2013 Inspiration 100 - Back from the Dead

Things hadn’t gone to plan.  Originally, the Inspiration 100 was not even on my radar.  I had planned to do a major road schedule this year and had prepared as such, and this spring I found myself in the best shape of my life and down 15 pounds from a year ago.  But the week of Ken Woods, I found myself sick and unable to sit on my bike. 

A month later, when things finally cleared up, on my 3rd day back on a bike, I was involved in a crash with another rider that left me with a solid concussion. A week later I found myself in the ER with a 103 degree temp and getting a spinal tap as the doctors suspected meningitis.  I spent the next 3 days in a dark room wanting to hear no sounds and see no light.  I spent my 31st birthday, June 8th, lying in a bed and literally thinking that I was dying.

The diagnosis was mixed from the doctors as some felt I had a concussion plus Lymes disease while others said I had a concussion plus viral meningitis.  Whatever it was, it turned my brain upside-down, and passing simple neurological tests like touching my finger to my nose or walking on a straight line were impossible.  But I diligently did my rehab exercises and eye exercises and about 3 weeks later that doctors said I could drive again.  To me, permission to drive = permission to ride bike again.  The initial week back on the bike was horrible and I felt like any kind of form would never return but then all of a sudden it was like my body rebooted and I was good to go.  It was time to shift goals and gravel had always intrigued me.  July and the first part of august went as well as I could have possibly planned and my fitness was pointing towards some really nice form in the coming weeks. 

Then the week of State Roads, sickness returned and I found myself again in the ER and again on antibiotics.  I honestly didn’t know if I would make it to the start line for Inspiration but with a lot of rest and some meds, things came around and I put started feeling good.  The only real solace was that I had 7 weeks of really solid training but at the same time one thing terrifying me was that I only had 7 weeks of solid training...but nonetheless, I was finally heading to a start line.

Finally healthy and sitting at a starting line

On race day, it was humid as cuss in Garfield, MN.  Things were pretty light as the race began as guys jokingly asked, “how far is this bike ride again?” and other nonsensical questions. 

The race started with a bang.  After a pedestrian first 10 or so miles we hit a section of Oregon Trail style double track Minimum Maintenance Road (MMR).  I had heard last year’s winner talking before the race about how there were some pretty large holes on this section.   I didn’t want to be at the back, so I made my way to the front.


Driving at the front heading onto the Oregon Trail...I mean MMR #1

Much like I expected, our speed actually went up as we hit the trail.  I was on the right side of the double track, at the front of our group (there were already three guys up the road as well as a few others) as Ben Doom, last year’s runner-up came flying past me on the left track.  I don’t know if he hit something or what happened but suddenly Doom was catapulting over his handlebars across the grass onto my track.  I completely locked up my brakes trying to avoid him and was starting to go sideways, when his bike bounced just past my left and his somersaulting body bounced on the other side of my bike just outside my rear wheel.

Doom waiting to get his bike post crash

Crashes are weird, they are like a super storm and then life is back to normal instantly...if you avoid them.  Having missed him, I trudged on, but later got bogged down in muddy patch just past an irrigation system.  The guy in front of me had to get off his bike and so did i to avoid hitting him.  The problem was that when I remounted, I couldn’t, for the life of me, get clipped into my pedal and spent about 30 seconds trying to get my cleat cleared. 

Eventually I made it out of the MMR and with about 5 others, including a chick I’ll talk more about later, and we chased back on about a mile later.  At this point, there were now 3-4 guys up the road and then a pack of about 25 riders. 

Things basically calmed down for a while again until we hit an MMR at mile 24.  This was a true MMR that at times resembled more of a Boundary Waters portage than a road.  The aforementioned chick nearly crashed in front of me as I was struggling with bike handling at the back of the group.  As she started apologizing for her poor bike handling, I said it was cool, because I was having my own battle; proving that I not only don’t ride cyclocross but that I would probably be lousy at it. 

Roughly (literally) 3 miles later, I finally got off the MMR with a couple guys still in sight from the main group and decided I had better put the hammer down or my “race” would be over.  I caught another guy in the same boat as me and we took turns plugging away and picking people up until eventually at mile 31 we caught the main bunch. 

At this point in the race, things really settled down.  We didn’t have any more wild sections in front of us and just mainly gentle undulations for a while.  At times I thought, “we are riding this like a freaking gran fondo, let’s inject a little pace,” but since this was my first gravel race, I decided that I would just go to the back of the bunch and work on eating and trying to drink fluids.   

Trying to eat

Somewhere around mile 33, about 9 miles after I had left that chick on the MMR, I cursed in complete shock as I turned to see her as she rejoined the group.  At that moment I didn’t know who else was really good in the group but I knew she was a beast of a cyclist with a monster engine because she had just bridged back up solo on a 9 or so mile chase.

Our group continued to dwindle bit by bit and by the time we hit the c-store (possible stop #1 of 2) at mile 40, I had counted that we were down to 15 people.  We lost 4 at the c-store and shortly after, the group was down to 7 of us.  With the 3 or 4 guys up the road,  I figured this was the top 10. 

I had also felt relatively good throughout the latest sections.  On any of the climbs I was typically with beast chick at the front of the group going over the top of each climb and was feeling pretty good about life, although, it was hot as cuss and only getting hotter...I was also making a horrible error in riding every climb on the big ring...mainly because I could, not because it was the smart thing to do.  

It was somewhere around mile 50 when beast chick turned to me and said, “Hi, I’m Monika, what’s your name?”  Monika was not only a tough ass cyclist, she liked talking...a lot...and she kept the banter going in the entire group. 
It was about this same time that I started to experience these odd sensations in my quadriceps muscles.  They weren’t twinges, and I honestly can’t figure out how to describe them.  They just were these odd feelings...a bit concerning but I didn’t think a whole lot about them.   

Somewhere in there, we dropped a couple more people, one of them, a guy named, Jon Kern who couldn’t shift out of the big ring on a steep ramp, and the group was down to 4.  Monika turned to us at some point during this time and asked why the rest of us weren’t wanting to talk more and one of the other guys said with angst in his voice “cause we’re working hard here!”

I should have paid more attention to those odd leg sensations because around mile 59, Monika and the remaining guy in our group dropped me on a climb.  I just couldn’t put power into the pedals suddenly, so I soldiered on alone as I watched the strongest chick I had ever met on a bike, just ride away from me. 

Getting dropped by Monika...aka Beast Chick

At mile 61 we swung onto Nevada Drive, which immediately kicked up, and which immediately made my quads explode.  I fought it for about 200 yards and then the cramps were so bad I couldn’t pedal.  I got off my bike and wrestled with both legs to try just to straighten them.  Two riders were approaching, one of which was Ben Doom and as he rode by he handed me a pill and said “take this! it’s a salt pill!”  I immediately did and drank an entire bottle of gatorade with it and slowly started to pedal again.  It was like a miracle.  Within about 3 minutes, the cramps were gone and I was riding with power again. 

As I went past the Lady of the Hills, (talk about creepy...especially coming at mile 66.6 of the race...seriously), I was told by some spectators that I was sitting in 10th place and within half mile, Jon Kern rejoined me, having finally gotten his front deraileur working again.

Lady of the Hills...Located at exactly mile 66.6 of the race...yeah...

We spent about 2 miles discussing whether or not we should stop at the upcoming bar (possible stop #2 of 2) in Millerville.  We finally decided we should and when we got there, there were 4 other guys filling up on water, so we made as quick a stop as possible and got back on the trail only about a minute down to the 4 guys.  We worked pretty hard for a bit and eventually caught back on. 

Back in the group and following Doom's wheel

We worked well together and at mile 75 there was great celebration when the race organizers surprised us with a stop for food, drinks and basically whatever you needed.  I just about did a backflip when they said they had Coke.  I immediately downed it and felt awesome again...at least for a while.  Somewhere around mile 82 our group splintered and then the cramps returned.

Doom and Nick Nikodym were up the road about 200 meters and anytime the cramps would subside, I would get within touching distance of them, only to encounter a climb and cramp again, starting the entire process over.  At mile 92 I lost them for good as now my abductors and adductors on the inner parts of my legs started cramping and I had to get off the bike again.

Unable to follow anymore, just trying to get to the finish

I was out of gatorade at this point and only had water left in my camelbak and nothing salty to eat but I did have a single serving of gatorade mix, so i ate it...dry...I know super disgusting...and drank a bunch of water.  As gross as it was, it was what I needed and got me going again.  However, I was now trying to figure out every way possible to pedal a bike without actually using my quads...which for the record is a difficult task.

The last few miles went by surprisingly quick and I was able to avoid anymore major crampfests.  I finished out the race, was greeted with a handshake and a personal congratulations by race director Derek Surly and then laid in the grass under a tree for about 10 minutes feeling exhausted, but pretty satisfied. 

Finishing

While I was frustrated by the cramping that put a damper on an otherwise solid performance, I was hugely satisfied that I had completed the race and more importantly had finally gotten to the starting line healthy.  Lying in the shade, dead-ass tired from 100 miles of gravel bike racing seemed so far away from where I was on my birthday just 3 months earlier.

Thanks to Deek Surly for putting on a great event that provided me an opportunity to get back into things!