It may not be Europe (see Tim’s exciting blog and racing pics below) but here’s my race report about a fun and exciting race you can do closer to home (for me, anyway).
It is before dawn somewhere deep in the Oregon Cascades. I am at my first mountain race since I wrecked my shoulder a year ago, and somehow before the day is out I will have ridden a 100 miles of brutal trail. Somehow.
Billed as “America’s Toughest 100 Mile Mountain Bike Race”, the Cascade Cream Puff held the last week in June tests riders with a course made up of 50% singletrack miles through pine and old growth forest and 18,000 feet of elevation gain.
Nearly 200 racers—I among them—have gathered for the annual rite of spinning wheels that will take them all day long. We set off for the first few paved miles in a mighty peloton, led out by a motor vehicle-assist. Three short paved miles give way to an 8-mile fire road climb up to the Alpine and Tire Mountain Trails. The pack begins to spread out, separating into smaller, more intimate groups for the time being. I maintain a steady, up-tempo pace and reach the singletrack amid a pack of riders. We enter a jungle of towering trees and green ferns, lush from snowmelt, and disappear into the depths of the forest. Slower descenders conscientiously pull aside in the switchbacks as the faster riders take the head of the train, but we all concentrate on keeping a good line on the sometimes tight-rope-walking singletrack. I try not to look down when the trail breaks out into an exposed, rocky section, where one careless glance or misaligned wheel could send me cart-wheeling fifty feet or more down the steep, treacherous slope. Gulp.
Despite being out of the racing scene for an extended period of time, I feel strong for the first half of the race and solid for another 20 miles after that. Over the course of the race I would go by Aid stations nine times, passing on some but thankfully accepting from others GU, water, GU2O, or bananas from the ubiquitous and encouraging volunteers. As I drop down the Alpine Trail for the last time I am positioned in 4th or 5th place in the women’s category, holding steady as I race toward Aid Station 1 and the 80-mile mark. I feel a little fatigued, but I’m not overly worried about it. Then I start having a few mechanical difficulties. Shifting problems and chain suck may be par for the course when you ride hard for nearly half a day straight, but I am horrified when I hear the sound of metal pinging metal, over and over again.
I stop my bike at a switchback and jump off, just as another woman racer whizzes by me. I look at my rear wheel, and my heart sinks. A broken spoke that’s been hitting my brake—and it’s a broken CrossMax spoke at that. I must have kicked up a rock somehow… a big rock. Now what?
I begin loping down the singletrack, which is certainly not as much fun as riding it. Eventually I stumble to an Aid station. Once there, the race official presumes I am out of the race. “So you’re done, then?” No. Please, no. Committed to finishing my first race in a year, I ask if I have any other options. He consults with others and a small crowd gathers. One guy determines that the wheel is rideable, if considerably out-of-true. Unable to get the broken spoke free without damaging the hub, we wind it around the hub and zip-tie it. I’m back up and riding…
…and hurting. The long time spent off the bike allows my body to realize what I was putting it through. The last 20 miles are grueling. At one point I just want to finish. At the top of the final 8-mile fire road climb I pass by the last Aid station before the final descent. As I ride on, an official tells me to take care on the descent—it was getting dark, and racers were bonking. “Be sure to stop for a ‘wit check’ now and then.” Wise advice—even if the course isn’t very technical, apart from the narrow singletrack and sharp switchbacks. Perhaps this is a good thing in an ultra-marathon race. (It takes the winner of the race, pro-roadie Kevin Rowe, over 9 ½ hours to finish, as it is.) If it were a more technical course, we racers might be finishing in the dark.
Indeed, more than a third of the whole field won’t end up finishing the long, tough race. Despite the rebellious spoke, I do manage to finish. I come in 5th in the women’s category (according to the unofficial results), and a little worse for wear. The long periods of descending may have roughed up this hardtail rider a bit (although my Ti Voodoo D-Jab helped smooth out the jolts), and my physical therapist for my shoulder may have been horrified to learn about my 100-mile race. But I’m happy to say that my shoulder and I held up quite well for our first race together in a very long while.
Thanks so much to Voodoo and my other sponsors for their support. See you next time at the American Classic stage race in Brian Head.
–Angela
the lead pack on the first climb
the dirt road climb up Brian Head Peak…
Thunder Mountain
