride or two. After that, not so much. I knock the mud off and throw them in the basement. We'll see how these look come the end of April.